The End of the Road

A flat wilderness stretches away to the horizon, scoured and weather-worn. A handful of sorry looking trees hold out under the endless skies, and a cluster of squat buildings huddle around the tiny station house, blasted by the uninhibited wind. Besides the painfully slow rail journey to get here, there’s one tiny road in, one tiny road out, and even they lead from no-where, to no-where. Few come here, and at the ends of the earth, who can blame them.

Continuing with this narrative you’d be forgiven for expecting the entrance of tumble-weed, a cattle ranch, Stetsons and six-shooters, but this isn’t a vision of the American West in the mid-Nineteenth Century, it’s my home for the next month. The tiny hamlet of Forsinard, in the middle of the bogs and mires of Sutherland in the Northern Highlands, is at the centre of a huge RSPB reserve. The Flow Country, as it is appropriately known, is an extensive area of wetlands, lochans, streams, heaths and swamps that stretch for miles and miles, creating a unique patchwork of shifting, seeping, oozing plant-life.

My noble steed, with the flatlands of Forsinard beyond

I’m here to repeat a study that was carried out ten years ago, looking at the difference that a deer fence has made to the vegetation of part of the reserve. A patch of land was initially fenced off, ready for planting for forestry, but was bought by the RSPB before the arrival of any trees. The fence, however, remained for a further ten years, and the lack of attention by deer led to the vegetation growing taller, denser and ranker. Many of the bird species that rely on these extensive bog habitats (golden plover, dunlin, greenshank, hen harrier) prefer open vegetation for breeding and perusing for food in, so the fence came down. With no fence, the resident deer population can get in and graze and trample to their hearts content, getting the vegetation back to its original, open state. With the fence gone for almost ten years, I’m up here to compare the vegetation inside the old fence with vegetation outside the old fence. Interesting, non?

The only problems with my new home are that it’s about a million miles from anywhere, and that, for the most part; it’s as flat as a pancake. It is the Flow Country, so I guess it’s a good chance to perfect my bog-trotting in time for the OMM, but since deer stalking is one of the few sources of income up here, it’s not really advised to go ploughing through the mires willy-nilly. Harrumph. Maybe I’ll just have to run up and down the only road…..

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Prior to my buggering off up here I managed to keep up a spot of climbing. Jones and I climbed the uber-classic Agags Groove (VDiff****) on Rannoch Wall, Buachaille Etive Mor. It was my first route on this impressive bit of rock, and I’m keen to get back up there. When you look at it, you can’t help but wonder how routes of VDiff and Severe get up it.

Jones with a lot of air below, finishing Agags Groove

A few days later, Chris and I had a day’s tentative exploration in Perthshire. We started at Polney Crag, Dunkeld and climbed The End (VS 4c, 5a***), which was great, but after that seepage lead to me backing off Twilight (E1 5b**) only a few metres up, and made Beech Wall (HS 4c**) pretty hard because all the good holds were soaked. Despondant, we went for a look at Newtyle Quarry, to see what all the fuss was about. Naturally, everything there was wet and crozzly there, so we drove to Weem, to see what all that fuss was about. Again, we were rather disappointed to find a dank, dirty and dark crag in the woods, so when the rain arrived after a route apiece we weren’t bothered about heading back to Edinburgh.

C’est la vie.

Chris on pitch 1 of The End (VS 4c, 5a), the best route of a frustrating day.

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

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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.

Reiff Encounter

Myself on Mac's Route (HVS 5a), Pinnacle Area, Reiff

All photos: Sarah Jones

More dodgy weather forecasts, more indecision. This time round Saturday was spent hanging ten up at Jones’ pad in Munlochy. In terms of activity the highlight was sending my long-standing project - the obvious traverse between the lounge door-frame and the ledge above the stairs. It’s difficult to grade. At this level it’s all just theory, until some-one comes along and onsights it. Good luck to them. The next best thing was discovering Leaky’s in Inverness. It’s a huge second-hand book shop in an old church with a wee café upstairs. Sometimes I wish I had a bit of spare cash to splash out on old books and fine food, but, hell, I’m 23, there’s time.

More dodgy weather forecasts, more cups of tea. I felt bad about bailing on Chris on Sunday, he’d hoped to come up and climb on the Shelterstone - I had too - but common sense prevailed after some serious webcam checking and thorough forecast reading. What to do now?

One of the best things about Jones’ base on the Black Isle is it’s proximity to the North West. We made a last minute plan and decided that Reiff would be the best option - quick drying, low-altitude, accessible, and in this case, away from the inland showers (apparently). The other benefit is that it’s Reiff. No trip up to Coigach or Assynt is wasted, like heading into the Loch Avon Basin, they instinctively feel like the right places to be. It was Jones’s first trip up that way too, and the excitement written on her face when Stac Pollaidh, Suilven, Cul Mor and Cul Beag rumbled into view was like seeing a toddler at Christmas.

The promised land: Coigach slumbers under the clouds

Our only problem was that Reiff is quite extensive, and I had left the guidebook back at Abernerthy. Balls. With the ukclimbing.com route list and memory from a previous visit this obstacle was overcome. Naturally, we were confined to the Pinnacle Area, because that’s the only section close to the car park that I’ve been to before, and we only had route names rather than descriptions, but we had a good day none the less.

The latest SMC Northern Highlands North Guidebook

Jones lead Moonjelly (VDiff**) and Edge of the Sea (Diff*), I did Midreiff (Severe*), Skel (Severe), Mac’s Route (HVS 5a*), Jellyfish Slab (Diff*), soloed Puckered Wall (VS 4b*) and landed in the rockpool under Earth Shaker (E2 6a**) a few times before deciding that it was clearly a silly route. Without a guide we decided that quantity was better than quality, and with a few passing showers it wasn’t really a day for engaging with fear.

Jones high on Moonjelly (VDiff), The Pinnacle

Jones 'laying one on' on Mac's Route (HVS 5a)

Just one of the many benefits of Highland living.

On Monday night I met with Jones again, this time at Cummingston, and we had a pleasant evening’s cragging. After climbing Left (VS 5a**), we headed round to Gutbuster Bay. I was in the mood for a fight, and promptly got stuck into Gutbuster (E2 5c**), literally. I’ll tell you now, I failed on this monster, and at the time I felt a little disappointed with myself. However, on reflection I’m not disappointed, I‘m pleased that I had a go. The route starts up a well protected overhanging wave-smoothed off-width groove-come-crack, before finishing up a wall to a good looking arete. No points for guessing where I failed. “Was it the overhanging wave-smoothed off-width groove-come-crack?” I hear you ask. Yes. Yes, it was. Having udged, jammed, cammed, reached, bled and grunted, I just don’t understand how one climbs this kind of thing. Not having had a ’gritstone apprenticeship’, as all those smug troglodytes would no-doubt call it, means that I’m stuck when it comes to grievous bodily harm in a leaning chimney. Bollocks to them. However, I down-climbed, rather than lowered off gear, so my ground-up ascent is still in tact, and it is an inviting line. Maybe one day.

Afterwards I blew away the black cloud created by Gutbuster by soloing Flakey Wall (E1 5a*) and soon felt a bit better about the world. Jones then climbed Rice Crispie Wall (Diff) as the light began to fade over the Moray Firth, and that was that.

Another summer week ticks by, another weekend’s cragging. However, with a great forecast for this week, maybe the coming weekend will enable some classic mountain rock activity. Check back in a week’s time to find out…….

Wet Play

No, I'm not referring to some dodgy sex game. I'm talking about finding ways to spend my time when it's pissing with rain. And it has been. All last week was a wall of wetness, a saturated, dripping festival of badness. What's a boy to do?

MWIS, BBC and Metcheck all fooled me into thinking that the weekend would be nice and dry, so Steev headed up on the train and we crossed our fingers to see if we could get over to Shelterstone crag in Loch Avon to climb The Needle. Of course, we couldn't. Instead we went biking at the Moray Monster Trails near Fochabers and it was a blast, as our pan-oceanic friends might say. We ended up soaked to the skin, plastered from the very tip of my rotting, blistered toes to the top of my noggin in a thick crust of Morayshire's fertile filth. Lovely.

Would you trust him with your kids? Teacher-to-be, Steev.

The panacea view: Loch Avon

With a good forecast for Sunday we thought about an alpine-start and cycling in to Garbh ChoireBeinn a'Bhuird to climb Squareface, a quick drying four star VDiff. However, the liklihood of Steev missing his train put paid to this plan. Instead, we headed up to Coire an Lochan on Cairngorm to see what we could find.

Steve waving from the belay on Savage Slit

After retreating from a very slimy Fallout Corner (VS 4b**), Steev headed up Savage Slit (Severe ***). Despite a fair bit of water hanging around, it provided two brilliant pitches, including some good old-fashioned back-and-footing up the chimney. It's definately getting the Gaz Marshall treatment this winter. With a fair bit of time to kill before Steev's train, but not enough for a big route, we strolled down to the wee slab below and left of Hell's Lum in the Loch Avon Basin and I climbed Pluto (E1 5a*). It's 45 metres of friction padding on beautiful water-worn granite, mustering about three decent runners in it's length. The climbing was a doddle, but I guess the joke RPs in flared cracks made it pretty dangerous. Most of the winter snows have melted away by now, but there was still a wee patch just beneath the route so poor Steev got frosty toes while belaying from the bergschrund.

Who needs the Alps?

The Lower Slabs, Hell's Lum. A worthwhile spot for a second route.
Pluto heads straight up the driest line, above and right of Steev.

Logic vs. Adventure

All smiles: Fran and Jones chilling on Cioch Nose

Remember those annoying questions in maths classes? If Jimmy has three bananas and five pears and Jenny has two plums and an apple, how many men does it take to change a lightbulb on the 16:22 train to Okehampton? Or something like that. Well, on Saturday morning, cruel logic, something I hadn’t really thought about, took it’s toll.

If you have a 1.3 litre R-reg Skoda Felicia and fill it with people and kit, will you be able to drive it to the top of Britain’s longest/highest/steepest mountain pass? Obviously, no. Or at least, not without it overheating at least three times and needing to wait in a layby with the bonnet open, radiator fan wheezing, like a fat Labrador on Scawfell on midsummer’s day. Fortunately, and about an hour later than planned, Jones, Steev, Fran and I finally made it to the car park at the top of Bealach na Ba in Applecross. Our objective: Patey and Bonnington’s Classic Rock masterpiece, Cioch Nose (Severe****) on Sgurr a’ Chaorachain.

Fortunately, the weather forecast had North West Scotland as the sunniest spot in Britain for Saturday, so we were in the right place. With at least three teams in front of us on the route we took our time about it and relished the climbing. Steev and Fran climbed in front of Jones and I, meaning it was a very sociable and friendly day out, despite the ‘out-there’ nature of the line for the grade. Obviously, it’s a great climb, four pitches covered in huge holds and good gear, made all the better by finishing up the A’Cioch ridge above the climb proper. This adds another 100-odd meters of VDiff/scrambling followed by some towers and gaps to skirt round/down/over/up.

Fran employing traditional skills seconding pitch two.

Jones finishing pitch two

We camped just below the Bealach na Ba car park on Saturday night, barbecueing sea bass and overlooking Skye, Eigg and Rum. Who says that low-budget climbers have to survive on super-noodles?

The happy team stroll back to the car, with Skye beyond.

Sunday dawned and we all slept in. Oops. Still worried about my car, we decided to head back to Chez Jones in Munlochy for brunch before heading to Cummingston in her wheels. I felt that I had an inevitable date with Diedre of Double Doubt (E2 5b**) so warmed up on Diedre of Doubt (HVS 5a**) and then Right (HVS 5b*) (neither of which is particularly easy for the grade, I felt)

Me on Right (HVS 5b*). Photo: Steve Crawford

Before I could psyche myself out I stepped up to Diedre of Double Doubt and became embroiled. It’s a great wee route, (I would say that, having done it), pretty steep, but on big holds for the most part. Gear is spaced, and fairly wee and far below the crux, providing pretty ‘heady’ climbing. I felt pretty strong on it though, down-climbing to place more gear before getting fully committed. Smuggly belayed at the top, I felt justified in sitting on my arse for the rest of the evening, which I did, watching Nadal take Federer’s Wimbledon title.

'Getting some back' on Diedre of Double Doubt (E2 5b**)

Nearlly there.... Photo: Steve Crawford

So, despite still not climbing any properly challenging mountain routes this year, I feel like I’m beginning to break into the E2 grade, something that I had really wanted to happen this summer. Also, as Jones gets more confident we’re starting to climb some of the easier classics that I’ve never done, like Cioch Nose. All in all, mustn’t grumble, really.