Eight Days

To get out climbing you need the holy trinity of factors to align at the same time - time, weather, and someone to climb with. A big stroke of luck has brought these all together over the last week and I've finally managed to start getting some routes done. A nice high pressure system coincided with my contract finishing earlier than expected, and with graduates and teachers being on holiday.

It started last Friday night at the Camel with Jim, when I redpointed Final Straw, the last of the sub-7b routes I still had to do there. Jim did likewise, and we both warmed down on Stone of Destiny, which never seems to get any easier. A good start.

On Sunday morning I met Murdo in Contin and we motored oot west (as the Canadians might say) to Loch Thollaidh crags near Gairloch. Despite their Northerly aspect and sometimes feeling dark and cold, this is one of my favourite places to climb. All the routes I've done here have been brilliant and the Lewisian Gneiss is beautiful to climb on. My highlights were climbing Water Lily and Strip-teaser, both of which had been on my must-do list for a while. Murdo only has a couple of routes left to do here, so after seeing off Wild Iris, a bold E4 he'd been putting off for a long time, was ready for battle on Old El Passe, one of the Cubby/Anderson E6s on Gairloch Wall. After a prolonged and painful tussle with the brutal steep starting cracks he decided to call it a day though- a good reason to come back.

Me on Seams Obvious at Seanna Mheallan. (Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

Next day out was Tuesday, and Murdo and I fled west once more, this time up the vertical heather slope to Seanna Mheallan in Torridon. I'm coming to realise that sandstone climbing is hard - mainly because I'm crap at jamming - so it was a good opportunity to work on my apprenticeship. I managed a couple of good E1s - Sandpiper and Seams Obvious, but failed on an E2 called Mark of a Skyver - mmm mmm, sweaty jams. Hey ho. Again, Murdo has pretty much ticked the crag so only had a few things left to do. He ticked a couple of E3s he'd not done and the notoriously tricky E4 Hunter Killer. Despite all the hearsay about trickiness and shonky pegs, he made it look a path. The boy is on form. Next time he's up there he'll have to do Dave Mac's E8 Kolus.

Murdo about to start moving right to the arete on Hunter Killer.

Wednesday was slab day, and after Murdo and Guy did Thor on Shelterstone's Central Slabs a few weeks back, Murdo was keen to go back and do Cupid's Bow. This sounded like a good plan, as it has an easy HVS/E1 entry pitch that I could lead, then dangle from some rusting pegs (and other good gear) and Murdo could style the 6b crux. And that's pretty much what happened. The Central Slabs are an awesome place to be - an intimidating sea of flawless granite, traced with corners and grooves, perched on high and looking straight down the length of Loch Avon. Once the route was over, my heart had stopped racing with fear, and we'd finished the three abseils back to our kit, we strolled over to the Lower Slab by Hell's Lum and I finished the day with the pleasant E3 Cerberus, while Murdo thought about trying Firestone, but decided against

it under the burning July sun.

A timeless classic climbing image: Murdo's arse starting the crux pitch of Cupid's Bow.

The terrible view from the Central Slabs.

Then Friday, another sandstone apprenticeship day, this time at Ardmair with Steve. In this vein I went for some mileage on the E1s Sunstroke and Tunnel Vision and the HVS Friendly Groove (which felt the same grade as the others). Steve dug deep with an ascent of the classic

Acrimonious Acrobat, an inspiring fight to watch. About halfway up the route he was clearly having psyche-up issues, and ummed and arred for a while, then suddenly declared "basically, I'm being a pussy and need to man the fuck up", which he promptly did and grunted his way to the top. Props!

Lastly, yesterday I was hired as a guide by Sarah and Sofia (and paid in fish and chips, ice cream and pub credits) and took them up Ardverikie Wall on Binnien Shuas. I first did this as my first Scottish multi-pitch route in 2004, when I'd only been climbing for about 6 months, and it felt fairly full-on. It was great to return on a beautiful summers day, to feel relaxed and satisfied after a good week of great routes, and to just enjoy the climbing, the scenery and the company.

What a lucky bastard I've been!

The girls getting psyched for a day of micro-granite wonder on Ardverikie Wall.

Make Hay

Getting a bit toasty in Torridon.

Was that the summer? I bloody hope not.

The Strathspey weather seems to have fast-forwarded straight through to the horrible sunshine and showers we usually get in high summer. I'm not fretting too much yet, as there's normally a few high pressure systems to play with each summer, but still it sucks.

Murdo on Neart Nan Gaidheal at Ardmair.

That old saying about making hay while the sun shines definitely rang true when it did, with desperate flurries of texts going back and forth among the Inverness area climbers, making plans, arranging partners and lifts, checking forecasts. I don't feel too ashamed with the way I used the good weather: finally putting Mactalla to bed, pleasant routes at Seanna Mheallan while Torridon blazed below, evening sunshine at Kingussie Crag, skin-loss and body-pump at Ardmair and shower and midge dodging at the new(ish) sport routes on Creag nan Cadhag, Stone Valley. But of course, just as I'm starting to feel like I'm getting into my stride the rain intervenes. I guess it's a good time to go back indoors to keep up some strength.

Jones seconding Right Hand Crack at Kingussie.

Sprung!

Murdo working Blair's traverse 'Beyond Communication' at Ruthven.

Seems like spring is here at last. Actually, it's arrived pretty quickly this year, with very little snow left on the tops already and lots of plants emerging and migrant birdies arriving for their summer holidays. Today I heard my first cuckoo through the dawn mirk in Strathconon, the welcome springtime alarm melding with the distant bubbling of a black grouse lek I was there to track down. Later, back by the road, I heard my first wood warbler of the year calling through the emerging birch, and yesterday morning we started our survey in Strathbran to the chirruping of the year's first grasshopper warbler. The swallows, swifts and house martins are yet to arrive in decent numbers to Strathspey, but it won't be long now.

Murdo again, this time on The Joker (?) at Goat Crag.

It's in the warm, dry spells at this time of year that I should be pouncing on the Highland trad routes, before midges and summer rain write them off. Before the onslaught really begins I'm keen to climb the wondrous Mactalla at Goat Crag. It's a route I've known about for ages and had a few quick goes at when it's been dry over the last couple of years but never spent enough time on to get stuck in. It's a fairly sustained wall, so if I can get up it I'm hoping that means I'll have a bit of fitness in the arms. A few weekends back I had my first proper session, falling from the second to last clip on the first go. I was so surprised to be there that I failed to stop at the rest, pressed on and promptly dropped off. Oops. After that it got very hot and slimy so I didn't make any more progress. Now it feels like it's just a matter of getting stuck in. Excited.

On the trad front, I've only had a quick evening session at the mighty Huntly's Cave, climbing the cruxy Diagonal Direct, one of the last of the routes that I've got to do there before having to really pull my socks up. One night last week I met Richie for some Strathnairn bouldering esoterica followed by a wee line at Pinnacle Crag, Duntelchaig. This last weekend the Tollaidh Triathlon got in the way of other climbing. It's such a great wee event, but I'd forgotten quite how uncomfortable cycling is, especially uphill into a headwind. Other than this it's been bouldering, trying to catch up on sleep, wrangling with the lack of climbing partners in Aviemore and working at silly o-clock in the morning. Hard times.

Flip-Sides

Isn't climbing brilliant? So many disciplines, so many challenges, so much to keep going back for. And in time, if you stick with it and try hard you might start to improve. But, of course, just when things are looking upwards and you start to get complacent you get a thorough kicking to remind you that the rock is still the boss.

Such was Saturday’s expedition to Covesea, an under-used sandstone crag on the Moray coast. Granted, I’ve not been able to do much trad climbing recently, and with it’s combination of seaside smeg, less than optimal rock and the odd sandbag grade I’m happy to take the beating like a man.

Richie on Banana Republic. 'One of the best routes here', which says a lot.

Then, on the flip-side I had a good evening at the Camel last night with Team Strong from Inverness. I made a quick redpoint of Inverarnie Schwarzeneggar, the F7a at the left of the crag, while Richie, Murdo and Andy ran laps on most of the other routes . Not a bad week for Andy, who made the first ascent of a new E7 at Glenmarksie Crag in Strathconon on Sunday (pic here) and did both Death is a Gift (F7c+) and Ubuntu (F8a) last night. He's done both these Camel routes loads before but this was the first time he'd done both in a session. Beast.

Smile

The beggining...

It’s coming back again and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It just keeps happening: a great big grin is creasing it’s way across my face. It’s the strangest thing, but ever since I left Aviemore last Friday and started the long journey westwards I’ve been breaking into impromptu fits of smiling and general merriment.

Exactly when the first one arrived I don’t recall. It might have been as the ferry set off from Oban, or perhaps it was as we put in to Castlebay on Barra under a perfect cloudless Hebridean sky. I’m sure by the time we met Donald the boatman the next morning I was already in the grip of the affliction and grinning relentlessly, and as we shuttled loads up to the campsite on Pabbay I knew I was done for. From then on, the whole week was a shambles of laughter and fun.

Rob and Helena 'balooning around' (his quote) on the juggy Sea An-enema in The Bay, Pabbay.

Topping out on Corncrakes for Breakfast on that first sunny evening as the seals sang across the waves and the lactic acid in my arms started to dissipate: that was a definite moment I recall it happening; climbing with Rob on the Banded Wall too. Then there was the day Alex, Rich and I were swallowed by the Grey Wall Recess twice and still came out laughing.

George having Corncrakes for Breakfast

The sensory overload of big sea-cliffs definitely seems to bring out the worst of this condition. The longer and more free-hanging the abseil; the more my mouth dries and hands tremble; the hotter the belay device at the bottom of the rope. The noisier and smellier the fulmars and razorbills and guillemots and shags; the closer the sea laps below and the bonxies swoop above; the bigger the yawning abyss below our feet and the steeper the ancient gneiss above: the bigger the smile at the end of it all.

Rich starting Sula on Dun Mingulay

The Puffin Burrow Hex

The harsh realities of island life: Espresso in bed and a terrible view.

Then on to Mingulay and it just got worse. A giant basking shark seen from the top of one of the most impressive cliffs in the country: Dun Mingulay. Outrageously big holds on an outrageously big cliff: Sula; a route I’d dreamed of for a long time. Even when ranks of nesting guillemots scuppered some of our plans, escaping up a VDiff above rough green seas and leaping white horses fed the fever.

Iain treading carefully on Road to Ixtlan, Mingulay

And it wasn’t just me, we all seemed to be suffering. The look on Blair’s face after conquering Ship of Fools, Rob extolling Fulmar Squaw's virtues, Sam wooping and hollering on the way down to The Boulevard and on the way back up Lost Souls. In the end, as we watched the locals descend into drunkenness in the traditional Saturday night knees-up in the Castlebay Bar we all seemed to be sharing the same condition: browned, sun-baked and wind-swept, greasy-haired and bloody knuckled, and grinning from ear to ear.

Until next time...

No Cigar

After rain intervened with our plans Blair took Richie and I to Dave's Cave near Arisaig. It's hard.

I'm in a bit of a quandry.

After the small gains I made to my sport climbing and bouldering over the winter I've got it into my head that I should be able to up my trad game too. The problem is that I had forgotten that trad climbing is a much more complex beast; the gains don't come in such a linear fashion. It's not just a case of being able to hold on longer or pull down harder, you've got to be prepared to do it in a situation where the consequences are bigger. Training the mind is taking longer than training the fingers.

Over the last few weeks a theme seems to have formed; after warming up on an easier route I've got on something a bit harder and invariably been shut down. I've taken two sizeable lobs from the top of Too Farr for the Bear, the E4 crack at Farrletter, and downclimbed or backed off a succession of other E3s around the Highlands. What's going on?

Fighting on Too Farr for the Bear, prior to the big ride.

In my defence, all the routes I've gloriously failed on have been pretty steep, and either super sustained, bold, or with fiddly gear, so perhaps I'm just trying the wrong routes? As we all know, I'm a slab pervert at heart, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised that all this steepness is doing me in. But what am I to do? Should I keep on trying routes in the hope that one day something will click and I'll start sailing up E3s, leaving behind a trail of blown onsights, or should I keep consolidating at E2 until I think I've improved enough? Oh, it's just so hard being me!

Racing the pump on the brilliant The Executioner, Seal Song area, Reiff. (Photo: Steve Crawford)

A.L.E.

They say the first step is admitting it, so here goes. I'm an addict. There, I said it. An addict. My body has become physically dependent. I need. I crave. I demand. And I get my fix. A heady cocktail of chemicals flows through my veins on a regular basis. A.L.E.

Adrenaline. Lactic acid. Endorphines.

Spring in the Highlands. The sun shines, the birds sing, the snow melts, and the rock-jocks get their fix. After a winter of sport climbing and bouldering, the trad season has finally arrived, and with it a whole heap of excitement and expectation. What to do? Where to go? Ambitions? Projects? We'll see. While it's still 'early season' (a classic climbers excuse for not trying hard), I want to get lots of mileage so I can start to flex my muscles and hone my head for bigger, scarier things in the summer (big sea cliffs on Pabbay and Mingulay in June, and hopefully some big granite slabs in the hills when the snow starts to melt).

With all this in mind I'm pleased with the way things have gone so far. Dave's Dilemma at Logie Head seems to have a reputation as a hard E1, so it was a good first extreme of the year, but it was truly trumped by Still Waters at Ardmair (E1 5c and then some). Then Tat's brilliant Someone Else's Dream at Loch Tollaidh was the seasons first E2, and hopefully the first of many. If you're looking for a soft E1 do Kermit Direct on Fraggle Rock at Loch Tollaidh, it's a gift. After-work cragging started this week with my first visit to Tynrich Slabs, near the Ruthven Boulder. It's a bit of a backwater and fairly limited, but the Hard Severe Scorpion and E2 Blewitt were more than worth the drive. And then last night it was the first Huntly's Cave raid of the season and I managed Lime-Ade, the E2 that starts up Lime Street before escaping up the arete, though I think 'escaping' might be a bit strong.

El Chorro next week. I know where I'll get my next A.L.E. fix...

A Dog's Life

King of the Castle: Harry Hammond

Life is pretty simple really. Do what you love as much as you can, struggle through the rest. Young Harry here is a pretty good role model for this way of life. Eat, sleep, exercise, repeat. He’s been a steady companion ever since moving across to Aviemore. Whether it’s been trotting at my heels when out running, protecting my lunch at the base of the crag or snoozing by the fire after a day in the hills; always the same wag of the tail, the same lolling pink tongue; he’s a happy little camper.

As I write, he’s passed out on his bed. He’s been out on two runs tonight, once with me on the Burnside circuit, once with Steve up to Coire an’t Schneachda. He’ll probably get up in a bit, have a bit of a stretch, go outside for a piss, scratch himself, have some food, then go back to sleep. I’m not sure about you, but that sounds like a bloody good evening to me. Simplicity; is it the route to contentment?

Jules Lines showing off his hidden boulder at Pityulish.

Not long after wandering if he could climb Font 6a, Stevie Hammond ticks The Dude (Font 7a) at Ruthven.

Despite the recent moisture in the Highlands, I managed to maintian my Weekend Warrior status with a couple more days on the rock. Blair, Jenny and I spent Saturday at Dunkeld in Perthshire, sheltering on and under Upper Cave Crag. I just about managed to contort myself up Coffin Corner before the precipitation set in, then spent the rest of the day getting a work out on the perma-dry sport routes. I was very inspired by Hamish Ted’s Excellent Adventure, which weighs in at an honest 7b+. Long, steep and sustained, it’s the perfect route for a trad climber to train for, and I know that if I’m one day fit enough to lead it cleanly I’ll be fit enough to get on most of the routes that inspire me in Scotland. So, I’d better get training.

Talking of training, I think the long evenings down the wall this winter are starting to pay off. A few weeks ago I was chatting to some fellow climbers in the pub and they asked what my aim for this rock climbing season was. My reply was to onsight (cleanly climb with no prior knowledge of the route) a route graded E3. Well, I’d better have a re-think, because we’re only a month or two into the Highland rock season and I’ve already achieved my aim. On Sunday I just about managed to onsight Dracula, a famous E3 at the lochside Duntelchaig crag, South of Inverness. As the wee video below testifies, it was a pretty desperate affair. Pumped, eyes on stalks, I swore and grunted as my feet skated off and I cut loose and slapped my way to the final holds. But, it was simple: I got from the bottom to the top, and for that moment, when I was sat safely at the top, as the adrenaline began to subside and my heart rate began to settle, I felt content.

Fighting on Dracula. It's steeper than it looks!

Off subject a little, but still within the realms of contentment and simplicity, I stumbled across a beautiful show on Radio 1 a few weeks back. Rob da Bank and Friends were having a campfire special, showcasing a load of contemporary British folk artists. The first band on, Mumford and Sons, really took me by surprise, and I instantly downloaded all their EPs and have had them on repeat ever since. Get your ears round them and see what you think.

Shirts vs. Skins

Stevie Hammond on Polldubh classic Ressurection (VS 4c***). All photos: Siobhan Miller

Sweaty palms, worn-out finger-tips, big grin.

It's been another week of blue skies across the Highlands and the Aviemore posse have been out getting scared, pumped and sun-burnt.

Pete's Wall (E2 5c**) at Huntly's Cave was the start to a good week, climbing with housemate Stevie Hammond and some chap called Julian Lines (whats he ever done on grit/granite/gabbro/limestone?). I then proceeded to almost kill Stevie when a huge hold came off the top of Dead Tree Wall (VS 4c*). Luckily I caught my fall on the profusion of colossal holds in a Mission Impossible stylee. Stevie dived out the way just in time, but hurt his ankle in doing so. Better than stoving in his skull. Be careful out there kids.

Siobhan Miller on Polldubh's other classic VS, Damnation (VS 4c***)

Jules then showed us a new bouldering spot above Loch Pityoulish which is absolutely incredible. Roof cracks, juggy prows, and scary jamming abound. The next day I teamed up with G2 Mike, Jules and Duncan for more exploratory bouldering, this time in Laggan. Lots of stunning lines to fall off, but just mind the bog. Mike will be bringing out a new Strathspey bouldering guide in the near future, so watch this space for more esoteric masterpieces.

Topping up my tan on Kaos (E2 5c**), Blacks Buttress

Then it was Saturday and a trip to the holy grail of West Highland cragging: Polldubh. Blue skies, no midges, tops-off-for-power. The highlight for me was heavy-breathing my way up Kaos (E2 5c**) up on Blacks Buttress, but in all honesty sharing a beautiful day in the mighty Glen, on great routes, with friends, is always a sheer delight.

Stevie getting bored while I gibber high on Kaos.

I think Steve wins.

As You Sow, So Shall You Reap

Climbing is GOOD for you

My recent wishes for a climbing partner have been granted. Chris took Friday off work and faced the long drive North to Forsinard, kicking off the exploration of Culfern Crag. Despite a pretty showery weekend, we made good use of the sunny periods between deluges and came away with 5 new(?) routes. It’s still unconfirmed that this is virgin territory, and I’m awaiting word from the powers-that-be, but regardless, we climbed everything on-sight with no prior knowledge of what loomed above, and we had a bloody great time.

The weekend began with Chris deftly repeating my highball problem The Merlin on a beautifully sunny Friday evening - good going after five and a half hours behind the wheel from Edinburgh, and a pleasant introduction to some of the quality to be had.

Chris making light work of The Merlin (E1 5c)

The Merlin again, this time I gurn my way up in the twilight

Saturday’s adventures started on a 10 metre slab at the south of the North Sector (as we were calling it), where I was able to link protection in breaks and cracks straight up the slab’s left side. From below I thought that it would be pretty trivial, but I was soon shown otherwise and was glad of the gear, as minimal as it was. It was pretty thin and bold stuff for it’s 10 metre length, and my shout of joy as I topped-out was as much from getting up it unscathed as it was from the prospect of it’s being a first ascent. Consultation with Chris after he seconded it mooted a grade of HVS 5a, and I’ve decided to call it Flow Country Scene, in honour of the distinct lack of climbing in this part of the world. On the right side of this slab, Chris then picked his way up Prickly Pear. This followed thin seams directly to the top with just enough gear to keep you happy, but not much more than that. We decided that Severe would be a fair grade for this little peach.

Me on tip-toeing up Flow Country Scene (HVS 5a)

Chris seconding Flow Country Scene in the sun

Chris on the F.A. of his Prickly Pear (Severe)

On my request, Chris got hold of a wire brush (thank you Edinburgh Sculpture School) and it turned out to be a saviour for cleaning routes. Nothing we climbed was utterly filthy (relative to, say, Back Bowden’s Dark Side, anything above 3 metres at Kyloe-In or everything in Somerset), and there are a fair few other lines that would be good if they weren’t a foot under lichen, but understandably, untouched slabby rock at sea-level isn’t always as clean as a whistle. Part of the fun of onsighting these routes was hanging on whilst uncovering hidden edges and cracks, and slowly changing a rock wall into a route.

Next up we headed to the steep Central Wall – the most extensive area of rock at Culfern, but also the least helpful. Where it looks protect-able it’s covered in ‘Gogarth Sea Grass’, and where it’s really clean it’s overhanging and appears totally gearless. One exception to this is at the right end of the wall, where the steepness is split by two vertical cracks leading into a small hanging corner, and because it’s still pretty steep it’s very clean. The prospect of good gear was enough to spur me into tying-in and having a look, and by golly gosh, I’m glad I did. After placing good wires at full stretch from a ledge at two metres I took an age to puzzle out the next moves. A boulder-problem crux was then followed by sustained, well protected, steep climbing on incredible jugs and flakes all the way to the top. As I sat at the top, pumped and grinning, huge skeins of migrating pink-footed geese flew overhead in their characteristic ‘V’ formations, honking encouragement to Chris on second. His gurn as he pulled over onto the final slab said it all.

A big stretch for the first gear

Steep'n'Juggy: Eka Be (E1 5c)

Neither of us could quite believe how good it had been. Despite it’s small stature (about 12 metres), it’s one of the most rewarding routes I’ve done; steep, pretty safe, a hard(ish) crux, pumpy, excellent rock (the kind of gneiss where flakes look like they’ve been glued on), but all mingled with the uncertainty of not knowing if it would continue. Awesome. Mind you, I would say that, it’s my route (I hope). It’s called Eka Be, which means ‘big yes’ in Malagasy (Madagascan), in honour of Jones. After all, it was her birthday. Grade-wise, we thought that E1 5c was fair, but if you were a lanky bastard the crux would be a bit easier. The setting sun brought the day to a close, and as we drove back to mine we were already excited about what tomorrow would bring.

Sunday dawned with the climber’s least favourite weather: sunshine and showers, and continued that way for much of its length. By midday we made it to the crag and Chris started us off with a route in the Southern Sector. Flakes up a slab led to an airy wee arête, which was sadly escapable, but if you stuck to it it was good fun. Chris dubbed it Turtle Head Ridge (VDiff), due to what he called “environmental factors”. I fear that the environment he referred to was in his underpants, and had nothing to do with exotic marine macro-fauna. Shame.

Chris showing his turtle head on Turtle Head Ridge (VDiff)

I then geared up beneath a very gritstone-esque blunt slabby arête, also in the Southern Sector: a very obvious feature to climb.

What line shall I climb? Hmmm.

After stepping on and clipping the first gear, a heavy shower passed over, so I down-climbed and untied and we legged-it to shelter. Twenty minutes later the sun was out once more, the rock was dry(ing) and I was back in the metaphorical saddle. Some lichen removal and a fair bit of faith in finding better holds above allowed me to gain the arête where it steepens and reach good holds and wires in a crack to its right. More scrubbing, some balancey rock-overs and a woop of delight saw me at the finishing jugs and setting up a belay, whereby another, heavier squall arrived, so we untied and high-tailed it to the car. A good while later it was dry enough for Chris to tie in for the second, which he sailed up despite the greasy conditions. Taking all into consideration (not much useful gear until a fair way above the crux) we gave it HVS 5a and I’m calling it Run For Cover. At this point, another shower soaked us again, so we gave up and ran away.

Me on the prominent 'gritty' arete of Run For Cover (HVS 5a)

And there you have it, including my previous offering of The Merlin, 6 new routes climbed at Culfern Crag, between VDiff and E1 (I’ve decided that E2 6a is a bit high for The Merlin and am settling on E1 5c). For those who are after an adventure, there are still a load more to do, from easy-looking lines that will require a bit of brushing, to clean, steep, bold routes that will require a cool head and steely fingers. Most routes will only be around 10 metres long, but will pack a fair punch. If anyone does come up here to climb new routes, make sure you do Eka Be too, it’s fooking excellent! Saying that, do all the routes we did, they all follow obvious lines or features, and the more mileage they get, the cleaner they’ll be.

In all honesty, it’s a mystery to me why this crag isn’t covered in Northern Highlands North when other minor (crap sounding) crags in the same vicinity are. Culfern is South and West facing so gets all the sun going, it’s obvious from the road, it’s beautifully situated, with views to the sea and across the Flow Country, the rock is, without exception, superb (not a single hold snapped on either of us) and it’s a friendly kind of place (no death landings or dank corners here). If climbers have been willing to develop the few good bits of rock on the North Coast within 20 miles of Culfern, why haven’t they been to Culfern?

However, knowing my luck with claiming new routes, the place was probably cleaned up years ago by ‘hard men with beards’. We’ll see.

Keeping Up Appearances

Jones on Pitch 1 of The Gutter, Polldubh

Back to holiday mode in the Fort. I’ve managed to wangle myself another short RSPB contract starting next week, so Jones and I are being lay-abouts in the Crucible in the interim.

I’ve been trying hard to get out and about on the rock, but it’s been proving tricky to juggle contracts ending, moving back to the Fort, the weather, the midge, and maximizing time with Jones before she ships off to Madagascar in a month, so it’s been a case of snatching opportunities as they’ve emerged. Even so, I’ve kept up some mileage.

I suffered from a spree of Munro bagging last week, after a run up Stob Ban in the Mamores Jones and I did the Ring of Steall a few days later. Five Munros in three days. Check it.

Then, on Wednesday I dabbled in an aspect of climbing that’s entirely new to me: head-pointing. Upper Scimitar Buttress in Glen Nevis is a steep 10m slab with an E6 6a, an E5 6a and an E4 6a, and not one of them musters a single runner. Sweet Little Mystery is the E4, taking a line on the left of the wall. Since it has no gear I thought that even if the climbing was OK it would be pretty committing, so some head-games would remain. A likely option for rehearsing the moves and seeing what happens.

Jones gives some scale to Upper Scimitar Buttress.

I climbed straight above Jones, to the left of the dirty streak in the middle of the slab.

With Jones swaddled in midge nets, Skin So Soft and Deet, I top-roped the line a few times, worked on some of the moves and cleaned some mossy holds (ecologist, moi?). After the initial surprise of finding the climbing do-able (maybe it’s not E4? Maybe I was on the wrong bit of rock?), I pulled the rope and waited for a lull in midge activity. Before long the midges settled down and I was faced with the mental struggle. Was I ready?

From what I’ve read about this kind of thing, and my own limited experience of working boulder problems and the odd sport route, the time when you eventually succeed on something you’ve worked on feels great, the mind clears and the climbing takes over – it was the same this time too. The difference was that the price of a mistake was a large amount of pain, so as I sat at the top and took it all in, the adrenaline started to course, my hands started to tremble and my grin began to widened. So, E4? Obviously, I have no idea what an E4 feels like. All I know is that it would have been a very scarey onsight solo, and wasn’t even sure if I would go for it after the first top-rope. All the moves were within my limit, but would have felt much harder and more precarious without prior knowledge. What ever it was, I’m chuffed.

Jones' view of me on the solo of Sweet Little Mystery

Last Thursday was another day in the Glen. Chris and Katy were up from the Burgh/London and we met them at The Alp. Jones lead the great Gutter (Diff***) on Pine Wall, and I climbed Tear (Hard Severe**) and SW2 (HVS 5b** or E1 5c if you ask me….) on SW Buttress. A rare low-midge blue sky day and a real pleasure.

The next time I put chalky fingertip to rock was on Sunday. Jones and I were down in Edinburgh to chill with city-folk, drink expensive beer and laugh at the Fringe, but Steev and I managed to escape the bustle and head to North Berwick Law for a brief session. I had hopes of red-pointing Fogtown (F7a**), which I had tried before. This time I made the tactical error of spending all my energy cleanly top-roping the route, and never got the strength back for the red-point attempts. Bummer. Steev got involved in a fair few routes, including onsighting Anarchic Law (F6a+/6b), top banana.

Steev sending Anarchic Law

Back up in the Fort, Jones and I got out yesterday (Monday) and climbed the Heatwave/Vampire combination (Hard Severe 4b,_, 4b, 4a**) on Cavalry Crack Buttress in the Glen. This climbs the first two pitches of Heatwave and the last two of Vampire, making a much more logical line than the two on their own. It was a really windy day, so when we broke through the arboreal verdance above pitch 1 the midges were blasted away and we were left to enjoy the great climbing and amazing rock on our own terms. At last, a route completed on Cavalry Crack Buttress! Afterwards we headed across to Road Buttress and, inspired by Gary Latter’s new Scottish Rock guidebook, I got on The Web (E2 5c**), only to be repelled by the crux a few metres from the top. Despite having a nest of gear, I just couldn’t make a huge span round a bulge and it was sickening to see my chalky prints just centimeters from a good hold when I abseiled down to get my gear. Some you win, some you lose, and some are just graded by lanky bastards.

Jones seconding pitch 2, linking Heatwave into Vampire

Maybe next time…….

Glory in Failure

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try and try again. Then, when all is about lost, get really drunk so that your hangover renders you incapacitated for any further attempts.

That just about sums up last weekend. On Saturday, Chris and I walked in to Coire an’t Schneachda twice, in vain attempts to climb The Magic Crack (HVS***). Both times it poured with rain just at the wrong moment, drenching any exposed millimeter of granite, and turning any climbing into a misery: queue abseil retreat from pitch 1. Sandwiched between these two attempts we went to Huntley’s Cave and climbed two routes, the first (Jam Crack, HS) in very gentle drizzle, the second (Double Overhang, HVS 5a***) in a deluge. Fortunately, the latter route was steep enough to remain dry, even in the biblical flooding that we experienced, and I’m glad I stuck with it.

Double Overhang (HVS 5a***) at Huntley's Cave. It's awesome.

On Sunday I worked at the RSPB Abernethy fun day, and proceeded to drink myself silly that night, so bank holiday Monday didn’t turn into the gnarly day of cranking that it might have done. With a forecast pointing west, Chris and I headed to Glen Nevis and climbed the Glen’s longest route, Autobahnausfahrt (VS**), thinking that something easy and long is just as respectable as something hard and short. Anyway, my 4b pitch was about as hard as my fragile state could manage.

The obvious moral message: climbing is daft, I’m off to get liquored.

In other news: my contract at Abernethy Forest is up, so once again I'll be a member of the great unwashed in Fort William. However, fingers crossed, there's something in the pipeline.

Pics to follow when I get a chance.

Culicoides impunctatus rides again

Liathach looms above Glen Torridon

As an ecologist, I’m often asked “what’s the point of the humble midge”. The notion that an organism’s existence has a purpose is a little outdated, by, well, science. Ignoring this minor detail, however, I don’t really know much about them, but I guess birds and fish eat them. But what do they eat? I’ll tell you. Me. They eat me. They eat you. They eat us. They eat everything. Flesh. Blood. Swarming. Biting. Landing. Tickling. Itching. Scratching. Bastards. Bastards. Bastards. Bastards

____________________

And so it came to pass that Blair, Jenny and myself found ourselves the victims of many-a-midge this weekend. It all started so well. We were at Loch Tollaidh Crags, a fine collection of gneiss outcrops between Gairloch and Poolewe in the North-West. I had warmed up on In The Pink (HVS 5b**), and was then pointed over to Buena Vista (E2 5b***). Daunted, dry-mouthed and clammy-palmed I looked up from below the line. It looked long, sustained and steep, or more simply, proper climbing, and the kind of thing that I’ve got away without climbing much of. Was I about to be discovered for the fraud I felt like? Check out the photo in the SMC Scottish Rock Climbs guide for a look at the line - my photographer fell asleep. Fortunately, I managed to wiggle and shake my way from the bottom to the top without peeling off, and felt pretty pleased with myself.

Loch Tollaidh Crags from the road - they're much bigger when you get there.

Me on In The Pink (HVS 5b**)

Now it was time for someone else’s lead, and I was ready for some chilling. But our old friend Culicoides impunctatus had other plans, and started to appear in industrial strength. There was nothing to do but cut and run, and that was that. Coffee at the Bridge Cottage café in Poolewe followed by getting midged off the Ship boulder in Torridon were all we managed before heading for the Ling Hut for the night. It was even midgey in there.

Jenny's midge-proof chic

A breeze stirred the heather the next morning so we sweated up to Seanna Mhealan, only to find the midges had followed us. Blair climbed The Deerstalker (VS 4c**) and we followed in our midge-nets. As the day warmed up the midges got better, so Blair climbed A Touch Too Much (E3 5c***). I just about got up it cleanly, but can safely say that it’ll be a while before I’m leading that one – there’s nae grips. As the temperature soared I climbed Rowan Tree Crack (HVS 5a**), for some reason actively seeking out a wide crack, and then we bailed. It was just too hot, so we cooled off in the river and hit the road.

Be prepared: Blair ready for the midge on The Deerstalker (VS 4c**), Seanna Mhealan

Blair on the second crux of A Touch Too Much (E3 5c***)

Two days climbing cut short. Five routes, two hundred miles. Not the best ratio, but what can you do? It’s the Highlands. It’s pretty rare that all the factors come together at the same time, but when they do, I can tell you, its' worth all the false starts, midge bites, blood, sweat and tears.