The very highest point in the UKAs Scotland merges into England and rugged Highland terrain is replaced by gentler Lakeland hills, it is time to reflect upon the fourth and final challenge of my 'Awesome Foursome.'.
There is no doubt that this challenge has involved covering the most ground, even if not all self-propelled. The journey began on Friday at 8am and it wasn't until 7pm that the bus which collected the CF Trust mountaineering team from Glasgow Station pulled into the Anna Croit Hotel in Fort William. 5 hours on the train from London Euston to Glasgow followed by 4 hours on a coach induced an entire spectrum of feelings including boredom, relaxation, hunger and an intense yearning to reach a welcoming destination.
The lengthy train journey featured, at various intervals, the most irritating traits associated with this mode of travel. 5 minutes before the train had even departed from Euston, I was contemplating whether to sacrifice the pre-booked table seat on account of its inherent disadvantage: facing someone else. That someone else had, as everyone in the carriage would affirm, overslept after attending the Pub of the Year awards and was going to be late for a meeting. It's ironic, really, that the one time he adopted an attitude of alcoholic restraint rather than getting “bladdered” was the one time he ignored his alarm. This didn't become any less humorous after numerous repeats and the carriage joined him in fits of laughter every time, especially when his loud and proud retelling ensured that no one could hear the announcements regarding a 45 minute delay: hilarious.
As if this wasn't enough to irk the eardrums, a small child in the carriage then decided that we would all benefit from the distraction provided by his electronic game. I completely sympathised with the underlying sentiment but this was fighting fire with fire - it simply made matters worse. 'The one time I decided to pace myself...' BOOM CHING CHING 'I get absolutely bladdered' PIAOW!!
So far, it was noise that served as the premier annoyance. Then it became actions, as Pub of the Year chap shut up and the small child tired of gaming. Seated on my left was an 18 year old and, opposite her, her substantially older Scottish boyfriend. Allow me to set the scene: older stubbly Scot meets young girl with mature looks, probably in a club, in London. OSS realises the catch that is YGML, hastily declares his love and, after a rollercoaster romance, takes her to meet the family in Scotland. They board the train, armed with magazines which, as will become clear, served no purpose. They discuss how old they can say she is, aiming as high as possible without being unrealistic - they reach a figure. Satisfied, they kiss across the table and they kiss and they kiss some more. They have some lunch, then kiss some more. Pub of the Year chap seems the ideal passenger by comparison.
The train was delayed thanks to a lorry becoming stuck under a bridge - their lips remained stuck together. At this rate, I'd miss the coach due to collect us from Glasgow Station. I didn't, just. Thankfully fellow mountaineers, including the team leader, were on the same train and hence I boarded the coach set for Fort William.
At this stage, we remained individuals - striking up conversation with a group of 30 or so strangers on a coach trip was inopportune. Even a stop at the services failed to increase integration. Being paired up in rooms at the Anna Croit did. 'Morgan Thomas' and 'Rob' please. 'But I'm a girl', said Morgan. 'Could I please not share with a guy?'. I came to the rescue: 'I'm happy to share with Morgan'. Relieved at having saved Morgan from an awkward two nights' stay with a man other than her fiancé, we headed off to our room. Rumours had circulated on the coach that the Anna Croit was far from luxurious. It transpired that, in response, both Morgan and I had simultaneously checked the hotel's website on our phones and, fortunately, the positive image we acquired was supported by our comfortable room. It wasn't long before dinner was served and we readied ourselves before arriving promptly in the dining room.
A good few coach-loads of 'mature adults' (the group's politically correct term for 'old fogies') were already tucking in. We soon did - selecting options from the 'Friday' page on the menu. Each course arrived with startling efficiency - Anna Croit was adept in the art of mass-catering at speed. No doubt mature adults are regulars at such institutions and dislike being kept waiting. After their dinner, the brigade moved to the lounge for bingo run by the dead-pan waiter-cum-barman-cum bingo master whose number-related puns proved remarkably amusing. We moved upstairs for a pre-trek briefing, replete after the hearty fare on offer.
Unfortunately, the briefing raised more questions than it answered owing to uncertainty regarding Saturday's weather. With 70mph winds forecast for some point during the afternoon, abandoning the mission was a possibility. A quick up and down offered the greatest chance of success - those fearing a slow journey were the most worried. We went to bed, praying for relief.
We woke early and tucked into the 'Full Scottish Breakfast'. For those of you unfamiliar with such a breakfast, think 'Full English'. It is perhaps to be expected that both fiercely proud nations should stake their claim to ownership of the bacon, eggs, sausage and beans brand. Ultimately, however, it didn't matter whose breakfast it was: it was bacon, eggs, sausage and beans - with toast - and it was just what impending mountaineers needed. Belts on hiking trousers had to be loosened as we boarded the coach to 'The Ben'. After a short drive, we reached the base camp car park to be greeted by hundreds of identically-clad individuals. We were probably wearing the entire stock of few Milletts shops between us. A cursory glance beyond the car park revealed monumental peaks rendered more menacing by the conditions. They seemed to say, 'don't even try'.
In the rain, we split into our four groups based on projected ability. I headed for Group 1 with the 70mph gusts in mind. Flat terrain lasted for all of 100m and soon we began the ascent. Lead by Ian, we trekked at a steady pace with plenty of breaks to retain group cohesion. The fluctuating order in which we climbed proved particularly congenial for meeting and greeting fellow group members, even if conversations were often interrupted by huffing and puffing. It was interesting to learn of different motivations for participating in the challenge - some were CF parents, others had family members with CF, one worked in a CF-related medical field, others were supporting work colleagues with a CF-connection while some had no direct link and simply sought to raise money for a good cause.
Early doors
Looking back, I think that this sense of mutual endeavour was perhaps the most special aspect of the trip. I have used the word 'solidarity' in a previous Awesome Foursome challenge report and I will use it again for it seems best placed to reflect the bond forged by common purpose and shared values. Solidarity is sub-conscious, yet powerful, and seems capable of motivating people to persevere when the going gets tough. Immersed in a group of determined individuals, all striving to reach the summit and all doing so for an ulterior, greater, good, I doubt that anyone felt like an individual or wasn't affected by those around them. Company created comfort and it also created competition: 'these people will help me achieve this goal' but also 'I'm not going to be the one not to make it'.
The path was very steep, fairly narrow and largely consisted of rubble. The concentration required to navigate a route upwards was fa
r greater than I had anticipated and I found myself almost constantly staring at the ground. Every step was the result of mental calculation which was probably helpful, psychologically, for it detracted attention from the trek in its entirety. While climbing, we experienced the complete panoply of weather conditions: usually such variety extends to the UK as a whole, not a single mountain. We had sunshine, gale-force wind, driving rain and dense fog. But wasn't this what we wanted? Surely mountain climbing is all about overcoming adverse weather; it increased the challenge and cohered with my pre-trip conjectures as to what awaited.
Soon, the effects of the Full Scottish breakfast had worn off and it was time to top-up our energy reserves with our packed lunches. There were no 
obvious picnic spots, let alone benches on which we could rest our sandwiches. The Ben wasn't made for lunching. Instead, we perched gingerly on a collection of craggy rocks which lined the path, sodden and hungry. It was a purposeful picnic: consume and continue, not snack and savour. Satisfied, we set off once more and the terrain metamorphosed into a scene reminiscent of a battlefield. Any vestiges of vegetation disappeared and instead a barren environment greeted us: eternal rubble shrouded in mist, an unidentifiable path, no sign of the top.
Imagining that this signified we were nearly there, my excitement levels mounted a nd I positioned myself at the front of the group in an attempt to hurry things along. This was premature, the rubble continued and continued and continued unabated. The group stretched and Ian told us to wait for the others to catch up - I was practically jumping up and down on the spot, eager to recommence the climb. After more rubble, finally, we reached the plateau where groups from the Alzheimer's group who set off before us were posing for photos. After congratulating one another, we did the same, queuing up for our turn on the raised area which represented the very highest point in the UK. What a feat we had accomplished; that's when it hit home. I even managed to post a photo of myself on Facebook; my mobile phone signal reassuringly having remained faithful throughout. I may have been up a mountain but I remained in contact with the outside world.
The victorious moment
After spending about 10 minutes relishing the moment that we conquered 'The Ben', we began the descent; this time at our own pace. While the ascent tested the lungs, the descent tested the knees as the impact of every downward step sent vibrations juddering through the joint. The extent of rainfall was such that a stream flowed down the path, rendering the rocks treacherously slippery which caused a number of falls. Selecting which rocks to rely upon as footholds was tricky and I found myself frequently losing my footing. That said, us Group 1 frontrunners did descend at some pace, motivated by the torrential conditions and the thought of the pub at the bottom. Oh for a refreshing pint! We refused to stop for breaks, and instead pressed on determinedly, eventually enjoying that pint at approximately 3.30pm, having left the top at 12.30pm and begun walking at 9am. As we descended, an assortment of scantily clad runners passed us in the opposite direction: the running leg of Scottish triathlons is brutal. Why run on the roads when you can run up a mountain?!
The UK's highest war memorial
The pub was warm, cosy and inviting and we faced a two hour stay; the bus not being due to collect us until 5.30pm. We didn't complain, although it would have been more comfortable had we been able to remove our sodden clothes. By sodden, think of the effects of jumping in a bath and lying there for a good ten minutes, fully clothed. Our CF compatriots joined us in trickles, all returning excitedly to recount their experiences of 'The Ben'.
These tales of endeavour continued throughout the evening as we celebrated with another Anna Croit three-course classic. After this well-earned sustenance, some climbers eagerly continued the celebrations with a game of bingo, followed by an extended session in the bar. Others, so exhausted after their exertions, retired to bed at a modest 8.30pm! After a day on the mountain, the group of strangers who had met on the coach just a day before had become friends, all united by their recent achievement which, in time, will become a fond memory and hopefully, more importantly, a contribution towards finding a cure for CF.
There is no doubt that this challenge has involved covering the most ground, even if not all self-propelled. The journey began on Friday at 8am and it wasn't until 7pm that the bus which collected the CF Trust mountaineering team from Glasgow Station pulled into the Anna Croit Hotel in Fort William. 5 hours on the train from London Euston to Glasgow followed by 4 hours on a coach induced an entire spectrum of feelings including boredom, relaxation, hunger and an intense yearning to reach a welcoming destination.
The lengthy train journey featured, at various intervals, the most irritating traits associated with this mode of travel. 5 minutes before the train had even departed from Euston, I was contemplating whether to sacrifice the pre-booked table seat on account of its inherent disadvantage: facing someone else. That someone else had, as everyone in the carriage would affirm, overslept after attending the Pub of the Year awards and was going to be late for a meeting. It's ironic, really, that the one time he adopted an attitude of alcoholic restraint rather than getting “bladdered” was the one time he ignored his alarm. This didn't become any less humorous after numerous repeats and the carriage joined him in fits of laughter every time, especially when his loud and proud retelling ensured that no one could hear the announcements regarding a 45 minute delay: hilarious.
As if this wasn't enough to irk the eardrums, a small child in the carriage then decided that we would all benefit from the distraction provided by his electronic game. I completely sympathised with the underlying sentiment but this was fighting fire with fire - it simply made matters worse. 'The one time I decided to pace myself...' BOOM CHING CHING 'I get absolutely bladdered' PIAOW!!
So far, it was noise that served as the premier annoyance. Then it became actions, as Pub of the Year chap shut up and the small child tired of gaming. Seated on my left was an 18 year old and, opposite her, her substantially older Scottish boyfriend. Allow me to set the scene: older stubbly Scot meets young girl with mature looks, probably in a club, in London. OSS realises the catch that is YGML, hastily declares his love and, after a rollercoaster romance, takes her to meet the family in Scotland. They board the train, armed with magazines which, as will become clear, served no purpose. They discuss how old they can say she is, aiming as high as possible without being unrealistic - they reach a figure. Satisfied, they kiss across the table and they kiss and they kiss some more. They have some lunch, then kiss some more. Pub of the Year chap seems the ideal passenger by comparison.
The train was delayed thanks to a lorry becoming stuck under a bridge - their lips remained stuck together. At this rate, I'd miss the coach due to collect us from Glasgow Station. I didn't, just. Thankfully fellow mountaineers, including the team leader, were on the same train and hence I boarded the coach set for Fort William.
At this stage, we remained individuals - striking up conversation with a group of 30 or so strangers on a coach trip was inopportune. Even a stop at the services failed to increase integration. Being paired up in rooms at the Anna Croit did. 'Morgan Thomas' and 'Rob' please. 'But I'm a girl', said Morgan. 'Could I please not share with a guy?'. I came to the rescue: 'I'm happy to share with Morgan'. Relieved at having saved Morgan from an awkward two nights' stay with a man other than her fiancé, we headed off to our room. Rumours had circulated on the coach that the Anna Croit was far from luxurious. It transpired that, in response, both Morgan and I had simultaneously checked the hotel's website on our phones and, fortunately, the positive image we acquired was supported by our comfortable room. It wasn't long before dinner was served and we readied ourselves before arriving promptly in the dining room.
A good few coach-loads of 'mature adults' (the group's politically correct term for 'old fogies') were already tucking in. We soon did - selecting options from the 'Friday' page on the menu. Each course arrived with startling efficiency - Anna Croit was adept in the art of mass-catering at speed. No doubt mature adults are regulars at such institutions and dislike being kept waiting. After their dinner, the brigade moved to the lounge for bingo run by the dead-pan waiter-cum-barman-cum bingo master whose number-related puns proved remarkably amusing. We moved upstairs for a pre-trek briefing, replete after the hearty fare on offer.
Unfortunately, the briefing raised more questions than it answered owing to uncertainty regarding Saturday's weather. With 70mph winds forecast for some point during the afternoon, abandoning the mission was a possibility. A quick up and down offered the greatest chance of success - those fearing a slow journey were the most worried. We went to bed, praying for relief.
We woke early and tucked into the 'Full Scottish Breakfast'. For those of you unfamiliar with such a breakfast, think 'Full English'. It is perhaps to be expected that both fiercely proud nations should stake their claim to ownership of the bacon, eggs, sausage and beans brand. Ultimately, however, it didn't matter whose breakfast it was: it was bacon, eggs, sausage and beans - with toast - and it was just what impending mountaineers needed. Belts on hiking trousers had to be loosened as we boarded the coach to 'The Ben'. After a short drive, we reached the base camp car park to be greeted by hundreds of identically-clad individuals. We were probably wearing the entire stock of few Milletts shops between us. A cursory glance beyond the car park revealed monumental peaks rendered more menacing by the conditions. They seemed to say, 'don't even try'.
Nearly ready for the off
In the rain, we split into our four groups based on projected ability. I headed for Group 1 with the 70mph gusts in mind. Flat terrain lasted for all of 100m and soon we began the ascent. Lead by Ian, we trekked at a steady pace with plenty of breaks to retain group cohesion. The fluctuating order in which we climbed proved particularly congenial for meeting and greeting fellow group members, even if conversations were often interrupted by huffing and puffing. It was interesting to learn of different motivations for participating in the challenge - some were CF parents, others had family members with CF, one worked in a CF-related medical field, others were supporting work colleagues with a CF-connection while some had no direct link and simply sought to raise money for a good cause.
Early doorsLooking back, I think that this sense of mutual endeavour was perhaps the most special aspect of the trip. I have used the word 'solidarity' in a previous Awesome Foursome challenge report and I will use it again for it seems best placed to reflect the bond forged by common purpose and shared values. Solidarity is sub-conscious, yet powerful, and seems capable of motivating people to persevere when the going gets tough. Immersed in a group of determined individuals, all striving to reach the summit and all doing so for an ulterior, greater, good, I doubt that anyone felt like an individual or wasn't affected by those around them. Company created comfort and it also created competition: 'these people will help me achieve this goal' but also 'I'm not going to be the one not to make it'.
The path was very steep, fairly narrow and largely consisted of rubble. The concentration required to navigate a route upwards was fa
r greater than I had anticipated and I found myself almost constantly staring at the ground. Every step was the result of mental calculation which was probably helpful, psychologically, for it detracted attention from the trek in its entirety. While climbing, we experienced the complete panoply of weather conditions: usually such variety extends to the UK as a whole, not a single mountain. We had sunshine, gale-force wind, driving rain and dense fog. But wasn't this what we wanted? Surely mountain climbing is all about overcoming adverse weather; it increased the challenge and cohered with my pre-trip conjectures as to what awaited. 
obvious picnic spots, let alone benches on which we could rest our sandwiches. The Ben wasn't made for lunching. Instead, we perched gingerly on a collection of craggy rocks which lined the path, sodden and hungry. It was a purposeful picnic: consume and continue, not snack and savour. Satisfied, we set off once more and the terrain metamorphosed into a scene reminiscent of a battlefield. Any vestiges of vegetation disappeared and instead a barren environment greeted us: eternal rubble shrouded in mist, an unidentifiable path, no sign of the top. 
The victorious moment
After spending about 10 minutes relishing the moment that we conquered 'The Ben', we began the descent; this time at our own pace. While the ascent tested the lungs, the descent tested the knees as the impact of every downward step sent vibrations juddering through the joint. The extent of rainfall was such that a stream flowed down the path, rendering the rocks treacherously slippery which caused a number of falls. Selecting which rocks to rely upon as footholds was tricky and I found myself frequently losing my footing. That said, us Group 1 frontrunners did descend at some pace, motivated by the torrential conditions and the thought of the pub at the bottom. Oh for a refreshing pint! We refused to stop for breaks, and instead pressed on determinedly, eventually enjoying that pint at approximately 3.30pm, having left the top at 12.30pm and begun walking at 9am. As we descended, an assortment of scantily clad runners passed us in the opposite direction: the running leg of Scottish triathlons is brutal. Why run on the roads when you can run up a mountain?!
The UK's highest war memorial
The pub was warm, cosy and inviting and we faced a two hour stay; the bus not being due to collect us until 5.30pm. We didn't complain, although it would have been more comfortable had we been able to remove our sodden clothes. By sodden, think of the effects of jumping in a bath and lying there for a good ten minutes, fully clothed. Our CF compatriots joined us in trickles, all returning excitedly to recount their experiences of 'The Ben'.
These tales of endeavour continued throughout the evening as we celebrated with another Anna Croit three-course classic. After this well-earned sustenance, some climbers eagerly continued the celebrations with a game of bingo, followed by an extended session in the bar. Others, so exhausted after their exertions, retired to bed at a modest 8.30pm! After a day on the mountain, the group of strangers who had met on the coach just a day before had become friends, all united by their recent achievement which, in time, will become a fond memory and hopefully, more importantly, a contribution towards finding a cure for CF.
