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Fort William, Scotland. 19-22 July 2000

The Convenor of Scottish Meets, a.k.a. Polevault, had laid on a luxury self-catering house on the north side of Ben Nevis. This was a beautiful two-storey log cabin-style villa, splendidly equipped and with magnificent views of the Ben and Carn Mor Dearg arête.

He also laid on a week of glorious weather in an area renowned for rain and mist. The summit of Ben Nevis is seldom cloud free, yet we saw it constantly for seven days.

The meet was well attended, with 11 staying in the house and Mad Mike and "Poet Laureate" in a very nice B&B nearby.

Day 1: Most of the group arrived over the weekend to take advantage of a few extra days in the area. On Sunday 17, all except the Masons and Petzolds (who arrived later) walked up the spectacular route on the south side of Glencoe, known as 'The Lost Valley', towards Bidean nam Bian. This had a particular poignancy for Polevault, as it was here that he earned his club name in 1994. Axeman had just said 'That's enough exposure for me today', when Eric came across (not literally!) two nubile young German ladies sunbathing naked by a stream. In his excitement, he tripped and pole-vaulted over a stone wall. But I digress.

Most of the party enjoyed a pleasant low level walk up the valley. Harpic and Socks went on to climb Stob Coire nan Lochan (1,115m), Bidean nam Bian (1,150m) and Stob Coire nam Beath (1,107m). The views were stunning — an almost Himalayan panorama with high mountains as far as the eye could see, many miles in perfect visibility. We began our descent, planned by Socks as the least worst gradient on a very steep ridge, when Harpic spotted the pub 3,000 feet below. He took off straight down what seemed like almost vertical grass slopes, leaving Socks muttering, cursing and bum-sliding down after him. When we finally reached the road, Socks bush-bashed a straight route to the Clachaig Inn, while Harpic took a ¾-mile detour on the tarmac. Socks had downed his second pint by the time Harpic arrived, but he soon caught up. Needless to say, the others, who had promised to pick us up at the Inn, were long gone. However, we virtually hijacked a car going the right way and coerced the driver to take us the three miles back to our car.

Day 2: A day for separate ways. Some explored Fort William and its environs. Polevault and AMLH did Ben Nevis (4,406ft) by the standard route, starting at the Youth Hostel in Glen Nevis.

Polevault and AMLH climbed the Ben by the so called tourist route. This was the original path up the Ben, which was used, in Victorian times to supply the old observatory. These days it is used by all and sundry to climb the Ben.

This was a very hot day, with unusually cloudless skies and a blazing sun. Both of us being in the category of 'old crumblies' ascended at a gentle pace. The views were stunning but it was more interesting to observe the other climbers, like an Austrian in full lederhosen in 34°C temperatures standing with his arms outspread shouting 'Wunderbar', this was assumed to be at the views but it was more likely to be draft up his trouser leg cooling his tackle. We reached the summit without much trouble apart from a Glasgow Keely who considered AMLH a hero. On the ascent and the descent AMLH kept muttering about young nubiles, and one must have eventually got to close to him 50 yards from the car when he took a funny turn. A full recovery was made when we staggered into the nearest pub for a pint.

Gluttons for punishment, Harpic and Socks set off for Ben Nevis via Carn Mor Dearg arête — one of Scotland's classic routes. This involved 2½-hours' slog over Carn Beag Dearg (1,010m), Carn Dearg Meadhonach (1,179m) to Carn Mor Dearg (1,220m) This was followed by the best part of the trip — an hour on the prickly, knife-edge ridge of the arête. Fine rock scrambling over pinnacles, with moderate exposure for most of the way. Another 35 minutes of steep ascent through a boulder field brought us to the summit — something of an anti-climax in a way, as we were then among the hordes who had ascended by the 'tourist route'. However, the views were spectacular in clear warm weather.

We debated using a very steep route off into Coire Leis, which has abseiling poles fixed at intervals, but decided reluctantly not to risk it. We joined the 'tourists' to descend the horrible scree slope which is what remains of the Land Rover track built on the mountain in the 1950s. We must have just missed AMLH and Polevault, as we caught up with them outside a pub near the hostel at the bottom of the route.

Day 3: This was Wednesday, the traditional "pitch up day" for Meths meets. Most of us took a day off and went our various ways.

Day 4: This was the day of the walk on the wild side. Polevault persuaded AMLH, Axeman, Harpic, Mad Mike and Mrs Polevault to take the local train to Corrour station at the head of Loch Ossian in the middle of Rannoch Moor for a walk back to Fort William. This was supposed to be a 10-mile walk but as it turned out it was nearer 15 miles.

Day 5: Apart from Mad Mike and Socks the rest decided to have a day off after the Wednesday and went for a short walk up the Nevis Gorge to the falls of Steall.

Mad Mike and Socks set off to do a variation of the Ring of Steall — another Scottish classic. After crossing the infamous three-wire bridge and not finding the overgrown start of the path, we bundu-bashed our way to the coll and on to the north ridge of Sgurr a' Mhaim (1,099m). In true Meths tradition, why use the right route when you can make it harder? We crossed the path which comes up the ridge we should have been on and joined it to the summit. Then a descent and re-ascent in swirling mist on the Devil's Ridge took us on to Sgorr an Iubhair (Pubehair?), then west along another ridge to the head of a pretty valley followed by the long descent north to the road and the seemingly endless trek back to the car.

Day 6: The 'official' three peaks a day late, although some of us had done 10 already.

All together at last, the walking members of the group set off to the head of Glen Nevis, starting near the point where Mad Mike and Socks had finished the previous day. This time, the approach was on a path into forest, followed by a very steep bash through pine woods and on up steep heather slopes to the start of the summit ridge of Mullach nan Coirean. The weather was hot and, as usual, we joined the correct route after nearly 3,000ft of bush bashing. 'This is what you call an easy day, Polevault?' Socks was heard to mutter.

Once on route, a fine ridge walk followed; over Mullach nan Coirean (939m), an unnamed S.E. top — should we call this 'Polevault's Peak'? Another 2km of pleasant ridge walking took us to Stob Ban (999m), followed by the descent down the same valley as Mad and Socks had used the day before.

Like all good things, our meet had to end on the Saturday. We said our farewells, many of us able to look forward to meeting again five weeks later for Meths 2000 in Italy. Everyone had a great week; the company was good, the food was good, the grog was good, the weather was good, the accommodation was good — what a superb meet.

Once again, top score to Polevault for perfect organisation.

Participants: Mike "Harpic" Mossford, Gladys Harpic, her son Jonathan, Brian "AMLH" Sayers, Jane Sayers, His Excellency the Life President Ian "Axeman" Mason, Sadie Mason, Eric "Polevault" Scott, Valerie Polevault, Stuart "Socks" Leslie, Rhoda Socks, "Mad" Mike Petzold and Maisie "Poet Laureate" Petzold

Prick of the meet: Not officially awarded on a Mini Meths, but would have gone to Socks for breaking his egg into a bottomless dish and having to slurp it off the kitchen worktop.

Quote of the week: Won by Poet Laureate for the following:

Valerie: 'Maisie, are you half Scots?'
Maisie: 'No dear, my tongue got stuck to my false teeth.'