(by Eileen Murphy, from IMC Newsletter Autumn 2004)
An attempt of the Traverse of the Cuillin Ridge of Skye.

Gargantuan, gritty, gabbro weaves its magnetic spell. Peaks and pinnacles, clefts and chasms, exposed edges and jagged teeth. The Black Cuillin of Skye are renowned for the magnetic quality of their volcanic gabbro rock. Powerful enough to distract the compass, this rock has been luring climbers for many generations. Yes, I have to admit I have caught the fever, the most virulent form of Cuillin fever there is and have been incubating it for some time now. I have been scrambling all over these mountains every Mid-Summer for the past 6 years, relishing the exposure on their knife-edged ridges, developing an ease in their company and a familiarity with their moods. I have climbed most of their main summits and completed many of their circuits and rock ridges. But somehow linking all 18 summits in one continuous push has eluded me. When the weather was right, the companions were wrong. When the companions were up to the task, the black cloud hung dense and still. Bailing out had been a wise decision on those occasions. In retrospect, I am happy about those early failures and frustrations. The silver lining – a long and interesting voyage of discovery, a journey that would involve learning to rock climb so that I could return again and again and get to grips with this awesome place.

The Ridge or Great Traverse involves 18 summits, 14 of which are above 3,000ft., 14 km from first to last and 10,000 feet of ascent. That is before you add in the boggy 9km walk from Glenbrittle to Gars Bheinn and the 6km trudge from the final summit of Sgurr nan Gillean to the finish at Sligachan. “What’s the big deal”, you might well ask! What the statistics hide is the fact that it is one long and unrelenting scramble up and down over serrated crests and deep gashes. Rock climbing experience and a high level of fitness and stamina are definite pre-requisites for this “Great British Mountaineering Venture”. Success requires not only luck with the weather but speedy efficiency. It is important to be able to confidently climb and back climb rope-free sections graded moderate and difficult. The purist will want to follow the crest exclusively, staying on the spine at all times, never contouring or dropping low when obstacles are encountered. In fact, one cannot claim to have technically completed the Ridge unless one does exactly that. And the total lunatic will not be content to merely complete the Great Traverse but will want The Greater Traverse, The Double Traverse. Just another 4,000feet of climbing and 4/5 extra hours to complete the entire circuit of Loch Corruisk. “The Lesser Inner Girly Traverse” versus “The Greater Outer Manly Traverse”! Not my description, I’ll hasten to add but one coined by a “Hardie” Scotsman within the IMC who shall remain nameless for his own protection!

It’s Mid Summer 2004 and I am on Skye with a group of 6 sea kayaking/walking/climbing friends. The grey pregnant cloud is still clinging to the corries and wrapping itself around the mountain tops. A stationary “High” centred over Ireland and another over Iceland are responsible for that stubbornly-wedged “Low” which refuses to budge from above the Cuillin Ridge. Combining sea kayaking and climbing seems like a sensible idea in this corner of North West Scotland. No more frustrating wet days playing the waiting game under their shrouded forms. Our plan is to explore the offshore islands and maybe, if conditions allow, Seán Pierce, Róisín McDonnell, Paul Murphy and I will attempt the Ridge Traverse. Having done a few exploratory circuits together on the ridge, Róisín and I know that we are in form for the Traverse. I am feeling fit having spent the past week chasing my youngest son around the pinnacles and sandstone terraces of Torridon. Despite this, I am hard pressed to stay close to Róisín, a hill-running dynamo and well known for taking no prisoners! The gloomy forecast from the campsite shop in Glenbrittle forces our decision and Soay, Rum, Canna and Sanday meet with unanimous approval. The passage from Soay to Rum is a lively one and of course as we move out to sea, the cloud bank hanging for so long over the Ridge starts to stir, rise up and part. Now at 2,000ft, now at 3,000ft., it flows away and disperses to reveal a magnificent vista. It is impossible not to look back at this incredible work of natural sculpture. Those familiar black hulks sprouting abruptly out of a boggy Hebridean seascape never cease to inspire me. Just imagine an Alpine skyline hugging the Connemara coast. Imagine Achill magnified and stretched …

Three clear days at sea exploring the hidden treasures of the Isles, strong Force 5/6/7 north westerlies, committed long open sea crossings, nightly campfires, sea shanty singing, malt tasting, majestic red stags keeping watch on the horizon, remote bothies, barbecued pollack, nesting eider duck and common gulls, great red skuas and the nightly call of the Manx Shearwater. And oh, that lingering Northern Mid Summer light and all under the watchful eye of the Cuillin Ridge. My eyes are constantly drawn to its familiar outline. The fusion of land, sea and sky is impossible to ignore and my imagination runs riot as a result of copious quantities of my favourite Islay single malt. I feel it in my bones – a sense of surging optimism that I must admit is based on a very shaky foundation that the wind seems to be veering to the North East. Anything with an Easterly aspect please! That notoriously fickle weather, which difficult and unpredictable offspring of the marriage between mountain and sea just might come right!

The preparation hadn’t exactly been up to scratch. Another long and exhausting day at sea, a meal washed down by numerous pints and followed by a calorie-laden sticky toffee pudding at the friendly Carbost Inn. As Róisín and Paul bid us farewell, I thought my chances to even attempt the Ridge were gone yet again. Despite the forecast, the locals were predicting stable weather for another day. “You can sense it in the behaviour of the sheep, cattle and birds. You can sniff it in the air” – a local farmer’s intuition is good enough for me. The long-awaited window in the weather seemed to be coming unexpectedly on our last day. “Carpe diem” – a rare weather window like this cannot be allowed to slip away. And so I managed to persuade sea kayaker extraordinaire and self-confessed non-climber, Seán Pierce to take Róisín’s place and partner me despite the fact that he didn’t do “exposure, knife-edge ridges, deep sh..t gaps or early mornings”. Despite his protestations, he wasn’t a total beginner – he had done some climbing 10 years ago and had been involved in a few training days on Great Gully, Glenmalure and Forest Rhapsody in Glendalough in the previous month. However, we did make an agreement and that was that he would go maybe half or two-thirds of the way and I would continue on alone if I still felt up to it. A quick dash back to the campsite at midnight to prepare for a planned 6am start. Proper, prior planning how are you!! No time to debate the perennial questions associated with Ridge Traverses – Do we try to complete it in one continuous push?, Do we carry bivvy gear?, Do we cache water?, How much liquid?, How much food?, How much rock hardware? “ I don’t care about the weight, I’m carrying my big flask. I‘m going nowhere without my cuppa tea”. To add to the chaos, we tried to psyche ourselves up by reading an article written by Dave Walsh about his experiences on the ridge traverse in 1981. Those tortuous, long-winded and rambling sentences were just too much for our tired heads and we abandoned them in favour of some much-needed sleep.

The following morning, the peaks were still clearly etched against the skyline as we threw the necessities into our rucksacks. A huge bowl of easy-to-digest porridge and honey kick-started our day – a boggy trudge from the campsite around to the lower slopes of Gars Bheinn. At 6.40am, we were finally on our way. Very few words were spoken during the opening hours of this long-delayed adventure but somehow I felt that the weather Gods just might be in our favour as we felt the heat of the rising Mid-Summer sun just peeping over the southern spur of Gars Bheinn. Despite the promise of a good day, the grinding slog up the scree slopes of Gars Bheinn felt interminable. We took a few moments on the summit to soak in the formidable view of the entire ridge as it arced north/northeastwards as far as the distinctive point of Squrr nan Gillean. A few unrepeatable expletives from Seán to let me know that he is not entirely happy with the route ahead of us. “Nobody ever said this would be a walk in the park” I responded. “Don’t forget our agreement” he retorts. At this point, I recalled Gordon Stainforth’s wonderful metaphor about the Ridge Traverse. “It’s like playing a long and difficult piece of music. It’s about flow and pace and rhythm, accomplishing all the technical difficulties and obstacles as smoothly as possible. But there will also be the quieter passages, the crucial rests, the stops for water, relishing the silence. Unhurried speed is the key; to be relaxed whilst moving fast, everything done with an easy precision, not a foot out of place, not a single loose hold dislodged”.

Thearlaich Dubh Gap

At 9.30am, we left the summit of Gars Bheinn. What a great sense of relief to be finally walking on the Ridge! How lucky we were to have perfect Summer Solstice weather – blue skies interspersed with a few fluffy cumulus clouds and a warm moderate easterly. The ascent of Sgurr a Choire Bhig and Squrr nan Eag proved to be a gentle and easy introduction to the pleasures of Skye scrambling. On the Bealach a Gharbh Choire, we stopped for our first quick break, a shared cup of tea and some chocolate before harnessing up in anticipation of our first major “technical difficulty”, the Thearlaich Dubh Gap. An unexpected abseil on the north side of An Caisteal was good preparation for the much-anticipated TD abseil. Valuable time was wasted here roping up to climb out of what I thought mistakenly was the TD Gap. There was no doubt when we did finally abseil the 10m into The Gap. We were now committed to a roped 25m climb up and out into daylight. Suddenly, the gritty textured gabbro molten rock was replaced by a well-polished dolerite chimney which must be climbed to get out of this deep chasm. “I can’t believe this is graded a VD”, I yelled this and worse down as I became wedged in the chimney. It certainly felt more than its VD/S grading as given in the Scottish Mountaineering Council Skye Scrambles Guidebook. In future, I suppose I’ll have to do more training on easy routes wearing a heavy rucksack and mountain boots!! In rock shoes and without rucksack, probably an “S” grading, a “VS” with heavy pack and boots. A few very choice “superlatives” echoed down into Coire Ghrunnda as Seán got wedged at the same point in the chimney! As usual, I was carrying too much gear. A 40m rope would have sufficed instead of my 60m 8.1mm rope and apart from a harness with sling, krab and belay plate, 4 slings, 6 krabs, 4 extenders, a set of medium nuts, a couple of large friends would be plenty to carry between two. And as for that large flask? A huge offender in terms of weight. Surely I could survive for a day without that cuppa tea?

We didn’t deviate to take in Sgurr Alasdair but stayed on the crest – an airy scramble over Squrr Thearlaich and down to the Bealach Mhic Choinnich where we passed 3 Scotsmen who had been playing “the waiting game” in the campsite for the past week. At half past midnight, this same jovial group were mighty relieved to be picked up hitch-hiking their way down the Glenbrittle valley having abandoned the Ridge before Bruach na Frithe. Apart from 2 small groups doing circuits, we met only two other men with ridge aspirations on Sgurr nan Eag. They had come up from the Corruisk Memorial Hut, looked fit, young and sounded confident but we never saw them again. The weather had been so unpredictable that very few parties were prepared to wait around for an unexpected mid-week slot. We were moving well, relaxing into a good pace and rhythm as we traversed round Collie’s Ledge and then doubled back scrambling to the summit of Sgurr Mhic Choinnich. Onwards across the col above the An Stac screes and towards that well defined dorsal fin look-alike, the Inaccessible Pinnacle. As Seán contoured around, I continued up the “In Pin” – a very enjoyable but exposed moderate climb with lots of good juggy holds and then an abseil down the north side for another cuppa and sandwich on the summit of Sgurr Dearg. “A crucial rest”. It was a wonderful relief to change socks at this stage. It was 3.30pm and we were already on the go for almost 9 hours, with at least another 9 to go. Seán was happy to continue on but we agreed to keep reviewing the situation. The sustained and unrelenting nature of the scrambling demanded continuous focus and concentration as we headed for Sgurr Banachdich. Immediately beyond, the Ridge takes a big swing North Eastwards, the first curve of the horseshoe that enclosed Loch Corruisk. Next, the intimidating jagged point of Sgurr Thormaid and the boomerang shaped challenging Sgurr a Ghreadaidh. Talk started turning towards “suitable exits “. As we descended past “The Wart” down to the exit point of An Doras, Seán urged me to continue on alone. More than happy with his “introductory day” on the ridge, he descended the screes down to Glenbrittle just in time for a welcome dinner at the campsite. Before he lost mobile contact in the valley, a quick text to let me know he had descended the screes and was now on the track.

Onwards to Sgurr a Mhadaidh, downwards to Deep Gash Gully and upwards to the triple combed pinnacles where route-finding proved tricky enough. For the first time, I took out my copy of Gordon Stainforth’s route description. It is not exactly clear whether to drop on the East Corruisk side or the West Glenbrittle side so I decided to stay as high on the crest as I possibly could, climbing and back-climbing, carefully testing the rock with each move whilst at the same time trying to keep up the rhythm and forward momentum. “Unhurried speed”. No time to relax as this section certainly treads a fine line between what could be termed the upper limit of scrambling and out-and-out rock climbing. At the Bealach a Glaice Mhoire, I watched in disbelief as my copy of the route description floated away on an increasing wind into the depths of An Coire Uaigneis. It was the worst possible place this could have happened as I was not familiar with the next section. Róisín and I had backed off the second pinnacle of Bidean the previous week in a deluge and zero visibility. Now that I was alone, I felt I couldn’t take unnecessary risks climbing up and abseiling down airy pinnacles at this hour of the evening. Without a climbing partner, I had no choice but to contour under the pinnacles of Bidean Drum nan Ramh. A few airy steps across deep yawning chasms of nothingness saw me reach An Caisteal and the Bealach Tairnealar where it was comforting to find a litre of my favourite “jungle juice” dropped by my friend Breda as I had almost finished a litre and a half from my platypus. At this deep gash, I was delighted to retrieve a piece of valuable tat I had abandoned in the deluge the previous week to safely aid an abseil. After “a stop for water”, I bounced up Bruach na Frithe, the easiest and most straightforward ground on the ridge. Surprising that I had no hunger pangs as all I had eaten was a bar of chocolate, a sandwich and a few cereal a.m. bars. The unplanned “carbo loading” on sticky toffee pudding the previous night was standing to me now. From then on, my gaze was firmly on the Tooth, Am Baisteir and Sgurr nan Gillean. The wind was increasing and for the first time in the day, cloud was swirling around in the Lota Corrie below. A slight disappointment that I would not climb Naismith’s route and experience the crux on The Tooth or climb the fierce pinnacle, The Baisteir with its axe poised in mid chop as its Gaelic name, The Executioner suggests. Despite that, I was really enjoying the experience, still relishing the atmosphere and the views. Alone and content in the midst of this amazing gabbro architecture. A contour onto the west ridge and one final committing scramble up Nicolson’s chimney before gaining the much-prized summit of Sgurr nan Gillean at 9.40pm.

Sgurr nan Gillean

The wind had died away. “Relishing the silence”, I spent at least 15 minutes enthralled by that jagged arc, that tangled mass of rock that swept all the way back to Gars Bheinn where I had stood almost 12 hours earlier. All alone in this wildly impressive heart of the mountains. A wider sweep of the eye embraced a visual feast of sunlit seas and distant islands. A slowly setting sun over the Minch and Outer Hebrides. Infinity and beyond! Faltering daylight and quickly adjusting eyes saw me down the South East Tourist Route and steep screes. I was treading on air and not rocks. The ego was experiencing a feeling of completion and contentment. However, the alter ego wasn’t so sure about this “completion” business. “Och, keep your feet firmly on the ground lassie. Remember, you contoured under Bidean, the Tooth and the Baisteir.” OK, I’m not a purist, I didn’t follow the crest exclusively, I hadn’t technically completed the Ridge, but I was still happy with the day. I had come further than I had ever imagined when we set out that morning. I didn’t particularly care about my non-purist status; a judgement call based on safety considerations had over-ridden that. I couldn’t help looking across at those three lonely peaks of Garbh Bheinn, Clach Glas and Bla Bheinn. Only an extra 4,000 feet of climbing to complete “The Greater Outer Manly Traverse”. No thanks, another time, another challenge, I’ve a lift to catch at midnight from Slig back to Glenbrittle. Brian Forrest, a non-climbing sea kayaker was the “angel in waiting” to whisk me back to camp. Floating on a Skye high, soaking in a Skye gloaming and dreaming about a Skye pint, I made my way across the final 6km of soggy moorland towards the lights of Sligachan. On the stroke of midnight, 17 hours 20 minutes after leaving Glenbrittle, I reached the Slig Hotel. I was very content with what I had achieved but knew I’d be back to complete the task. A Ridge so close. A Ridge too far!

Roseroot on Sgurr a Ghreadaigh

(This article is a sequel to the article published in IMC Newsletter, Autumn 2002)

(by Kevin Byrne, from IMC Newsletter Summer 2000)
A return trip to the Black Cuillin of Skye.

My first, and only other, visit to the Black Cuillin of Skye took place twenty odd years ago on a celebrated IMC meet. Finding the Ridge in perfect conditions, that visit resulted in a successful traverse over two days which was immortalised in an article by David Walsh recounting both the adventure and the rivalry between the two IMC ropes of Peter Gargan and myself and David with Peter Norton.

Needless to say, that lightning, first time and, most importantly, successful visit to the ridge still holds many emotional memories. A return visit to Skye, to sample once again the beauty and challenge of the Cuillin, was something I had long thought about. So, an invitation from Alistair Dunn of Belfast to join a party intent on doing the Ridge was enthusiastically accepted. The number eventually expanded to six with two from Belfast, two from Dublin, and one each from Toronto and London.

Driving north from the Troon ferryport on Friday, the weather was everything we feared — wind, rain and a cloud level about the height of a double decker bus. But the forecast for Sunday and Monday was good and so we made our plans to leave Glenbrittle late Saturday evening with the intention of bivvying on the Ridge and completing the traverse on Sunday.

At noon on Monday there was driving rain in Glenbrittle but by 5.00pm it was clear if still a bit windy and cool. We took our time on the walk in, intending only to climb the first peak, Gars Bheinn, before settling down for the night. Even going slowly, we could not ignore the huge slog needed to ascend Gars Bheinn but the consolation was the magnificent panorama that expanded with every foot gained. The view south from the slopes of Gars Bheinn out across to the islands of Soay, Eigg, Rum etc is breathtaking on a fine evening but even that is overshadowed by the wild grandeur of the Cuillin which only comes into full focus when the summit ridge is reached and Lough Coruisk is first seen.

Sgurr Alasdair with the Great Stone Shoot

In the event we managed to move a bit along the ridge as far as Sgurr nan Eag above Coir’ a’ Ghrunnda before opting to avail of some of the many bivvy sites along this part of the ridge. Before settling down, Eimhin and Scott, the young tigers of the party, decided they would take a quick hop over to Sgurr Dubh Mor which lies a little way off the main ridge and which the rest of us vowed to leave out the following morning. The quick hop took an hour and it was in rapidly failing light that the two returned at 10.45pm. Fortunately at this time of the year in Skye it doesn’t really get dark and once the cloud cover dispersed completely there was light in the sky all night.

Eimhin McManus belaying at the top of the Thearlaich Dubh Gap

After a pleasant if quite cold bivvy (this time complete with goretex bivvy bag) we slowly got underway some time around 6.00am. Soon enough we ran into the first difficulties of the day…not everyone wanted to traverse An Caisteal, though it is on the main ridge, and some were not too happy unroped on some of the more exposed sections of scrambling, especially as the rock was still very cold. Eventually we reached the first major difficulty — the Thearlaich Dubh Gap, (Scottish V. Diff meaning at least Hard Severe) — and in classic fashion proceeded to waste far too much time while all the party climbed. It seems we spent over two hours in descending and ascending the gap by which time everyone had frozen hands and dampened spirits. In retrospect, the time spent here and in moving together as a party of six as far as King’s Chimney undoubtedly resulted in our not finishing the Ridge.

Kevin Byrne in King’s Chimney on Sgurr Mhic Choinnich

King’s Chimney (which we had missed out on due to a queue on the last occasion) was a delight and was the point at which the party finally broke into three ropes of two. The route from there to the Inaccessible Pinnacle is probably the most frequently traversed part of the Ridge — being a major part of the circuit of Coire Lagan. Accordingly the route-finding is straightforward. The ascent of the Pinnacle itself is no more than an exposed Diff climb (Diff even by Scottish standards) and is followed by what must be the most photographed abseil in the world.

Thereafter the real grind of the ridge begins and the individual peaks (and sub-peaks and peaklets, and pinnacles and ascents and descents etc etc ) of Sgurr na Banadich, Sgurr a’ Ghreadaidh and Sgurr a’ Mhadaidh all blur into one another as time seems to move too quickly and progress seems to slow right down as the relentless search for the correct route goes on and on. No wonder the guide book describes this as one of the most committing sections of the Ridge.

The weather was perfect and the fabled Cuillin mist did little but make ghostly appearances from time to time — no doubt to remind us of our good fortune. The wind too was absent which made the narrower sections so much more pleasant. But the downside of such warm and sunny weather was that before we had crossed Sgurr a Mhadaidh, Eimhin was just about out of water and we were down to sharing mine (in fairness, and in deference to my remaining water if not my age, he did carry the rope!). A chance meeting with a party coming the other way advised us that we could find water by descending about 100 feet towards some wet looking patches…in the end all we got was a penalty of twenty minutes that we could have done without. The same party was later to give two of our group a full litre of water…we certainly would have preferred that to the futile directions.

Eventually we reached that most frustrating of peaks — Bidein Druim nam Ramh with its three confusing summits. The first summit was reached and passed quickly enough and we were soon on the middle summit. Unfortunately the way off here was far from obvious and consultations with the guide book (“Skye Scrambles”, just published) yielded little by way of useful information. References to the north or other side when the compass is not reliable and with encouraging words like “The easiest descent from here is to return the same way” we again spent longer here than we would have liked.

After Bidein Druim nan Ramh the final challenge of Am Basteir almost seems atainable but once again the deceptive distances and challenges of the Cuillin combine to make the journey longer than it seems. The traverse of An Caisteal and Bruach na Frithe are by no means simple and route finding difficulties present themselves right to the end. There are also a couple of crevasse like clefts on An Caisteal which have to be jumped — a nice test of nerve and steadiness.

Two parties of two had passed us on this section — one party of sporting “Iron Man Triathlon” Tee shirts which seemed to sum up the progress they were making. The other party were also moving well but not quite in the same league. In the event we caught up on and passed this party on Bruach na Frithe where one was curled up obviously feeling the effects of the sun and the huge effort of the day. As we didn’t see them after that we assumed they descended.

By the time we arrived at the Baisteir Tooth time was marching on. It was rapidly approaching 9.00pm and the mist had finally descended. We were now faced with the dilemma of whether to press on in the certain knowledge that it would mean another bivvy (with little or no water) or whether to descend. By this time we knew that the other four in our party had quit the Ridge earlier (text messaging on mobile phones is a great man!) and were now back in Carbost enjoying good food and an intensive rehydration programme. After waiting at the gap about 20 minutes hoping the mist would clear so we could at least get a good look at Naismith’s Route on the Tooth, we finally opted to call it a day and headed for Fionn Coire and Sligachan. Of course we were disappointed at not finishing completely but we were more than happy to have had such a magnificent day on the finest hills in these islands. Another lightning raid — perfect conditions again.

The walk out to Sligachan was a tortuous affair after such a long day and suffice it to say that it was two extremely weary bodies that finally reached the Hotel at around 12.30am. Thank God that it is bright enough to walk on Skye at midnight in mid-Summer.

A Ridge Too Far

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