by Sally Hyder
‘Mum, have you eaten that Boost I gave you?’ he shouts.
Everyone laughs.
Busted! I’ve secretly snacked on chocolate to get me up the mountain.
‘Come on, folks,’ Alan tells us. ‘Time to move on!’
Everyone seems happy: they’re loving the views. Some have never been to Scotland or climbed a mountain before; the weather is just fantastic and the lower mountains look good. I feel so proud of my home country as I see them all enjoying it. Harmony has a great cuddle, a banana for energy and a drink.
Alan takes charge, saying: ‘No time to waste! We’ve got another four hours of climbing.’
We set off again and this time Teams A and B are united; that means 28 walkers plus dogs, guides and me. Apart from the drainage channels that are chasms across the track (oh so easy to fall into one of those), the track feels wonderfully easy after the bog; I’m confident. I’ve no idea of the time – it all seems to be going so quickly – but I’m feeling sore and tired so I know we’ve been going for hours. The track has been evened out with gravel to facilitate the huge number of people who use it (Alan reckons about 1,000 over the weekend); it’s one way to try and prevent the mountain from being eroded. Everyone must stick to the path and there are also signs asking folk to keep dogs on leads to prevent accidents.
I’m beginning to recognise the Boma’s ‘I’m tired’ signals. Sure enough, after a few flashing lights the engine cuts out and a fresh battery (carried by Team B) is produced. It’s the last change: for some reason the batteries seem to be getting weaker. They last for less time or does the ascent as we reach the top mean the Boma needs more power?
Five minutes later, it cuts out.
‘Jon, what’s going on?’
I sense myself beginning to panic.
The group gathers round and everyone looks apprehensive. As usual, my lovely dog takes the opportunity to give me a cuddle.
Oh Harmony, how I love you!
Jon looks up at me and I can see it in his eyes before he says anything but I don’t want to hear what he has to say.
‘Sally, it’s the circuit board – it’s fused. I can put a new one in, but because it’s been drawing energy exclusively off one battery, we have used them too quickly. We have lost those two empty ones from the supply. I hate to say it, but we don’t have enough batteries to get you to the top.’
Silence.
‘We can pull you up the rest of the way, Mum.’
It’s Peter, my little soldier, now a young man.
I smile at him; I have to think fast – it’s another two hours to get to the top. There’s no way I can ask the team to do that, already they look tired. Besides, I wanted to do it under Boma steam. This was supposed to be my climb!
‘Right,’ I say, swallowing back the tears – a mix of anger, disappointment and extreme sadness. ‘I’m going back down. The rest of you carry on, get to the top and shout my name.’
No one wants to leave me, so I put on a brave face and force a smile.
‘Really,’ I insist.
But they don’t look at all convinced.
‘It’s your dream, too – it’s what you’ve been sponsored to do and training to do.’
‘Sally …’
‘I won’t hear any excuses!’
And so the team move off, but Mandy (my good friend and Peter’s godmother) refuses to leave me.
‘Mandy,’ I fix her with one of my looks. ‘I need you to go more than I need you to stay! You’ve tried to go up so many times and always been thwarted by the weather. Conditions are perfect today. GO!’
Hugs all round and off she goes. Meanwhile, Lesley (Harmony’s puppy parent) is in tears.
‘I’m coming down with you,’ says Mum, defiant, even though I know this will be a huge disappointment to her.
I burst into tears and cuddle Andrew. I feel so angry and devastated – it hurts! Then I pull myself together. I ask Andrew to text Clara and his parents to let them know as they are waiting for news.
Arms around you, comes straight back in a text from Rob and Delia; it helps a lot.
‘Can someone take a photo of Harmony and me here?’
Clare snaps away without asking how I feel; I know she and Andy were filming me while I was upset but I had told them to keep rolling, come what may. The final stragglers, still unwilling to leave, are silent. It’s a far cry from the chatter and laughter, endless words of encouragement that had all been such a part of the big day.
We begin our descent.
With me are Andrew, Jacqui, Mum, Claire, Alan and Jon. My bladder, with which I normally have no sensation, is full to bursting; every jolt is painful. Andrew has brought a large sheet with him and finds a likely rock. He, Jacqui and Mum hold it around me. Andrew gets all my layers off: now I’m just wearing my upper layers. Ah, what bliss to be caressed by mountain air, to feel my body in contact with Mother Nature!
‘I want to walk on a mountain again before I get back in the chair,’ I say.
Andrew supports me and off I go, upright – it feels so good. The track is clear. Triumphant, I keep on walking, forcing my unwilling legs to continue.
Just a bit further, Sally!
‘You’ll have to bring the Boma to me,’ I shout back.
The group brings it down to me. Gemma (one of the trainers) and her boyfriend Matt have joined us. It was too much for her, too (I hope it’s not the energy she expended on helping me through the bog that has sapped her). Suddenly my right leg feels terrible: a spasm is starting and my brain won’t connect with it and so I can’t get it to move. I feel dizzy.
‘OK, back into the Boma,’ I tell Andrew.
We arrive at the bog and of course, we’ve no power – we have to do the journey in manual without any downhill control. All that training to control the descent and now look at us! Alan and Matt attach ropes to the back and with Jon and Andrew at the front, I ease forward, the ropes serving as brakes. Meanwhile, Doyle and Harmony love their romp through the bracken, barking and chasing frogs; they force me to smile. Then Harmony appears at my side, nodding. She catches my eye as if to say, Wow, what a great day!
Harmony knows how to make me feel better – she always does, even though my cherished dream is in tatters. Not only have I been unsuccessful, I’ve needed all this help too.
‘Look!’ says Jacqui.
We gaze upwards: the teams should be at the top by now. Suddenly I gasp as the summit appears through the mist. Wow, the views from the top must be incredible! A pang of jealousy gives way to a tide of gratitude and pleasure that the others have benefited from this amazing trip. On average, the Ben only reveals itself 50 days per year – and today is one of them.
I’m pulled back across the river. Everyone is in pain and exhausted: this time we’re grateful for the top car park. We all sit in the sunshine while Andrew and Alan go down to bring up cars for us plus the ill-fated Boma. We hear that two women, a dog and a man have turned back; I feel sad for them. Vicky has had to turn back as her lovely dog, Enya, developed a limp. Ronnie came down too and Alison’s legs simply refused to carry on. Enya, I’m glad to say, turns out to be fine.
Back at the bunkhouse, Andrew changes out of sopping clothes. I want to go and see the others back at base, the Ben Nevis Inn. Family and friends are all waiting. An hour later, the last of our team get in. Pints all round! We greet the returning teams with a round of applause. Half an hour later, the most enormous portions of beefsteak and lasagne are served followed by pudding. The mood is tired, but I’m glad to say, happy: so many people who never dreamt they could do the Ben have achieved the climb. Out of 28 walkers, 23 made it.
Twelve-year-old Peter presents me with a rock – he thought he’d bring the summit to me. My own Peter also gives me a beautiful stone that he too brought down. Again, I cry – I thought I was so in control of my emotions, but obviously not.
Back at the bunkhouse, I find lots of lovely Facebook messages from supporters, encouraging me and telling me how well w
e have all done. Andrew and I end the day with a cup of tea and a wee whisky. Of course, I can’t sleep – the spasms are terrible, my head spins. Harmony jumps up beside me and eventually I drift off.
Next morning, I see the trainers packing up, ready to go. I look up at the glorious mountains: they are stunning in the sunshine. A germ of an idea forms. Jon comes round to see me, clearly disappointed the Boma didn’t get me get me to the top.
‘Don’t apologise,’ I tell him. ‘You did everything you could. Anyway, I’ve got an idea …’
I watch a smile creep across his face.
‘Really, Jon – I think we can do it. I want to try again.’
He doesn’t look at all surprised.
‘If we get guides to take the batteries up the day before and leave them in strategic points, if the Boma Mark 7 is ready. When the path at the top is finished …’
‘OK,’ says Jon.
That’s all I need to hear.
‘2011,’ I say.
And so, Ben Nevis 2 is born.
On the drive home with Mandy and Harmony in the back, I feel a rush of excitement. There are so many things to look forward to and I can’t wait to see Melissa’s smiling face – I always miss her when we’re apart and I know how much she worries. My thoughts turn to the future. So what’s next? Hey, how about abseiling down the Forth Rail Bridge as a warm-up to Ben Nevis 2? But I’m forgetting Machu Pichu, the Alps. Oh yes, and I want to sail the Caledonian Canal …
As I write this, I glance over at Harmony, who is sleeping peacefully. Sensing movement, her eyes open and she looks at me to check if I need anything. She is always thinking of me: if I drop something, she comes running. She’ll always be there for me, no matter what. As a family, we’re flying: Peter is now at Uni, Clara is incredibly busy with her music and Scouts, Melissa now attends a special school … Life is good. Perhaps we could have had adventures without Harmony, but she has given us all the confidence to try new things.
And as for me: I want to live the rest of my life, not survive it!
Acknowledgements
Jemima Hunt, without whom this book would never have been born; Mum and Dad for showing me mountains; Viv, you know why, and thank you; Ali, for being the best friend ever; Dean for being fun and the most amazing listener; thanks Clara for the title to chapter 13.
Thank you also to Harmony’s Puppy Parents: Lesley, Tanya, Wendy, Kevin and Dizzy, plus the fabulous Southampton Puppy Training Satellite, and not forgetting Ann, Harmony’s advanced trainer – Harmony is who she is because of all of you.
Thanks to all the Canine Partners Puppy Parents who work so hard – only to face heartbreak each time they pass one of their charges to Advanced Training; to Canine Partner’s amazing band of trainers who match us with such skill, and who cope with training not only the dogs but the human side of the partnership as well – and who do all this with unfailing courtesy and enthusiasm: thanks to Guide Dogs for the Blind, who bred Harmony.
Thanks to every person at the charity Canine Partners, for what they do for all of us; to Jenny for being a sounding board and to Wendy for keeping us on the straight and narrow! Finally: to Chris and Jon of Molten Rock – thanks for that Taste of Freedom.
Copyright
© Sally Hyder 2011
Sally Hyder asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-0-00-739358-9
EPub Edition © 2011 ISBN: 9780007393596
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