Ben Egan v Ben Lomond (Man versus Mountain)

Those of you who know me well will be aware that I have a penchant for doing daft, gormless often ridiculous things from time to time.

I can’t help it, I don’t know how to stop it, it’s just me.

Today though really took the biscuit.

I’m currently in beautiful Queenstown on New Zealand’s south island. It’s like an Alpine ski town. A great relief from the big city life of Sydney and Melbourne.

It’s surrounded by the stunning blue Lake Wakitipu and some magnificent mountains.

One such mountain is Ben Lomond. Standing at a gigantic 1748 metres, it is almost double the height of Ireland’s tallest peak Carrauntoohil.

Much taller than Snowdon and Ben Nevis too.

Now I have never so much as climbed the Sugar loaf. The highest peak I’ve scaled is the Jet hill in Lucan.

Today I decided though, ‘Do you know what, I’m going to do this, I’m going to reach the summit of Ben Lomond!’

One of my favourite sports stars, Novak Djokovic, recently spoke of a life changing experience where himself and his wife Jelena reached the summit of some mountain in France.

He had just been knocked out of the French Open by the unheralded Italian Marco Cecchinato (never to be heard of again) and hadn’t won a grand slam in over 2 years.

Since that hike, the Serb has won all three grand slams he’s played in and went from world number 22 back to the top of the men’s game.

I wasn’t expecting to win Wimbledon after this climb or anything but was looking for some sort of inspiration as to my next move in life.

My first big mistake was the time of day that I began the climb. 11:30am.

By the time I had gotten out of the initial forest part of the hike the sun was at its highest and most dangerous.

Luckily I had my factor 50 with me but the heat was intense.

Second big mistake was only bringing a 750ml bottle of water with me. I incorrectly assumed that there would be taps or at least streams along the way to re-fill. Wrong.

Third mistake was bringing my smaller backpack with me stuffed with absolutely useless and unnecessary items. I’d say it weighed close to 10Kg.

The first part of the hike was easy. It was actually quite a steep downhill start to begin with (remember this for later).

I usually keep a decent base level of fitness but for the past 6 or so weeks in Australia the auld gym sessions have gone out the window. The diet hasn’t been great either (solid or liquid).

To put it kindly, I’m lacking match sharpness.

About 20 minutes in, the incline became an awful lot steeper. That, coupled with the intense heat was pretty tough going.

I’m extremely competitive by nature so when people began to start passing me out it irked me greatly.

At this stage though the over takers were seasoned climbers with all the gear, boots, nordic walking sticks, you name it. Some consolation at least.

When I looked behind me to see two old ladies gaining ground fast I needed to take action.

Out came the earphones (goodbye sounds of nature) and on came my gym playlist.

This gave me a bit of a fillip. In all honesty though I was struggling and was considering turning back. My water was running out and the heat was too much.

Then along came Greg. A young Welsh guy travelling by himself looking for a friend.

He asked me if he could walk with me. I replied ‘If you can keep up’.

Turns out Greg could keep up. I was disguising my exhaustion by stopping every few minutes to take photos of the surrounding landscape.

Little did he know, I wasn’t even taking photos, just pretending to so I could catch my breath.

About 2 hours in to the hike Greg and I had reached what appeared to be the halfway point. There was a bench and a small stretch of flat terrain. Hallelujah!

After a decent rest of about 15 minutes we set off again. It was at this point the hike became a climb!

5 minutes later… ‘Sorry Ben, I’m going to go on ahead’. ‘Eff you young lad!’ I said (in my head).

If you’re reading this Greg, I’m cancelling lunch tomorrow you whelp!

So, once Tonto left, I was the Lone Ranger again.

No water, searing heat and one hell of a climb ahead still.

The next people to pass me by were a German couple in their mid to late 20’s.

The guy says ‘Do you need a lift? I can carry you on my back!’ Smart alec!

The summit is getting closer now but oh so very steep. Another good few people had passed me by but I didn’t care at this stage.

Traffic stopped for a while as I struggled along. Out of the corner of my eye I spot a man getting closer and closer to me.

Only thing is, this guy isn’t on the trail. He’s actually climbing up the side of the mountain and doing so with ease.

As he gets closer I get a good look at him. He’s wearing black trousers, a black hoodie with the hood up, a face mask and mirrored shades.

The only bits of skin he has on show are his hands and throat, all entirely covered in black tattoos.

He looks like a fecking assassin!

I turn around, there’s nobody else in sight.

He’s coming straight for me. I clench my fists thinking ‘If I go down, I’m going down swinging’.

‘Hey man how’s it going?’ he says in an American accent and walks straight by me the rest of the way up.

Don’t judge a book by its cover i guess.

Not long to go now and I’m gasping for water. Who do i see then on his way down from the summit only Greg.

‘Jesus am I that slow?’ I think to myself.

He seemed to have found himself a new walking buddy. Just wait until he leaves you behind, whoever you are.

20 minutes later…

I MADE IT!!

Chuffed with myself but already dreading the steep climb down.

I was greeted by an ironic cheer from the smug German guy when I reached the top.

‘How would you like to roll all the way back down?’ I growled, too tired to take any of his crap.

I spent 10 minutes in total at the summit. With dehydration setting in I was anxious to get back down ASAP.

It was still so hot at this stage 3:15pm. I was absolutely cursing myself for not bringing any more water.

The climb down was difficult and I had one or two stumbles but luckily I didn’t fall far and only have a few grazes to show for it.

It took me an hour to reach the halfway bench from earlier. Dying of thirst at this stage but using all of the positive energy from reaching the peak to keep me going.

Downhill hiking is tough but i managed to keep going without stopping until…

Remember in the beginning when I told you about how the hike started downhill? Well I had completely forgotten and now all of a sudden I’m faced with two huge hills to climb!

The mind was saying ‘Go’ but the body was saying ‘No’.

I was completely dehydrated. My mouth was so dry, I couldn’t even spit (not that I ever do but you get the point).

I had a migraine and my legs weren’t doing as they were told.

To quote a great New Zealander Richie McCaw (Ruchie McCore as he’s known here) after his team’s titanic battle with France in the 2011 World Cup final, I was ‘absolutely shagged’ at this point.

There was no way I had anything left in the tank to make it up the hills.

They say we all have a guardian angel, well I was lucky enough to meet mine today.

Seemingly out of nowhere a blonde English guy appeared. I was sitting on a rock at this stage contemplating life!

‘You look like you could do with some water mate, here I have some left.’

With that he reached into his bag and pulled out what I can only describe as a bag of water. There was enough in it to quench my incredible thirst.

I handed him back his water bag and he was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

The water gave me a new lease of life and just about enough energy to make it the rest of the way home.

Blonde English guy, I can’t thank you enough.

So did I have a Djokovicesque epiphany at the top of the mountain?

God no.

I did learn a lot from today though in particular how important water is to the body.

The above story does sound melodramatic but when it comes to Ben Lomond I can assure you that this mountain is no molehill.

Ben