Strongbow, and other tales.

Strongbow at Laggan.

Who said there's no good bouldering in Strathspey? (Photo: Dave Macleod)

It's with continual jealousy (and awe) that I do my endless rounds of website checks - blogs, forums, news updates, video sites, photo pages - and find out what people have been climbing. Whether it's mates of mine, international uber-wads or folk I've never even met or heard of, there's a constant feed of psyched climbers out there, getting out, pulling down, and documenting it - a continual source of inspiration for lowly weekend warriors like myself to tap into. Of course, it works the other way too. When the rain is pattering on my window for the third day in a row and I haven't ticked anything of personal note for some time, it's a torment to see the blue skies and big ticks, a mockery of my live-for-the-weekend attempts at being a climber.

With this in mind, I have to sit and think hard about what I've been up to, what's of note and whether any of it is worth blurting out to the blogosphere. I'm hardly setting the place on fire, and between the constraints of the working week and the recent Highland weather I'm pretty pleased that I'm managing to get anything done.

Traddage:

Last weekend Sarah and I took a quick trip to Gairloch, and after a morning admiring the arboreal verdance of Inverewe Gardens and enjoying coffee and cakes, climbed a few routes in Gruinard Bay. The highlights were Right Charlie at Jetty Crag and Root Beer at Inverianvie Crag - both routes I'd been aware of but not done on previous visits. I'm finding more and more that to improve at trad climbing you need to do lots of it and build up momentum, and given the crap weather that's not really been possible yet this year, so it's nice just to keep ticking over.

Sportage:

After being drizzled off trad routes at Loch Tollaidh on Saturday, Steve and I headed to Creag nan Luch for some redpoint action. We've had a succesful few sessions here after being rained/frozen/blown off trad crags, and this time I opted for Murdo's 7a+ slab Unfinished Business and was surprised to get it first redpoint. I think the grade is a bit contentious as it be easier the taller you are, but I definately found the crux pretty dang hard. Steve ticked the pumpy 6b Astar.

Boulderage:

I'm just back in from ticking my summer project - a beautiful steep curving arete at Laggan called Strongbow, and weighing in around the V7/7A+ mark. I'd half-heartedly tried it a few times earlier in the year and knew it would climb really well, I just couldn't do it. Dave Macleod then did the first ascent when I showed it to him in April, and since then I've had 5 or 6 sessions up there specifically trying it. Each time I've come away one step closer to the tick, refining the sequence and getting stronger and smoother on it. On my last session I kept failing on the same move but could do all the others almost every time, so this time I had a good long think and totally changed my foot sequence and hey presto! It worked. It's a big tick for me, as it's a brilliant problem - steep, technical and great moves - at my own little stomping ground of Laggan, and despite Dave doing it first, I found, cleaned it, and worked out the moves, and it's my first 7A+! (Dave reckoned that was the grade, and who am I to argue? Can someone come along and repeat it to confirm please?). I've taken quite a bit of footage of my sessions, so will edit something together and post it soon, but here's Dave on the FA:

Strongbow - Laggan from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

Echo

Redpointing Mactalla

(Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

I remember first hearing about Goat Crag when I lived in Fort William. I was climbing with Blair quite a bit, and every so often he’d slope off to the north for a weekend of sport climbing and come back raving about amazing routes, perfect Lewisian Gneiss and the beautiful North West. He also kept telling me about this one route called Mactalla - I would love it and should get myself up there ASAP.

Not long afterwards, Gary Latter’s Scottish Rock North guide came out and I got another glimpse of this place. I couldn’t fail to notice the four stars Mactalla got, and the “one of the best routes of it’s grade in the country” description. The only issue I could see was the grade: F7a+. At this stage I’d only just redpointed a couple of F7as and was pretty sure they were soft touches, so the jump up was going to be a big deal. Never the less, everything about this route seemed like a perfect line to aspire to: the location, the rock, the grade and the reputation it was steadily acquiring. I just needed to get on it!

It wasn’t until the spring of 2009 that I had my first experience of the route. While waiting for wet trad crags to dry in Gruinard Bay I dragged Steve up to Goat Crag for a look. I knew straight away that I'd have a battle on my hands as this was clearly a long, steep, stamina route - something that a slab climbing boulderer isn;t very good at. I played on the first few clips but before long the sun came out and we headed off for some trad routes.

It was about 6 months later that I next went to Goat Crag. I'd hoped to get on Mactalla but it was wet most of the day so I amused myself on the easy warm ups and watched Blair and Iain make everything look easy, and this heralded the start of a period of about a year and a half when I was desperate to do Mactalla but circumstances kept delaying me. Often it seeps in the morning, so quite a few times I got on another route first and was too spanked by the time I tried it in the afternoon. Sometimes I was out with folk for whom Goat Crag didn't offer much scope so we went elsewhere. Sometimes we drove all the way to Gruinard Bay to find it clagged in and raining. Compared to it's neighbour Am Fasgadh it's an exposed icebox in winter and can be a similar baking sun-trap in summer, so I stayed away for big chunks of the year. But during all this time Mactalla was in the back of my mind, niggling away as THE route I most wanted to do. Even last year when I managed the similar and sensational Paralysis by Analysis at the Camel, it was just a substitute and preparation for Mactalla, which was spending the summer dribbling under a rain cloud. My fervour was fuelled all the more by starting to climb with the Goat Crag locals, Murdo, Richie, Andrew, Ian and Tess and seeing them waltz up the route in all conditions and all styles (last time I was there with Murdo he down-climbed it after leading it).

But this spring I decided to get a bit more serious and to be a bit more sensible. I've specifically tried to get as much sport climbing done and tried to get better at falling off and 'going for it' in extremis - being happy taking falls has always held me back, so whenever I've climbed indoors I've made sure that I lead and tried to take a few practice lobs - that sounds like a total punter thing to write, but it's definitely made a difference. A winter of bouldering has meant that I'm moving OK on rock already, rather than having to start all over again after months of winter climbing. And, importantly, when I went to the crag and the line was wet I waited for it to dry and then got on it rested and fresh. Finally, after all this time, I started my redpoint mission about three weeks ago.

On my third visit, after a week of great weather in which I'd clocked up a long stamina F7a redpoint at Moy, two ascents of Stone of Destiny at the Camel and an afternoon of showing some punter called Macleod round the Laggan boulders, and as royal wedding bells rang out across Westminster, I found myself eyeing up the last of the hard moves again. A deadpoint to a good jug, the scene of my previous failures. Gathering myself for the launch, braced for the fall, I squeezed the lefthand crimp, fired upwards, and the journey came to an end.

1000 Words

The nature of winter rock climbing generally means projecting hard boulder problems and sport routes. Short cold days aren't conducive to casual days of tradding, so I spend my time attempting to make incremental gains. Sometimes it feels like banging my head against a wall, but I know that the feeling of hard-fought success will be worth it if I complete even one of my growing list of projects...

Here's the latest Soft Rocking....

It's pretty rare that I get to report a success, but as previously reported, Masonic Fingershake at Cummingston finally gave in.

After the turbo-thaw Torridon was back on the agenda. There's not much left for Richie to do at the Celtic Jumble, so now he has to work on the desperates. Here he's trying Dave MacLeod's Frantic.

After a rapid flash by Richie, I managed to scrape myself up Mike Lee's Girls in Their Summer Dresses. (Photo: Richie Betts)

Another Am Fasgadh Sunday Session. Here Rich battles with Bog Talla. Given The Sheild's regular wetness I'm switching my attentions to the drier line of Primo. It's the first route I've been on that I've not been able to do all the moves after the first session. I think this might be a whole-winter seige. Bring it on.

Balancing

Despite last weekend's little mishap with the disappearing bothy I've tried to keep up with the OMM training. Having spent the summer doing survey work in the hills I think I've got an OK base of fitness, which I'm adding to with a few intense short runs in the week and longer hill runs on the weekend. This Saturday's run was a nice circuit in the Coulin Forest, south of Torridon.

Running is a lot like hillwalking I guess, as it's a great way to get out and explore places you don't know. Fortunately it doesn't take as long and doesn't require knee-length red socks. Over the years of inhaling the contents of climbing guidebooks some hill names become engrained in the memory, but I still don't really know where some of them are, and more importantly, how you get to them in the pre-dawn dark of a frosty winter. So, after this latest run I now know a wee bit about Fuar Tholl and Sgorr Ruadh and their beautiful cliffs. Will this be the year I get to see their wintry side?

The only problem I'm having with OMM training this year is that I'm equally psyched for climbing as I am for running, and trying to do as much as possible of both is a delicate balance. As much as I'm really looking forward to the imminent OMM suffer-fest, I'm also looking forward to that time when it's over and I can knuckle down into the autumn sport and bouldering season. Projects ahoy!

Sport project: Mactalla at Goat Crag. I had my first proper play this weekend and was muchos impressed. (Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

Boulder project 1: Malcolm Smith's Arete, Torridon. Beautiful line, beautiful place, hard. Perfect.

Boulder project 2: The Scientist, Brin Rock. Fairly local, very hard (for me), a long term goal. (Photo: Richie Betts)

A Light in the Dark

A glimmer of light has flickered in the darkness of this wet July.

The wetness has continued and the only dry climbing I’ve found has been either up at the Camel or on the new Inverness centre of gnarl, the Bettsmaker.

The Bettsmaker (Photo: Richie Betts)

After getting psyched for the pump-fest of Paralysis by Analysis at the Camel two weekends back I’ve been back up a few times. One quick trip after work with Dunc in a rainstorm, one with Richie under a curtain of drips. On both trips I was agonizingly close to the top, either fumbling the last clip or not catching the winner flake and flailing for nothing. Then on Saturday I went up with Jones for a quick try before hitting the bright lights of Inverness. Armed with all the lessons from my previous tries I eventually found myself at the anchor, so pumped I could barely hold the rope to clip the lower-off but grinning like a madman. Perseverance pays off once again.

Counting down to failure on an earlier try on Paralysis by Analysis at The Camel

Sunday was even drier so the trad rack was dusted off and I headed north to meet Richie and find Invrness’ crag of the moment: Scatwell River Slabs. This impressive schist slab hangs above a swirling silt-dark pool in the river Conon, south facing and compact. It’s an unusual place to climb, in a way more reminiscent of sea-cliff climbing than a Highland outcrop as the routes require abseil access and the water gently laps away below as you teeter upwards. The only problem is that dirt and leaves collect on the slab and build up into a layer of slimy filth, under which it has languished for years. Then, up steps Ray Wilby with a wire brush and a whole lot of keenness and hey presto, there are some clean lines and even a new route to go on. We climbed The Tilting Yard (why are slabby corners so awkward?), The Joust (possibly the best route here?) and Ray’s new addition The Lance, then headed over to finish off on the Scatwell Boulder.

The Tilting Yard, Scatwell River Slabs (Photo: Ian Taylor)

There we have it, some dry rock, some trad climbing and a ticked project, not too bad for a July weekend in the Highlands.

Are you local?

Are you local?

The longest day has been and gone; the summer keeps ticking on. As is the norm in the Highlands the warm dry early summer months have finally given way to unsettled showery ming. You've got to concentrate to keep getting stuff done in these conditions otherwise before you know it the crags will be seeping and the lycra will be out for the impending running season.

A mix of meteorological conditions has meant that all my climbing has been local to Aviemore lately. The snow-melt and dry few months finally brought the Cairngorms into condition so I've had one or two pokes up there, mostly already chronicled here. But contrastingly the last few weeks have been quite a lot wetter, putting the mountains out of favour,and not making sense to head too far away. So I've had to make the most of what I have nearby. Time to bring on the projects.

On the route front I'm psyched for Paralysis by Analysis up at the Camel. 30 metres of sustained overhanging face climbing and weighing in at F7a+, this route truly inspires. I'm dangerously close to the tick, having lobbed from the final bolt twice now. I later discovered the local beta is to do the last hard moves before the clip but I'm not sure I'm brave enough for that so think I'll use an extender to clip from better holds. Stoked!

On the boulder front I've been up to Ruthven a few more times. Having done The Dude I was keen for Barry Manilow as the next mission but it's pretty eliminate and a bit beta intensive so I plumped for The Razor's Edge round the corner. In classic project style the first few sessions felt absolutely desperate and I felt like I was embarking on a long-haul adventure but somehow, and much sooner that expected, it all clicked and it was duly dispatched. Obviously I need a harder project, so what next?

The Headmaster's Lesson

Bouldering on The Ship in Torridon last weekend. Here's me dancing with my shadow while trying the first move of The Mission for the 400th time. Photo: Richie Betts

Murdo doing battle with Malcolm's Arete

Back in the mists of time my old headmaster, Mr Kirkup, would often end his rousing motivational assemblies with the mantra “remember, it’s cool to be keen”. You had to respect his hopeful attempts to get us to knuckle down and work hard, but the truth remained that being a geek wasn’t going to get the cool kids to like you. No matter how many times you solved for x in Maths or Sylvia Plath poems you dissected in English or one-drop end-point titrations you achieved in Chemistry, if you didn’t wear the right clothes or have the right hair style or listen to the right music the immovable tide of peer pressure would label you uncool. No questions asked.

Nowadays things are a bit different and Mr Kirkup has been proven right. It really is cool to be keen. In the world I inhabit, keenness means you’ll train more, run faster, pull harder. You’ll be willing to get out of bed at 2 in the morning to be first on the route or to bag a second route that day. You’ll want to raise your game and try to overcome harder, longer, bigger hurdles. You’ll be willing to gamble.

With the headmaster’s advice echoing round my head Richie and I drove from the sunshine of Inverness into the dark maelstrom of the West yesterday morning. The further we went, the darker the sky became and inevitably the windscreen wipers morphed from an intermittent twitch into a hypnotic blur. The drive west with a bad forecast is a true test of the keen and the faithful, and many times our dedication was tried. Passing through Garve, we prayed for a wormhole to open and allow access to a sun drenched coast, but no, the mist swirled and the rain poured. Turning left at Braemore Junction, surely we had shown enough tenacity to be granted some blue sky, but no, more rain. Then finally, on reaching Gruinard Bay the Guardians of the North West took pity and made the rain stop long enough to walk to the crag in the dry. And what did we find?

Only that our respective projects were almost the only dry lines at the crag; our dedication had paid off. In obeisance we set to work, me on Warm Up, Richie on Black Sox; traversing to warm cold fingers then dogging up to put the clips in. Then, the moment of truth, the moment when all the thinking and preparing and training gets put aside and you have to show yourself for what you really are. Do you really have what it takes to climb this? Are you just kidding yourself? Now we’ll all see.

Richie on Black Sox (F7c+) a few weeks prior to his recent success. Photo: Ian Taylor

A previous attempt on Warm Up (F7b). Photo: Ian Taylor

And yes, we both came home successful. Thanks Mr Kirkup.

Richie is a happy bunny.

The North West Tapestry

Steve decends Cadh' an Amadain, The Fools Pass, starting the long way back to the car.

Beinn Dearg near Ullapool was the stage for Steve and I to act out our little adventure on Saturday. Walking in to a crag you've never been to before is always exciting, which is probably why the fairly long approach felt quick and easy (I'll take a bike next time). The relatively rarely formed Ice Hose contrasted a couple of icy pitches to start with a couple of mixed pitches for seconds. Easy snow then led to the top of West Buttress, where we both sat, partially blinded by the bright midday sun, drinking it all in. The view from the summit cairn was unlike any I've seen before. All the north spread out below, from the undulations of Assynt and the snowy Summer Isles in the west, to Ben Loyal and Ben Hope on the north coast and all the way east to the North Sea: from the Fannaichs to Fisherfield to the Flow Country, all clad in brilliant white.

Steve on the brilliant 30m icefall starting Ice Hose

Steve starts pitch 3, the start of the mixed ridge.

The view north west: down Gleann na Sguaib to Loch Broom and the Summer Isles.



Enjoying sunshine on the top with the Fainnaichs beyond

Another team start Ice Hose below the moon.

Sunday began with a false start; almost asleep at the wheel on the way to Applecross, snoozing in a layby, then after peering into Coire na Poite through binoculars deciding to cut our losses and go sport climbing. Exchanging steel tools for steely fingers we met Ian, Tess, Andy and Rich for sociable sunshine at Am Fasgadh and Goat Crag. We narrowly missed running out of petrol due to the lax West Coast filling station hours but Rich saved the day with an emergency jerry can. Lesson learned for future Sunday trips to the north west. Despite the ambient air temperature being only a few degrees above freezing, the sun trap of Am Fasgadh provided real unseasonal heat, even allowing tops-off-for-power redpoint attempts. I got to within a few moves of the chain on my first go on The Warm Up, which turned out to be my best shot. Positive progress and a genuine surprise, so something must be going right in my not-so-rigorous training regime. Watch this space....

Richie and Ian have pics on their Flickr websites, useful sources for north west rock motivation, as if I need it.

Hot Rock at Am Fasgadh:

Andy cruises The Warm Up for the umpteenth time, although he did tell me he projected it for two years before success.

Steve on the classic long corner of Teepee, up the hill at Goat Crag.

Statement of Intent

For quite some time now I’ve had this fantasy. It lurks at the back of my mind. When I’m lying awake at night, wrestling with thoughts and memories and hopes and fears, it creeps from the shadows and pushes it’s way into my consciousness. It’s a project. A challenge. A goal. In order to keep my head above the rising tide I’m in need of something to keep me occupied. And I’ve found it.

Back in the long hot summer of 1995 a young chap called Jules Lines was working at the Landmark Centre in Carrbridge. A keen climber, Jules had spent years cutting his teeth all over the crags of Britain, and had emerged as a leading light in the devious arts of hard slab climbing. For those not in the know, in rock climbing terms, a slab is a wall that is less than vertical, so the challenge comes not from being able to hold on, but from being able to trust the friction of your shoes and to balance your way up on tiny edges.

Slab climbing heaven: trusting the subtleties of friction between coarse granite crystals and modern rubber soled rock shoes. This is me on Hammer, Etive Slabs. (Photo: Steve Crawford)

After work each night, Jules would head up to Cairngorm, cross the plateau, and drop down into the mighty cauldron of the Loch Avon Basin, home to acres of blank granite slabs. And here, like a kid in a sweet shop, Jules set about filling in the blank sections of the crags under the cloudless skies. Among the many routes Jules climbed that summer, the hardest was on the Lower Slab below Hell’s Lum. At E7 6b, Firestone was created; a direct line up the blankest part of the slab. The description in the SMC Cairngorms guide says it all:

“A slab climbing test piece at the right end of the Lower Slab. Climb the obvious pink water worn streak directly up the dark but notably smooth section of the slab. Holdless and protectionless.”

And I’m going to climb it.

So, why on Earth have I decided that this is a good idea? Well, It’s pretty simple really. First and foremost, the Loch Avon Basin is one of the most beautiful places on this planet, so I’ll use any excuse to spend time there (it’s actually part of the RSPB reserve I work on, so I could claim to be doing ‘work’). Secondly, I’ll gladly confess that I love slab climbing (this is a much misunderstood and maligned climbing style). Thirdly, at E7 it’s clearly sick hard and a tad on the dangerous side, so I have no bones about working the route to death from the safety of a top rope before deciding if I want to lead it (if you’re a staunch ground-up, on-sight climber, you’re more than welcome to come and get the first on-sight ascent, otherwise, no complaining please). Fourthly, I’m in need of a long term climbing project; something to keep me busy; something really hard that I’m going to have to fight and stress and worry to attain.

The playground

I’m hoping that as the summer begins and the snow starts to clear from the hills I’ll be able to spend the long evenings and weekends working on the route, so I’ll be updating Soft Rock with my progress and thoughts on the gargantuan challenge that I’ve set myself.

Fasten your seatbelts, it could be a bumpy ride……