Never say Nevis

Today I went up Ben Nevis, which was most satisfying. They have tried to correct the perception that the simplest path up is a ‘tourist trail’, as it’s no quick jaunt to be done with plimsolls and a bottle of Coke. It’s a long, fairly gruelling, but rewarding climb.

The weather was dry in the morning so it was much less treacherous and slippery than it could have been, until about halfway through my descent and the heavens opened. It wasn’t a day of fantastic clarity but there were moments where the cloud swirled away to give dramatic views of Loch Meall an t-Suidhe (‘the Halfway Loch’), Glen Nevis below, and Loch Linnhe in the distance.

I enjoyed hearing snippets of people’s conversations. A young lad told his guardian that he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night as his vertigo would trick him into thinking he was still on the mountain. A young woman relayed a story to her friend in which she had fallen face first onto some rocks on a previous walk, and her lip fillers had prevented worse damage to her teeth.

I liked the camaraderie on the mountain, especially on the way down when everyone was sharing in a collective sense of achievement. A northern Irish lad announced that it was ‘easier on the lungs on the way down, harder on the legs.’ Correct.

In Fort William I observed a surprising number of open top sports cars, for a town with relatively high rainfall. I also noted a reliance on EU labour, although these two observations are unlikely to be related.

I’m staying in one of those grand outdated hotels in the middle of Fort William, and I couldn’t get the TV to work for the Euro final. I watched it on my phone and was pleased I’d skipped the hours of inane build-up. When England were in the lead at half time, Gary Lineker said ‘45 minutes until footballing immortality.’ Give it a rest, Gary.