I'll take the high road ...

Ben Nevis

I fly to Glasgow on Tuesday, via Reykjavik, on the first stage of my traipse across the north of Scotland, via the geologic fault called the Great Glen, a depression that includes several lakes -- notably Loch Ness, of monster fame.

Jim, who I know from university days, and his wife Dorothy will have arrived a day earlier, and will meet me and others at the airport.  The others include Jim's brother and his wife, his sister and her husband, and an unrelated next door neighbor.  The day after arrival, we take a train ride of just under four hours from Glasgow to Fort William in the north -- a train ride paralleling the West Highland Way which I hiked back in 2011.

On arrival in Fort William, we will have four days to acclimate, explore the area, visit perhaps some of the neighboring Hebrides, and avoid eating haggis.  Jim and I -- and possibly others -- also plan to attempt a climb of Ben Nevis, assuming decent weather.

Ben Nevis is the Everest of the United Kingdom, I say jokingly.  Yes, it is the highest point of that kingdom, but at 4,411 feet, it's not exactly large by Himalayan, or even Rocky Mountain, standards.  The elevation gain is about the same as climbing Mt. Si, near Seattle, which I do in under two hours.

On the other hand, the weather is unpredictable in northern Scotland, and it can easily snow in June.  There is a humorous essay on-line written by a fellow who climbed Ben Nevis in June 2015, and encountered rain, fog, sunshine, and snow on the way up.  He ran into a hapless couple about one hour into the hike.

It’s raining with a slight headwind and for once I’m wearing the right gear, equating to comfort and safety.  In front are a young couple. He’s soaked, his jeans hanging low in the style of some hip hop rapper type dude. The showerproof kagool offering him little protection as the rain has already broke through. She’s in a worse state. Her footwear is open toed sandals, no jacket, instead she’s wearing a cotton or light wool smock, with neither a hood or back pack in sight.

The writer could hardly believe his eyes, but met them still ascending on his way back down.  When he told them that there was snow ahead, the woman exploded.  A relationship appeared to be unraveling and coming to a messy end.

Jim and I are both well familiar with hiking at any elevation in the Pacific Northwest, and won't be caught unaware sartorially by the weather.  On the other hand, the weather can be pleasant, or it can make for a difficult and even dangerous climb.  Many climbers have been caught in fog at the summit, and have started down the wrong way, with unfortunate consequences. 

We will have compasses.  And knowledge of the bearing we need to get off the summit.

But, as Bobby Burns reminds us, “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men  gang aft a-gley”  If, as we climb, we run into problems that are causing us to gang a-gley, we'll scurry back down to the bottom and to the hotel, where we'll have us some nice single malt whisky and bowls of porridge as we regale others about our misadventure. 

After all, we're going over for the walk, not for a climb.  Still -- fun to stand on the highest point of the United Kingdom, eh?