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Telephone: +44 (0)1822 880277 • E-mail martin@spirit-of-adventure.com
Telephone: +44 (0)1822 880277 • E-mail martin@spirit-of-adventure.com
The mission was simple, climb the famed rock stack known as the Old Man Of Stoer. Our team had been hand-picked for our climbing skills, our fitness and endurance, and our wiliness to fork our considerable sums of money for a flight to Inverness, car hire and other expenses over a bank holiday weekend.
Led by Spirit of Adventure co-founder John Diplock, four of us drove the eighty or so miles north to Stoer in Scotland's remote and beautiful Sutherland. Busy main roads from Inverness to the bustling port of Ullapool gave way to quiet roads north of Ullapool, and then to deserted single tracks along the Sutherland coast. Our destination for the night was a wild campsite on the cliff-tops looking out over the Minch and the Western Isles.
Arriving on the kind of warm, clear night rarely encountered in the Scottish Highlands, we decided to bivvy out. Sleeping on thick heather under a canopy of stars, the only sounds the lapping of the sea below us and the gentle rhythm of John's snoring beside us, made for a magical introduction to this little-visited wilderness in Scotland's remote north-west.We didn't catch our first glimpse of the Old Man until next morning. As we lugged our gear down to the edge of the cliffs, the unmistakable out line of the rock pinnacle suddenly came to view. Two hundred and forty feet tall, at first glance it looks like a sheer, smooth needle rising vertically out of the water. As you approach, the various cracks, lumps and seams covering the face of the stack become visible, making the prospect of climbing it seem more realistic. But even at close quarters it remains a formidable sight, standing on its own offshore from the coastline. We scrambled down to the bottom of the cliffs with some trepidation.For a trio of novice climbers, the knowledge that Stoer was not scaled until the 1960's adds to the intimidating presence of the stack. Ullapool GP Tom Patey, a celebrated sea-cliff climber known to his contemporaries as "Dr Stack", made the first ascent after using a ladder to cross the stretch of water from the coast to the base of the stack. As purists, our group naturally shunned such use of artificial aids. Instead we sent John to swim across with a rope, then made our way over in relative comfort. It was at this point our instructor revealed a hitherto unsuspected character flaw. John may seem like the rugged outdoor type, but he certainly proved reluctant to get into that water, even on a bright sunny morning.Once John had returned to his normal colour, we began the ascent. The classic route up the Old Man involves a difficult traverse along the base, which we bypassed. The first pitch of our chosen route was a straightforward enough climb and we were soon regrouping on a ledge. John had almost completely stopped shaking by now and it no longer seemed likely that he would lose any fingers. We continued to climb up firm, craggy Torridon sandstone, finding plenty of holds and making steady progress until the crux of the climb.
At the end of the second rope, I had plenty of time to survey the scenery and found myself being watched by a large seal that popped up out of the sea the base of the Old Man. The coast seems to continue forever, and inland the scenery is a vast wilderness of lakes, mountains and moorlands. We had seen nobody else since we arrived at Stoer other than two canoeists in sea kayaks and a group of climbers who arrived shortly before we reached the summit. As John commented, probably only a few hundred climbers have completed this ascent since Patey. Yet technically the climb is only HVS (hard very severe), with little to cause problems once the traverse to the base is completed. The sheer remoteness and inaccessibility of Sutherland keeps it unspoilt.
As the last climber, it often seems that those in front of you are moving painfully slowly over what looks easy terrain…until you come to climb yourself. The crux of the Old Man proved no exception, and I tried to suppress panicked thoughts of how exactly I would be recovered from my dangling position if I fell off. But eventually I managed to haul myself up the toughest part of the climb, a slightly overhanging bulge on the face. Just before the final pitch to the top, four of us sat on a shelf little bigger than a window ledge, feet dangling over the sea nearly two hundred feet below us. The last pitch involves a short chimney ascent, feet and back wedged against the walls of the wide crack in the face of Stoer.
A short climb above this and you're there- surely one of the most spectacular summits anywhere. The top is just big enough for four of us to stand on and I experience a sense of exhilaration tinged with relief. After John has finished climbing back down to the ledge to retrieve a bit of gear I couldn't get out, we start to prepare for the long abseil down. The height of the Old Man means two separate abseils are required and I have to swallow down my reluctance to step backwards into space. The two abseils to the bottom are - for me, anyway - heart in mouth stuff, but as satisfying in their own way as the climb up.
By the time we get down, some six hours after we set off, it's a hot, sunny day and the sea is sparkling and….well, almost inviting. John, for some reason, declines our offer to join us for a swim.
Alan McNee (reporter / climber), Climber with Ronnie Weir (expedition leader / climber) Alan Cottell (Navigation / climber) John Diplock (Spirit of Adventure / climber) on the epic ascent of The Old Man of Stoer