It’s dark, it’s cold and I am floundering around in a bog. The weight of my winter bag pushing me down as I flail desperately to swim ashore. Andy looked away and never said anything. If it was me, I would have been buckling with laughter inside. But I like to think Andy is too polite for that and was thinking ‘poor Murdoch’. My right leg, and both arms took the brunt. Standing on dry land again with a soaking leg and a swamp filled boot, I must admit, I’ve had finer moment on winter walk ins.
Gearing up at the top of Beinn Eighe, Andy made the comment, ‘I’m surprised you carried on, I would have turned back’. My jaw hit the ground. I could have quite easily turned round and gone back to the home for a more civilised breakfast. The name ‘West Central Gully’ sends shivers my spine when I am feeling relaxed. That venue seemed an even more chilling prospect given the circumstances. We agreed on a nice easy quick day on Eastern Ramparts to salvage the day. That idea was quickly thrown out the window when parts of the imposing Far East Wall looked pretty wintery.
‘Just use steinpuls. Put your tools in upside down, high feet and go’ was Andy’s comment as I looked at the big off width roof crack on ‘Crazy Eyes’. Bugger that! I’m not a new modern dry tooler with all these fancy techniques. I’m old fashioned and like edge to hook. So I stuck with my guns and eventually committed to a desperate sequence of matching this match stick edge, then locking deep with my left whilst making a huge span with my right to a flatty on the arête. Mean while your feet are on next to nothing. Managing to then get my right mono point onto a little ledge on the arête, I matched the flatty with my left tool leaving my left foot braced against the wall. At the original grade of VII,9 which Will and Olav suggested, I was expecting a sinker hook, bomber wire or something positive. There was nothing. Eyeballing the gear at the back of the roof, shouting to Andy telling him was pumped, searching for more gear, I felt rather committed. Fuck! I managed to tap in a token rock 3 on my right, but that wasn’t enough to stop me flapping. I certainly wasn’t reversing those move. The only way out of this was to carry on. So a few pulls later on some what felt marginal hooks, I eventually got my left knee jammed in the offwidth. Feeling a bit more secure, I caught my breath. I figured once my foot was there, I would relax a bit. A bit more faffing, scrabbling, I eventually wedged my foot in. Thanks God! Managing to reach deep in the offwidth I managed to place another token wallnut 2. Jeepers! I’ll spare you the rest…. I eventually got myself wedged into the crack higher and placed a bomber Size 4 dragon. All that was left to do was a grovely offwidth to the belay. As much as it was a ballache, it was secure. I collapsed at the belay. My previous weekend flu bug was still lurking. Obviously Andy followed with no issues, lead on through and made light work of the strenuous exit roofs. Good man. I think VIII,9 is more appropriate...
|Me feeling flustered (Photo: Andy Inglis)|
|Andy following pitch 1.|
|Andy squirming his way up the offwidth.|
|Andy on pitch 3|
Since that day, the winter just disappeared. Much to a most winter climbers dislike, I was quite happy and turned my attention to the bone dry crags and boulders. A few days at Brin, a day at Am Fasgadh confirmed the arms were still working and some local bouldering, I have no complaints.
|Mhairi on 'Pink Wall'|
|Me reflecting the sun on 'Worry Bomb' (Photo: Richie Betts)|
|Pete opening his account on Malcs|
7 years ago I had a go at Malcs arête Font 7B. I remember it well, a crisp autumn day. Richie Betts had just established ‘The Mission Font 7B’ a few weeks before. He was psyched for me to have a go. But, I was more interested in Malcs as it suited me. It was steep, good holds and I was slapping the top of the boulder. Not succeeding, I turned my attention to the thin technical face of ‘The Mission’. I’m not sure what happened but I managed to somehow do it. Something way out my league at the time. So back on Malcs, but no success. Since then, every bloody year I have tried Malcs Arete. Slapping the top 95% of the time. On one occasion I rolled my ankle. Since that attempt I developed a mental block. In the intervening time, I kept bouldering and ticking problems of similar grade or harder. I even managed ‘The Essence Font 7B+’ and that’s high! (well for me!).
|Rich on his King Line, 'The Essence' (Photo: Rich Betts Collection)|
I must admit, I got to the point that I just couldn’t be arsed with it anymore. I could see myself ticking Phoenix Nights before Malcs. Last Friday was another mint winters day in the Glen. Pottering around by myself up the hillside enjoying the solitude, I switched to hang out with a highly energetic Lawrence who trying Otters Wall. This I like, but graded 7C+, it was out my league. But I got on it. Somehow, I managed to top out of this problem. I think the grading is a bit off! Walking back to the cars, the light was fading. Walking past Malcs, I couldn’t be arsed. Walking on I stopped, turned and thought ‘fuck it, I better give it a burn'. There was the usual mumbles and grumbles from the observing crowd… its just another go. But somehow, I latched the top. Shit! After I managed to control my hyperventilating, I manged to top this. Phew!
|Lawrence on 'Otter's Wall'|
|Tactics in keeping holds in the shade.|
|,,,For years i've done this! (Photo: Anne Falconer)|
An end of an era.
Winter returned, Iain, Andy and I had a day on the Ben. Not my finest winter day. My journey there was rubbish and we caused some rock fall which was crap. It’s knocked my mojo a wee bit. Anyway, the sun was out today and despite the chilling wind, it was a stunning day which I enjoyed.
I see its getting colder. I’m split for Sunday. Torridon Boulders, or Scratching Granite?