GOOD JOB SCOTLAND, GOOD JOB!

Cubby reveals the delights of climbing in Glen Nevis to visiting Americans and appreciates the balance of traditional and sport climbing venues achieved in Scotland.

Dare I say that one of the good sides to the foot and mouth epidemic is that a lot of folk from south of the border are visiting the Scottish crags. I never thought I'd say that but about a week or so ago I was up in Glen Nevis where I bumped into some of the Lakes lads. They couldn't believe how good the climbing was. Now I know we don't want to see Scottish crags overrun by English, especially when they come up here and pinch our best lines but it does help to keep the routes clean. In any case the weather and the midges will soon put an end to any rise in popularity!

So there I was on my latest little obsession in Glen Nevis - a three-move boulder problem. I know it's a bit of a yawn but it keeps me happy. Actually I thought I did it last year but when Richie Heap tried it with a wild dyno while filming for his bouldering video, I realised that I probably hadn't. Anyway, neither of us did it so I went back to try and finish it off. I'm quite selfish over my little hideaways but you have to accept that on a Bank Holiday weekend, others will be in the area.

Three wandering multi pitch climbs cross the terrace beneath Sky Pilot and on this day there were parties on each, all shouting and bawling the various climbing calls. It felt like an invasion of my privacy. Then, amidst a chinkle of climbing gear, another voice strangely familiar, floated up on the warm, afternoon air. It was Geoff Cohen. Climbing is like that. I hadn't seen Geoff for 20 years and then you bump into each other on some obscure cliff, that in an odd sort of way brings us all together. The last time I saw Geoff (before he moved to America) was at an SMC dinner and I always remember because he was vegetarian and he complained that mushroom omelette was all they had on the menu.

Geoff Cohen might not be a name familiar with the younger climbers of today but Scansor in Glencoe, Colgarra on Beinn Eighe, Joplins Wall (Panting Dog Climb) on Lewis might ring a few bells, not to mention numerous significant alpine and winter climbs to his credit. "I really miss Scotland," said Geoff, with a look in his eyes that said it all, "but I'm semi retired and released for a couple of months to climb and explore some of my old haunts". When I asked if his wife was American, he replied "no but she's adopted too many Americanisms for my liking". Well it was great talking to Geoff again but I had some unfinished business to attend to. Now whether it was just feeling positive after our conversation, or simply that I'd rested and the friction had improved but I did that problem straight off. It was a magical little moment.

Talking of Americans - a friend asked if I could guide an American couple. They were from Boulder, Colorado on a business holiday trip and led up to 5.8 - it sounded good. My initial thoughts were that I could give them a taste of atmospheric Scottish climbing. Something like Bludgers Revelation in Glencoe, or better still, we could take the Corran ferry to Ardgour and do the Scimitar/Excalibur combination on Garbh Beinn. But unfortunately a colleague of mine had already given them a full-blown mountain experience - foul weather, greasy loose rock and they even came across two Scots on Curved Ridge, apparently blotto! Personally I think they were Glaswegian and there was something of a language barrier! They were now ready for sterner stuff, to be pushed to their limit and had heard that the crags in Glen Nevis were "really neat". No doubt the reason why I was hired in. So the Glen it was going to be, or "Glen a grow bag" as the Brat called it. Admittedly I'd rather have gone elsewhere as it was hot and very humid and from a guiding point of view it's not always easy to find suitable climbs that will stretch the clients without the guide having to endure a protectionless and death defying lead. Even worse was that a number of the good quality climbs between E1 and E2 were my own creations from the early 80s and I always find them hard.

We warmed up on Resurrection and from that I could tell more than enough regarding their competence. Bad news - they were good! So we vacated Styx for the Steall area where I thought All Our Yesterdays might do the trick. Despite being my own route, All Our Yesterdays is a steep corner crack, offering a variety of climbing styles and a cunning little move to finish. What's more it was adorned with runners. Tom and Chris loved everything about the Glen. As scientists and academics they wanted to know about the area's geology, wildlife, its history and language. I'm expected to know these things as a guide. "Yes, the geology of Ben Nevis is unique," I expressed. "Really," commented Tom, hungry for more. "Yes, it's known as Cauldron Subsidence" and I began to describe the process, just as Noel Williams does in his Scrambles in Lochaber guide.

I was beginning to flag, so at that point I made a comment about glacial erosion at Polldubh, saying, haven't you noticed how those crags differ, portraying classic slabby front characteristics, and steep west facing side walls known as Mouton Roche, formed by little eddies indicating movement and direction of the glacier. "Wow, fascinating." And just before I was about to dig deeper into my own grave, we passed the old Scots pine before the gorge. "Hey, look at that tree." "Aye, the sheep have got a lot to answer for," I replied in the most knowledgeable and evasive manner as I possibly could. "We'll take the old cattle drovers track." "You have cattle?" Tom enquired. "Highland cattle (what else)," I answered, "reckoned to be one of the finest breeds in the world". And just when they were about to ask the inevitable question on the differences between Gaels, Celts and Scots, I was saved by the crag. "Wow, hey Chris look at that dihedral. Isn't that just so neat." Yes the American language does take a bit of getting used to but you can't deny their enthusiasm, which makes a change from conservative minded, cynical Brits.

I stemmed my way up the dihedral, or rather, I bridged the corner. It steepens noticeably towards the top where the right wall overhangs and above that a ledge is tantalisingly out of reach. Suddenly everything felt oh-so-rather-tricky and my casual, cocky running commentary was, for a few seconds, conspicuous in its silence. Please don't let me make a fool of myself in front of my clients, I whispered to myself under my own breath. And then I remembered that an unlikely move up to some overhangs has to be made first, followed by a rather nifty step right onto the ledge, thus avoiding a mantel from hell. "Alright!" cried Chris and Tom, clearly expressing a degree of apprehension. Both were visibly pushed but I think it was the possibility of a scary, wee swing from the overhang that did it.

"Well done folks," I said and genuinely meant it. "Gee, thanks Dave," was their reply. I deliberately refrained from giving "beta" and despite my ulterior motives, they complemented me on my silence, for letting them work out the sequence for themselves! As I led up the second pitch, I looked across to Cosmopolitan, a climb so named for a remark that appeared in the SMC Journal describing the term yo-yo. "For those who prefer Cosmopolitan to Crags magazine," it said, "yo-yoing is a technique..." Cosmo is another of my ageing test pieces from the early 80s, yet evidently still giving folk a run for their money, as I witnessed a few days earlier when one of the young Glasgow climbers took to the air on numerous occasions. While not wanting to wallow in other people's failures, it did bring a smile to my face.

Well what now? All our yesterdays didn't quite do the trick so its time to move up a notch. We settled for Plague of Blazes, a classic E2. I soon reached the crux, which is a sort of mantelshelf move on flat holds, into a little niche. I've done the climb a number of times in the past, even soloed it but guiding is a great leveller, for you put your mind in theirs. I'd forgotten just how necky and unprotected the crux was. But fortunately I was sufficiently far enough up the limb for Tom and Chris not to notice my little tremorette!

Both were ecstatic with the climb. Tom took a couple of short slips, while Chris, although she never came off, was generally pushed quite hard. It was close but Plague of Blazes still hadn't done the trick. I wondered how many more climbs it was going to take. The obvious choice was the technical, dreaded Travelin Man, another of my creations but slightly harder and definitely 5c. Tom and Chris were out of water. Perfect timing I thought and in any case, the rotten sheep carcass sprawled across the rock beneath the start of Travelin Man was starting to heave in the afternoon sun. That was our cue to go down to the river and then head elsewhere.

I had just the climb in mind - First Wave, an E2 5c with a boulder problem start. That ought to do it. It was almost too hot on Wave, can you believe that, mid May, too hot and no midges! There were numerous starts to First Wave, none of them easy at 5c. Tom and Chris revelled in the team spirit and insisted on spotting me while I bouldered out the necky, unprotected start. "Good job," they cried as I clearly relaxed on the better holds. Heavens did I make it look that hard! My feet were crying out but fortunately the rest of the route is no more than 5a but never the less, involves some devious and cunning route finding. I brought Tom up first. Oh, no he's cruising then, whoops - he's off. That's a shame! Oops, another and then a third. Pumped after the start, Tom found the remainder of the climb a bit of a struggle but loved every minute of it, whooping and crying out in wonderment, at the rock, the climb and the ambience of the whole glen. The light was stunning. "Good job," shouted Chris, who didn't quite fall but struggled and judging by the perspiration between her brow and helmet, I would have thought that she felt sufficiently pushed - I hoped. "Well I'm just about done for," remarked Tom. My grin must have stretched from ear to ear. "Are you sure now folks, we could do something a bit harder...if you like. It's up to you?"

"I just can't imagine ever leading something like that, let alone protecting it," Chris remarked thoughtfully as we packed our rucksacks. "You know in Colorado that wall would be covered in bolts. Isn't it so cool that Scotland and the UK remains such a bastion of traditional climbing." They told me of a letter by John Long in a recent edition of the American magazine, Climbing, who, taking a rather humorous stance said, "keep the whole debate simple - 1) if its protectionless, bolt it, 2) if its got protection, then don't bolt it, 3) if it's not climbable then leave it." But I had to reassure them that it was not quite that simple. And certainly the protectionless approach was far from the answer, not to mention denying future generations. For me personally, I remarked, a greater source of balanced education and an understanding of the different values in all the varying aspects of climbing need to be addressed and respected. I think the venue and the rock type are just as, if not more significant than the protectionless piece of rock as justification for the bolting approach.

I was recently disgusted by an arrogant, thoughtless remark by John Horscroft (see A Brief History of Crime, Climber magazine, June 2001) who commented that there was a situation in Scotland, getting out of hand, with virtually any new cliff up for grabs as a sport climbing venue. Although a small minority will disagree, the bolting situation in Scotland is very contained, thoughtfully and conscientiously executed with a harmonious balance between bolted and traditional routes. That's because the activists' hearts are rooted in traditionalism and they care about the welfare of Scottish climbing. To quote Dave Birkett, the well-known Lakes activist and one of the current high standard traditionalists in the UK (and sport climber), "you really seem to have achieved a balance in Scotland. I only wish it was the same down here". Of course it's never going to be perfect but that's a good thing, is it not?

Well I'm glad I didn't go to Garbh Beinn with my American clients, I heard that a huge rock fall has wiped out Butterknife and Scimitar - now that would have been bad luck!

Cubby
30/5/2001