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

Donald where's your trousers?

'Shit, I cant find my trousers' The words reverberated in my head and while i walked away from the tent in heavy sleet i accepted the fact that we were making a premature journey east. 

Evening from the shore of Loch Slapin (Rory Brown)

We had planned to climb on Skye that weekend. With a confident forecast from the locals, we had our 

minds set on the mighty Clach Glas traverse and some shorter ridge routes the following day. 

Steve gettin; some trou'

Unfortunately we couldnt find trousers on or near Skye,  and so decided to abort the NW in favour of the reliably cold northern Cairngorms. 

Driving up the ski road

Strath Nethy and Beinn Mheadhoin 

After a detour to Craigdon in Inverness, and a  powder wade from the  lower car park, we stood at the base of the recently developed Creagan a Coire Cha-No late in the morning. I lead Jenga Buttress, which turned out to be quite fun despite the slow going. I think Rory and Steve enjoyed it too.

Steve and Rory on the final steps of Jenga Buttress

We all stayed at mine that night, and decided on the northern Corries again - despite our remote NW intentions (the price of petrol and an earlier start is a highly effective student deterrent .The  deep powder in the Cairngorms limited us to nearby crags and so we opted for a route on  Alladins buttress.

Steve lead the first pitch of the lamp - a technical bridge fest on big hooks - well good fun like min! Rory lead the second, slightly bold and disjointed pitch, with some harder sections. I then spent 20 minutes being drenched in spindrift and feeling very ill after the worst bout of hot aches ive ever experienced. 

A pair on Original Summer Route and Me and Steve on The Lamp (Rory Brown)

Steve hauling ass  (note fancy new breek)s on the first pitch The Lamp (Rory Brown)

We abbed off the top as the light was fading and noticed a few parties aborting routes across the coire. 

Overall, i think we made the best of the situation and managed to get and do something. nUnfortunately the guides blogs are now filling up my facebook news feed with  reports of stunning NW conditons, but hey - its now only a few days until we head in to Lochnagar! 

Fiacail Ridge and an obvious trail up The Seam

So it begins...

I spent friday afternoon gazing out of the window as swathes of snow emptied onto the grass . Rory burst through the door; plastered in wet snow and grinning like an excited puppy. The central heating has broken again and winter seems ever so prominent in Froghall Terrace.

At 5.30 we squeezed into Steve's estate,  wedging ourselves among his bikes and by 9 were standing in Coire an't Sneachda, marvelling at the sparkling white buttresses and pink morning glow. Steve and Rory headed for the Mess of Pottage while Mike and I, considering the approach to Pygmy Ridge a little uncondolidated, made an ascent of the classic mixed line of The Goat Track in order to abseil from the plateau.

We racked up quickly in the cold wind, considering ourselves a well oiled machine but were soon reminded of the neccesasry winter faff as our ropes jammed on the first abseil.. An hour or so later, Mike was wedged into the starting groove, and following a couple thrutchy moves, was well set onto an enjoyable stepped slab. We disregarded leashed axes in favour of knees, fists and  gloves, which made the transition from a summer of trad a little easier. I lead the bouldery ridge to a flat, sheltered belay where i sat out from the strengthening wind and relieved my bladder over the precipice. 

Rory and Steve got stuck into Pot of Gold, apparently cruising the 'juggy hooks' and  finding jammed fists as useful as picks. We counted 10 teams in 'Sneachda alone, including a handful of friends, all climbing lines in apparently great early condition.  They were as delighted as we were, with a good start to what will hopefully be a long season! 

Pics by Michael Cross and Steve Walls.

Autumn and 2nd year.

 Rory just outside the new flat

Iv'e been putting off writing in this for a long time. Not because i have nothing to write about, but because all too often, theres something more interesting and inevitably less urgent that takes my fancy. I am sitting in the library (lecture slides and notebook aside) having just read an article on 'Active Procrastination' and concluding that i would inevitably write something here in the next week (or so).

So without further a due, a quick round up, a couple sentences and a few of photos.

Rory following Bobs Overhang.

Summer is officially over. I spent a cold session on a north facing belay while rory romped up some esoteric Aberdeen classic. The sun was bright in cloudless sky, yet  I shivered and yelped as if i were 800m high on a February morning.  I have therefore decided to curtail my trad climbing stint and focus on bouldering until it gets warmer and i can feel my hands again. After all - trad is about sitting around in the sun as much as it is the climbing, right?

Me - sticking to the  scottish ethics and getting the sun on insect groove

 

Worth missing a couple lectures for!

 

Rory on the Hedonist , I'm perched on a ledge, inches from the sun

After recovering from freshers week, the Lairig club drove to Glen Clova. The red crag offers a great range of routes, and the intake of new members included lots of keen climbers. With only 30m of single rope we werent quite spoilt for choice, but managed to despatch some less frequented chimneys and shorter routes. 

 

'The beanstalk' 

  

Computer simulated lake district? 

Sam and his crew on red wall

 

Me fiddling with the gear on witches tooth

Sam giving Cinderella a shot. The sky aptly reflects the intensity...

Glen Coe

A fortnight later,  with a high pressure forecast and a bus full of psyched bodies, we endured the long drive to Blackrock cottage and the foot of the Bhuchaille from which a  weekends boozing and mountaineering ensued. We set off as two teams, both intending on climbing Crypt route - a classic diff.featuring some intense caving and a rather steep approach. We were  soon separated as Rory, Ali and Sarah sped up towards the giant obelisk of Collies Pinnacle and to cut a long story short, we didn't make it much further.

The approach to Church Door Buttress

 Despite good intentions and an early start, Findlay, and I arrived at midnight with a rather knackered Linsday  A first abseil and a long evening descending in the dark certainly brought out the inner comedian, and being greeted by a band of blazing students stumbling out of the Clachaig certainly cheered us up! Needless to say, I have never eaten a tub of cold chilli mince so quickly and feel almost prepared for winter climbing!

Acrocarpous.. megasporangium? (insert Latin phrases)

Findlay looking unimpressed

Pitch 1 of crypt route before abseling from the chockstone..

Sunday morning began with broad sunshine and a delightfully short approach. While scrambling up curved ridge the intricacies of the buttresses are revealed, with towering spires  and deep cut gullys. The routes are generally short and impressively steep, offering momentous views across the  expanse of Rannoch moor.   

He needed no convincing!

Curved Ridge

The perfect collumnar slants of  Agags Groove are some of the best mountain climibing I've done - steep and exposed, with carved nut placements, clean rock and easy climbing. It was a delight to  climb, without fretting about direction or difficulty and feeling totally absorbed in the consistency of the route.

Stevie high on pitch 3

Kascia topping out on her first mountain route!

We topped out on Stob Dearg as the sun set over the western Isles and descended to the prehistoric groan of horny stags reverberating around the coire. The long drive home was split perfectly by a large Punjabi curry and an excellent back massage courtesy of Sarah. 

Sunset from Stob Dearg.