Four days after arriving in Glasgow for the semester, my roommates and I had one thing in common: we were all from very non-mountainous areas of the world. Most of them were from the Netherlands (literally “low country” — the name itself reflects the flatness) and neighboring flatlands. Ironically enough, never in my life had I met people so interested in the mountains before. Many of them loved hiking, and most admitted that living near mountains for once was a main motivation for choosing Scotland to study abroad.
Though I knew Scotland was mountainous, I hadn’t paid that much thought to it before meeting this group. Little did I know, mountains would come up frequently in conversation in the four months I spent in Scotland. For example, I learned that “munro” is a special term for mountains over 3,000 feet in Scotland. “Bagging” a munro means you have climbed all the way to the top, and Munro-bagging itself refers to the very popular activity of trying to climb all 282 of them.
Before Scotland, I had never gone hiking before — much less on a mountain. In fact, I had barely ever seen a mountain up close. But after hearing so much about them, I was excited to see for myself what all the fuss was about.
One day, the group got together to go hiking. Our goal: to climb all 2,900 feet of Ben Arthur, also known as The Cobbler (just 100 feet too short of a munro!). We took the bus to the village of Arrochar in the morning and stopped by a small tea room before setting off on our journey. Another thing our group had in common was a love of carrot cake, which was luckily very popular throughout Scotland and the UK. Luckily, this tea room had it on the menu, and we enjoyed a slice or two with some tea and coffee before setting out.
Happy and caffeinated, we began walking towards the trail. This would be my first time ever climbing a mountain, and I felt confident! As we got closer, I remarked that the mountain didn’t even look that tall. I convinced myself this would be an easy journey. That thought lasted about 15 minutes.
The path started with a zigzag through the forest that got steeper and steeper and I realised I had deluded myself with my overconfidence. I remembered immediately that I am much more a fan of the idea of cardiovascular exercise than the execution. I didn’t think I could go on much longer, and we weren’t even on the mountain yet! Luckily, I was with a great group of friends who laughed with me and cheered me on, even if some of them were breezing through it like it was nothing.
The view changed completely once we ascended through the dense forest cover and into an open plain. We stopped to catch our breath and admire what we were seeing. The air was suddenly lighter, and the sun shone through a mass of dense clouds in a bright blue sky. The ground was covered in orange grass and distant hills contoured the landscape. It felt like it was painted on, like a Hollywood set. We followed the trail to a stream, and had to do some parkour on rocks to get over the water. Every hiker on their way down greeted us cheerfully as we crossed paths.
The higher we climbed, the better the view, and I was more motivated than ever to get to the top. We were around two hours in at this point, but even with the view, I was still held back by my (lack of) cardiovascular fitness. At least now I had to just look up from my feet every once in a while and distract myself, though at many points I wanted to lie down on the grass and give up. It also helped that we sang along to Scottish folk songs and came up with word games.
Soon, the weather became unpredictable. One second, the sky would turn gray and it would begin to rain, and the next it was bright and sunny again. At one point, the rain turned to snow. By then we had been deceived multiple times by seeing a peak, thinking it was the top, climbing it, and realising there was still more to go. We knew we must be getting closer to the top, but learned not to expect it so soon.
Eventually, we reached a point where there was no way to get up other than to scramble. Surprisingly enough, I found this to be the least exhausting and most fun part of the journey. Hoisting myself up, I realized there were no more higher peaks in sight: this was it! We had finally reached the top!
I must admit the view was quite underwhelming. With the snow and altitude, there was nothing but fog. But the sense of accomplishment we felt more than made up for it.
The hard part was over, but we were only halfway done. Climbing down was definitely not as cardiovascularly taxing, but there was a danger of slipping down that I didn’t feel on the ascent. Despite falling down at least two times (once on a rock, ouch), I enjoyed this part a lot more. Even so, we were around five hours in by the time we made it back to the forest. We were tired, cold, and hungry, and our clothes were soaking wet from the rain and snow. But we knew we had to make it back in time for carrot cake, which kept us going.
Luckily, we made it before the tea room closed for the day. Soaking in the warmth of the indoors and a cup of coffee, I let everything sink in. My fingers were bloated twice their size and I felt muscles in my legs I didn’t know existed… but I just climbed 2,900 feet! I walked seven miles for six hours! On the bus home, I revelled in both a feeling of incredible pride and amazement that I actually did that.
I finally understood why my friends, like so many people, love the mountains so much. The journey was a rollercoaster, both physically and emotionally, but that was also what was so wonderful about it. I developed an appreciation for and connection to nature I had never felt before, but most importantly, I proved to myself that I can do hard things!
