Ben Nevis: Highest Point in Britain

When I planned this trip I hadn't intended to climb the tallest mountain in Great Britain, it just sort of happened. By which I mean, the hostel where I was planning on staying was several kilometers out of town and right at the mountain's base. Also, Ben Nevis is only 1343 meters. That's only two thirds the elevation of my parents' house, which is at the bottom of a mountain. How hard could it be?

There were cute fuzzy cows on the way to the backpacker's lodge. 

I awoke well before dawn, along with several other hikers who were intending to climb the north face (for non-mountaineers: the hard side of pretty much any mountain in the northern hemisphere).  I decided to take the easiest route possible since I was hiking by myself (PSA: don't ever do that) and didn't have real gear. Well, I had better gear then when Dan and I climbed the Mettelhorn, but that's not saying a whole lot. Hell, I was feeling downright compared to the Mettelhorn trek: I had boots, goretex pants and coat and fleece lining, the warmest socks ever devised... Not too bad. My boots hit the trail at 0630. 

Once the sun rose, I was able to see the mountains around me in all their glory. 

Then the path got steeper. The crusted over snow was slick and rather tricky to navigate. Pictured below is the path. Yes, really.

I only had a few moments of having to stop and hyperventilate after thinking I would slide off the mountain to my death before it flattened out. Huge cairns pointed the way to the summit, which is good because visibility was pretty minimal with all the blowing snow along the high ridge. 

Which didn't stop this little bird from being there. I can't imagine what it thought it was going to eat in the perpetually snowy area. 

I, on the other hand, was going to eat gummy bears because I reached the summit three hours after I began hiking. Thanks, Aunt Sonja and Uncle Albert for the gummy bears that I took with my across Korea, Iceland, and now had earned as my traditional mountain peak treat in Scotland. 

On the way down I had been thinking that I was insane to hike by myself on a steep snow and ice covered mountain, where I nearly tumbled on some of the nastier patches of ice. Then I ran into a guy with skis strapped to the back of his pack. He planned to hit the summit by noon and then find a path down at high velocity. I felt totally sane in comparison.