Scafell Pike — More Than Just Getting to the Top

There are some days where the view from the top is the reward.

This wasn’t one of them.

After 5 hours and 23 minutes, 7.57 kilometres, a lot of climbing, some very tired legs, one fall and one broken walking pole, my wife and I completed Scafell Pike. And when we finally got to the top? We could barely see a thing.

The cloud had well and truly settled in. There was no spectacular Lake District panorama waiting for us, no incredible view stretching for miles, and certainly no picture-perfect summit moment.

But strangely, none of that mattered — because by the time we reached the top, the view wasn’t really what the day had become about.

We Knew It Would Be a Challenge

Scafell Pike is England’s highest mountain, standing at 978 metres, and we’d gone into the day knowing it wasn’t going to be a gentle Sunday stroll. What perhaps we hadn’t appreciated was quite how much the conditions would add to the challenge.

Visibility was poor for much of the climb, and the higher we got, the more the landscape disappeared into the cloud. Underfoot it was wet and incredibly slippery in places, which meant every step needed a little more concentration.

It was tough. Not impossible, not dramatic — just one of those sustained physical challenges where you keep putting one foot in front of the other and gradually realise how much work you’ve done.

Of course, having negotiated most of the mountain without incident, I managed to fall over near the bottom. One broken walking pole later, I think Scafell Pike had decided it wanted a souvenir from me. I’ll take that as a fair exchange.

Everyone Was Climbing Their Own Mountain

One of the things I’ll remember most about the day wasn’t actually the mountain. It was the people.

When you’re walking a route like this, you start seeing some of the same faces. People overtake you. You overtake them. You stop for a drink and they pass you again. Before long, complete strangers somehow become part of your day — and everyone seemed to have their own reason for being there.

About two-thirds of the way up, we passed a lady who was clearly struggling. You could see the pain and exhaustion in her. Then I heard her say something to her partner that has stuck with me:

“I will get through this. To the top… I will show them!”

I have absolutely no idea who “them” were. I don’t know what had happened in her life, what she was trying to prove, or who she was trying to prove it to. But I believed her.

There was something incredibly powerful about hearing it. Here was somebody obviously fighting a much bigger internal battle than simply getting herself to the summit of Scafell Pike. For a few seconds you get this tiny glimpse into somebody else’s world. And then you carry on walking.

The Young Lad Who Reminded Us of Our Son

There was another young chap climbing with his girlfriend who really stood out to us. There was something about him that reminded us both of our son.

But what I noticed most was how aware he was of everybody around him. He wasn’t just focused on his own climb — he was checking whether people were OK, encouraging strangers and cheering people on.

On a difficult day, those little interactions make a surprising difference. A few words from somebody you’ve never met can give you the boost you need to keep going. It was great to see someone so young naturally looking out for other people while tackling his own challenge at the same time.

Doing It Together

For me, though, the biggest part of the day was doing it with my wife.

There were points where I was stronger and could support her, and points where it was absolutely the other way around. That’s probably one of the things I enjoyed most about it. We didn’t experience the mountain in exactly the same way — different sections challenged each of us differently — but whenever one of us was struggling, the other seemed to have enough left in the tank to help.

There wasn’t any competition between us. We were doing it together. And eventually, step by step, we got there.

Standing at the summit knowing we’d achieved it together was a fantastic feeling. Cold, wet, tired and surrounded by cloud. But very happy.

What View?

Would I have liked the cloud to disappear as we reached the summit? Absolutely. I’ve seen the photographs of what you can see from Scafell Pike on a clear day, and it would have been amazing to stand there and take it all in.

Instead, we got cloud. Lots and lots of cloud.

But I’ve realised I don’t actually feel cheated by that. If anything, the weather became part of our Scafell Pike story. We didn’t climb it for a photograph from the summit — we climbed it for the challenge, the experience, and to see whether we could do it.

And we could. Five hours and 23 minutes, 7.57 kilometres, an average speed of 1.4km/h. Those aren’t particularly important numbers to anybody else. To us, though, they represent a pretty special day.

More Than a Mountain

I went to Scafell Pike expecting a physical challenge. I came away thinking much more about the people we’d encountered along the way.

The lady determined to prove something to someone. The young man encouraging complete strangers. People quietly helping their partners. People struggling, people smiling, people carrying on.

Everyone was heading towards exactly the same summit, but I suspect everyone was climbing a slightly different mountain. And amongst them were my wife and me, supporting each other, putting one foot in front of the other and eventually standing together at the highest point in England.

We couldn’t see the spectacular view we’d hoped for. But looking back, I don’t think we missed out at all.

The view wasn’t the achievement. Getting there together was.