Many years ago, a dear friend of mine asked me to be godmother to her daughter Jess. I’ve loved following Jess’s development from infant to competent professional, but over the years there’s been little opportunity for us to catch up, for a variety of reasons. I often need a nudge to contact her outside of Christmas and birthdays.
Recently, though, two events serendipitously conspired to bring us together. Jess’s dad has a significant birthday in October, and he also has a physical milestone to celebrate. He worked in Aberdeen for a long time, and several years ago took up the traditional Scottish pursuit of ‘bagging Munros’. A Munro is a mountain in Scotland of 3,000 feet or more. To ‘bag’ one means reaching the summit, and the goal for many people is to hike up all 282 of them.
They’re not all easy climbs, I’m told. There is often a precipice, a bit of scrambling, and loose rocks to contend with. Sometimes, climbing equipment is required - a frankly terrifying prospect as far as I’m concerned. Walking groups often hike a Munro together. I’m assured it’s the camaraderie that is the attraction, and the prospect of eating sandwiches in the wind, rain, or hail at the summit. It must also be a comfort to know that if you get swept off the mountain in a gale you won’t be alone - it’ll be a group activity. As you can tell, there isn’t much appeal as far as I’m concerned!
Jess’s dad has been steadily bagging Munros for many years. In September he planned to tick off the final mountain on his list by climbing one near Loch Tay in the Highlands. It’s a tradition to gather your family and close friends together to climb the final summit as a group. Jess, along with her two sisters and their partners had been told many months in advance to save the date for this special occasion, as we were. I was amazed her dad knew with such confidence that he’d have all the others ticked off by then.
We were told categorically that this was one of the easiest Munros to climb. We’d all be grand. I love the Highlands and felt that, with so much cycling under my belt, this would be a breeze. Jess’s younger sister doesn’t even own walking boots and sees no reason to do so. We were advised to train on gentle hills, and the little Sugar Loaf, Co Wicklow seemed ideal for my one training session.
The evening before the climb we gathered in a restaurant by Loch Tay. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and we enjoyed drinks outside before dinner as the sun set. The following morning some 20 of us plus a dog set off in good spirits. The long, meandering track that followed a trickling stream to the foot of the mountain was idyllic. Then the ascent began, and everything changed. The climb required extremely delicate balancing and total focus. A voice inside me was screaming ‘I don’t want to die!’ I needed all the support and encouragement I was being given to keep going. My goddaughter said quietly, but firmly, ‘just follow my feet, put yours where mine have been.’ I did this while facing into the mountain and not looking down. I was terrified.
But guess what, I made it! When we reached the top, I felt such a sense of achievement. We sheltered from the wind at the side of the summit to eat sandwiches and drink mugs of champagne. While climbing I’d been chatting happily with all three sisters and felt a new level of connection with my goddaughter.
That evening we celebrated in style, including a fabulous birthday cake for Jess’s dad. I’m so grateful to my friend for bringing us all together. To have time with my goddaughter and her sisters felt like a precious treat. And, of course, I’ll always remain in awe of his 282 bagged Munros.