We are the Foxes of Nevis, and we consist of me (Robin), Adam, Ben, Ian, Rob, Ross, Shapey, Steve, Tom C and Tom R. With us were Steve's cousin Lindsey, who would help Steve with the driving of the minibus, and her son Cameron.
After a brief stop off in Coalville to collect Ian (and the first argument about where to collect him), we headed for the A50, then the M6 and we were on our way up to Scotland. Stopping occasionally along the way, we passed through the Lake District and on toward Glasgow, then trailing the edge of Loch Lomond for what seemed like an eternity. Later we came to the Scottish highlands and the many hills and mountains there, at which point the question came over and over: "Is that it? Is that one Ben Nevis?" This was generally confirmed not to be so when we saw an even bigger and more dangerous one appear out of the distance. Perhaps it was to ease our nerves over the sheer heights awaiting us at Fort William that Lindsey then almost sent the bus into a ditch after hitting a pothole. This didn't dampen spirits however; if anything they increased and the banter accelerated while the minibus thankfully slowed.
After a long journey, Fort William came as a welcome sight - and quite a pleasant and picturesque little town it was too. The Youth Hostel was also very nice and was situated right at the foot of the mountain, to the extent that all we would need to do was cross a bridge over a small river to begin our ascent the next morning. As we arrived at our accomodation, some hikers were just finishing their own trek up and down the Ben. "I never want to see that f***ing mountain again," one commented. Certainly it looked rather a big beastie, and we couldn't see the top of it due to cloud. It was about this time when I started to wonder whether this was really such a good idea.
We settled in and picked our beds and rooms; Adam, Ian, Rob and Tom R took a shared dormitory only to find themselves landed with Forest fans, who we'd driven about 400 miles to get away from. Meanwhile, me, Ben, Ross, Shapey, Steve and Tom C took to our own room, which would soon turn out to be the naughty room. (We would later get told off for making too much noise...) After this, we headed out on the town. Well... To the local Morrisons anyway, to pick up breakfast for the next morning and sustenance for the next day's climb. I chose sausage rolls myself. We then went on to a local pub and had a slap up meal. I chose gammon, egg and chips, which would deeply shock everyone that knows me.
The next morning came with some of the youngest members of the group making breakfast for us (Shapey and Tom C, plus Ben). However, the sausages and bacon did turn out to be cooked and we all avoided food poisoning. And so, after waiting an extra half an hour or so for Rob to complete his cadet look, we headed across the bridge and started our ascent. The main route began from further to the west, but we of course started from the hostel and took a shortcut to meet it. I say shortcut - This was a shortcut in length but not height, hence it was very steep and by the time we met the main path several of our party were questioning their own ability and sanity in doing this climb; indeed, I remember each of Adam, Steve and Tom R telling me later on that they were rather concerned at this point. However, Rob informed us that this was going to be the toughest part of the climb. Reassuring if not entirely accurate. After several pauses and Ross having to make the tough decision over whether this was genuinely going to be too much for him (thankfully he decided to go on), we started to push forward. The path occasionally got steeper and occasionally flattened out again. But by the time we had reached Lochan Meall we were all feeling confident and the going was good.
Then the sleet came. Views flickered in and out as we pushed on up the zigzags of the pony track on Ben Nevis's western face and thankfully we did manage to capture a few. The weather alternated as we went, from winter to summer and back again, but the real godsend was the wind: There was barely any; as such, the temperature never really dipped that low - to the extent that few of us had to trouble ourselves with many extra layers. We started to encounter a few fellow hikers, climbers and dogs (!) on their way back down, and we asked what it was like at the top. "Enjoy the blizzard," came one response. "You never know," I said to those around me, "We might get lucky." Half way up the zigzags, at one of our numerous pauses for breath, I took a call from Radio Leicester to speak live about our progress; at the end of this, Ian led the rest of the lads in a chorus of the Leicester City anthem "When you're smiling". The confidence and belief was restored, the push continued once more with Ben and Tom C at the head of the group, while Steve acquainted himself with some German ladies. (Fellow climbers, not in a magazine or anything.)
The toughest part was yet to come though. The path up the zigzags had already become filled with shale, but then we hit the snow. First it came in patches and were able to stick to the shale where possible, but there were some distinctly tougher and scarier moments - including one where we found ourselves following footsteps below the actual path and having to scramble up some shale to get back to it. Stops were still required, but the mist and the blizzards rolling in meant that we weren't happy to stop for long - best to push on and get to the top but an even tougher ask on those at the back. We collected another hiker on the way - Andy the Yid. It seemed he had become separated from the rest of his group, and he was probably as pleased to see us as we were to see him. His chirpiness would help us on over the coming half hour.
The plateau, far from being easy, provided the toughest part of all. Covered in snow but with way-markers appearing out of the mist, all we could do was push on and on, going up a couple of big hills of snow. The second of these hills was horrible, with me resorting to swearwords to push myself on and Ian really driving Ross on at the back, not letting him give up even when his legs gave way. For a mile we went on like this, until finally the footprints in front of us veered off to the left. Another fifty to a hundred metres on, the Observatory appeared out of the mist. We had reached the summit.
We were shrouded in mist but all delighted to have made it. Several other groups of hikers were at the top too, and we had a group photo taken to commemorate our achievements. Quite what these other hikers thought of us, I don't know. They mostly looked the same even in their different parties, whereas here we were showing off our Leicester City shirts and wandering around like it was the height of summer. In fact, I would be particularly fascinated to find out what they made of Adam, looking to show off his guns (Rob's words, not mine), and Shapey, doing the whole climb in jeans, trainers and a bright green "Saturday Night Beaver" T-shirt. Still, we shall never know. But all this was possible due to the fact that there was still barely a breath of wind and somehow it just wasn't cold enough to really bother us - Despite there being snow all around.
Well, I say no wind. There was wind. And not just from certain members of our party. There was enough to eventually start opening gaps in the mist and show hints of views. Several of us got very excited and started taking photos whatever we could. The mist cleared more and more, showing us fantastic views away to the north east, which we hadn't been able to see before. We also got a look at the north face across the edge of Gardyloo Gully, which showed itself to be just 15 or 20 metres away from us with a death plunge just beyond. Tom C equated it to the stone angels in Doctor Who that creep up on you when your back is turned. But seriously, there is no denying that we were very lucky: I had read that you have to climb Ben Nevis on average 6 times before you get a view from the top, while people at the Youth Hostel later told us that that happens on about 10 days per year. We got it first time.
Andy the Yid was able to rejoin his group and we prepared to begin the descent, which is statistically more dangerous. However, it is also a lot easier on the legs, and the snow hills on the plateau that challenged us on the way up now just let us slide back down. Indeed, several team members decided to go down them on their bellies. We also took the opportunity to offer encouragement to our fellow hikers on their way up, and I finally understood just why people were telling us during the ascent that we were much closer than we actually were. The way markers and footprints in the snow ensured that navigation was easy and we were soon back on the zigzags, although we got a reminder that mountain incidents could still happen when Ian and Rob both came a cropper on a patch of ice amongst the shale. Thankfully, there was no lasting damage beyond bruises. It wasn't all a slog however: The afternoon sunshine provided a few different views on the way down and those of us with cameras took advantage of these.
We took our time during the descent and indulged in a few further views, patches of sunshine, and seeing Steve fill up a bottle of water at Red Burn waterfall only to drop said bottle in the process. As we approached the bottom, some went on ahead (e.g. The need for a number 2) and some took things a little slower (e.g. Exhaustion), while I found myself in the middle hunting for photo opportunities - and I think I found some! It was still good to reach the foot of the mountain and be met by Lindsey and Cameron, who had apparently been following our progress in their binoculars. We also had an excellent view of the Ben with the top of the dangerous Five-Finger Gully clearly visible just below the plateau. I took more pictures and discovered a dead sheep in a ditch while I waited for the last few to arrive and I ensured I was the last one to cross the bridge after ringing home to celebrate.
After that, we got ready and headed back out into Fort William, finding a chip shop (and Steve finding a nice lady within said chip shop) and heading the local Morrisons again, where we purchased a special cake for Ian, whose birthday was the next day. Upon getting back to the hostel and seeing Ross and Tom C indulging in a well-earned cigar each, we presented Ian with the cake and settled down for a game of poker. I got consistently terrible cards, for which I entirely blame Rob.
Saturday morning came and another early start saw us waving goodbye to Ben Nevis and heading off on the long route back to Leicester, but not before I got to take a final picture of the mountain. The change was remarkable: The clouds were lower, the whole place was darker and colder and the wind had picked up. I then knew beyond doubt that the Ben had treated us really well. Steve drove over the highlands this time, to minimise the risk of disappearing into them, and the atmosphere on the bus was one of quietude but satisfaction as several of the team fell asleep and got their punishment for it - Shapey and Tom C getting various things drawn on them and Ben getting plasters stuck over his glasses. Still, we made good time and arrived back at the Walkers Stadium just before 5.
So what next? Well, perhaps I should concede the final line to the immortal words of Tom R from the way home: "Kilimanjaro, Everest, then the f***ing moon."
