The 24/8

Enjoying the summit of Ben Nevis on a climbing day I will remember for a long time. Photo: Kevin Woods

I moved to Lochaber ten years ago and one thing you cannot escape as a local is that in spring, conditions are amazing for every type of climbing. If you are an all-round climber in the area, spring equates to doing very little work, having no rest days at all, being exhausted for three months straight but having a huge number of fantastic memorable days out climbing. You find yourself trying to recover from winter climbing fast enough to take advantage of great conditions for your rock projects, almost wishing for a rainy day to make an excuse to rest. This is why it is the best all-rounder climbing area I know of, anywhere.

Soon after I moved up, I had the spark of an idea to link up routes of all the climbing disciplines in one day. There are so many different types of climbing crammed into the Nevis area. I wondered if it would be possible and if so, at what level of difficulty? I don’t normally do link-ups or that sort of thing (not because I don’t like them, I just tend to focus on my climbing projects), so if I was going to do one, it would need to be a special one, that would be hard to complete and require a high general standard of climbing ability.

Kevin Shields at Steall just before we left him at 9am, the refrozen Steall Falls behind

I settled on doing ‘all the eights’ as a good target:

- An 8A boulder

- An 8a sport route

- An E8 trad route

- A VIII,8 winter route

- And 8 Munros

In 24 hours.

I started calling it ‘the twenty four eight’ in my head and mentioned it to various people. I put a recce day or two into preparing for it in various winters over the past 8 years or so. I even lined up to have a proper go at it once, about 4 or 5 years ago. It was the usual problem. If the mixed routes on the Ben were white, the rock routes in the glen were either also snowed up, or soaking wet. Or if the rock routes were dry then so was the mixed on the Ben. So although I said above that spring in Lochaber allows you to do everything, thats rarely true on the same day, at least if you are talking about EVERY discipline, and going for hard routes. If it was grade Vs it would be no bother. The problem with picking hard routes is it narrows the choice considerably.

The idea drifted in and out of my mind each winter, but it was always such a long shot to catch it in condition at short notice, yet be fit enough to actually do it, it hardly seemed worth bothering with. But at the same time, I’d been going on about it to friends for years and years.

This year, with the ‘Beast from the East’ easterlies we had in early March, I was stuck in Glasgow in the snow and hearing that at home in Lochaber there was no snow in the glens but it was really sunny. The 24/8 suddenly popped into my head again. That period of weather didn’t yield a suitable day. But when a second bout of easterlies came into the forecast models, I started to take a closer interest, and leapt out to Glen Nevis to look at the rock routes I might try.

I spent a couple of utterly grim days trying to re-familiarise myself with Misadventure (E8 6c) and Leopold (8a) while getting pummelled by 60mph easterlies with snow stinging my eyes, on a low level crag! It seemed ridiculous. Previously, I’d thought the boulder of choice would be my own ‘Bear Trap Prow’ 8A+, but that is also often wet in winter. When I walked up to recce it, it was completely soaked. So my mind jumped to the Cameron Stone Arete, climbed only recently by Dan Varian at 8A+ and I’d repeated it a couple of years ago. It is very sharp and can cut your fingers, but does dry quickly. Thankfully I could repeat it in a session and felt like there was a good chance I could do it early in the morning if conditions were good.

Monday 19th emerged as a weather window from nearly 6 days out. As the high pressure approached Scotland, the cold eastern would drop and leave a still cold, but fine day with light winds. It seemed possible that it wouldn’t be too cold to lead Misadventure, but the mixed on the Ben would stay white.

Topping out on Frosty's Vigil VIII,8 around 5pm. Photo: Kevin Woods

Choosing a winter route for the challenge was rather more tricky. Winter routes on the Ben at grade VIII do have a habit of taking a good chunk out of a 24 hour period, not leaving much time for 39km of walking and all the other rock routes. It needed to be something I could do quite quickly, and ideally as reliably in condition as possible. I had two days out last week with Helen Rennard, trying to figure it out. Both were complete failures. On the first day we headed for the routes above Echo Wall but had to turn back with avalanche danger. On the second, I climbed most of The Secret, but the crack was so completely choked with hard ice and reversed from a good bit up the crux pitch without any runners worth speaking about. Frosty’s Vigil was another idea, being high up and often in condition. But it was still an unknown whether the top pitch needed specific conditions of useable ice, or ice free cracks?

On Sunday I was in Glasgow, watching Freida do Judo. The forecast looked pretty good, if cold, and I’d arranged to climb with Kevin Shields for the rock routes, Iain Small for the winter route, and Kevin Woods to film the whole thing and join me for the Grey Corries traverse.  A strong team!I was grateful to Claire for getting us home early and I thankfully got to bed at 8pm which set me up to feel rested and ready to climb hard at 6.30am. In case I did get a day to try it, I’d deliberately had nearly two weeks on climbing every day to really wear myself down, winter climbing, training and rock days back to back, followed by one rest day.

I got up at 4.30am and made my usual pile of eggs, but struggled to eat them. I think I was actually a little nervous. There were quite a lot of logistical things to remember, but thankfully I’d spent the Saturday afternoon packing gear into separate packs so I could just lift them out of the car without thinking.

Arriving at the Cameron Stone just as it got light at 6.30am, I realised the conditions were going to be even better than forecasted - probably the best day of the whole winter. It was zero degrees and no wind. Spot on. I had been worried that the forecasted minus two and northerly wind would just make it too cold for E8 trad.

Pulling down on Cameron Stone Arete 8A+ at 6.50am. Photo: Kevin Woods

I took maybe ten minutes warming up, doing the moves of the Cameron Stone Arete (8A+) all first try. Then I pulled on just to do the start moves but continued all the way to the last move. I pretty much knew I could do it next go. A glance at my phone - 6.50am, chalk up and go. I climbed easily to the last move again but fumbled the foothold slightly, so the jump to the good hold was a bit wild. I grabbed it and felt like I was falling but just didn’t let go for a long second. Next thing I was standing on top of the boulder. Game on.

Don't let go of that jug! Photo: Kevin Woods

Half an hour later I was starting up Misadventure (E8). The climb takes a blunt arete with a bouldery sequence of slaps. There is gear, but it’s off to the side in a corner, so a fall from the crux would smash you off the left wall of the corner. Its obviously hard to predict what would happen. But I doubt you’d get away uninjured. I suspect you couldn’t turn to take the impact feet first either. A sideways smash could be really horrible. So it’s not really a route to start up without knowing it will go. But after the boulder I knew I felt really good. However, as I set up for the crux slap out right, my foot slid a little on the foothold. I was completely committed, so the only solution was to up the power output and commit even more. I realised sometime afterwards, replaying back the sequence in my mind, that in that moment of psyching up for the move, I’d completely forgotten to move my right hand to an intermediate crimp first. Oh well, it worked out anyway, and I raced up the easier top section, carefully avoiding some holds that were covered in ice.

Dispatching Leopold 8a about 9am. Photo: Kevin Woods

At Steall car park it was still only 8.30am, half an hour ahead of schedule. Kev Shields, Kev Woods and I bounced up the gorge path into lovely morning sunshine in Steall Meadows and I felt plenty warm enough for jumping straight onto Leopold (8a). The crux all felt easy (it ought to, I’ve done it countless times while trying my 9a there in the past). But as I approached the upper part, I realised that there was a lump of ice on a key foothold for the final rest, and a sidepull on the upper crux was completely encased in an icicle! Thankfully, I’d already sussed out an alternative sequence on my recce day, so could just move through without a problem. By 9.15am, I was back at the entrance to Steall meadow, thanking Kev Shields for coming out and off we went, contouring across Meall Cumhann and up the shoulder of Ben Nevis to the Car Mor Dearg Arete by 11am.

Iain Small literally making a VII,8 pitch look like a walk. He has a habit of this.

I had arranged to meet Iain Small between 12 and 12.30 in Observatory Gully. Thankfully, Iain carried up a full rack and a single rope as well. I opted for going over the summit and down Tower Gully, being careful at the cornice, since twenty years ago this is where it collapsed on me and I ended up going the full length of Observatory Gully in the resultant avalanche, including some impressive airtime on the way down Tower Scoop. No such problems today in the bullet hard neve. I met Iain just cutting a ledge at the foot of Frosty’s Vigil VIII,8. The route was first done by Greg McInnes, Guy Robertson and Adam Russell in 2017. I led pitch 1 and had a great belay stance under a roof, to protect myself from all the rime Iain had to clear from the corner on pitch 2. While I suffered the hot aches after seconding the pitch, Iain helpfully leaned out from the belay to arrange a nut runner to protect the steep looking traverse out right across the wall.

Iain sniffing out some useful ice in the steepness.

This pitch was really the linchpin for getting the link done. Would it be in climbable condition? I knew that it sometimes gets iced, but looked fairly mixed in the pictures of Greg leading it. Somewhere in between (iced up cracks, so no rock protection, but not enough ice to climb) could be a stopper. After a couple of steep moves across the wall, I had the reassuring ‘thunk’ of my ice tool finding a nice runnel of climbable ice. Moving up under a roof, everything fell into place with two really good Spectre runners to protect a steep step out from a roof to gain an icicle dribbling down the left wall impressively. Climbing this was very exposed and amazingly satisfying. With every ice tool placement I could feel the success of the day getting closer. I think it was just before 6pm by the time we were all stood on the summit of Ben Nevis, hurriedly rearranging kit and having a brief chat before saying cheerio to Iain and jogging off down to the CMD arete, now a team of just Kevin Woods and myself.

What can you say? Photo: Kevin Woods

Running round to CMD was stunning in the sunset, one of the best I’ve ever seen on Ben Nevis. Kevin was just laughing all the way round. No words were needed. I felt exactly the same, it was so good it was funny! The sun was just about to drop below the horizon as we legged it down to the low col between CMD and Aonach Mor. The 400m climb back up was always going to be a calf burner. So there is nothing for it but to embrace the pain and keep moving. As an aside, I guess everyone has their own mental technique for beasting themselves through a big hill climb. I’m sure it will sound ridiculous to some but I always tend to find the rhythm of my feet kicking steps in snow aligning to proper trad pipe marches in my head. An acquired taste even for Scots but its what I grew up listening to so it is in the blood, as they say. They are so ruthlessly simple, bright and cheery, they just keep you going, putting one foot in front of another and somehow actually enjoying it. It’s no accident that they were often designed for the express purpose of making men march to their death. So now that we lucky modern folk have to dream up mad challenges to push ourselves to the point we actually realise we are alive, unsurprisingly they still work. My favourite is probably Mrs John MacColl, expertly played in this clip by Stuart Liddell.

Lovely sky from Aonach Mor some time after 7pm. Ben Nevis on the left, Carn Mor Dearg centre.

We were rewarded as we reached the Aonach Mor plateau with a stunning deep red horizon and amazing colour in the sky. But I noted that it already seemed extremely cold and I was starting to shiver after a couple of minutes food stop.

Aonach Beag was straightforward as you would expect and we ploughed on down the ridge, Kevin’s good knowledge of the range helping us to locate the right spot to drop through the cornice and down to the col at the start of the Grey Corries. On the way down, we discussed our mutual state of dehydration. Gear carrying had been an issue for both of us (climbing gear for me, camera gear for Kevin) and the downside of the sunny day was more fluid requirements. We skirted around the col before Sgurr Choinnich Beag in futile search for some moving water. There was none of course, so munching on icicles and rime biscuits it was.

The Grey Corries ridge line is always a pleasure to move along. Of course we were getting tired, but just plodding on is not so bad. It is only really an injury or fuel crisis that would stop you on this terrain. Several years ago I was doing a fasted Grey Corries run and had just such a fuel crisis; acute hypoglycaemia symptoms that forced me to stop, lie down and then have a long stumble out to Leanachan Forest and Spean Bridge. No such problems now with a much improved metabolism from two years of eating a lot of fat and doing a lot of fasting. I knew I would eventually slow down a bit with fatigue, but not stop, regardless of taking on calories.

In fact, as we reached Stob Coire an Laoigh I noted a slight euphoria spreading gently across my brain, and feeling slightly stronger again in the legs. The wind picked up a fair bit and still felt colder than I expected, which I thought must just be the effect of eating ice biscuits and having damp gloves I’d sweated into for 8 hours. It was definitely chilly though. I had stuffed rime crystals into my Platypus and then put it into my base layer to melt. But even after two Munros I got barely 5ml of liquid water.

Another from Aonach Mor, since it was so nice! Photo: Kevin Woods

I remembered slogging up Stob Coire Claurigh at the east end of the Grey Corries with Andy Turner while filming ‘The Pinnacle’ eight years ago and feeling kind of knackered (we’d done Orion Face in the morning). This time it felt okay and so we wasted no time in ploughing on to the base of Stob Ban, the final Munro. I did feel tired enough on this to need to stop for five minutes and eat a tasty combo of dark chocolate and ice biscuits to help it go down. The funny thing was, once I got up and started again, the summit was only another 40 odd metres above! As expected for this type of day out, I was a bit too fatigued and cold to jump around and celebrate the success. I just noted the time (1:20am, 18.5 hours after starting) and we celebrated by taking a bearing for Larig Leacach and discussing the imminent prospect of getting down to a stream.

The first water we found was right by the bothy in the larig. Kev pointed out that it was still an 8km walk out to my house in Roy Bridge and asked if we could have a quick snooze in the bothy. Kev snoozed. I was impressed he could. I couldn’t even sit still without shivering like mad and instead had myself a mini aerobics session in the bothy to arrest the shivering (didn’t work). I’d warmed up after a few Kms and all that was left was a nice wade through the river Spean. It was partially icing over. I later found out it had been minus 8.6 at Tulloch during the night, which explains why it  felt so cold in the wind. The dawn just started to break as we walked up my street and back to my house. Claire kindly got up and made us piles of eggs and tea and I started to realise that a little climbing dream of eight years had actually been quite a big climbing dream I had never thought I’d get in condition, or myself in condition to manage it.

It was so glad of the opportunity to do it and to have a good climbing team of Kevin Shields, Iain Small and Kevin Woods, all excellent climbers and exactly who you’d want on a day like this. Having filmed Ramsay's Round last summer I was particularly impressed that Kevin was able to follow me for the whole thing and film at the same time. Not an easy thing to manage, either physically or logistically. I’m looking forward to seeing his footage!

Its been a fantastic winter where I’ve done most of my projects for the season, all of which were hard for me. Time to move onto my spring rock projects I think. But this one will definitely live long in the memory.

Summer adventures

Sticking to warm slopers on Pallet Knife, Font 7b+, Torridon

After I got back from Pabbay, there was only a few days before the West Highland Way race I had entered. I had spent most of the spring thinking there was no possibility whatsoever thatI’d be able to do it. My ankle had progressed a bit, then got worse, then much worse, then a bit better again. I’d get a few runs in for a couple of weeks, then have to stop for a few weeks, then attempt to start again.

My total mileage from January to the start of June was only just double the length of the race. Oh dear. However, during June I did manage a couple of weeks running 60 miles a week, so that was better than nothing. I mostly did shorter runs because that’s all my foot would allow me to. The longest was only 25 miles. But I could do 10K in under 40 minutes so I was definitely better than couch potato standard. I figured that even if I could only run 40 or 50 miles, I’d walk in the rest and call it a success under the circumstances.

However, on my last run before the race, I realised I was about to pay for trying to go from zero to fit in a few short weeks. The plantar fascia I tore in last year’s accident started to burn sharply and I knew it was over. Nevertheless, I showed up at the start line and ran the first 20 miles before limping into Balmaha, not leaving any doubt in my mind. I was upset. The experience has left a bigger scar in my mind than in my foot. Perhaps after another year, my foot will be in better form for running. At least I can give it a break and start from scratch again. 

The trouble with these sorts of experiences is that they are a storm in a tea cup. In one part of your mind, it's really pretty upsetting. End of a little dream and all that. But to everyone else, it's no big deal. Life goes on. Lucky to be alive after the accident anyway etc.. All true. I guess I just haven't grown up enough to deal with such little frustrations. The scary thing is, I don't always feel like I want to.

So with that, my little diversion was consigned to the past, and two days later I was tied in at the foot of Conquistador E7 7a at the Loch Tollaidh crags. After a quick abseil brush and check of the gear, I decided to go for a flash attempt. I got through the initial boulder problem without any trouble. I felt pretty relaxed, and so I didn’t really notice the pump creeping in as I worked my way towards the second crux high on the route. This also went by without much trouble, but a sense of urgency suddenly hit me as I hung from a sloper trying to fiddle in a small RP. There were no footholds and so a bit of a grunt was required to pull over the final bulge into a face full of drizzle. The buzz was enough to clear some cobwebs and remind body and mind that it’s built for climbing steep rock.

Alicia enjoying some perfect sandstone in Glen Torridon

The following day myself and Alicia toured the lovely sandstone of Torridon and worked projects in the Arisaig Cave. I went back just afterwards and found a kneebar which changed a Font 8a project into another classic 7Cish (it was pretty damp when I did it so maybe it’s be easier in fresh weather).

After that, A period of three difficult weeks began. More about that in a separate post.

More training ups and downs

My fortune over the past wee while hasn’t been great. I’m just back to being human after losing just short of 2 weeks in bed with a virus which floored me. Normally with most bugs I just reduce my training a bit and get some work done while I’m ill. This time I couldn’t do anything except lie in bed and shiver. 

Not to dwell on the details. But it obviously meant no training was done apart from ab-busting cough workouts. After I finally exited the other side, I was overflowing with eagerness to get going again, so jumped straight back on my board and onto the trails. After three days straight of bouldering and running, I could feel every muscle in my body. 

Unfortunately, on the 4th day I was booked to jog up Ben Nevis with Michael for the end of his city to summit race (swim the Forth at Edinburgh, cycle 110m to Glen Coe and then marathon finishing up and down Ben Nevis). On one hand, if it hadn’t been Michael’s race day, I would’ve probably moaned about just going to the kitchen to put the kettle on, never mind putting my running shoes on. On the other, if you can’t run up the Ben with a man who’s just come from Edinburgh under his own steam, it doesn’t look great, even if he is a machine.

So we had a nice jog up and it wasn’t so bad after all. Just inspiring. Over the past few months I have at various points given up on running due to continued ankle pain, only to start again a couple of weeks later. Changing my running gait to account for the ankle damage had caused knock on effects - an annoyed tibialis posterior tendon. It’s a bit of a tale of woe, but I’m beginning to think I could start a little gentle regular running again. Tomorrow I’ll maybe try something a little longer and see how it goes.

At the tail end of my virus I put in some productive days on my book, which inches ever closer to a finished first draft. Just a bit on shoulders and we’re done. Then on Friday I was at the opening of the new ice wall in the Snow Factor in Glasgow. It was pretty weird moving on ice and dry tooling boards. By the end of the day I was quite sad that winter is finally over.

In the coming week, I shall be climbing, running, route setting, book writing and then off for the first climbing trip of the summer. Exciting times!

First run

I just arrived in Spain for a little sport climbing to learn to move on rock again. The first day was pretty brutal. I really understood how much confidence I need to get back. I wasn’t scared of falling off, just of moving dynamically as I still get some bad pain if I move in a particular way. I did the moves on a hard route (badly) and then onsighted a 7c (badly). However, getting from bad to, well, somewhere better is what I am here for. So I shall get on with it.

The fatigue in may arms felt really strange, I can’t really explain it but, lets just say I really need the next few days to try and get into some sort of flow.

The highlight of the day though was going for a run. I ran just over 5 miles. Although the damaged part of my ankle joint did give me some twinges unless I start to heel raise before my foot goes too far into dorsiflexion, it felt pretty good and a good bit better than the last time I attempted a run about two weeks ago. However, the real test was not the first, but the second run. 

A couple of days later I went 8 miles. Sods law, the first 5 felt ok and then it started to hurt a fair bit. Not so good. I experimented a bit with trying to alter my stride it seemed to be no use. It just hurt and I felt pretty depressed when I finished. Again though, I readied myself for the ankle to be even more annoyed after having a nights sleep to think about it. But it actually felt fine. Dare I say it, even better.

I had an idea that a heel lift orthotic in my shoes might make a difference. The repaired part of the joint is at the very front of my ankle and is only about 3mm. In normal walking gait it's outside of the articular surface and therefore no problem now. It's only the last few degrees of Dorsiflexion during running that seems to cause the problem. So I made a hasty orthotic to try and went out for another 8 miles.

Much better. I still had to concentrate on my stride form like hell the whole way. The slightest drop in concentration or letting my stride get lazy and I could feel a few nociceptors firing. However, at the end of the run I felt like I could have kept going and the ankle was only mildly more tender and that settled within 30 minutes. Very early days, it could be totally different running on uneven surfaces, but it's a huge leap from where I was a few weeks ago.

Competition

Although I’ve spent my whole adult life involved in sport, I still have big reservations about large parts of it. I’ve read a lot of work on the history and philosophy of sport, and to be perfectly honest, a good chunk of it makes for depressing reading. I wish more of it could be more like the way it’s supposed to be.

The fact that climbing on mountains and cliffs is hard to pin down, hard to reduce to numbers and results and competition was quite an important aspect of what drew me into it. It’s hard to say ‘I had a better adventure than you’. Even as a climbing coach, I’ve sometimes been uneasy seeing young climbers come up against some of these negatives. Sometimes I wonder if I should say ‘skip the comp this time’. Go and explore somewhere new with some friends and come back for the next comp. As well as providing the essential ability to see outside the bubble of the scene, the perspective might well make a better competitor in the long run.

Kev pointed to this picture on Facebook, of a Basque athlete helping a Kenyan who’d stopped running a few metres short of the finish line in a cross country event, thinking he’d already passed it. The Basque runner could have run right past and won the race. But he stopped to direct the Kenyan over the line, staying behind and keeping the place he would have got if the Kenyan hadn’t made a simple human error. The surprising thing for me was that the attention this story got was as a ‘rare’ piece of sportsmanship. Why shouldn’t it be the norm?

After getting my ankle surgery in November, I decided to enter a running race for the first time, and see how it went. I thought it would be good as a goal to help get me back on my feet and moving fast in the mountains again. I entered the West Highland Way Race for next June. Although I have done quite a lot of hill running at different times over the past year or two, like anyone getting involved in a new scene I was a bit nervous about how welcoming it would be to someone who is known as ‘a climber’. Yesterday a friend told me about this thread started about my entry, which was a bit of a downer. When I experienced this sort of thing as a teenager doing sport at school, I hated it, avoided it and eventually found it’s antidote in going climbing. This time round I don’t need to react like that. But if I am able to recover from my injury enough to do it, it will be weird to stand on the start line knowing I’m standing with others who feel I don’t deserve to be there. My slowly healing ankle joint is the only thing that would stop me earning a place. As I said on the thread, if anyone feels I really don’t deserve the chance as much as them, drop me a line and I’ll offer to withdraw and donate my place.

A good run

While in Magic Wood, waiting for boulders to dry out, I decided to go for a couple of jogs to keep trim. I found a nice track that led up into the mountains in steep zig zags from 1300m to over 1900m, above the tree line and into a lovely open mountain corrie. On the first outing, it was super humid and felt like hard work. I walked a few sections, but I sensed that the uphill running was beginning to feel close to ‘steady state’. So a few days later I did it again on a much nicer day and got on much better.

I ran over 600m altitude gain in 36 minutes without stopping to walk which is the first time I think I’ve ever run so far uphill in one push. The interesting thing was that I did the run after eating lunch (I’d had 4 hours bouldering in the morning). Normally if I ever run I do it after the overnight fast to get into fat oxidation quicker. The difference was quite amazing! I know that’s rather obvious but it was still quite something to experience it. Instead of feeling like a motivational mission, it felt pretty easy. Moreover, after the harder steep sections I could feel my legs wanting to run faster as soon as the angle decreased again. I guess habitual runners must be used to that feeling but it’s nice for an amateur to feel it even once.

I remember reading when I started climbing that Messner, in training for the first ascent of Everest without oxygen in 1978, 'claimed' to be able to run 1000m uphill in 35 minutes. So I’m officially 3/5ths as fit as Messner. Im not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Perhaps I put in some training for my enchainment idea after all?

I wrote some ideas about mental strategies for motivating yourself to run uphill on the training blog here.

In conversation with... Reinhold Messner from MOUNTAIN EQUIPMENT on Vimeo.

The Nevis breakfast, again

Finally needing a climbing rest day I went for another fasted run before breakfast. The weather was fine so I opted for Ben Nevis, straight up the slope from the Glen Nevis road end in a brutally steep glycogen burning continuous climb straight to the summit. Going as fast as I could, I could start to feel the glycogen tank emptying after only 45 minutes, motivation to keep slogging dying off and being replaced by a strong desire to lie down and sleep.

Having a few of these runs in the bag recently is meaning I can now keep going a fair bit better once the tank is empty and I’m making glucose out of body fat. The next 45 minutes to the summit felt predictably hard work, but some good tunes got me through it and all of a sudden strolling over the plateau to the observatory. 

I sat down in the cool breeze among the crowd of summitteers, for a few minutes. I couldn’t stay though, I was pretty damn hungry and the sound of many sandwiches being munched all around me was deafening. Get moving!

My legs felt worked but were still strong to bounce back down the boulderfields in a good run and off into Coire Gubishean and onto to upper Steall. Running through Steall I could really feel I was burning fat and stopping running even for a moment to clamber over rocks on jelly legs gave me an overwhelming urge to lie down. So I cruised on happily down the familiar path back to my car and an egg roll in town.

Today, I’m 34. Birthday itinerary: Swimming with the girls, book writing, feeding midges at Steall.

Raasay recce

100 metres high, the grey stuff is good sandstone, and it goes on for miles along the coast. Running out of new rock in the UK? Aye...


For ages Michael and myself have been keen to go and look at the huge Triassic sandstone cliffs on the east coast of Raasay and scope out what potential there might be. After a hard day at Steall we decided now was a good time for a day trip and sped up there.

First up we checked out this huge slot of Sandstone. Beautiful rock formations and good stone. But maybe a little too sheltered to get dry enough very often. I could be wrong though. You’d get some lovely E8 and upwards 25 metre solos in here, or some great sport routes!

Then we headed along the lovely coast past Screapadal and the now long abandoned crofting communities that existed in this remote spot. As we expected, there was a TON of rock. Towering sandstone cliffs over 100 metres high with only a handful of the very easiest lines climbed, and the slope below covered in countless boulders.

Mega boulder, 20 metres high. Unfortunately made of cheese.

Both the cliff and boulders were a little dissapointing on closer inspection. The main face routes would make one of the best sport cliffs in Scotland, or some death defying barely protected trad which didn’t really inspire me too much (maybe it’s just not St John’s Head?!). We spent ages looking round the boulders finding countless problems in the V0-V3 range that looked great, but not much for ourselves. But finally we stumbled upon one line that changed our psyche - the biggest, baddest Font 7c/+ roof in Scotland!

It looked simply awesome. But we were now counting down to run for the ferry time. The landing was full of big holes so we moved rocks for an hour and built a mega landing. I got the holds clean and moves done rapidly and then looked at my phone; we should have left 20 minutes ago to catch the last ferry! There was time for one try.

It was 22 moves long, pretty techy and a little scary at the end. I unfortunately caught a hold wrong near the end and didn’t get it. I cursed, but there was nothing to do but scrabble to get trainers on and spend the next 30 minutes running at 180bpm to catch the ferry, which we did. So there is something to go back for. I’m glad in a way. It’s such a lovely piece of rock, and although I’m pretty sure I can do it in an attempt or two, It’ll be worth the day trip to enjoy it properly...and then try the left hand exit.

Out jogging

Looking back down the lower slopes of Leitir Fhionnlaigh, my house near the bottom right and Meall na Teanga across Loch Lochy.

I rounded off yesterday’s rest day with a jog in the hills around my house. Straight out of my back garden I can go straight up with a continuously steep slope to 600m altitude. If I go at high heart rate up this it’s a good primer to burn some glycogen and then go for a cruise along the ridge at the top. Actually it’s not really a cruise at all thanks to the huge peat troughs lining the plateau above the leitir. Every ten metres or so you jump 6 or 8 feet down into a trough and jump and commando roll back up the opposite wall. So it’s a bit of an assault course! All quite good fun, especially in the rain. Getting cold, wet, muddy and burning some energy at a fast pace.

Since I’ve not had too many mountain cliff days out so far this summer, I’m keen to do some more runs to keep me in shape. Generally my preference is for fasted long distance hill runs at a gentle pace for 2-6 hours. It is sometimes hard to find time to fit them in though, especially when I’m doing endurance work in my climbing training so I’m doing wall circuits every day and need to be careful to eat lots to fuel the work. I could probably manage to time it well to do both and indeed I might be getting fit enough now to start experimenting with that.

Ideally I’d run pretty much all morning, then work, then eat, then climb. My biggest limitation for making it happen is probably disciplining myself to go to bed early. I do find that it’s nice to have some late evening relaxation time after training and family time during the day. Plus, being a night owl it’s all too easy to stay up late. I need a coach to remind me how important it is to get some rest. I’ve spent a lot of the past years on 6 or 7 hours sleep a night which for me just isn’t enough to progress in my sport. The ideal amount would be 10 hours. For that I’d need to be well disciplined!

Lack of enzymes

Looking down on Glen Nevis from the slope of justice side of Ben Nevis.

Going for a hill run before breakfast has been a fun and not so serious way to get outside on rest days, look at new crags and burn some ‘Jabba’ as they say in Glasgow. However, in order to run on this type of fuel, one needs the right enzymes. Normally it takes a good four or five runs on jelly legs in a cold sweat to build up enough to be able to keep going without liver glycogen eventually getting raided and everything coming crashing to a halt.

But every year I forget that the body needs some time to produce the right biological tools to run without sugar. I didn’t help myself by doing writing work until 4pm either. So I had a sandwich breakfast to ‘prime the pump’ and headed for the slope directly up the side of Ben Nevis above Polldubh. It’s the highest slope in Britain, no path and steep tussocky heather and boulders all the way. So I figured going in a straight line right up it would be a fine way to cancel out a fair number of cakes.

Swimming up through the bracken of the Polldubh crags passed quickly and I go onto the monster slope above, trying to keep a good heart rate. Everything was fine until fairly high on the Ben I got that tell tale all consuming desire to sit down. I’d made another rookie mistake in timing my tunes wrong for dealing with this situation. I was listening to Bridget Kendal’s World of Ideas. Great food for the brain but not exactly listening to push you through the lactic barrier. I should have known that this kind of thing is for dancing along ridge tops, and that thrash was made for 1300 metres height gain at near max heart rate.

It’s quite amazing. Without the enzymes to turn fat into ATP, nothing happens. You can keep trying to go up, but when the glycogen tank is empty and the reserve fuel pump is not connected, legs don’t work, simple as that. And so I turned on my heel and slithered down crags and boulders into the mugginess of the Glen far below. 

Some calories burned at least, if mostly sugar. And the view and the feeling of being actually hungry for your tea is really nice too.

I also wanted to recce this route for a crazy idea I have. And I answered some questions about it! i.e it's not the way to go! As I ran and felt so unfit, while thinking about how unfit I feel on my Steall project. It became clear to me that endurance is really my nemesis. And since endurance is gone before you can say 'bouldering phase', it's a nemesis that keeps coming back.

It would be easier for sure if Scotland had more steep sustained sport routes to keep me going. But that's not really the issue. The problem is that I've had to spend so much time trying to get stronger fingers to be able to do the moves on the routes I want to do, there isn't much time left over to get fitness. For a few brief moments in my climbing career, I've been faintly stamina fit. But most of the time I grunt my way through on sheer tenacity, pumped solid all the way. 

I'm feeling the need to experience that feeling of 'le resistance' again, even if it's only for a a couple of special routes.

Hill running

Glen Ceitlin granite boulder hunting

Hill running was always a discipline I couldn’t get my head round. For the last ten years or so I’ve done a little every year, for one reason alone - to lose weight for hard rock climbing. Left to it’s own, my body settles at a stocky build well too heavy for anything harder than 8c. So a couple of times a year, I tend to do a bit of running to get in shape for something hard in sport climbing or bouldering.

Although it doesn’t even come close to the enjoyment I get from almost any type of climbing, I still enjoy running for a few different reasons. When I lived in Dumbarton in the mid 2000s and was training to get strong enough to climb Rhapsody, I used to do my fingerboarding and endurance circuits each day and then go running on the streets late at night. I used to use it to switch off and remind myself why I was doing all this training. I wasn’t doing the run in a particularly scenic place, so the enjoyment was purely internal. At that time, I used to think of hill runners as crazy. It just seemed so hard and relentless. How could you ever be fit enough to be able to enjoy it. Only later I understood how slowly hill runners (except the real pros of course) run uphill.

Now I live in the mountains I enjoy running primarily for the scenery and terrain. A great formula for me has been to use my runs to explore potential new bouldering spots in the more remote highland glens. Sometimes there are great boulders, sometimes there is just nice scenery and weather. Either way, it is enjoyable and answers a curiosity.

Nice big boulder, a few good easier climbs to go on this. 

I particularly enjoy these hill runs if the terrain itself is quite technical; rough paths, rocky ridges or slabs and even some scrambling. I don’t think I could ever sustain long runs on open trails, forestry tracks or roads since having experienced the hill running in the Scottish Highlands. Wild mountain areas all over the world have this opportunity to explore really interesting mountain terrain, unfolding I front of you as you move quickly through it.

Running the other day in Glen Ceitlin on my first run of the spring season, I was reminded that the feeling of running on open mountainside (apart from the real uphill parts) is like floating. It takes so much concentration to move at speed between rocks, tussocks, holes and over streams without falling over. Yet it is not thinking - just immediate, subconscious reaction to the movement sequence demanded from split second to second. Despite having to focus hard, your conscious mind has the chance to sit back, relax and enjoy being there.

Hill running suddenly makes sense when you think of it in these terms - a feeling of flying over the terrain with little conscious effort. It’s obvious really that it would have to hold an enjoyment that was very strong, to be worth all the hardship that goes with it for those who do it all the time. Proper training for top performance in any sport has it’s fair share of grinding hard work doing boring exercises for the rewards. Hard climbing training, despite it’s hardships (lactate, finger skin destroying circuits and repetitive finger strength exercises) still probably has nothing on endurance running in this respect.


It’s true though that such feelings are fleeting. Just as I was floating along, dreamily pondering these ideas while running back down Glen Ceitlin, I misjudged the consistency of the bog ahead and dropped up to my knees in slurping peat porridge, lunging forwards with my momentum to land on my knee on a granite boulder beyond. After rolling around, clutching my knee and moaning for a few minutes, I limped off down the glen. Brought back down to earth.

An Teallach with Peter

Yesterday the weirdest thing happened to me. I’d already been to A&E at the Belford for an X-ray of my left foot since it was still feeling extremely painful if I weighted the medial side of my foot on the Sesamoid with my big toe pulled up. It was feeling like something was definitely wrong. It was getting worse every day. The X-ray returned a negative for broken bones but just a comment that I had the weirdest feet they had ever seen. But still no explanation for the very targeted pain, except that it ‘must’ be a bruised bone.

I was unconvinced. Movement was fine with great care not to stand on the medial side of my foot, so I kept a date to go for a big run with Peter. In the circumstances scaled it down to a short run and not even really a run and so headed for An Teallach.

We set off after 3pm and slogging up Sail Mor, my foot was seriously complaining. The whole way I was contemplating a bail request, but just kept my head down for ‘another 50 metres’ all the way to the summit ridge. Once there, I stopped to put on my jacket and started walking again. WHAT???!!! No pain!!! All of a sudden, it stopped hurting and I went from mild hobbling to bounding along the ridge crest in normal hill running stylee. So, the explanation seems to be a dislocated (subluxed) sesamoid that spontaneously popped back into it’s groove. Very strange experience.

With healthy Dave unexpectedly restored, we commenced a fun dash over the An Teallach Ridge, which was most satisfying

Testing my shiny new Firelite Jacket before Norway

Peter enjoying speed-scrambling on Sgurr Fiona

Running home for tea

The Grey Corries

The other day after baby group I went for a wee run. With the Experience Tour trip to Norway just over a week away I am needed to sharpen up and shed a pound or two quickly after having put in a few weeks of training. So after a 12 hour fast Claire dropped me off in Glen Nevis and I headed up over Meall Cumhann, across the empty Coire Giubhsachan and up that savage slope of Aonach Beag (via a wee scope about the crags of course). I was still feeling bouncy of leg after that but as I headed out across the Grey Corries I began to notice the knuckle under my left big toe getting progressively sorer after an awkward landing on a stone. Sgurr Chionnich’s Beag and Mor passed ok although running was kind of off the cards by then as the fuel switched almost exclusively to lipid. On the way up Stob Coire Nan Easain I very quickly felt like a lie down. My body was giving me a message. It emphatically did not want to ascend any more without sugar. 

It was hard to bail when after Easain it’s a steady cruise without much more ascent, but it’s been a while since I’ve ran so I took the chilled option and stumbled down into the massive and wild Coire nan Eoin. Despite feeling pretty lousy, the solitude of this glen was something else and I tramped quite happily in my own little zone through it’s meanders out into Leanachan Forest. 

However, once in Leanachan Forest, I was really ready for some dinner let me tell you so it was a fine training exercise to tramp through it’s seemingly endless tracks leading here, there and everywhere and finally back to my car in Spean Bridge.

I had a pound coin in my car. It’s been a couple of decades since I’ve done this but I dived straight into the Spar shop and stood carefully in the sweetie isle calculating how I could buy the maximum amount of chocolate for 1 pound. I couldn’t believe chocolate bars are 70 odd pence these days! My prizes lasted well under a minute (1 picnic bar, one fudge, 11p change).

Good day out. Might do this again next week. Tomorrow feeding midges as Steall again.

New horizons

Anna enjoying Sky Pilot bouldering

Spooky forest

One of hundreds - no joke

Straight out of Switzerland

Cave of granite crimps - yesterday’s prize

Progress on my project has been up and down. I got past the main crux another three times and felt like it was right there, only to fail convincingly on the next move every time. It’s well hard. And sadly, now it’s too hot. Today it was 19 degrees and it felt like I was climbing it with a rucksack on. And that’s despite feeling super fit from daily projecting or running. I’ve not had a rest day in three weeks though, so we’ll see if a day off will fill the tank again. 

To adjust on the sloper or not, that is the question… On the rope it feels slightly easier but uses a lot of energy that I maybe don’t have on the redpoint. But then I keep failing without the adjustment. A dilemma to ponder on the next run.

My runs have been great. On the past two, I’ve found more unclimbed crags and boulders than I could climb in a lifetime. Just endless new lines to do. It’s amazing! All of them are within 30 miles of my house. Only problem is that a good chunk of that is walking in some of the most remote glens in the highlands. Hence they have remained undeveloped by climbers. Could do with a bike/boat/helicopter. 

I could go on about caves full of flakes and crimps, 50m high overhanging crags lining the glen, perfect gneiss, hard granite, lovely views… Hopefully I can get to climb some of them soon and I’ll show them off.

Maybe yesterday’s run was a little overcooked. I had a time limit to be back home for engagements with the girls. My quest for the granite boulders took me 5 minutes over my turn-back time and as I turned to run the 6 miles back the savage headwind hit me. I nearly face planted on rubber legs as I got back to the car.