Monday 6 July 2009

the Skye's the limit



So technically it was more of a romantic week away than an official BCC expedition, but I'm so excited about the trip to the Cuillin on Skye that I've just returned from that I thought I'd write it up anyway ... hopefully as a way of inspiring the next trip up there!


The Cuillin Ridge is an amazing jagged arc of volcanic rock with 13 Munros and many more subsidiary summits. While there's no glaciers and the ridge never exceeds 1000m, it's still the closest thing to an Alpine experience you'll get in the UK. Much of the main ridge and many of the side ridges are knife-edged, and in many places there are sweeps of solid rock several hundred metres high. It's a desolate environment with a serious feel, but is incredibly beautiful. There is enough climbing, scrambling and walking there to last you for years.


The voyage

Getting there is half the adventure. Neither Katy or I has a car, so we decided to do it all by public transport and our own two feet.

Day one: we leave London at lunchtime. Train to Glasgow, time for a quick pint, then train to Mallaig via Fort William. Extraordinary views of the hills and lochs from the train. Train full of drunk Scots. Arrive in Mallaig around midnight, check into hostel, sleep.

Day two: up early for the ferry across to Armadale on Skye. It's a beautiful clear morning, and we get good views over Blaven/Clach Glas as well as the main Cuillin ridge in the distance, and the hills of Knoydart closer by. Catch a bus straight from the ferry to Broadford, where we have time for a cooked breakfast in a caff before the same bus comes back and takes us on to Sligachan at the foot of the north end of the Cuillin. There's not much in Slig except a bus stop, a hotel/pub and a campsite, but we were determined to carry on to Glen Brittle – 8 miles by a rough track or 15 miles by road – for a bit more of a remote mountain feel. So we hitch it. The first car to stop is a Polish couple heading for the Talisker distillery. I was sorely tempted, but the mountains were calling so we turned the lift down. A few minutes later, got another lift with a friendly French couple all the way to the campsite, after only around half an hour of standing by the roadside.

The campsite is perfect. The only problem is deciding whether your tent should face out over the beach, or up into the Cuillin. (the other problem is that there's no pub and the tiny campsite shop doesn't sell beer, so it turned out to be a pretty dry week...)


early scrambling


It's early afternoon by the time we get there and the sun is out, so we decide to head straight for the hills. We start with a pleasant walk into Coire na Banachdich, then up a grade 3 scramble (described as 'serious and high in its grade' in the guidebook) up the Banachdich slabs, a sheet of perfect gabbro sweeping down from the col. Gabbro is, quite simply, wonderful. Everything sticks to it. You can walk up rock at improbable angles, often not even needing handholds. As it was, Katy and I were left wondering where the 'serious and sustained' bit was, as we topped out swiftly and without much difficulty. From there, over the three tops of Sgurr na Banachdich, a pleasantly airy grade 2 scramble and Katy's first Munro, then another grade 2 scramble down the Sgurr nan Gobhar ridge. So far, so good, but it then finished in a scree descent so unspeakably awful that I won't describe it any further.


big rock


Day three and we're feeling good. Weather is cool but sunny, so we decide to go for a big day on the rock. We head up into Coire Lagan – a basin with 300m high rock cliffs in every direction – to climb on the Cioch face on Sron na Ciche. The Cioch itself is a curious knob of rock jutting out of the middle of a 300m rockface, and the face is split into 3 levels by small ledges, enabling you to mix and match different routes. We opt to start with Cioch Direct, a classic of the area that was originally graded 'Exceptionally Severe' on its first ascent 100 years ago. These days its goes at Severe 4a, but I reckon that's a bit of a Skye sandbag. Much of the route goes up a basalt dyke forming a series of corners and chimneys. Unlike gabbro, which tends to be solid and super-grippy, basalt polishes easily is prone to fracture, making it a much more worrying proposition.

After a thrutchy polished start up a chimney, the first couple of pitches go pretty easily. Then 20 metres up the third pitch, bang – there's the crux. A steep and awkward chimney, with every hold seemingly as polished as the most popular routes on Portland. I go part the way up it, come down a bit and breathe, go up again, thrash about, then down climb once more and set up a very exposed belay point just to get my breath back. After bringing Katy up, I have the (not so) bright idea of finding a different way around and rejoining the route higher up. I set off on a delicate traverse left across a gabbro slab, make a tricky rockover back right, then- fekkin ell- I'm faced with a 6-metre high overhanging corner. It looks hard, definitely harder than the crux I was avoiding. Overhangs and rucksacks don't mix very well, I feel like I'm being pulled off the wall backwards. But I've committed – there's no way I can reverse the moves back down to the belay. The only way is up, so I launch myself at it, laybacking, jamming, bridging and grunting. I come close to falling, repeatedly, closer than I've been to falling on any multipitch I've done before, but keep on moving upwards. It's definitely harder than Severe, felt like VS with packs on, though it may well have been part of the line of the neighbouring HVS route. I slap for a ledge and eventually pull up into a niche and a belay, where I gasp for breath and belay Katy up to join me. I'm not surprised at all to hear curses shouted up when she gets to the corner, nor to hold a couple of falls, but to her credit she got on with it and finished the pitch. We breathe, drink some water, eat something sugary, and continue. For the final two pitches the route moves on to open gabbro slabs which are poorly protected but easy climbing, with the grade dropping back to S or V Diff.

So after 6 pitches and several hours, we've finished our first route of the day. But the route finishes on a narrow ledge in the middle of a massive rock face, so the only thing to do is to choose another route and keep going. We pop round the corner to Arrow Route, an immaculate 70m dimpled slab that goes at V Diff (see http://www.ukclimbing.com/images/dbpage.html?id=114404). It's got a reputation as one of the worst-protected and most exposed V Diffs in the country, and those of you I've climbed with before will know that I'm terrible at slabs. But it had to be done. The first pitch traversed up a vague crack line to the middle of the face, to an entirely inadequate belay ledge that you could only just about get two feet on. The second pitch is the crux, tiptoeing straight up the face with incredible exposure. But despite the reputation for poor gear, I managed to get 5 pieces in thanks to creative uses of a tricam and a miniature hex. A beautiful pitch, on wonderfully warm rock in the sun.

This route arrives at a grassy ledge just above the Cioch. Apparently it's possibly to scramble off into the gully from there, but we had a look and it appeared deathly wet and slippery. So the only thing to do is keep climbing. We sat in the sun for a bit, waiting for another party to move on, before setting off on Wallwork's Route (VD). Unlike the chimneys and corners of the first route or the slab of the second, this route has a totally different feel to it and takes a rising traverse on steep blocky gabbro above a massive drop. It's by far the most exposed V.Dif that I've done, as it involves repeated moves to blindly swing round blocks or rock over ledges above an overhang, with hundreds of metres of space directly beneath you. But the moves aren't too hard once you get your head into it. Three pitches later, the route swings back the other direction onto a 70 metre blank but easy angled slab. Katy leads the final pitch, our 12th of the day, and we top out on the summit exhausted but happy. We descend the Sgumain Stone Shoot (just as nasty as it sounds, an evil combination of loose scree and tricky down-scrambling) and eventually get back to the campsite at 11pm – a 13 hour day – but thankfully with enough light left in the evening sky to cook dinner without headtorches.


Accessing the inaccessible


Day four: feeling tired but buoyed by the previous day's adventures, we head back into the hills, this time to go up the Inaccessible Pinnacle, a strange fin of rock jutting out of Sgurr Dearg that is the most technically difficult munro in the country. We walk up to Loch Coire Lagan with the original idea of doing a long Diff straight up the side of Sgurr Mhic Choinnich. However, once up there we spot another couple of climbers on the route and decide to the south buttress of Sgurr Dearg instead (a grade 3 scramble), for fear of getting stuck behind them. It turned out to be a wiser decision when we realised – an hour later, the climbers we saw dislodged a chunk of rock the size of a small fridge which sparked an avalanche of rock down the face. Had we started the route, we may well have been in its path.

The ascent of the In Pinn is only a moderate, but it's got a fierce reputation among hillwalkers as it's rather exposed with 70m drops both sides. So I wasn't best pleased when a rain shower broke out just as we were approaching it. Nor was I pleased by the rescue helicopter buzzing by at very close range as I was arriving at the first belay – the sound of those things freaks me out. But it was a pretty easy 2 pitch route, even in big boots in the rain, and we topped out swiftly then abseiled off the west end. Descent was to be via a path below the Bealach Coire na Banachdich, but I quickly lost it and we downclimbed the grade 3 slabs instead. All in all, a fun day out.


13k rest day


Day five: I unilaterally called a rest day. I was exhausted, particularly after leading 11 pitches on day 3. We hung around the beach, then walked out to the point at the end of Loch Brittle (13k in all, not bad for a rest day!), with beautiful views of the hills and the small islands (Eigg, Rhum and Canna) and Outer Hebrides. I might have seen a sea otter. At the end of the point there's some stunning gabbro seacliffs, around 8-10 metres high and with perfect rock. I'm keen to head back with a rope and my shoes for some 'new routing', as I didn't see a single mark of chalk or polish anywhere (though I'm sure some of the routes must have been done before).


A Difficult adventure


Day six: wake up feeling rested, despite the long walk, as I went a whole day without feeling like I was at risk of death. We head up to Window Buttress (diff), a 150m high ridge of blocky gabbro, so Katy can do some multipitch leading. It's sunny when we start the walk in, but a cold wind picks up and by the time we get to the base of the cliff it's chucking it down. Convinced it would clear quickly, Katy set off up the route anyway, leading confidently even on the wet rock. But by the time I reach the first belay ledge I'm soaked through and freezing. Katy leads again, the wind is howling, and the temperature can't have been more than a couple of degrees. It's much more difficult climbing in the wet, but Katy seems to be leading fine. As for me, I'm regretting wearing big boots and I can't feel my fingers. Despite full waterproofs and fleece, I'm shivering and miserable. At the second belay ledge we decide to bail out. We abseil back as far as the first ledge – then textbook disaster strikes. The rope jams as I try to pull it, and we're stuck 25 metres up a rock face with no rope and no way to get down. And it's still chucking it down and freezing cold. I was too cold to panic, so using the remaining rope slack I tied in and climbed back up towards the ledge to free the rope, placing gear as I went. Unfortunately the remaining rope wasn't long enough and I was stuck 5 metres below the ledge. However after a few pulls on the rope and a lot of rope stretch I managed to just about make it back to the ledge. At that point I discovered that the rope wasn't snagged on something after all; the wet, clingy rope just wouldn't pull over the rough gabbro. So there was no easy way of abbing down without risking getting the rope stuck again. I decided to do a tricky downclimb down the way I had just come up, then after rejoining Katy on the ledge I got her to lead the downclimb on the final pitch.

Having had enough adventures for one day, we trudged back to camp, packed up, and hit the road to get back to Sligachan. After 45 minutes of heavily-laden walking down an entirely empty road (in bright sunshine once again), an elderly Munroist stopped for us and kindly gave us a lift back to Slig. He was in pursuit of his last 20 or so Munros, and was mostly walking alone these days as his peers couldn't take the long days any more. Good luck to him!

Once the tents were up in Slig, the cold northerly wind that had been blowing all week suddenly stopped. Then the midges came out ... we wanted the cold wind back! We sloped off to the pub to avoid them.


The ground beneath her feet


Day seven: Last day in the hills. The route of choice this time is Pinnacle Ridge on Sgurr nan Gillean – it's only a Mod, but it's a big long route with an Alpine feel (including some decidedly dodgy rock). It traverses a series of five ascending rock towers, split by gullies, on the way up to one of the northernmost Munros on the ridge. We were blessed by yet another beautiful clear day, and set off early. The first three pinnacles are mostly interesting scrambling, but from there it becomes more complicated and good routefinding is required. From the top of the third pinnacle, a rather unnerving abseil is required, followed by a downclimb to a gully. From there, you're committed. We moved together alpine-style up the next pinnacle (Knight's Peak), then descended the other side. Poor route finding on my part led us to a nasty-looking 8 metre open corner. Always the gentleman, I suggested that Katy went first. She geared up and traversed onto a small ledge above the corner – then suddenly the whole ledge collapsed beneath her feet and ricocheted down into the gully. Katy was -thankfully- roped up and managed to keep hold of the handholds in the fall, but a terrifying moment nonetheless. Another party then appeared behind us, and found an easy way to walk down on the right. We climbed down after them, and set off alpine style again up the final peak, arriving to incredible views of the whole ridge and pretty much the whole island and beyond. I picked out Ben Nevis in the distance, still covered in snow on the north face. We decided to take the West Ridge (moderate) in descent, then abseiled down Tooth Chimney (diff) as a friendly party ahead let us use their rope.


From the bealach we decided to go up for one last munro, and set off the normal route up Am Basteir, a grade 2 scramble with one notch of Severe downclimbing. This was swiftly overcome, then the summit, then the scree slopes and the long long walk out, and finally the pub. It was the end of our climbing, and of a spectacular week.

Day eight: early start in the Slig campsite. Pack up then catch a 7:30am bus to Armadale, then the ferry over to Mallaig. Katy has a few more days and is headed to Eigg via another ferry; I'm headed home. I get the train to Glasgow, another to London, the tube across town then another train to Peckham and arrive home around 11pm, feeling somewhat culture shocked by the Skye-London transition, somewhat fatigued from the journey, but very much alive.



Jonathan Gaventa
14 June 2009