Chasing the Sunrise: A Christmas Day Night Ascent of Ben Nevis. A friend messaged earlier in the week to see if I was in Scotland still. The plan was hatched to do a Christmas Day hike
The alarm went off at 3:15am on Christmas Day 2025, that peculiar hour when night still owns the world and morning feels like a rumour. While most people were tucked up at home, dreaming of presents and late breakfasts, Fort William slept under a thick quilt of darkness, streetlights glowing softly in the cold crisp Highland air. By 4am, boots were laced, headtorches switched on, and the path up Ben Nevis began under our feet.

There was something quietly surreal about starting a mountain hike on Christmas morning. No carol singers, no wrapping paper, no clink of mugs—just cold air, darkness, and the steady crunch of gravel. The mountain felt even more private than usual, as if it knew this was a day meant for something special. The air was cool and heavy with moisture, and every breath carried that familiar mix of peat, stone, and moss.

The early climb passed in a cocoon of darkness that highlighted all the stars. Headtorches bobbed like fireflies, illuminating only what was immediately necessary: the next step, the edge of the path, the glint of wet rock. Beyond that was nothing but blackness you could hear the streams and waterfalls but not see them . At night, you stop seeing the mountain and start feeling and hearing it. although I wasn’t feeling it and really struggling having to stop just past the halfway loch to be sick as I was really fighting to regulate my temperature in my ladies Lidl tights as I couldn’t find any new thermals

As we gained height, the wind sharpened as we turned a corner into a gully . Somewhere above us, Christmas morning was already beginning to form. The sky slowly softened from black to deep navy, then to a faint, hopeful blue along the eastern horizon. Dawn arrived quietly, Then, almost without warning, we emerged above the cloud.

It felt like stepping into another realm. 600-800 metres Below us lay a vast, unbroken sea of cloud, smooth and luminous, filling the glens and valleys and erasing every sign of roads, houses, and daily life. On Christmas Day, of all days, the world had been wrapped up and hidden away. Above the cloud inversion, the sky was crystal clear, and Ben Nevis stood like an island in a silent white ocean.

As the sun approached the horizon, It was impossible not to stop and stare.
We reached the summit plateau just as the sun rose.
Sunrise on Ben Nevis is always memorable, but witnessing it on Christmas Day, above a cloud inversion, felt almost unreal. The sun lifted cleanly into the sky, its light spilling across the cloud sea, illuminating distant peaks that broke through like dark silhouettes. Everything was still. No wind. No voices. Just light, colour, and a deep sense of peace. Think this is the longest I’ve ever spent on the summit of a mountain as we wondered around for about 2hrs taking photos and trying to make a coffee

Standing there, high above the hidden world below, , we stood on the highest point in Britain as I sparked a flare to celebrate the occasion as I approached the trig point , watching Christmas morning unfold in silence. The early alarm, the cold fingers, the tired legs—all of it felt insignificant. This was our Christmas gift: a moment earned, not unwrapped.

As the sun climbed higher, The clouds began to shift and thin, hinting at the world beneath them. Soon, other hikers would arrive, bringing daylight chatter and festive greetings.

But for those first hours of Christmas Day, Ben Nevis belonged to the night climbers.

Hiking Ben Nevis at night isn’t just about reaching the top. It’s about stepping away from routine—even on a day defined by tradition—and choosing something different. On Christmas Day 2025, that choice led us above the clouds, into the sunrise, and into a memory that will last far longer than the day itself. The Ben is the mountain Sam dog had done more than any the 1st being when he was 3 the last 14 with around 11 attempts and 5 times in the summit I thought it was only fitting to scatter some of his ashes on the top

And a big thank you to Darla N James Burns for sending me a link to the song about Sam. It brings a tear to my eye when I listen to it.