Lessons Learnt from Ben Nevis ‘19

There is always a lesson in life, you just need to be present in the moment to learn from it!

The proverb “Nana korobi, ya oki”  translates to “Fall down seven times, stand up eight.” It means choosing to never give up hope, and to always strive for more. It is pivotal in everything I do and how I want to show up in life.

My first attempt to Summit Ben Nevis happened in April 2019. It marked the first time I would hike solo.

Having hiked all over the world, from the Himalayas in Nepal to Mt Kosciuszko in Australia, I wouldn’t say I am a newbie at this adventure seeking activity. But I am also definitely not a hike expert.

To date, all my hiking has been in groups or with someone else. Never just me, where I am the one to make the decisions. I have some hike ‘gear’ but no equipment – lets just say this girl doesn’t own a compass.

Ben Nevis is that bucket list item. A proper mountain, but not any old mountain – it is the highest peak in Scotland. Standing at 1,345 m it is classified as a Munro with the other any of the 277 mountains in Scotland that are at least 3,000 feet high.

I set off from Fort William with my hike gear on – standard hike trousers, about five layers, including my favourite bright blue waterproof Kathmandu jacket that I bought in New Zealand and my woolly hat snuggly in position. My backpack filled with all the snacks, and my playlist chosen to pump my mind with all the tunes – my company for the adventure. 

Things started as expected, no one wants a drama filled summit. You start from a sign that points up towards the sky, on this day a cloudy blue sky, where the sign shouts back at you ‘Ben Nevis’.

‘How could you not summit,’ I thought

Stepping into the unknown and the spectacular nature infused spring day, the hike felt good. I love a hike. When you have a rough idea of the route, terrain and expected duration but with an appreciation each hike is different.

For each new adventure you start by taking one step at a time and moving forward – where the unknown of the hike slowly becomes known.  Your inner compass being updated in real time. All your senses switched on -  the touch of the air on your face and the ground underneath you, to the constantly changing landscape and the noises of the hike chat as you overtake those around you.

I took my time as there is never a rush when hiking. You are competing with yourself on how fast you complete it. I followed the well trodden path in front, where I never felt alone. Maybe alone with your thoughts and music, but never ‘I am hiking alone’ alone. Hikers in front and behind acting either as an unofficial guide or sense of comfort knowing like minded people were surrounding me.

After meandering up and up as the route crosses the mountain, looking back out over the stunning landscape where lochs appear like puddle drops.

I stopped to grab a snack and some water, to pause to take in my surroundings. Then carried on. After more hiking, I reached the point where you felt you were nearing the summit of the highest point in Scotland. At this point I felt like I was on an actual expedition as, ahead, I could see snow. Lots of it and pretty deep.

I expected the snow, but when you see the snow you start to think ‘this feels different now’. More like an expedition where you should be part of a group with a leader who has equipment. I continued to follow the others in front up towards the summit. I had no idea where the summit was, but sensed it was getting closer as the snow got deeper and there was a chill in the air. Now no longer a path to follow but only the footsteps of those in front, leaving marks on the snow as a guide.

My music now switched off, I felt alert. All my senses switched on. It definitely had a different feel to it now. I love hiking and the great outdoors. There is something incredible being 100% surrounded by nature in all its glory. You feel free, but you also feel a little out of control. The mountains and nature are in control of the outcome. No matter how prepared or how many layers you must throw on, when the weather changes on the mountain it can turn dangerous. We have all seen those Holly wood movies based on real, terrifying, events.

As I walked in the direction of the summit, I glanced up and felt a little unease slowly bubble up. As I looked back to where I came from I could see blue skies, but ahead all I could see were low lying clouds. Suddenly things changed dramatically and drastically. The clouds quickly became a blanket of white. The few hikers in front were now enveloped in white.  That unease feeling was not boiling inside me.

“Where were the blue skies I spotted a minute ago,” I thought.

It was windy, really windy now. I froze a little as I considered my surroundings and situation. This is known as a whiteout. The white all around were no longer the clouds but created from the snow drifting off the surrounding mountains. Eeek. I couldn’t see a meter in front of me.

The recommended advice in a whiteout situation is DO NOT MOVE. You can really quickly become disoriented with no line of sight or reference point. Mountains, including Ben Nevis, have sheer drops – not what you want to remind yourself of as you stand there. I stood frozen, making uncomfortable noises – in my head – while looking around at the whiteness. I could see a couple to one side of me. They had all the equipment, pickaxe and compass on show. I could sense they were preparing to continue into the snow drift and the direction of the summit. From the offline map on my phone I could tell we were only minutes away from the peak. But minutes felt like a lifetime as it was impossible to make out anything in front.

I glanced at the couple again and felt that inner unease. A signal to stop and listen - my intuition guiding me. I heard It mutter the popular phrase “all the gear, no idea”.  I had never spoken to this couple and know from being a runner that there are novices who splash out on expensive equipment but who lack the knowledge to use it properly. I decided to stay rooted as they walked ahead into the abyss. The unease still bubbling away.

Next a new couple walked into my snow globe of fear where I was the main character on display – still rooted firmly in that same position, making the same uncomfortable noises . I had spotted them on the hike up. They still looked as unprepared, with very few layers on, from when I first spotted them. I chatted to them, explaining I was feeling a bit uneasy and I hadn’t made it through life, successfully travelling the world, for something to happen on my own doorstep, metaphorically speaking. As they prepared to walk forward with relative ease, I started to consider how I would actually exit the mountain since I couldn’t even see back now. A complete blanket of white enveloped us. 365 degrees of whiteness and unease. I took a deep breath considering how a simple hike could suddenly become chaotic and out of control. Thoughts swirling around my head, ‘Is it less risky to latch onto the couple’, ‘the summit isn’t far and there will be more people there to form a group to exit the mountain’, ‘can I press a button to exit from this nightmare’.

Then the sign I needed arrived in front of me. I smiled as I knew this was my mountain rescue and seized the opportunity to exit stage right. From seemingly nowhere a group hiking back from the summit, who looked like the group you cling onto when in need, glided into my circle of fear. They were wearing high vis jackets, so I took it upon myself to sheepishly follow them out. I waved off the English couple as I took my position behind the ‘rescue’ group, strolled out the white out and down the mountain into blue skies. My layers slowly peeled off until it felt like a lifetime ago when I stood contemplating my death on the mountain. Ankle deep in snow.

I had taken a screenshot of my ‘get me out of here’ moment. As a reminder how far I came, and how far I have still to come. A reminder that I value my life too much to attempt to tick off a summit when the level of unease is shouting at you. I got a photo five minutes from where I stood frozen, with the backdrop of the stunning landscape. For now a memory, as this would be used to motivate the return. The day I would come back to summit.

And did I? Well, that is for another time.

First, what did that hike teach me that I want to share:

1.       You can prepare and practice, research and overthink. Or you can just GO FOR IT and learn along the way. So many people don’t start because they are waiting for the perfect moment or to feel fully prepared. There is no perfect moment and you will never, ever, feel fully prepared. So start And will only learn from trying.

2.       Failure is defined, in the main, by YOU. I ‘quit’ less than five minute walk from the summit. I didn’t fail. I quit for my safety. I still hiked Ben Nevis.

3.       Take your time and consider your options and choice points. Have a plan, but also be open to going with the flow.

4.       Look around you and take it all in. It may be your first and last time doing the thing you are doing, so saviour it – all of it.

5.       Be open to asking for help. Remember you are never alone in life, so ask those around you in the same situation for guidance.

6.       Follow your gut and press the ‘get me out of here’ button when it doesn’t feel quite right. Only you know when that moment it.

7.       Make a metal note or take a photo to use to motivate you the next time you attempt something new or difficult and start doubting yourself. Use it to fuel that fire inside you that will propel you forward.

8.       Celebrate the achievement, big or small. “I hiked Ben Nevis”. Every small win, is part of a bigger outcome.

9.       Be patient. Keep the flag flying in front of you – that flag is your goal.

10.   Share your journey so others learn and become inspired. We are all the same and sometimes all it takes is a nudge from someone else to push you into taking action.