53.4 Miles - 3h 49m + Ben Nevis - 5h 50m
Day 5 dawned and brought with it some cracking weather, it looked like we would have a beautiful final 53 miles to Nevis. Breakfast at the hotel was an odd affair, we were the youngest guests by what looked like a good 40-50 years and my food at least was a bit crap. But it was fuel and would give us the needed kick to get out on the road again.
Our kit hadn't really dried overnight and while things were warmer than when we took them off they were still a little squelchy. Dampness notwithstanding I felt surprisingly excited at either the prospect of getting back on the bike or possibly the prospect of a short ride and not having to be on the bike for a while after that, still not sure which.
The first 30 miles of today included four categorised climbs which was fun... three Cat 4's and one Cat 3. These took a hefty toll on our average speed and remaining energy reserves, but a highlight was the spontaneous applause from a woman parked up taking photos. The route we took north out of the Trossachs and up to the Bridge of Orchy was mind bogglingly beautiful. The ride this day will remain in my memory for a long time and is one I am very keen to repeat; probably when I'm a little fresher though.
After mile 27 the road took a dive and we had a cracking seven and a half miles of 3% descending into Ballachulish where we would stop for 30 minutes for our only break before Nevis. The final miles on the bike from here felt like a mere formality by this point and with the sun on our backs we covered the last twenty or so miles at a reasonable 16 Mph before rolling into the car park at the Ben Nevis Inn.
The feeling of dismounting for the final time on the trip and looking up to see Nevis was surprisingly muted, though that may have more to do with the hunger we were both feeling by this point. After finding our bunks and stashing the bikes and our kit we settled into the Inn for a big lunch to set us up for the climb. Midway through eating Rosie and Nicola joined us to complete the foursome who would tackle the UK's highest peak together.
The weather was holding, though for some reason we assumed it would rapidly deteriorate and so dressed far too warmly for the ascent. This resulted in an impromptu, four part strip show on the early slopes. Clothing errors rectified we set off at a reasonable clip, I was struggling a little as a niggle in my right knee had been getting more and more noticeable but I tried to put it out of my mind. Rosie had a few issues on the route up as well, she had been fighting a cold for the past couple of days and came pretty close to pushing herself to the point of vomiting.
Minor health related issues aside, the views were characteristically stunning and for Rosie who had never 'done' Nevis before she was enthralled at every turn as we inched higher and higher. As we were reaching just over the halfway point we stumbled across some European hikers (unsure on nationality as they didn't talk much) who had a Bluetooth speaker in their bag and were cracking out some brilliant tunes, including a rendition of Come on Eileen that we all sang along to. Unfortunately they were a little faster than us and so we only got the morale boosting music for four or five songs until they were out of earshot.
After this we set a more relaxed pace to the summit; my knee by this point was being a bit of a bastard. On hitting the summit we clambered up the cairn with the plaque on top for the third and final summit photos of the trip. Taking a moment to rest I was overheard by a friend, John, who was also climbing Nevis that day, but who I assumed had been a shed load faster than us and so we would meet for a pint at the base. A cheeky photo and a round of introductions later we began the trip down the mountain and to the finish line.
On the descent it turned out my knee was about eleventy billion times more painful than going up which turned what should have been a quick skip down into a walk so painful it nearly made me throw up. We let John and his group nip off with a promise to catch up at the bottom. Jake also strode ahead so he could talk to his girlfriend properly for the first time in 5 days leaving Rosie and Nicola to gently shepherd me down.
The less said about the rest of that descent the better but as the Inn came into sight I felt my spirits lift. Jake had finished his call and rejoined us so we could cross the finish line together. Finally pushing through the gate at the end of the path into the Inn's car park, I don't think either of us could quite believe we'd actually done it. We looked at each other feeling pretty chuffed with ourselves and feeling the relief wash over us and hugged it out.
All that was left were showers, food, beer, whiskey and finally bed.
Final Tally:
426 Miles
3 Mountains
£1,265 raised for charity
0 punctures (somehow)
