FEARSOME REPUTATIONS

Gossip about climbs and climbers has led to some pretty fearsome reputations being built up over the years but you shouldn't always believe what you hear from the groupies, according to Cubby.

I remember hearing a rumour from Hamish McInnes suggesting that Jimmy Marshall had seen Guerdon Grooves virtually iced up. It was only a rumour. Alan Taylor and Kenny Spence had climbed the first pitch, round the awkward corner. What happened after that I've no idea.

The Chimp, as Alan was more commonly known within the Edinburgh scene, was an excellent rock climber, one of the best in the 70s and brilliant in winter. He was very much a part of the Hamilton/Spence/Taylor partnership that was responsible for a number of significant winter routes put up in the late 70s and early 80s, Postern and Mousetrap for example.

Rumours suggested that Alan Rouse had climbed the second pitch of Guerdon Grooves and others since then have completed the second pitch but they are only rumours. On the first winter ascent, I was surprised to see crampons scuffs in the groove at the start of the second pitch but they disappeared before the hard part, less than a fifth of the way up the pitch.

Since its first ascent nearly 18 years ago, Guerdon Grooves has acquired a reputation so massively out of proportion in relation to the difficulty of the climb, that it is hardly surprising it remains unrepeated. Flattering remarks such as "the Indian Face of Scottish winter climbing" certainly don't help. There is undoubtedly a great tendency, even a tradition within climbing circles to exaggerate and to blow a climb's difficulty, or a climber's ability out of all proportion. A mere ten foot flutter becomes a life threatening monster lob, having just skiffed the ground and survived to tell the tale by the time you&£8217;ve reached the pub.

My captain in the Boys Brigade, a mature adult who had introduced me to more serious hill climbing, had been on a course at Glenmore Lodge. John Cunningham was his instructor. I had already experienced a wee epic on a Cunningham route, one of the half dozen or so rock climbs I had under my belt. So I was intrigued to listen to what he had to say about the great man.

"We did a rock climb, the hard part was a mantle-shelf move onto a tiny ledge." Cunningham apparently got his hands on the ledge, skelped his arse and as if by magic, floated onto the ledge - obviously his party piece! It sounds slightly corny now but in those days it left a huge impression on me. I must have retold the story many times but each time he must have floated higher and higher to land on the ledge.

I recall going on a trip with Willie Todd and Murray Hamilton to the Peak, perhaps going on to North Wales after. I think Willie was keen on doing Fingerlicker at Tremadog, a route that Murray and I had done an early ascent of in 1976 or '77. When we returned home, the rumours that were floating around the Scottish climbing scene about Willie and I having soloed Fingerlicker were just amazing, considering we didn't even get to North Wales!

I suppose Willie must have told someone he was going away with me and that he was keen to do Fingerlicker. You can just imagine the gossipmongers. Young naive lads, in awe of somebody who had appeared in a climbing magazine - it didn't take much to become famous in Scottish climbing circles. Rumours would be exaggerated to a level only fit of somebody of super human ability. "And do you think they use ropes? No way man, these guys dinnae need ropes, solo, they do everything solo man."

On another occasion at the Clachaig, there was a young and enthusiastic Glaswegian holding court with a group of similar aged climbers. He was spinning a yarn about yours truly, only he didn't realise that I was sitting next to him. But then again he wouldn't because we had never met before. "Have you seen him climb?" one of his wide-eyed followers quizzed.

"Have I seen him climb!" he remarked standing up and about to give a demonstration. "Jesus, I saw him hanging a hold on a route and he did 21 arm pull-ups...aye." It really was beyond belief - but I tell you, I was sucked in every bit as much as the others. The brilliant storyteller was a young Ben Masterton who split the Scottish scene to live in Sheffield, where he became a respected limestone activist in the Peak during the mid to late 80s.

I was in North Wales in the mid 70s with Murray. "That's Carrington," said Murray, "he's supposed to be a real powerhouse." Murray seemed to know everything about everybody, everywhere. Anyway, Carrington was high up on The Strand at Gogarth, a respectable E2, particularly in those days. He put in a runner, shouted "rope", (implying slack), which his second didn't quite manage to deliver and pulled up the rope so vigorously that the unfortunate second got dragged along the ground and all his runners between ripped bar the one he just placed. It was awesome.

The late Tom Proctor had always left a strong impression on me. His reputation for raw power preceded him. We wanted to hear the rumours and the stories, we wanted more, whether they were blown out of proportion or not. In a squeaky, excitable accent, which sounded like a cross between Cockney and Brummy, the groupie talked a lot about a lot of people. He knew every move on every route and he knew everyone that was ever worth knowing.

Most climbing bars attract them and The Moon at Stony Middleton was no exception. Dressed in typically 70s attire, his straggly hair, beard and Sellotaped together glasses, complimented a grimey Yosemite neck scarf, discoloured flared demins, festering trainers and a Helly Hansen top that had clearly shed most of its pile on the surrounding gritstone escarpments. Lizard-like, he appeared from a dark corner of the bar, as if having just scurried out from beneath a dank, dark boulder to feast on some fresh prey - unfortunately us.

"Fawcett, eets as if his arms are on wires - amazing. Gerry Peel eez veway powful, veway powful. And Rab Carrington - ooof! Paul Nunn's next door, you know Paul Nunn?" he asked nodding his head in Paul's direction. Froth from the groupie's pint stuck to his beard and moustache. He was beginning to slaver much to Murray's amusement, excited and awestruck from being surrounded by so many famous climbers.

"Tim Lewis, editor of Mountain," again nodding in his direction. "Geoff Birtles, know Geoff do you? He climbs with Tom Proctor." He was almost speechless at the thought of Tom. The original Hydraulic Man as he became known and immortalised in a Crags magazine cartoon sketch. "Eeez so stwong, so powful, eez amazing...infact...eez jas wan beeg masool." As you could imagine, the last comment became the catch phrase of the decade!

So where is all this leading to? You may well ask! Seriously though, there is something good (and to a lesser degree bad) about climbing gossip. Hearts generally appear to be in the right place. It's sort of backward, even old fashioned and in many respects the sort of stuff that legends are made of. A way of complimenting climbers who have achieved something but at the end of the day we're still only human, I think!

Don't be put off too much by reputations, tread carefully and go and have a look for yourself. Mind you, I could do a 100 pull-ups straight off in those days!!!

Cubby
22/11/2001