Does Your Mother Know (alternative Ben Race Report - from the dark side.)
When your mother says either “don’t do it!” or “You could NEVER do that”, it often triggers a defiant response. Never much of a rebel, my response was “Aye, yer bloody right I wouldn’t!”
With a heavy heart I’d handed back my Ben Race entry in mid July, giving my precious place to someone willing to work a bit harder than me. I’d missed the final cut off last year by 2.57 minutes (3hrs 15mins is the target) which generated the dreaded letter that fires a warning shot across the bows - “miss the cut-off next time and yer oot for ever!” I wasn’t willing to be told I couldn’t ever do the race again, so ruled myself out for this one. But how to make one of my most exciting days still exciting without the pain and triumph of the big race?
Most of us know that the dedicated Lochaber Mountain Rescue team which looks after us up the hill on the day, manage to have quite a bit of fun whilst doing so. Traditionally, Spooks father - a member of the team for 40 odd years - never made it home on Race Day. I wondered if they could do with my help?
I arrived at the Base for 9am helicopter training. That sounded exciting and was something I could talk up to others whilst knowing I was never going to get on the chopper cos they’ve got loads of rules about that kind of stuff. I don’t like flying at the best of times so talking about it was enough. Spook even gave me a helmet and safety glasses so I could pretend.
I drank coffee and tried to look important - like I was one of the team. John McRae marched into the base, pointed straight at me and said “right Mo - Tower Ridge - let’s go.”
Callum Anderson walked in “right Mo - Tower Ridge the day, ok?”
Suddenly the Chopper was sounding like a great idea. Pity they’d cancelled it.
A Doctor from the Belford - Anna - had come along to help out with the Marshalling. She’d only been here for 3 weeks and it was a great way to meet folk and spend a day off. The sun was shining. She was smiling. She said she’d quite like to go up to the summit via Tower Ridge. Before I knew it I was saying I would go up Tower Ridge (without actually saying I’d LIKE to go up - but I secretly thought she might need my help.)
Gorgeous Kev was going up. So was Martin. And Matt. And me...............
Unfortunately no one can see how gorgeous Kev is as his head appears to be stuck inside an orange bag.
There was a lot of gear for something they told me was basically a walk. Anna didn’t look like she needed my help and had to show me how to get into my harness.
Before we headed up, Gorgeous Kev’s last words to me (he, Martin ‘Ledge-route’ MacDermot and Matt were going a slightly different way) were “Don’t look down” So I didn’t - ever.
And looking up or at the rocks, or John’s feet or back side or whatever the hell was in front of me, worked very very well. The grips were plentiful and reassuring - doesn’t seem to matter what your feet are doing as long as there is something to grip on to. At one point it was all smooth rock and John must have seen the classic boose coming on (Scottish word meaning “Mouth, not quite a dignified term to apply to the human mouth; very often = a pursed mouth and also = a sulky expression of face”). He told me to keep reaching forward, forward, forward until I would find the grip. And there it was! The sweetest feeling - they could hear it in my gasped relief. If I was taking too long and they got bored, there was always the family photo’s to look at while they waited......
“That’s the boys, and that’s my wee lassie.......and that’s my beautiful Corrina...”
Callum had time to check his mail and update his social media.......
And I managed one close-up Selfie as that’s as far as I could stretch my arm without falling off the mountain.....
Anna was worried that no one would believe I’d been up there as all she could see was a red helmet so every now and then she asked me to look up and smile...
This is not a real smile.
There was always the reassurance that Anna wasn’t scared.
So there can’t have been anything to be scared of, as they all knew where they were going....
And the sun was shining out of my proverbial.
There was a strolly bit and a climby bit and a tricky bit, but all looking upwards. There was taught rope and loose rope and haul me up rope. And then......there was.......the......gap. Jeeeeeezzzz. Everyone’s heard of the gap. There is a photo, lost somewhere, of my mother clinging to the gap with her eyes closed, hair stuck to her brow and a definite sweary word on her pursed lips. But that’s all I saw. There was no photo of the actual gap. And no photo could do justice to this small space into which you must descend alone and reach across and climb out of. And alone is the operative word no matter how much friction they tell me they have on the rope. You are alone in that gap. This is what my mother meant! And she was right. The approach to it looked bad enough - quite different from anything we’d encountered so far. But Anna - whom I had gone up there to protect - had gone ahead and set up the sling to cling to, nipped over the gap and climbed high to set up the belay that would keep us all safe. She looked so relaxed. Like it was nothing. She was still smiling. And chatting. Not a quiver in her voice. John descended into the gap while Anna discussed with him how great it was that wherever you put your foot there was a place for it. Callum was to keep the rope taught for me on one side, John on the other, and Anna looking after all of us up top. As I pondered my life and the knowledge that there was simply no way out of this, Kev, Martin and Matt appeared with a chorus of “Mo Mo Super Mo” making wee heart shape hands on their helmets. I appeared to be the only one clinging to the rocks. Was no-one taking this seriously???
Actually - although this is not a clear photo, I appear to be making the helmet sign myself. What the hell was I thinking of???? Get a grip, girl!!
Again - not a clear picture, but colour me gripped.
As I began the death descent, Anna continued to utter the calm and reassuring words that those foot holds were there in all the right places - I’d find them naturally. I was obeying Kev’s earlier words. There is no way I was looking down. There was very little below my feet except for these foot holds that were in all the right places. And then you’re in the gap but you have to climb straight up out of it. Don’t look down.John said “Oh - here, Mo! - you better reach up and unclip that rope from the carabiner - that’s meant to be unclipped.” (silence from me but mary hell going on inside - Jeeez - it’s away up above me and if I look up I’ll fall off and die. But he says it needs to be unclipped. Will I pull Callum off? Are we all going to fall? I need to unclip it.)
My hand crept up to the carabiner and I unfurled the metal clip in slow motion, barely breathing as I eased the rope out of it’s grasp - any wrong move and it was all over. Did this mean I was unsecured? No time to think. Just turn back to the left, get both hands onto the wall and climb like my life depended on it.
I’m over the gap. I’m alive. And I’m close to tears......
I couldn’t believe I’d done it, that I’d lulled myself into the belief that I do this kind of thing only to discover that I truly don’t but I now I had to, as there is no going back. It had been so much fun up until that moment. The loveliest and in some ways easiest way to access the summit of The Ben. Except for that bloody gap. Tiny, yet immense. Relief was palpable but we were not yet at the top and I now knew that nothing was stopping me - even when I had to crawl a ledge that was an obvious stroll to those not afflicted with the ‘fear’.
I don’t even remember this bit but it’s very similar to what I had to crawl up.
I regained a wee bit equilibrium as from the gap to the summit is but a short scramble. The beauty and fresh air of that solid surface has to be the best feeling (at least compared to how you feel when you’ve tramped up the tourist path)
Which is what Running Girls daughter Maisie and her friend Rosie had just done, and whom we met when we came over the Ridge. They were feeling less than exhilarated at this point, but it was their first ever ascent of the country’s biggest hill and all in honour of RG’s 21st Ben Nevis Race.
For me - I don’t know how much was exhilaration and how much was pure relief...
The best dram I ever tasted.
And now it was time to do the job we had come to do.
The boys had Gardyloo Gully to guard against any runners tripping into and Anna and I were to go down to 4000ft. The day was only beginning.........
Our powerhouse Running Girl on her 21st Ben Race. This is the painful style that gets you up the hill fastest.
Callum’s sister Julie, on her 21st Ben Race - injured and rocking it.
Donald, sporting the number 21 on his 21st Ben Race.
Foss, on his 21st Ben Race.
And hat’s off to Johnny Banks who chased that 21st prize through injury and pain - you did it!!
Amanda - beating her boys to the bottom in 2hrs 14 mins.
Spook has decided to get a hair cut and shave for next year, to cut off a few minutes.
Raymond - fought his way back onto the mountain after illness.
And this man - Stephen Symons who stopped to chat on his way down and to take a photo at 4000ft as he’d recovered from a brain hemorrhage and was not going to miss a pic of the view.
Finlay Wilde on his way to his 8th consecutive win.
The hill was alive with heros. No one should ever underestimate how tough this race is.
(thanks to John O’Neill for the Ben Race photos.)
As I left Anna at the Team Base after a great day out, I worried about leaving my lovely new climbing partner behind so I called in later to check she was ok. I found her to be in safe hands...
She is Anna Wells - UK Drytool Climbing champ, runner of mountain marathons. record holder of the quickest woman over the Skye Ridge. KIndest lady support up the Tower Ridge. Who knew? (Well actually, somebody told me and then I told everyone else - so by the end of the night, everyone knew.)
http://dmmclimbing.com/blog/anna-wells-looks-back-2014/
Since encountering The Gap, I have heard that many a relationship has almost foundered there. Tordis was very rude to her husband Ian when she discovered the true path to the top. Climbing Kev was very rude to Running Girl as he sat looking at his watch while she spent quiet some time wondering what the hell she was doing there.
I would recommend the low key, easy companionship of John and Callum any day, which did not disguise the experience and knowledge they brought with them. I never doubted for a minute that I wasn’t in the safest of hands or I would never ever have gone, as despite appearing a little blase at first, I don’t do this. I really don’t. I am so grateful that they didn’t leave me to walk up that tourist path.
When I think of the hell poor Spook has had to go through as I throw the dummy around and use up loads of wasted energy on letting my fear take over. Internalising and focussing - and as noted by Anna - going totally silent - is a little more effective and a lot easier to live with. I just don’t know this trio well enough to behave badly!! And that is a useful scenario!
