How many times have I walked that path?
Through forestry and muddy track.
Bag bulging, sweat is pouring,
Then the great cliffs mourning.
Watching In the mist clouds,
Emerge, along with memories.
Many happy, many sad.
Long carries in the dead of night,
With unknown people.
Each glad to be alive,
All helped by fellow climbers.
In the gloom avalanches crash,
We struggle over frozen burn and icy rock.
There is a special joy
Getting someone off alive
Off that hill that does at times kill.
Not just the tourist, but many, with great skill.
Why do we climb?
If you ask you do not know?
This “Ben”, this mountain,
Its names full of history and mystery.
Clears in the mist.
This mountain means so much,
Too me and many friends.
It will never change.
Then , as now
Its ever-changing snow and ice.
Are friends? As are the familiar names,
Of cliff, buttress and where we play our games?
Tales of great climbs,
Days and nights on this hill.
These are special to those who
Know the secret of this magic place.
Below the great cliffs
The hut nestles
Long nights wth heroes and ego
History and mystery
This is why we go and always will.
On this great hill
Thank you Ben Nevis for a lifetime of Memories!