Ben Hope

“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.