Summer has arrived!

Since the Highlander, university kept me close to Aberdeen and her mighty sea cliffs. Afternoons cragging have been a mixed bag as usual but it always feels good to be out during exam time. I've been mountain biking a bit more again too - finding Aberdeen-shire has a lot to offer for enduro style riding and am feeling freshly psyched for getting fit and back into some hill running!

After exams, Sinclar, Rory, Marcus and I spent a few days down south. We went climbing at Limekilns and Cambusbarron quarries which were fun. I did a cool smearing slab arete called Spanking the Monkey and a few polished classics. It was my 20th birthday too, so we went for a few in the culture capital.

Back in Inverness, I met up with Callum, Ryan and Appleby and we formulated a plan for a few days on the West Coast.

Appleby and Callum on the second belay - Cioch Nose

On thursday evening we set off for the Bealach na Ba, where we dropped down to the A'Cioch ridge for the essential Lairig/Patey classic - Cioch Nose. After completing the rock pitches without much difficulty, we found ourselves faced with a  rather imposing steep ridge under imminent darkness.

Callum @ last belay - Cioch Nose

 Despite it's grim appearance, the ridge succumbed to some tactful route finding and upon reaching the first nipple, we were treated with a perfect cloud inversion to the North-West. We reached the car at 12.30 and bivvied in the car park.

Summit car park Bealach na Ba - Skye ridge in background

The next day we set off for northern Skye and the apparently less frequented cliffs of the Rubha Hunish peninsula - Skye's most northerly point. The 'difficulties' first arose on stepping out of the car. It mist cleared and the sun arked perfectly up into a matte blue sky. Our pale skins craved the warmth and we essentially spent the trip sunbathing and swimming.. 

After some well earned rest, Appleby and I dropped down to 'Master of Morgana', an 80m HVS following a chimney, cracks and an offwidth up the right arete of the cliff. The route was impressive and rather intimidating for the grade. Some loose rock and an awkward chimney saw me on to delicate collumnar slabs and the first belay among a lovely little flower garden. Appleby belayed half way up the second, after running out out of useful gear, leaving me the awkward 25m offwidth - but thankfully the finest rock! The lack of gear turned out to be a non-issue as i spent the time stuffing the only large cam we had into the depths of a crack, and threading a few dubious chockstones. It's always a little disheartening to climb a well protected route with little of the correct gear.. An awkward overhanging 'au cheval' slot marked the final few metres and another sunny belay. I spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering the around the cliffs, napping some more and taking pictures. The harder lines could wait... That night we stayed in the renovated RAF shelter on the summit of the cliff plateau. It had a 180 panorama of the NW coast and Islands.

One of the spectabular cliffs on Rubha Hunish 

Applebby following me up the final offwidth

Applebby topping out of the strenuous au cheval finish

Looking NW from Rubha Hunish

Ryan and Callum on the VS arrete

The peninsula was plastered in lovely little flowers

On saturday we neglected the idea of climbing and spent the day in Portree and the Fairy Pools - the perfect tourist day out! I had arranged to meet Rob, Alli and Fin at the Glen Brittle campsite where we would set off for the south end of the Cuillin ridge and bivvy that evening, taking some of Fin's kit back for him.

A long walk in to Garbh Bheinn, above a stunning island panorama eventually saw us on the most southerly point of the ridge and our bivvy spots. It was serene. Fin planned to run at 4am and we picked up his kit when he left off. It was my first time on the ridge and i was totally stunned by it's beauty and enticing objective - which has since consumed me! I had of course hoped my first attempt would be as a full traverse - but the arrangement was relaxed and alli wasn't feeling super fit. He has a bad shoulder injury preventing him from climbing for very long and only a handful of hill days in the past year too, so did impressively well to maintain a decent pace. 

Alli on the Garbh Bheinn approach - looking South to Rum

Looking south from the approach

Fin and Alli on the Southernmost top of the ridge

Bla Bheinn from the bivvy

Looking west over Sgurr Alasdair and Mhic Coinnich

My suffer bivvy spot..

This is mind, we set off at 5am, relaxed and enjoying the situation in the warm morning sun. We reached Coire Laggan at 9 and with Allis shoulder hurting and the sun already beating down, Rob and I popped up to solo the In Pin then met him down in Coire Laggan for a sun session.

 It did feel a little odd to be retreating mid-morning - with lots of water and food left, but we knew to avoid the baking sun at midday we would have to had been further along at that point. Regardless, it was a brilliant morning and we had the day ahead of us to enjoy the weather. Finlay unsurprisingly met us on the way down from Coire Laggan - having run the ridge rather quickly and cycled back down Glen Brittle. We set off back to Inverness after chips in Kyle. 

Me on the most awkward severe going.. - TD gap

Rob and Alli on Mhic Coinnich

Rob approaching Mhic Coinnich

Me after a free solo on-sight ascent of the In Pin 

..and some pasty punters on the Coire Laggan boiler plates - Alli doesn't believe in sun cream

Tights, snow and fruitcake

It's sunday evening,  Rob calls:
'What you doing this weekend?'.
'Shit, think fast' i say to myself, a proposition of sorts is imminent...
I'm kinda busy-ish'.
Wrong answer. I knew it, i had given in already - commited myself.
'Will you take Falk's place on the Highlander? He's too busy - your the only one around to do it Peter. It's all paid.'
 Damn it - i know i'm in already.
'I'l think about it Rob, talk to you tommorow.'
Fast forward to friday afternoon, i'm piling through my  lab work in order to make the train at 5.20. We'll go down in the morning at 5.45. I'm anxious as hell and drift into that lucid  state only usually achieved sitting upright on public transport. I have convinced myself it's a funny dream.


'Your youth and my experience - we'll be tanking it round eh? On the other hand, our lack of training, my injury and your inexperience - we'll be wiped from the floor'. We're laughing about it.

The forecast looks rubbish - gusts of 50mph, snow, sleet. The freezing level sais the snows melting. Everythings going to be saturated. Sounds miserable.  Skimpy lightweight sleeping bag, 1g stove (does it actually work, Rob?) I envisage a weekend of self inflicted misery. Self inflicted being the important phrase. Damn.

Saturday morning, dibbers dibbed, maps thrust into hands -carefully checking through the grid references and we're off. Running already? I'm knackered  within the hour, and we havent reached the col. Ive dropped the map, Rob! Shit. What am i doing? Wow, thats some view! Stunning day! Atop the Megaidh massif already! We neck the gels and drop 400m  in 10minutes. The snow is brilliant -  perfect, sun kissed and pretty dry. I tell Rob i'm enjoying myself. He tells me I should take some of his kit.. ha!

4 hours on. We're belting it down the ridge toward the mid camp with 32km in the bag. Rob says he can't see straight. I think he's probably over exaggerating  He's not. Theirs a guy taking photos - better look sprightly. We almost deck out in the bog, maintaining  the composure of electrified ragdolls. What a day!

The overnight camp is better than i expected - dry and warm - i'm glad i took my belay jacket. Turns out we're sitting 4mins,behind first place in our class. 'Shit' Rob sais, 'I don't want to have to try tommorow'. 'Hell for leather, or your not trying hard enough' I repeat what he told me on the phone - as if I knew what I was talking about.  I know he will anyway, but were in for an intense second day none the less. Rob's back is in a bad way and he hasn't been able to run much this winter. He does however maintain the endurance of an albatross. I've never run as far in a week as I had that day, but I'm psyched now and remain optimisitic that a season of winter climbing has put a little muscle on my legs. This is my first mountain marathon, so a finish is the only neccesity for me.

Sunday is rough - the first 2 hours are pretty miserable. We keep tripping up and falling in drifts. There are giant pools of meltwater everywhere, and we run straight through them - feet numb and psyche indeterminably low.  A long stretch of plateau. Chickenheads among peat hags. Rob falls through a deep drift into a stream. It dries off higher up, but the hail comes on in showers and it's a bit cold. Berry caffeine gels down. Straight up the hill.

Second to last checkpoint and it's all downhill from there. We belt it down, joined by our close competitors as the chasing start closes the gap.

Elated, we cross the line. It feels immense.

Pasta, a cup of tea and a  new pair of walking poles. 2nd in the B class and only 8 minutes behind first place. We've both battered ourselves and are delighted to have finished.  



My mum  think's i'm partaking in something of  of a Greek Gauntlet at the moment. A 14 shot dirty pint the previous week, a last minute mountain marathon the next. Seemingly the worst is yet to come -  a conservation management plan to write this week and exams starting the next! Good job i've knackered my legs I suppose!

Easter

The 12th week in a row to climb in the north west Highlands. Once again, feathered wisps of cloud  scatter above the green stands and the sky is ablaze. A subtle and unobtrusive cold persists. Scotland has had an alpine spring, of sorts. This time last year Rory and I were climbing topless on Sgurr an Fhidleir. This year it's  an icefall in Glen Carron. Having had a brilliant run of ice and mixed adventures in remote, often deserted hills, we decide to spend most of the trip sampling the roadside delights of Gairloch, Applecross and Torridon. The hills are still brown and matte white but the days are long and we've climbed until 8.30 in the evening. There are  miniature glaciers among the Fisherfield Forest, flitting birds overhead, pink sandstone and no midges. This has been a brilliant winter. I am truly immersed in Scottish climbing.  

The best single pitch of climbing I've done yet. Buena Vista - Loch Tollaidh. Photo by Rory Brown

Mid week, I met up with Rob in Glen Carron and we headed up to Sgurr na Feartaig to have a look at some frozen waterfalls. A few hours later we trotted down a grassy ridge, topless, with the sun on our backs. We topped the day off with a dip in the river.

Photo by Rory Brown

Photo by Rob B

Me getting stuck into my snickers. Photo by Rob B

Rob, and the Coulin hills beyond.

The van at Gruinard Bay - Gairloch. Italian for dinner, a cup of Guinness and a cheese buttie -  can't complain.  

Sinclair climbing on another stunning  roadside crag.

I left Rory and Sinclair in Inverness and a few days later, met Callum, Andrew, Malin and Liam. We drove over the Bealach na Ba, camped on the Applecross beach and drove around the coast toward Torridon. This is the view after emerging with a cup of tea.

Callum leading at Ardheaslaig - Applecross. (Click on the pictures to reveal facial expressions..) 50metres from the road and some first lead climbs done. I soloed 450m of lovely slabby gneiss that morning.

 Seanna Mheallain, once again in the sunshine and offering stacks of utterly brilliant climbing. I lead my first E3's, including the cool arete to the left of this corner.

Me below the full on crux of Mechanical Sheep. Ace route!

My pal Robby, who visited my tent for cheese in the mornings.

Me on 'a touch too much' - Seanna Mheallain. 40 metres of brilliant sandstone with an abb station at the top!

 On our last morning, Liam, Andrew and I went for a morning's traverse of Beinn Alligin

'Try your best to look cool, guys'

Sandstone, Sunshine & Scotch Eggs

  

I'm not usually one for sappy sentiments. But after spending four sunny days climbing in the north west highlands, following a flush of winter routes in the most spectacular of settings, it is easy to understand why people are compelled to explore, to discover inspiration, and perhaps difficult to understand why people are not. Interesting then, that climbing should so often be identified with drama and jeopardy; with bands of mercenary masochists and far flung ego's rather than with romance, desire and fun. 

Of course, I am not inferring my invulnerability, and in light of recent event's it is perhaps not surprising that many reconsider the value of the risk's they take. But having learnt and progressed, having risked a little, thought, done, left and still to desire so that I can sleep under the stars, sit by the sea, be with friends and try something new is a gift.

A wise man called Tom, who's very nature is a cryptogram within puzzle, once said there is a climber within everyone, and I think he is right.

Morning on Stac Pollaidh

 Stepping out to an unexpected rock blade!

 The superb final pitch of Jack the Ripper

 Sam, pressing on through the intimidating wall on Expecting to Fly

 A pre-second snap before the light began to fade..

World class bouldering in a magical situation. Haven on the cubes epitomises technical sandstone climbing and is the best boulder problem I've done.

 Rory firing all cyclinders, On the Western Skyline

 Me, making  as elegant a mantle as is possible, on Tunnel Vision (Photo by Marcus)

 The Grit Geezer, otherwise known as Tom, turns steep routes to staircases

 Me, getting closer to the Tunnel (Photo by Marcus)

 The view south, ambling in to Reiff

 Appleby and Blando on The Razors Edge

 Sam, stepping through on Diamond Back

 Incase your having trouble with the last letter, i'ts a G..

Some more pictures from Marcus's wee picture blog: http://foxesandfairlies.tumblr.com/

Halcyon

By december we had scratched our way up a  handful of snowy rock routes and my deft new axes were christened on the cairngorm granite. But the grasp of university deadlines and exams ground our climbing trips to a halt and I became content with my clutch of routes, revelling in the idea that warm rock climbing may not be far on the horizon.

 During this time i  reaquanted myself with my  mountain bike  and  had a foray into the weird and (wonderful?) world of dry tooling. A fortnight of extreme calorie intake ensued and my winter psyche was restored..

Real life mountaineering.. Rory

Last week, exams aside, I was free to spend myself in the scottish hills and make use of the 2kilos of insulation i had acquired during the festive season. Rory and John had spent the week ticking Scottish classics -  primarily exploring the buttresses of Beinn Eighe, climbing all three by their major routes. So with a  promising forecast, we sped out from Aberdeen through swathes of confetti snow and emerged from the choked up eastern Cairngorms, via the snowless moray basin and into the huddled glow of Lochcarron and Applecross.


The approach was a release in itself. The lumpy plain that sets apart Torridon and  Beinn Bhan reminded us of the boundless landscapes of Tolkeins middle earth. John, yielding his single pole like a staff, hopped ahead through the orange heather while a splitter dawn turned the sandstone hulks rosy pink and warmth emanated from the earth. The great sculpted bowels of Bheinn Bhan revealed their terraced battlements, wreathed in ice and snow .We stamped our way up and into Coire na Poite, dancing across the frozen lochain like elves in a  glittery garden and were soon stood under an impressive ice fall in Madhatters Gully.

Rory lead the first pitch on good ice, arriving at precarious belay stance below the intimidating 15m pillar. John began his battle soon after, making impressive work of the route while I listened, (out of view and  at times heart in mouth) as sizeable ice blocks scuttled down the gully. Some time later, and after some chinking of metalwork the phrase 'better to rest than fall' issued, and I, after Rory, anxiously moved up.  Anecdotes of inspiriation to an ice novice! Of course, the pitch went well, and the only thing to reach it's end that day was one of rory's quickdraws.  Labouring with the screws and trying to smash my stubby crampons in to the ice, I dragged my way up the fall. The climbing was brilliant fun - involving steep pillars between good rests and I felt almost to be moving well by the time I reached the top, albeit in a tangled mess of gear and leashes.

John on the crux ice pitch of Madhatters Gully. Rory

A short snow romp saw us emerge upon a silent plateau, where the bright evening sun cast a perfect alpenglow across a typically perfect vista of loch and mountain. It was lovely.

Achnashellach and Torridon from Beinn Bhan

That evening we treated ourselves to dinner in the Lochcarron hotel, where our boots could steam by the fire and we could indulge in a few pints. We squeezed into the tent, slept well,  and woke to the choking smell of gases escaping sleeping bags - the fastest i've moved from a tent in a while!



After much deliberation, we decided to have a look at Gully of the Gods, a classic back and foot fault that splits the massively steep walls of Coire nan Fhamair. On inspection, the deep chasm was black and rather uninviting and so we dropped back into Coire na Poite where we knew March Hare gully was a good bet.

We reasoned that the boulder strewn approach slopes were ankle breakage territory (not to mention slow going) and so an hour's ice skating on the twin lochains commenced.

The long gully begins with a short ice pitch and doesnt let up in interest until the plateau is reached. Short chimneys, virgin turf blobs, ice and neve in the runnels and a spectacular view behind us made it  the best winter route iv'e climbed yet. I think we pitched for 5 rope lengths and moved together for the rest - where at one point, John having soloed up to two thirds height, abbed back to the gully base to a retrieve an ice screw I had dropped. Despite this we generally made quick progress to the plateau - rounding off another brilliant day in the North West.

         Me on March Hare Gully. The routes in the vicinity are Alice in Wonderland themed. John

Loch Kishorn from the roadside.

Cairngorms

That evening John and I enjoyed a traditional burns night at my parents house and had a well earned rest before a weekend in the windy cairngorms. I met up with the Lairig club, for which i'd organsied a winter skills course with Martin Moran and his son Alex. A quick rendezvous with the climbers and an introduction to some strange metalwork known as  'tricams' saw Andrew and I enjoying the short romp into Sneachda. Fingers ridge was the days objective, and picking our way up the old neve to the buttress, we found it quealess. I set to work on an intersting slab pitch, which took longer than expected in powdery snow and with little turf. The route then followed the obvious chimney and ridge features, where dachsteins and knees became the order of the day and axes felt more a hinderance than an aid. Martins climbing group gave Steven a running commentary as he negotiated the classic finger pitch in strong gusts - much to his enjoyment I'm sure.

                                                                       Me on the final pitch of Fingers Ridge. Steven

On sunday i met back up with John and we made for Alladins Buttress, where we thought we would try The Genie. We started further left than the description advises to avoid colliding with another team on Damnation. John, on the first pitch, managed an impressive mantel on to the head of his axe, battling up an overhanging ledge from an awkward slab and hooking into gravelly turf - nails!  I had intended on seconding for the day, but arriving at an amenable looking corner and feeling fresh, we decided i could give it a bash and cut it short where it steepened.

The weather closed in and we donned the goggles and belay jackets for the final pitch. I began thrutching up the corner using hip jams and knee locks, made quite insecure by the thick verglassed slabs. 'This is epic!!' John shouted while being drenched in spindrift and pummeled by gusts.  It was truly absorbing and i enjoyed the intensity (there was some gear, after all). I swung around the corner onto some accomodating turf and belayed just short of the top where John promptly joined me.   The the second crux chimney was hard and  we both cut loose trying to scratch up the icy rock!  2 abseils saw us back at the bags and a short walk out made a  great end the week.

John searching for The Genie