Classic Rock - a 30 year adventure

Wake up to this! Another cheer for modern weather predictions, after the elation of a perfect days’ climbing on Ardverikie Wall, as the latest forecast suggested a window of opportunity for Tower Ridge. Ok, it looked like it was going to rain hard for most of the next day, but crucially would ease off around teatime, allowing us to make our planned evening walk up to bivi high in the coire above the hut.  A tricky museum/gear shop/cafe traverse was completed during the day and then the wait began, first down by the quay side, then up in the north face car park. As the clouds continued to leak beyond 5pm, doubts crept in. A beer was even consumed in the car, such was the nagging feeling that we weren’t walking up there anytime soon. But with a rain radar website to encourage us, patience was rewarded with a sudden clearing up to a sunny, steamy evening. Freeze-dried dinner was consumed whilst throwing kit in rucksacks, trying to be swift but not forget anything.  The walk in was magnifi

As mentioned in Classic Rock, Ardverikie Wall, located lower down than most Scottish classics and being midway between Aviemore and Fort William, seems to hold on to better weather even when the higher mountains around are clagged out. And so it seemed, at least according to the latest Met office data and forecast, that this would be the case. It suited our trip, having spent a couple of days East and wanting to look at Ben Nevis later; we camped near Loch Laggan, hopeful. Another relatively easy and nondescript walk-in, along a gravel track, with estate signs warning of deer-stalking season and the odd midge about. On arriving at the head of the Glen containing Lochan na h-Earba, which Ardverikie Wall overlooks, the atmosphere changed, a sense of being away from it all suddenly descended. A small group of people on the distant lochan beach didn’t detract, perhaps even enhanced the feeling that this was a big, wild place and we were privileged guests for a while.  In contrast to our ex

In a fit of optimistic arrogance, or perhaps arrogant optimism, I set off from Cairngorm mountain car park in my soft walking boots, intending to climb in them so as to not have to carry excess weight up (we were doing a circular walk from the top, rather than lowering off). John reminded me that I’d had a bit of an issue in similar boots on Lazarus in Idwal, I reminded him that I’d done Tophet Wall in them. Plus, the photos of Savage Slit all showed loads of supremely useful-looking horizontal ledges that should make easy work of a corner climb. View from "sandwich ledge" Walking into Coire an Lochan isn’t particularly hard fought; a gentle rise from a high car park with facilities, we were well into the bowl before any sweating was required. For some reason the guidebook talks of Savage Slit being on the 4th buttress from the left, instead of just saying the big lump on the right above the slabs, and because the slit itself isn’t visible until you’re almost there, the debat

Approach to Lochnagar 2 years ago, we were dreaming of choosing between the Alps and Dolomites for a 40th birthday climbing trip.  By this spring it was a week in Scotland.  With a week to go it was looking like a “wherever the weather is best in the UK”. And the night before, it was still a toss up between Scotland or Cornwall, the weather forecast changing by the hour for the whole of the UK and the only certainty seemingly that we would be rained on at some point, wherever we chose. Happy to have seen Eagle Ridge Should we postpone another couple of days to let the worst of it pass? No, we’d booked time off and I confidently asserted that I’d rather be hillwalking in the rain than sat at home waiting. With 4 people’s ideas and preferences to consider, a committee of friends wasn’t coming to a consensus, but it was John’s birthday trip and willing to take the blame for a poor call, he declared, “Scotland or bust”.  A week of weather-avoiding began. It seemed the East would see the be

I love packing for a trip.  The anticipation, clicking a carabiner gate as you slip it into the bag, imagining the next time you open that gate may be to clip into a belay on the Buichaille, smoking in the view across Glencoe.  Packing is all about the possibilities; the imagination running away with thoughts of glorious ascents, beautiful wild camps and time spent with mates. And then I glance at the list. Midge net, skin so soft.  And my thoughts turn to the other side of these trips, the bits you normally forget afterwards but have to steel yourself and plan for in advance. And what if I forget… And which of these … is best for this weather? Will I need… That’s the bit I don’t enjoy. The fear of packing wrong or forgetting things. But once out in the hills it’s simpler; you deal with what comes up, with what you have.