“Are you lost?”
The
man who asked me this question was, I guess, in his late forties or fifties. He
had a barely comprehensible accent that sounded like a mixture of Irish and
Scottish, and was supping bottles of Budweiser with a couple of friends. I was
sitting to his left at the bar, nursing a pint of Red MacGregor, which wasn’t cold
enough. It was a Friday night, and I’d just arrived in the remote coastal
village of Tongue after a six hour drive from Edinburgh.
“No,
I’m checking the route for tomorrow”, I said, brandishing my walking map.
“Where
you goin’?”
“Ben
Hope in the morning and somewhere else after that.”
“Ben
Hope?” He nodded and returned to his conversation with his companions.
 |
| Ben Hope |
Yes,
I was going to climb Ben Hope, Scotland’s northernmost munro, which rises to a
height of 927 metres south west of Tongue. I had first seen this peak mentioned
in my Lonely Planet Scotland guide many years before. There was a sense of
romance about it: an isolated mountain located deep in the far north,
dominating its desolate surroundings. The emptiness of this part of the country
had indeed made a strong impression on me that Friday evening, as I drove the
final 35 miles north along a single-track road through a dramatic landscape of stark
moorland. I passed unknown mountains and lochs as the light failed, with the
most striking sight of all coming at the end of my journey: Ben Loyal, whose startling
shape provides a fabulous backdrop to tiny Tongue.
The
massive, craggy bulk of Ben Hope was unmistakable as I drove over early the
following morning. The mountain rose awesomely to my left, sometimes partially
sheathed by cloud, at other moments almost perfectly visible. I turned onto a
single-track road beside beautiful Loch Hope, stones rattling against the bottom
of my car as I drove slowly south along its eastern shores. Twice I stopped to
check I hadn’t gone too far, before an obvious parking place finally appeared
before me and I saw a sign that said “Way Up Ben Hope”. By now the sky was
quite clear and the air mild.
Commencing
my walk, I was almost instantaneously attacked by a colony of midges, which left
me regretting my decision to forego the use of repellent. They homed in on my
calves, hair, neck and ears as I walked uphill, following a steep and rocky
path that doubled as a watercourse, indicating there had been a lot of rain
recently. As I ascended further the path alternated between rocks and soft, peaty
turf, and the terrain was at some points so sodden that my boot sank a foot
into the ground.
 |
| Waterfall |
Forty
five minutes into my hike I was feeling shattered and several times I was
obliged to stop for a few seconds. The gradient was mostly unrelenting,
although the ground at least became firmer as I got higher. The peaks around me
gave an indication of the considerable height I had reached, but it was scant
consolation as I struggled to deal with the sharp incline. At one point it even
occurred to me that I would really like to lie down for a while. On another
occasion I thought I was in danger of toppling over as I turned round and saw dizzily
that I was a long way up a pretty steep mountain. Cairns began to appear above
me like mirages. I knew they couldn’t mark the summit, because several
surrounding mountains still loomed above me, and so it proved. At last, after
about an hour and a half, I attained the ridge that led to the top and descried
a triangulation pillar to my left. A staggering view opened up ahead of me:
innumerable lochans, magnificent Ben Loyal to the east and the shimmering water
of the Kyle of Tongue. I felt truly elated, and quickly covered the rock-strewn
ground between me and my objective. It had taken an hour and fifty minutes, and
I had not seen a single walker.
 |
| The view over to Ben Loyal |
The
wide summit plateau provided a sweeping vista, which I enjoyed for about two minutes
before heading back down. Foolishly I opted to avoid the ridge, which looked
wearingly long, and headed for the gentle valley between Ben Hope and Creag
Riabhach, where I found myself walking over boggy terrain covered with heather,
moss and long grass. No path was discernible, although I did catch sight of the
odd gaping hole in the ground. The wave of euphoria that had swept over me as I
neared and then attained the top of the mountain vanished as I dragged myself
along the banks of a watercourse. I cursed myself for having bothered to tackle
the mountain. After some more miserable scrambling I eventually rediscovered
the path and soon reached the bottom.
 |
| The summit of Ben Hope |
Having
made it down without injuring myself my mood swung completely the other way.
Now it all seemed worth it. I recalled the sense of exhilaration I had
experienced when I saw the top of the mountain, and the thrill of achieving my
goal. I’m fairly sure, however, that I’ll never go back.
Practicalities:
Accommodation: Ben Loyal Hotel, Tongue. Single rooms start at 40 pounds, doubles cost 90 or more, depending on the season. There is an awesome view of Ben Loyal from behind the hotel.
Restaurant: Ben Loyal Hotel. Try the very substantial fish and chips: when I ordered it the haddock didn't fit on the plate.
Getting to Tongue: The nearest train station is in Thurso, 43 miles away. To put it another way, you should go by car.
