After a group of ravers who hosted a fundraiser atop Ben Nevis were harshly criticised on social media, Mary-Ann Ochota wonders if our mountains should really be reserved for quiet contemplation.
The other day I came across a frothy conversation on social media. A video was posted of a group of people who’d climbed to the summit of Ben Nevis to have a rave. With mobile decks, jolly bucket hats and happy faces, the videos online suggest that they were having a lot of fun. They were the Council of Bens – a bunch of ravers all called Ben – who’d climbed Ben Nevis to drop the highest set in the UK. The ‘Bens Up Nevis’ were raising money for two mental health charities, whilst also getting down to slick beats.
Main image: The landscape of Ben Nevis | Credit: Shutterstock
As you might expect from social media, the criticism was swift and harsh. Inflicting their DJing on everyone else was selfish. Narcissistic. Numpties. Morons. Clowns. It shows horrific disregard. A reason to never go there again. Then there were folk arguing on behalf of the ravers: No need to call the fun police! If they’re not littering or doing damage, let them rave away!
The post also prompted other tales from the Ben – some remembered fondly: the couple who got engaged and snogged to applauding onlookers, the people doing tai chi in the snow, the group filming an aerobics video, people planking on the trig point. Saturday afternoon on the highest mountain in Scotland is clearly not a place for solitude.
Not even clag could dampen the fundraisers’ spirits. Credit: The Council of Bens
It boils down to a conundrum: What does ‘appropriate’ enjoyment of the upland environment look – or sound – like? Would people so readily brand a bagpiper or a bunch of whistling scouts nasty and disgusting for making music on a summit plateau? My old instinct has always been to be appalled when I hear someone on a hill with a speaker, playing tunes.
But I’m starting to reconsider. Why is it bad? It’s not really more disturbing than people having a loud conversation, or someone singing. I hear them, I walk past, then I can’t hear them again. Sure, if you’ve headed out to spot shy wildlife or listen to unadulterated nature sounds, then Bohemian Rhapsody, a Mozart piano sonata or synth-pop bangers are all going to put you off your stride. So would me laughing loudly about my friend’s dating exploits as we lumber up the Pony Track. So would me singing the Grand Old Duke of York loudly with my six-year-old.
Should we be hushed and shushed, like in a library? Or can we play, boister and be? In fact, my library has realised that people don’t want to come if they get shushed. In my library people go in and talk at normal volume. There’s a Knit and Natter group, teens watching TikTok videos, parents singing If You’re Happy and You Know It at Toddler Rhyme Time. It’s great. Much friendlier. I’ve even heard the staff tell parents to please not shush their kids. There is a quiet area, but the rest is run along a policy of ‘be kind, say hi, make space for each other’. So yes, sometimes I need to pipe down a bit. But the rest of the time, I tolerate – and am part of – the symphony.
Mountains of fancy dress and fun. Credit: The Council of Bens
Perhaps we’re in this hillside fun police pickle because the terms ‘quiet enjoyment’ and ‘quiet recreation’ are enshrined in the purposes of National Parks and National Landscapes (formerly Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty or AONBs). A senior national park person once said to me they hated they terms, and thought more people should be ‘out there making noise’. Because policing noise is actually policing people – who should and shouldn’t be in our most prized landscapes? Who is doing it ‘right’? Who are the gatekeepers and who is being judged?
There will always be places or times to find quiet on the hills. And the soundtrack of unadulterated nature can be deeply wonderful. But we need to acknowledge that human joy is often noisy. And the outdoors is a legitimate place to find joy. So, whether hard house or a harmonica, I say let them play on.
Oh, and you can still donate to the Bens Up Nevis ravers, supporting Mind and Ben’s Centre via GoFundMe.
Mary-Ann is a broadcaster, anthropologist and keen hillwalker. She’s the President of CPRE, the countryside charity, former hillwalking ambassador for the British Mountaineering Council and a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society. These are her personal opinions. Find her on Instagram and Twitter @maryannochota.
