Paul on the first ascent of Haramosh:
For our wedding anniversaries I try to give
my wife, who doesn't climb much, a present of a memorable adventure. I thought
The Old Man of Stoer in the North West of Scotland would provide it; a VS/HVS
route, exposure, abseils, a swim to the base, what more could she ask? On the
day, she won the toss for the swim lowering herself into the icy sea with the
rope end tied to her waist. I rigged the Tyrolean and came over dry and fully
clad with the rest of the climbing gear as she muttered darkly. She had a few
gripping moments climbing and coming down the airy abseils, and congratulated
herself on avoiding the fulmar chicks occupying the ledges. These sea birds
with attitude cover you with pungent puke if you get too close — not difficult
on a sea cliff, since their range is easily four feet. We had a perfect day ,after
all, the attraction of these wonderfully situated climbs is not the grade but
the whole atmosphere.
Safely back at the top of the mainland
cliff Marea said how much she'd enjoyed it. Was this the moment to tell her
what I'd spotted as we sat in the sunshine atop the Old Man. For clearly
visible half a mile north were two very prominent lines on a striking piece of
cliff at the actual Point of Stoer. The new Northern Highlands guidebook made
no mention of any climbs in the area other than on the Old Man, so I innocently
suggested a picnic for the next day.
As we set off she looked suspiciously at my
enormous pack but I said I had some gear to maybe shunt something while she was
painting. Marea settled down with her watercolours and I scrambled along the
narrow point to the top of the very large corner I had seen. With perfect,
clean rock it looked just too good to be true. I tied off my 180ft rope and
threw it down the cliff, the end whistling out of sight towards the sea.
Abseiling down the corner I soon realised after kicking off a few loose blocks
that indeed it had not been climbed and surprisingly looked fairly easy. One
large block I inadvertently knocked off ricocheted down my rope, but checking
quickly I couldn't see any damage. (A week or so later back in Borrowdale, I
was doing a free abseil on a single strand down a possible new route on Upper
Falcon Crag when right before my eyes the sheath parted and out spurted the
innards of the rope. I quickly clamped an ascender above the tear and then tied
an overhand knot around it before I could continue—very upset at losing my
best rope.)
The Old Man of Stoer
I carried on descending with the rope fortunately
reaching a platform about 160ft down, just above the high tide mark. I clipped
on the Shunt and marvelled as I climbed back up this superb line, at about
Severe standard. I enthused over it to Marea and since I'd luckily brought her
shoes and harness in the pack it wasn't too long before I persuaded her to
abseil down the single fixed rope to the platform. Using our spare 9mm rope we
climbed the two pitch route with much enjoyment. Although to our right was a
very large bird colony we met no nesting birds on this climb, which we called
simply The Great Comer.
About 40ft to its left was the other corner
line I had spotted from the Old Man but inspection from above was difficult
because of the overhangs in that area of the cliff. I got Marea down to the
platform again so that I could attempt this route on sight. It looked quite
spectacular and a lot more difficult but I convinced her if it proved too hard
for her, she could jumar back up the abseil rope. I had to descend slightly to
reach the foot of the corner, a little below the high water mark. Once in the
corner the climbing was much easier than it appeared and a wonderful Hard
Severe. One 11Oft pitch brought me to a flat edge under a roof right on the
prow of the Point of Stoer.
Marea soon joined me, pleasantly surprised
by the reasonably easy grade. A few feet above the belay ledge was a perfect
roof split by a head sized off width crack. Climbing this crack would have made
the route much more difficult but it just looked too tempting. The alternative
was a very exposed, scary looking traverse under the roof and above another
roof into territory with no obvious outcome. After a couple of attempts at the
crack, where both times my helmet became jammed, I realised a slip after
cutting loose through the roof could result in me hanging in space by my helmet
— not a pretty sight. Now I would have to make the exposed traverse right which
once again proved easier than it looked.
The lines of Haramosh and The Great Corner
A little groove appeared to the right of
the roof and enabled me to traverse left until I was back at the top of the
crack and directly above Marea. So far the route had been free of any puking
fulmars. Now ten feet from the top sat a very fat chick and by the look on his
face, he was fully loaded... On the Old Man of Hoy I'd encountered both adult
birds and chicks defending themselves with an apparent inexhaustible supply so
I developed the technique of waggling my foot just out of range enticing them
to discharge and nipping past in the few gulping seconds they take to reload.
Fortunately this one was in a good position for the waggle technique. I dodged
as two good-sized bursts of half-digested fish went whizzing down the crack to
score a direct hit on Marea's helmet and brand new wind parka.
She was not a
happy lady.The birds once overtaken show no further
signs of distress, and generally sea birds act unfazed by our presence. I've
seen puffins happily feeding sand eels to their young as I was belayed two
feet away. My timing was perfect and I pulled out unscathed on to the top of
this great little route. The final pitch, though very exposed, proved no more
than mild VS — a truly perfect outcome to a perfect day. I held my nose and
gave Marea a celebration hug. We had been very fortunate to find two three star
routes of pure enjoyment in a perfect setting and I would not swap the experience
of climbing these two gems for the World's hardest E9 bolt ladder.
The next day we headed north to the sea
cliffs of Sheigra near Cape Wrath. Here I shunted some excellent routes put up
by my old Alpha Club friend, Paul Nunn, who began exploring in this area when I
was living in the US. I had missed this early scene but noticed in the new
guide that Paul was still exploring these areas, and resolved to tell him how
great I found them, and if ever he needed a partner I'd be really keen.
Arriving
home we found that two days before our ascents on the Point of Stoer, Paul had
been killed in the Karakoram on the way down from the first ascent of a
mountain called Haramosh 11. Long ago in 1965 he and I shared some good times
new routeing on Eagle Crag in Borrowdale and one of these routes he named The
Sprogg in honour of my son Andrew, born two days prior to the ascent. In
return, I thought it a fitting tribute to name our beautifully situated climb
on the Point of Stoer Haramosh. Paul's favourite retreat was the North West of
Scotland and the Stoer Peninsula embodies all the mystic beauty he loved so
well.
Paul Ross: First published in High-162.
All images-Paul Ross Collection
