The Five Summits

What a Team!

The good people of Gunnersbury Catholic School in west London came up with this great idea of running around the UK this summer and climbing the highest peaks in England, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland and the Irish Republic. The only thing was, they elected to do them all in 5 days! It really did seem like a good idea at the time but as the day approached a wee bit of apprehension crept in over the enormity of the logistical and physical effort that would be required. In the event, it actually proved to be a brilliant idea, particularly as the boys raised a considerable amount of money for Macmillan’s Nurses! So my good self and 10 fine youngsters of the said school together with 3 staff to provide iron discipline (and that was just for me) met up at Birmingham Airport and well, what followed was something like this......

Snowdon (1085m)

Snowdon From the PYG Track

From the airport an empty M6 toll (only the Brits could ignore an empty motorway because of the extra toll) took us quickly towards north Wales. We even managed to find a parking place at Pen y Pass, an early indication of the good luck that was to follow us throughout the trip! A sunny afternoon saw us ready for the start up the much-improved PYG track from which even the most navigationally challenged walker would have difficulty straying!

Going Strongly for the Top!

The new cafe on the summit does what it has to do and is a big improvement on the dilapidated predecessor that (dis)graced the spot on countless previous visits. Snowdon will always be a busy mountain but it is still the greatest peak in Wales with grand ridges and impressive corries radiating out from it’s summit cone. Today, fellow walkers, helicopters and trains all combined to give the boys a taste of the Snowdon symphony.

Lliwedd and Llyn Glaslyn

Just over 2 hrs to the summit and a little quicker on the return down– and I remember when Snowdon used to take all day to conquer! Warm sunshine and great views accompanied us throughout and spirits were high. Oliver cut his finger on a rock near the summit; our first casualty. André asked a few questions, quite a few actually, and Liam started losing things, a habit he carefully crafted throughout the week! Fortunately, this didn't include his dad's expensive North Face jacket! It was a good start and the Swallow Falls youth hostel proved to be an ideal first night stop – even if William didn’t share his giant pizza with the staff!

Scafell Pike (978m)

Scafell Pike and Scafell Across Wastwater

Wasdale Head was a bit of a struggle to reach – they’d shut an access road and we ended up fighting our way up ever-narrowing country lanes to get to our start point. When we got there, a picnic of packed lunches in 23° afternoon sunshine melted the road miles away. Then it was up the good path alongside Lingmell Beck up Brown Tongue and Hollow Stones to the Lingmell Col and on to the boulder-strewn summit of England’s highest (but far from most distinguished) peak.

England's Highest Point

Again, quite a few folk were about undertaking evening ascents and a few straggly sheep grazed the grassy slopes – far fewer than there used to be. The usual sunshine and expansive views flavoured the summit experience. Oliver tripped on the way down and added yet more battle scars to his ever-receptive body. We returned down the same way in the evening sun to the former country mansion that now does for the Wasdale Hall youth hostel.

Evening Light on Wastwater

Another 4-hr saunter for the boys who were carrying all before them. Two down and only 3 to go now – and just a 6-hr minibus ride to the next challenge, the mighty Ben. And the weather forecast was on the dire side of absolutely atrocious....

Ben Nevis (1344m)

Ben Nevis

The boys were mightily impressed with the Green Welly Stop at Tyndrum. A feast of carbohydrates provided the ideal energy source for the impending haul up Ben Nevis. Very fortunately for us, the expected buckets of rain, 70mph winds and odd locust had all lost interest by the time we left the Glen Nevis youth hostel and walked up the tourist track rapidly shredding all our waterproofs and fleeces! Tom stuck doggedly to his Arsenal hat but there was nothing else to spoil the view! Having prepared the boys for the worse they must have been wondering what all the fuss was about. The promise of some snow on the summit helped restore some of my street cred!

High Above Glen Nevis

Having generally climbed the Ben in full winter conditions in recent years, this summer evening stroll up the much-repaired tourist path (with yet more welcome repair work underway above the Red Burn) proved to be a bit of a doddle with the boys striding manfully for the summit as the clouds lifted and even the bloody sun came out. Again! Even André stopped asking ‘is that the top?’ The summit was reached in only 2¾ hrs, a most creditable achievement by the guys who were climbing only their 3rd British mountain and in only 3 days!

High Point of the Trip!

Having set off late in the day we were expecting to have Ben Nevis to ourselves. In the event we were accompanied by 120 runners, walkers and staggerers from the Joint Service 3 Peaks Challenge. It made for a busy mountain. After a short stop on the summit we descended past a lingering snow patch where the boys were able to vent their inexhaustible energy with a snowball fight in July!

Gunnersbury Snowball Fight - in July!

Then it was down once again in evening sunshine to the youth hostel with dry clothes. Again! All was well with the party; even Oliver made it through unscathed! Surely our luck couldn’t last and the weather gods would get their revenge once we crossed the sea to Ireland...

Slieve Donard (850m)

'Where the Mountains of Mourne Sweep Down to the Sea'

An interminable drive across south-west Scotland to Stranraer was never going to be the highlight of the trip! What a rubbish location for a ferry terminal for sailings to Northern Ireland – you take ages to get there and then spend the first 45 mins of the crossing heading north out of Loch Ryan! Things improved though after a nice supper on the boat and gannets were diving into the harbour as we sailed into Belfast. A short drive in the gathering dusk brought us to Newcastle ‘where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea’.

Glen River Path

Slieve Donard, named after an Irish saint, dominates the seaside town and is just begging to be climbed. The Slieve Donard Hotel was conveniently situated across the road from our humble youth hostel and some of the elder members of the party were able to partake in a rare opportunistic dram or two. The hotel guests paid us no mind resplendent in our hill gear and boots! Our money was as good as theirs and anyway, some of the wedding guests looked in far worse shape than we did! The next morning the boys led us out of town through Donard Park and up the Glen River path to the Mourne Wall.

So Where's This Wall Everyone Keeps Talking About?

This impressive structure was built to enclose a reservoir catchment area in the early 20th Century and is 22 miles long! It provided much-needed employment to many who needed it at the time. The boys followed the wall straight up to the huge summit marker (2½ hrs from the hostel) from where views north to the Belfast hills and south to rapidly approaching shower clouds gave food for thought!

Looking Back to Newcastle

Sure enough it was time for the gore-tex and we got a right soaking on the first part of the descent before normal service was resumed and sunshine returned as we descended back down into Newcastle.

Slieve Donard Summit Cairn

Some local runners were out and about in training for the Seven Mournes race. They were hardy souls in shorts and running tops and weren't about to let a sudden burst of Irish rain spoil their day. On the way back through what was now a pretty crowded seaside town one of the party slipped back from the main group and partook of the output of a local fish and chip shop - for research purposes only you understand. After a quick change we readied ourselves for the 7-hr drive across the Emerald Isle to our last summit.

Carrauntoohil (1038m)

Carrauntoohil and Beenkeragh

The Black Valley hostel nestling in the delightfully named Macgillycuddy’s Reeks (reeks = black stacks) proved to be an admirable home for our last night although we had to wait for the morning to see what it looked like – and where exactly we were – in daylight! The excitement began with a fallen tree across the access road which caused a few thinks bubbles amongst the team before the resourceful Mr Cronin turned up with his chainsaw. Nothing was going to stop the boys at this late stage! The weather at last took the upper hand and we were clad head-to-toe in gore-tex for our walk from Cronin’s Yard up the wide track which we were sharing with a fast flowing stream coming in the opposite direction! We would have had problems getting through but some new bridges and strategically placed stepping stones saved the day.

Don't Try This at Home!

Ronan’s glasses needed wipers for the wipers as the rain showed no sign of relenting as we fought our way up Hag’s Glen. The skyline is generally accessed by climbing the Devil’s Ladder which we approached with some intrepidation. This loose boulder-filled gulley is severely eroded and requires great care. The path, what there is of it, winds its delicate way up as the water flows freely down and a considerable amount of work is required here to stabilise the scree. An alternative path climbs up safer slopes a little to the east and should be taken by everyone - but it is not well marked just where it needs to be and could not be easily identified in the conditions. We proceeded up the ladder with extreme caution.

The Devil's Ladder

It was a relief to reach the skyline even if we were exposed to a cool gusty wind for the final climb to the summit of Carrauntoohil (Tuathal's sickle). William was asked to lead the way and look after his party – and promptly got ‘leader’s legs’ and marched off into the mist never to be seen again! It's OK mum, we soon caught up with him and there, looming out of the murk, was the 16ft high iron cross that adorns this highest point of the Irish Republic.

The Final Summit

There was quite a crowd on the summit but no-one there could match the achievement of the Gunnersbury boys. Quite rightly, the clouds parted and we were rewarded with wide views over County Kerry and the none-too-distant sea. With ferries to catch and flights to take we turned for home. Deciding against pushing our luck on a risky descent down the Devil’s Ladder, we traversed the ridge and descended down the safer path to the east which was now clearly visible. Typically, the eagle-eyed youngsters realised this necessitated a short climb and I’m sure I detected some quiet muttering in the ranks!

Getting Blown Away!

However, in true Gunnersbury fashion the cloud lifted and the sun came out for our return to the minibus. As we approached the car park you just knew that if you threw a football in to the adjacent farmer’s field the boys wouldn’t hesitate to run off and play a quick 5-a-side such was their unbounded energy. We adults would have loved to have joined them but looking after 10 miniature whirlwinds for 5 days ensuring they coped with all of the costume changes and didn’t hurl themselves down steep grassy slopes had taken its toll! I was deposited at Cork airport exhausted but sorry to see them go. We’d had a ball. The flight back from Cork proved memorable for one reason only – I got to close my eyes in Ireland and open them again in Scotland.

Me and Da Boys!

A big thank you to Paul Muncer, Tim Hayes and Steve Shillcock for their great company and support throughout the week and to my new buddies André, Adrian, Charlie, Joe, Joshua, Liam, Oliver, Ronan, Tom and William. Their resilience and endeavour knew no bounds throughout this amazing tour de force through the British Isles where they climbed unaided to 5 mighty summits in 5 short days. Well done guys – it was a pleasure to be on the hills with you.

Joshua's Logo for the Team Shirts