Taking Ben Nevis - 8 miles (Altitude 1344m)

As the highest mountain in the British Isles at 1344m, Ben Nevis is a hugely popular destination for trekkers and climbers. On different sides of the mountain, lie various routes of different levels of difficulty. We approached our ascent from the south side, on the easy trekking route, known as the Pony Track.

We crossed the wide valley and began the ascent after the first fence.



The weather forecast had been rather optimistic. In reality, the weather conditions were less than ideal. It began as being rather damp and chilly, and as we moved further up the mountain, visibility became quite dire with fog and rain. We could just about make out the valley floor between clouds of fog.



Here, the visibility got pretty bad. I could barely see ten yards ahead. The rain got heavier, until my trousers and bag were soaked, and water was running off my eyebrows and chin.



For a brief moment, the winds blew a clearing in the clouds. We could see Lochan Meall an t-Suidhe, which is a little lake nestled high in the mountain range itself. Beyond that, is the elbow formed by the confluence of Loch Linnhe with Loch Eil.



At around 1000m, Dr. J and Jo vetoed and headed back down. I don't blame them at all. The weather and visibility were poor. We were soaked and it was getting quite late in the day.

However, Ali and I decided to push on. I think at the back of my mind, I wasn't sure when we'd head this way again. Though my legs were aching, I kept telling myself I'm pretty lucky to have legs and to be climbing up this mountain. I think it's partly my innate pigheadedness. I really really wanted to get to the top, despite the pain.

Cairns marked the last couple of zig-zag turns near the top, and also to help keep walkers on the path.



Yeah, I don't really want to be wandering off that ledge down the steep fall of the North face. This side is where the climbers emerge, after hauling themselves up the huge buttresses that overlook Coire Leis.



The mist made the summit look suitably spooky, especially with this war memorial, the highest in Britain. Just behind it, lie the old ruins from the Observatory. We didn't stay long, just long enough to share a dram of whisky with a few random hikers.



It's interesting that the etymological meaning of "Ben Nevis" is that it's an anglicisation of the Gaelic name Beinn Nibheis. While beinn is the most common Gaelic word for "mountain", Nibheis is variously understood, though the name is commonly translated as "malicious" or "venomous mountain".



According to the wiki, an alternative interpretation is also that Beinn Nibheis derives from beinn-neamh-bhathais, from Neamh "heavens, clouds" and bathais "top of a man's head". A literal translation would therefore be "the mountain with its head in the clouds", though "mountain of Heaven" is also frequently given. On our way down, a gust of wind blew the clouds aside, cleared our vision and we caught a glimpse of Loch Linnhe. It was quite breathtaking.



It took ages to get down the mountain. With wet, slippery rocks, I found myself moving with great caution. After what seemed like forever, we finally reached the stream we crossed on the way up.



As dusk fell, that beautiful pre-sunset glow hit the hills. It would be another couple of hours before we hit ground, got out of our wet clothes and foraged for a late dinner.





For more details on the Ben Nevis trail, check out this website.

To the Highlands

We were up at the ghastly hour of 3.30am. Ali roared up on his bike not long after, and set off for Stansted Airport. It reminded me a little of the road trips I used to take with my parents. My parents used to have holidays where we would drive up either the east or west coast of Malaysia. In order to avoid the rush of traffic at the Singapore-Malaysian causeway, we would set off hours before dawn. I used to get a little excited as we'd have to sneak around so as not to wake the neighbours.

The roads were fairly empty on the way to Stansted, but the airport itself was churning as expected. It surprises others how much I dislike Stansted in this state. Airports to me, should be quiet sanctums in the early hours. Sacred stopway for those of us who like to slip in half light between places and realities. This Stansted is no better than a mall, packed with bargain hunters and hangabouts, like myself.

We got into Prestwick and Jo picked us up a little later. After one or two stops where we dithered a little longer than recommended, we were on our way to Fort William.

Just shortly after noon, we pulled into the car park that looked up towards Ben Nevis.

Ben Nevis, here we come

All packed and ready...just need to get a couple of hours of sleep before we make the bleary, weary-eyed journey to Stansted, that human campsite of an airport. From there, we'll fly via Ryan Air to Preswick Airport near Glasgow.

Then we head up Ben Nevis. As the highest mountain in the British Isles, this is going to require quite a bit of sweat and panting.

So if you've been thinking about donating, please do! It's all going for a great cause.

Couldn't agree more!

Wise words from Eastbourne!

We did it! Rawr! Seaford to Eastbourne - 14.6 miles

After a few delays due to bad weather and various walkers being away, we finally managed to get our act together for what Ali calls, THE BIG KAHUNA, the big dickens, the granddaddy of all the walks - the level 10 difficulty 14.6 mile trek from Seaford to Eastbourne.

We'd been saving this walk for ages, waiting for the right time when we felt strong enough. Finally, it was time before the days got any shorter and it'd be too dark. It was also a fitting crown for the end of the summer season.

We made a semi-early start from Victoria and headed on towards Lewes, to make a change for the Seaford train. Seaford is pretty pleasant as seaside towns go, much prettier than Folkestone and a lot less busy than Brighton. It was a bright sunny day, and all manner of walkers were out for a jaunt.

The seafront was very clean and picturesque, complete with the cutesy candy cane bathing huts. Psst, this beach is largely artificial due to sand and stone having to be imported to top up the washed away beach.





Quite quickly, we made the first steep ascent up the cliff to traverse a large green plain with sheep.



This house reminded me of that lone barn in the high yak pastures of the Himalayas. I'd love to live somewhere like that - with miles around me, undisturbed. But no sheep, thanks.



This coastal route is one of the best in England, where the path follows the rolling white cliffs of the famous Seven Sisters. Here's one of the best peeks of the dramatic chalk ridges.





Before long, we started downwards towards the shore. The waves lapped against a little cove and beach. Unfortunately, route was split by a estuary, which was a little too deep to wade across. Ali was all for wading across, but I'm a firm believer in non-soggy socks. Thankfully, Dr. J plumped down on the side of being cautious and not being swept into the current.





Thus began a 4km detour inland along the bank of the river to find a crossing. As it was such a lovely day, it really didn't matter. It felt quite good to keep striding.

This river is the River Ouse, which we'd walked along a previous time, further in near Lewes. Part of the joys of walking, is connecting the geography of the land in a way that traveling via train or vehicles do not provide.







As we curled back across a tarmac bridge, we encountered two bizarre sights. The first was a middle-aged lady who was attempting to do the walk in...heels. Mind you, they weren't stilettos but still...it seemed a little crazy.

The second - we heard before we saw it. There was a hideous loud squawking and what could only be described as a scene out of The Birds, where a large gaggle of geese flew around in concentric circles before descending in the waters. We stood and gawped for a while.





Soon we were back in view of the the coast.





As we climbed upwards again, we reached a plateau of what looked like a random smattering of loose, white chalky stones. However, on closer inspection, there were different patches of stone messages, some had been kicked over and scattered, some no longer legible as their stones were stolen and reused.

This was still pretty intact. I carefully stepped around it.



We followed the up and down curvature of the Seven Sisters, named for the seven hills of the coastline, giving our legs a good workout. These cliffs are made of chalk, and are currently receding 30-40cm every year.



As we curled around another steep point, it got a little more crowded. Walkers were playing "Look how far to the edge I am!" with each other, waving the arms with their mouths open as they posed for photos.

I like to walk pretty close to the edge too. Somehow the sight of the blue sea and the seabreeze revitalised me. Dr. J and Ali preferred to keep a more prudent distance in. But this sight of the famous Belle Tout was worth the risk. This Lighthouse was built to protect ships from the hazardous protruding cliffs of Beachy Head, recently, it's been turned into private residence.



Part of the festivities were also due to a speed-skateboarding race. The racing track had recently been laid over and bikers and skateboarders were showing off their skills.



As we reached the peaks of Beachy Head, the highest chalk sea cliff in Britain, I soon came across the various tributes laid for the suicides here. On a warm gorgeous day, it seemed a little criminal to imagine taking your life at this beautiful spot. I could imagine the urge though, if one was stood here in despair in a howling gale with the sea thundering below.





I like this shot. The shape of the path reminds me of the route to Lobuche, where the paths were far narrower and right on the edge. It was a wonder how quickly we got used to it.





We spied our final destination over the last curve, the town of Eastbourne, which grew from a stone age settlement. Known as one of the sunniest places in Great Britain, this was once a popular holidaying spot.



It wasn't so bad after all. Admittedly, once we started hitting tarmac again, the feet were definitely aching. But I could have trudged on for a bit more. 10/10 difficulty walk...easy peasy!

So far, so far.

It's been seven months!

It's amazing how a few little steps can add up to over a hundred miles, and we're slowly creeping up to the 200 mile landmark.

A big thanks to everyone who sent support and donations - sums big and small have arrived from different people around the world, and even surprisingly, from a runaway bear!

He sent US 30 dollars!



I'm going to keep walking as much as I can - there's a LEVEL 10 mothership of a hike this weekend, and another munro in the making in September. Please keep checking back and keep giving generously.

THANK YOU!

Holmwood to Gomshall - 9.6 miles

After almost a month's break, it was lovely to be back out in the countryside walking. This week's route was a long awaited one. For some reason we'd been wanting to climb Leith Hill for a while, and we kept putting it off as one of us would go AWOL and we wanted to save the walk till we were all present. This week, it looked like we were finally all present. Unfortunately, at the last minute, Phil pulled out but it was too late to pick a different walk.

Setting out from Holmwood station, we made our way into the country.





Quite quickly, we made our way across fields and alongside a little pond. The ducks were standing in a row, perfectly still, almost pointing to one direction. It was kinda funny.



Soon we started the climb up Leith Hill. Most of it was quite a gradual slope, except for one very steep section. You know when it comes to a point where you're almost bent double as it's so steep you can't actually stand up? Yeah, well you might as well clamber up using your hands too.

We got to the top of Leith HIll, which is 294m tall, with its wonderful view and historical tower.





Hmm, interesting fact.

"The tower was built in the years 1765 to 1766, later to become known as Leith Hill Tower, with the intention of raising the hill above 1,000 ft (300 m) above sea level. The tower is 19.5m (64 ft) high and consisted of two rooms "neatly furnished", with a Latin inscription above the door announcing that it had been built for not only his own pleasure, but also for the enjoyment of others. Hull provided visitors with prospect glasses, similar to a small telescope, through which to survey the extensive views towards London and the English Channel, each some 40 kilometres (25 miles) away, and thirteen counties on a very clear day. When he died in 1772, at his request he was buried under the tower, upside-down as he believed that at Judgement Day the world would be turned on its head."

Whoa, centuries of headrush!

We didn't linger as there were too many people about. We delved back into the woods to get away from the civilisation.



We stopped at the Stephen Langton Inn, which is the "recommended" pub stop. The food was nothing to write home about, and the bartender was really snotty. For anyone else walking this route, it's probably more enjoyable to bring a packed lunch and munch atop Leith Hill or have a late lunch at Gomshall Mill.

Nice horsies though.





Sometimes the countryside is kinda cute. We walked past a cottage with a little table out front, where little pots of homemade jam sat. There was a jar saying "Two pounds each". Ali bought a jar and dropped a two pound coin in.





Did I mention it's also berry-picking season? Plump blackberries dangled from bushes left and right.



We arrived at Gomshall fairly early and stopped for a cup of tea. Unfortunately, that meant we missed the train and it was not for two hours before there was another. Things were turning grim fast, until we decided to pop into the lovely Gomshall Mill restaurant/pub.

This cosily decorated pub was lovely. Leather couches, soft cushions, a fireplace...and the food was scrumptious! We had cream teas to start. The scones were soft and warm, and the clotted cream thick. Ali's scampi and chips were fresh and properly crunchy. After several cups of tea, we decided on the mixed deli platter which had pitta brea, humous and assorted meat. Yum. It turned a dismal wait into a rather pleasant afternoon.