I spent twenty-four hours in London this weekend, a whirlwind trip from Inverness to Gatwick. The purpose was heavy: an interview for £15,000 of funding for a personal project. For the past month, my head has been buried in funding applications, so I thought that would set me in good stead for the interview, but all I felt was dread.
Deep down, I knew I was prepared for the interview (having talked about my project in great length over the past two months), but the closer the date loomed, the more I doubted myself.
When pressure builds like this, I did what I’ve always done - I headed to the hills.
I’d originally envisioned a summit camp for my birthday on the Monday (a solid five days before the interview), but the weather had other plans leaving the day feeling frustratingly incomplete. However, on the Wednesday a sudden weather window opened and me and my mum decided to go for a hike. We set our sights on the Braeriach Ridge in the Cairngorms of Scotland - an iconically tough two-day hike (definitely not for the unfit or the faint of heart, of which we were both).
Braeriach is a monster. It is the third-highest mountain in the UK, a remote and punishing landscape where you have to haul yourself up thousands of feet of relentless, ankle-smashing boulder fields. The scale of the plateau is vast and exposed, entirely devoid of shelter, flanked by terrifying, sheer cliffs that drop straight off into the abyss of the corries.
But despite the terrain, our first day was perfection. We walked for 9 hours straight and pitched our tent on the summit of Cairn Toul, watching the sunset bleed across the peaks as we settled in for the night. We went to bed around 10pm and instantly my mum was snoring. But cocooned in the freezing cold, sleep entirely evaded me. Instead, my mind raced: Why am I up a mountain right now? What am I doing about this interview?
My eyes opened early the next morning having not slept a single wink.
The hike out was a grueling, knee-crunching slog over miles of rough terrain. We had to navigate our way back down the heights, completely shattered, but we finally stumbled back to the car and eventually made it back to my flat around mid-afternoon. With my flight to London scheduled for the following morning, I tried to force some last-minute interview preparation, but my brain was fried. I surrendered and went to bed at 8:00pm, passing out straight away. My alarm went off at 5am the next morning and I felt… surprisingly fine.
During the travel day to London, a wave of relaxation washed over me. Something about the scale of the climb had shifted my perspective, allowing me to finally breathe. My legs were aching and my feet were mapped with horrible blisters, but mentally, I was chill. I spent a quiet evening at a friend’s flat and rested easy.
The interview itself was tough. The panel felt a bit unpredictable, but I held my ground and answered okay. The tension broke a little when I realised one of the panelists was from Scotland and had climbed Ben Nevis a week earlier. Sharing stories of the ridges and the weather became the perfect icebreaker. Perhaps I hadn't quite ruined my chances by escaping to the hills; if anything, maybe the mountains had given us something to talk about.
I left the room feeling like I’d done an okay job. Of course, the human brain is cruel and two hours later, the spiral began. I started dissecting everything I should have said, convincing myself I hadn’t got the money.
And you know what…maybe I haven’t got the money. But do I regret the climb?
No. I bagged four Munros and summit camped on one of the sunniest days of the year. The ridge gave me a sense of calm that the endless application process had entirely stripped away. It anchored me, even helping to fend off the little depression funk I get the week before my period.
I suppose this is all just to remind myself that sometimes, you desperately just need a break. You have to allow yourself the space to have fun, and trust that your past hard work will carry you through the big moments.
Gosh…this all sounds very zen (probably because I’m sitting at the airport with a pint in hand). Perhaps - if I don’t get the funding - I’ll look back and wish I’d spent those days studying for the interview instead of up the hill.
But somehow, looking back at those peaks, I doubt it!
(Edited: I got the £15,000!!!! )