I checked into a cosy guest house in Inverlochy, just a 20-minute walk from central Fort William. Just two nights here before another brief stay in Edinburgh. I had enough time to wander and explore before grabbing dinner at The Grog and Gruel pub, chosen mostly because of the name. The food turned out to be quite good. Much needed energy for the big day of mountain climbing.
Ben Nevis and the CMD Arête Trail
Ben and Kate from the boat tour had suggested I try a different way up Ben Nevis, the Càrn Mòr Dearg Arête (CMD Arête) trail. It loops around the north face of the mountain and involves climbing a secondary Munro along the way. I caught a taxi out to the start point, as the buses weren’t entirely reliable, and was on the trail by 8am.
I’d downloaded a trail app which helped me through the forested section, where multiple crisscrossing paths could easily lead you astray. It was a lovely stroll to begin with—nice views, fresh air, and a gentle incline. As I emerged from the forest, I was greeted with a spectacular view of Ben Nevis and its surrounding peaks: Carn Beag Dearg, Carn Mòr Dearg, and Carn Dearg (which is often mistaken for Ben Nevis, as it sits in front of it from certain angles).
I followed a river up towards Carn Beag Dearg, but somewhere along the way, distracted by the views, I took a wrong turn and ended up deep in the valley between the mountains. Rather than backtracking, I decided to climb the side of the mountain, a decision that probably only saved a little time but well and truly exhausted me. It was very steep. Eventually, I rejoined the proper path and made my way up and along Carn Beag Dearg to Càrn Mòr Dearg. First Munro down.
There were very few people on the trail, which made it hard to follow anyone else, especially with no clearly defined path. From there, it was a scramble down to the arête itself, a narrow, treacherous ridge with extreme drops on either side and, at points, sheer cliffs.
Now, most people know I’m not a fan of heights, so believe me when I say the next 90 minutes were absolutely terrifying. There were sections where I had to walk atop small boulders with drops on either side, totally focused on each step to avoid a loose rock. Sometimes the trail dropped steeply off one side and I’d be practically rock-climbing around tight corners with nothing but air below. No photos of this section, for obvious reasons.
I’d made a deal with myself to complete the trail, so I slowly but steadily pressed on, eventually making it to the other side. Nothing left then but a steep, rocky scramble to the summit. I was absolutely cooked, the effort spent crossing the arête had drained me, and although the summit was close, I had to take several breaks before finally climbing over a final lip and seeing the top.
Dozens of people were already there, having come up the main trail, snapping photos and enjoying their lunch. It was around 2pm when I finally sat down for mine, exhausted but absolutely thrilled to have made it.
The way down was slow going. My knees were already fatigued, and the long descent down the winding main path was pretty punishing. I ended up walking with a few random groups, many of us with sore knees and taking things gradually. We encouraged and consoled each other past the steeper rocky bits, and four hours later, I was finally at the bottom.
A massive ten hours of some of the hairiest hiking I’ve ever done. Fear and pain aside, I’m so glad I did it. The stunning views and sheer adventure of such an iconic mountain made it all worthwhile.
It was a 30-minute walk back to Fort William, where I treated myself to a steak and a couple of pints at the only restaurant conveniently situated on the way to the accommodation. I didn’t have the energy to head into town. I felt only slightly guilty being a sweaty mess of a patron, but after the day I had, I’d earned it. With my belly full, it was back to the guest house to crash out.
Next stop: Edinburgh. Depending on how my knees feel, I might be taking things very easy…
