This weekend, Team Tenzing attempted the Three Peaks Challenge, which involves climbing the highest peaks in each of England, Scotland and Wales in under twenty four hours. This was not a fundraising exercise as such, but a chance for some endurance training and team building. On both counts we got more than we had bargained for.
On Friday afternoon, Mark had sent round an email to the group with a link to a weather warning. An arctic storm was approaching Scotland and winds on Ben Nevis were expected to be high, gusting to hurricane levels. Most of us were too busy in last minute preparation to give it much thought and no-one mentioned the possibility of cancellation. We were committed and would fly out that night as planned.
We all arrived at Glasgow International airport, met our driver and were on the road by around midnight. The journey to Ben Nevis was marred by a serious car crash a few vehicles in front us, where a car had flipped and hit a tree. Dozens of firemen, police officers and ambulance men were on the scene, and attempts were made to cut free a man trapped inside, but the looks on the faces of the relatives who arrived on the scene told us it was too late for him. It was a truly haunting image and one that I struggled with as we pulled away almost two hours later.
Our van arrived at Ben Nevis at around 4.15am, none of us having slept. We quickly disembarked and put on as much clothing as we could, complete with head torches and glow sticks. “You haven’t got a bloody hope in hell lads”, our no-nonsense driver Craig said, as we made final preparations.
The mood was sombre but filled with a sense of quiet determination and we set off at around 4.30am. It was pitch black but we made good progress for the first hour or so and stuck together as a team. Things got more difficult as we reached higher ground set above the tree lines on the surrounding hills that had sheltered us up to that point. The rain was now torrential and the howling wind was at our backs, literally carrying us up the mountain, step by step. Our clothes and shoes were soaked through, we were getting extremely cold and everyone was just focusing on the next step.
At our first group huddle, about half way up, we decided unanimously to continue upwards. Conditions were awful, but we remained in good spirits. About 40 minutes later, things were beginning to get very serious. The wind was now hurricane force (80mph gusts) and the rain was coming at us from all angles, making it impossible to see or hear anything. We all agreed it had simply become too dangerous and any attempt at the summit could be disastrous, so we reluctantly but sensibly turned back. The brutal descent against the headwinds was extremely tough and at points we had to hold onto each other to avoid being blown off the path. Getting back below the tree line was a relief in itself, although Hillsy probably overstated the matter when he grabbed me and screamed “It’s like f****** Barbados” in my ear.
We finally reached base at around 8.30am, battered, soaked and fairly broken. Over breakfast, we discussed whether we should continue, but with no dry clothing left and reports of similar weather at Scafell Pike, we all agreed to abandon the exercise and head home. As we journeyed back to London we began to hear reports of the hundreds of fell runners who had been caught in the same storms on Scafell and it became clear we had made the right decision.
And so it was that, for reasons beyond our control, the three peaks ended up being half a peak. But this was unimportant. We had all made it back safely and the lessons learned from the experience will stay with us for a long time.
Full credit to the Tenzing boys for showing great spirit throughout the trip and many thanks in particular to G and Laura for making such a huge effort to organise the weekend. It was an adventure none of us will forget.
Haydn
On Friday afternoon, Mark had sent round an email to the group with a link to a weather warning. An arctic storm was approaching Scotland and winds on Ben Nevis were expected to be high, gusting to hurricane levels. Most of us were too busy in last minute preparation to give it much thought and no-one mentioned the possibility of cancellation. We were committed and would fly out that night as planned.
We all arrived at Glasgow International airport, met our driver and were on the road by around midnight. The journey to Ben Nevis was marred by a serious car crash a few vehicles in front us, where a car had flipped and hit a tree. Dozens of firemen, police officers and ambulance men were on the scene, and attempts were made to cut free a man trapped inside, but the looks on the faces of the relatives who arrived on the scene told us it was too late for him. It was a truly haunting image and one that I struggled with as we pulled away almost two hours later.
Our van arrived at Ben Nevis at around 4.15am, none of us having slept. We quickly disembarked and put on as much clothing as we could, complete with head torches and glow sticks. “You haven’t got a bloody hope in hell lads”, our no-nonsense driver Craig said, as we made final preparations.
The mood was sombre but filled with a sense of quiet determination and we set off at around 4.30am. It was pitch black but we made good progress for the first hour or so and stuck together as a team. Things got more difficult as we reached higher ground set above the tree lines on the surrounding hills that had sheltered us up to that point. The rain was now torrential and the howling wind was at our backs, literally carrying us up the mountain, step by step. Our clothes and shoes were soaked through, we were getting extremely cold and everyone was just focusing on the next step.
At our first group huddle, about half way up, we decided unanimously to continue upwards. Conditions were awful, but we remained in good spirits. About 40 minutes later, things were beginning to get very serious. The wind was now hurricane force (80mph gusts) and the rain was coming at us from all angles, making it impossible to see or hear anything. We all agreed it had simply become too dangerous and any attempt at the summit could be disastrous, so we reluctantly but sensibly turned back. The brutal descent against the headwinds was extremely tough and at points we had to hold onto each other to avoid being blown off the path. Getting back below the tree line was a relief in itself, although Hillsy probably overstated the matter when he grabbed me and screamed “It’s like f****** Barbados” in my ear.
We finally reached base at around 8.30am, battered, soaked and fairly broken. Over breakfast, we discussed whether we should continue, but with no dry clothing left and reports of similar weather at Scafell Pike, we all agreed to abandon the exercise and head home. As we journeyed back to London we began to hear reports of the hundreds of fell runners who had been caught in the same storms on Scafell and it became clear we had made the right decision.
And so it was that, for reasons beyond our control, the three peaks ended up being half a peak. But this was unimportant. We had all made it back safely and the lessons learned from the experience will stay with us for a long time.
Full credit to the Tenzing boys for showing great spirit throughout the trip and many thanks in particular to G and Laura for making such a huge effort to organise the weekend. It was an adventure none of us will forget.
Haydn
No comments:
Post a Comment