The summit of Ben Nevis is clear only one day in ten. I suppose that Hughie Bell, having planned to get married up there many months in advance, might believe himself extremely fortunate to have two consecutive days which were not only clear but extravagantly sunny. He certainly could not have organised it better. In fact, he and Marie, as usual, had organised very little. I had been delegated to transport the wedding dress and a bridesmaid’s dress to Fort William, but when I arrived at their hotel there was no sign of them. I went to the appointed rendezvous in the town to meet some of the other guests. There was nobody there either. Eventually, a few others arrived and a phone call to the hotel confirmed that the bride and groom had reached there an hour late.
It was necessary to obtain a schedule from the registrar’s office in the town. Hughie went off at a rush but found it closed for lunch. The plan was that the bride and a few attendants would be escorted to the summit by a few of the men on the eve of the wedding. The ladies would then spend the night in the emergency refuge on the summit, while the men returned downhill to the tents which they had erected beside Lochan Meall an t-Suidhe on the ascent. Other guests would do the whole ascent on the wedding day. By the time Hughie had returned with the required document and the party had assembled, it was late in the afternoon.
The advance party, of which I was part, along with bride, groom, best man, bride’s father, bridesmaids and minister, numbered about fifteen. Despite the advanced hour (it was about 4pm) it was still hot and sunny when we began the long climb. The tourists thronged like shoppers in a high street; they ranged from the heavily over-equipped to the fatuously ill-equipped. Many wore the lightest of summer clothing and carried nothing. One man held a dog in one hand and a bottle of Lucozade in the other. There was a Buddhist monk in full habit, there was a young man with an enormous rucksack, camera bag, pouches, ice-axe, tripod and bulging pockets who also found it necessary to clutch a carrier bag.
The path in its lower reaches was alternately eroded and unevenly surfaced; litter abounded. I reached Lochan Meall an t-Suidhe ahead of our party and pitched my tent at the water’s edge, where it was quite windy. I then took photographs of the rest of the party as they arrived. Four more tents were erected and there was considerable procrastination.
At about 7pm I went along with the best man to escort a bridesmaid and one of the other ladies up to the summit. Good views of the Mamores enlivened what was otherwise a long and tedious slog up to the top. The old orange hut that had served as the emergency shelter now lay amongst the ruins of the observatory, having been replaced by a gleaming silver edifice. It was wet inside, and had a sleeping platform that could accommodate only two. The heavily burdened lad with the carrier bag had clearly hoped to spend the night in the shelter and was searching among the boulder-field for an alternative as we wished the ladies goodnight and left.
Some way down we met a tottering bride and staggering bridesmaid who were being cajoled towards the top by the groom and a friend. The ladies, totally inexperienced, were clearly in dire straits. We later learned that they had been left in tears at the summit well after 10pm. Meantime, we descended by the steep direct path rather than the zigzags of the pony track.
The official video recorder of the event was, by prior arrangement, ensconced in my tent. I heated the chilli I had lugged up the hill, then we all crowded into one of the other tents to drink beer until the darkness and the chill persuaded us that it was time to get some sleep.
Those climbing the hill on the day of the wedding set off from Glen Nevis at 5.30am, and their shouts awoke us about an hour and a half later. Mike was quickly up and gone, but I joined the group making up the rear of our party. Even at this early hour, the sun was shining brightly. We caught up with some of Hughie’s friends who were imaginatively dressed (one in a suit and bowler hat).
The occasion did little to enliven the toil back up to the summit. About forty people had made the journey. The minister conducted the service from the natural pulpit of the rocks supporting the trig pillar. Czech tourists watched amazed. Reporters from The Sun took photographs. Champagne was drunk. The schedule which should have been signed was found to have been left in the tents below. Hymns would have been sung, but the hymn-sheets had been left down in Glen Nevis.
The occasion was over, we trooped down the hill and dismantled the tents. The schedule was inadvertently taken down to Glen Nevis. At the bottom, the happy couple were at last able to catch up with the paperwork and everyone adjourned to the reception, for which the newly-weds arrived late.