Original Image: Heinz Zac
Crazy
Sorrow. The life and death of Alan Mullin. Edited by Grant Farquhar.
264pages Paper Back. Perfect Bound. ATLANTIS PUBLISHING. £28 or £8
in e-book format.
His
hunger burns, he learns how to steal, and he learns how to fight’.
In the Ghetto Elvis Presley
No
price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning oneself.
Nietzsche
I
faced the thought of reading ‘Crazy Sorrow’ with some
trepidation, for I already knew the Alan Mullin story climbing wise,
and had read Ed Douglas’s article about his terrible death. I
feared that in learning about what had led up to that, some of my own
father’s mental breakdown would be in my recall, although unlike
Alan Mullin my sister and I never suffered physical abuse at home.
The
story begins with a short Forward by his brother Kevin, three years
younger than Alan who also eventually joined the army, finishing as a
senior NCO. There then follows an authoritative overview ‘The
discipline of Suffering’ by the historical guru of Scottish winter
climbing, Simon Richardson. This is replete from the earliest ascent
of Ben Nevis to collect plant specimens in 1771, to a winter climbing
Grade X10 and beyond two hundred years later. All the major
historical figures and their climbs are included and the story
finishes around the time Alan Mullin begins his ascents. Ascending
unbelievably in two years to the top of the grading system; which
Richardson explains of how it developed and its workings over so many
winter seasons of trial and error. Being a pendant I found only one
mistake in this excellent review, on page 20, the first ascent of the
North Face of the Droites in September 1955 was by P.Cornau and M.
Davaille.
A
major part of the book is detailing where and how Alan Mullin was
coming from; beginning with his early life growing up on two
different housing estates near Glasgow. His father was partly deaf,
earned a living as a pipe fitter, but abandoned his family when Alan
was 13, leaving him to fend for himself and his younger brother, with
a mother who sank deeper and deeper into alcoholism, living off
benefits, which resulted in Kevin being removed into care. It is
warts and all, for his father was a Protestant, and his mother a
Catholic, and once his father had departed he was moved from a
Protestant School to a Catholic one and he became a Celtic supporter;
and on one occasion actually attended at an ‘Auld Firm Derby’,
Celtic versus Rangers. This was at the latter’s ground and wearing
his Celtic shirt he was lucky to get away without a beating, for
having lost a friend and transport home he was accosted by older,
bigger Ranger’s fans who were ready for a fight having lost the
game to their Catholic Rivals. He had the sense to get his shirt off
and hide it from sight. For the uninitiated the Protestant versus
Catholic rivalry between these Clubs supporters has in the past being
the cause of much violence.
In
the early Chapters there is also violence and much fighting for
Mullin had to learn the hard way that he needed to toughen up, and
assume the role of ‘The Hardest Kid In Our Street’. And although
he was small physically he made up for this when challenged by his
level of aggression. Unless you have experienced this kind of milieu
yourself it may seem pointless but we are a product of our
environment, and if you live in any such area throughout the UK, it
is likely you too might experience such a culture. How do these sink
areas develop? When I was 15 in 1951 I had met in Wales, Mick Noon of
Glasgow’s Creagh Dhu Club (Mick is mentioned in Richardson’s
review) and he had invited me to visit him and attend a Club meet on
the Cobbler. I hitch hiked from Leeds and was met by Mick who lived
in Denmark Street in The Gorbals; a sea of run down tenements and
dilapidated saloon bars. It is from the redevelopment of such inner
city areas out into Estates/New Towns on the peripheries of major
conurbations, with many of their denizens moving there from these
districts that some sink estates seem to develop?
It is a National
disgrace that in some of these poverty and depressed levels exist
that no country should allow to-be so. But let me be clear here,
there was nothing depressed about the members of the Creagh Dhu when
I eventually met up with them. However as I was to find out later in
the mid-sixties working for a firm in the Anderston District of
Glasgow, that many of these places on the fringe of the City were
just as Alan Mullin experienced when young, districts to avoid unless
you were also willing to trade a Glasgow kiss or two!
Mullin
was determined to get himself out of his troubled environment, and as
soon as he was able, at 15 years of age he joined the army. But
incredibly he joined an English infantry regiment, The Green Jackets.
After one year of basic training as a junior soldier, he was posted
into the regiments 2nd
battalion. Having expected life to be so different in the army, he
quickly learned that it could be just as violent as it had been at
school and on the two Council estates on which he had lived. In
another life, when I was forced into National Service, before I was
posted to Manchester in February 1954, I had to undertake three weeks
of infantry training in Wiltshire. This educated me on how such can
dehumanise anyone who is of a sensitive nature, for one of those I
shared a barrack with, Rosenheim a young Jewish teenager just could
not stand the constant verbal attacks on him by the NCO’s and the
antagonism from bigoted fellow recruits, so he killed himself. In
true army style the ranks closed and though his parents along with
their MP arrived at the camp demanding answers, the true situation as
to what had happened was brushed away without any real consideration
by the officer corps.
I
think I need here to give an insight into how such training affected
Mullin, by a direct quote ‘After almost a year of training, I had
transformed from a scrawny young recruit into a finely tuned psycho
with a thirst for violence: exactly what the army was looking for’.
Over
the next 8 years Mullin served first in Northern Ireland at the
height of the troubles, then Cyprus and finally in South Georgia.
Good and bad things happened to him during these years, a positive
one was meeting his wife Marion whose first husband had also been in
the military, but who had died in a helicopter crash. But a negative
one was when nearing the end of his tour in Northern Ireland, whilst
engaged in the rumble of a game of indoor football. Rifleman versus
NCO’s he was rammed into a wall badly fracturing a knee. This was
so serious he was flown to the Woolwich Military hospital near
London, resulting in an operation and a month in bed before returning
to Belfast. His final posting in South Georgia perforce because of
the terrain meant a course in mountain training, including some ice
climbing and this is when he became fired up by a wish to become a
climber.
Unfortunately
whilst on another exercise carrying a heavy rucksack he suffered a
slipped disc which made continuing on with this outing a physical
agony. It was a big mistake to go on battling this for he was doing
himself real physical damage. I also once slipped a disc and I was
likewise in physical agony, but I had this dealt with in 48 hours by
a Neuro surgeon. It took me a few months to recover completely, but
despite moving onto light duties, Mullin’s situation became ever
more serious and eventually resulted in him needing a spinal
operation. And this eventually led on to him being discharged the
service, a decision which he found hard to contemplate, for despite
all else, he loved the army and had no wish to leave a life which he
found so conducive to his own attitude in living. By the end of his
story I had to agree with a view expressed by his brother Kevin; that
retiring him from the army on grounds of physical disability was
truly a questionable action.
On
returning to civilian life he moved with his family (his wife Marion
had two children via her first marriage, and they had a son together)
to a village near Invergordon, and for a time they seemed settled.
Although Mullin was drinking heavily, and on occasion experimenting
with drugs, and getting into fights in Clubs (he acted as a bouncer
for some short period); he unfortunately found that life in what they
had thought could be a honeyed existence in a traditional Highland
village, turned, out not to be so. Resulting in confrontation with a
family of local trouble makers which ended with criminal charges in
court, over which Mullin and his wife were completely exonerated.
They then moved 20 miles away to another village where they did find
the lifestyle that they had originally sought, with an environment
for their three children to safely grow within. However his heavy
drinking, drug taking, with bouts of anger and worries about where he
was heading; he had been only 23 years old when he left the army,
made him begin to question his mind set. And so he booked himself
into a series of appointments with a psychologist and confessed that
despite his apprehension about doing this, he found the meetings
worthwhile and even enjoyable!
He
then almost by accident rediscovered what he was good at; climbing.
In the 1990’s mixed winter routing was taking off and after what
was, an unbelievable short apprenticeship of two years, he went from
soloing at grade I to climbing at grade VIII. For Mullin, the
hardships that are hand-in-hand with Scottish winter climbing seemed
no worse than those he had come to expect in the army. Initially he
was very much self-motivated and self-taught, but in 1997 he teamed
up with Steve Paget, a highly talented but relatively unknown winter
climber. Together they focussed predominantly on mixed climbs in the
Cairngorms.
Making
full use of the equipment revolution then under away, and the new
technique of dry tooling, over the next few years either partnered by
Steve or climbing solo Mullin repeated many classic Cairngorm mixed
climbs. Simon Richardson noted that he was rapidly moving to the
forefront of Scottish winter climbing. Ascent followed ascent, a
standout climb being The Needle on the Shelter Stone Crag in a 17
hour push in 1998. A ten pitch route, the first to be graded IX. They
bettered this the following winter with an ascent of The Steeple also
on the Shelter Stone, seen by many at that time as the ultimate last
great Scottish winter problem. Again Simon Richardson opined that
this ascent was ‘without question the most sustained technical
winter route climbed in Scotland to date’.
But
others were not so complimentary, for both these climbs were made
early in the season, in the case of The Needle in late October, and I
know when I lived in Scotland it was rare that routes were in winter
condition so early in the season, but conditions in an area like The
Cairngorms change so much from year to year, and even from day to
day. However not all the responses to these ascents were critical;
Andy Kirkpatrick noted ‘Alan was a revolutionary in the history of
Scottish climbing, a total outsider who shook a closed scene to
pieces’.
He
further upped the ante by making an incredible on-sight solo first
winter ascent of Rolling Thunder on Lochnagar in December 1999 (V11
8). This in summer conditions is a four pitch, E1 5B and there was no
doubt about the cliff being in winter condition on this occasion, for
other climbers were in the area and took pictures with long lenses of
the Face on which Mullin appears as a red dot in a hanging sea of
white.
One
Chapter I really enjoyed reading was about Mullin attending the 1999
BMC International Winter Climbing meet based at Glenmore Lodge. As
the person who organised the very first such BMC International Meet
in Wales in 1973, it was interesting to note how much had changed. I
do not remember any of the attendees then being prima donnas;
although some of the 51 climbers there from 19 countries had made
major first ascents in their own countries and the Himalaya. It
seemed by 1999 some of those who were in attendance were such and one
of them in particular did not rate high on the Mullin personal
behaviour acceptance scale. However good came from this for Mullin
met Kevin Thaw and Leo Holding with whom he did gel and before the
meet was over he had an invitation to climb in the USA and Patagonia
from Thaw.
During
1999 and 2000 Mulin’s desire to widen his experience led him to the
USA, the Dolomites and Patagonia. In Yosemite he climbed his first
ever big wall climb and aid route The Prow. His first trip to
Patagonia with Kevin Thaw, an expat Brit based in California in
January/March 2000 was very successful and the pair made a free
ascent of the Czech Route (V1, 5ll+) on Fitz Roy’s West Face. This
was Alan’s first of three trips to Patagonia, the other two were to
be attempts on infamous Maestri Egger line on Cerro Torre. The first
of these attempts, climbing again with Thaw but also accompanied by
Leo Holding, ended when the latter took a leader fall badly
fracturing an ankle, and the second attempt was totally bombed out by
the constant bad weather. At least some good came out of these last
two trips for Mullin made friends with the Austrian climber Peter
Janschek and visited him to do some ice climbing of which there is
plenty in that country. The famous photographer a friend of Peter’s,
Heinz Zak accompanied them resulting in an impressive picture in
Crazy Sorrow of Alan leading an iced up route at the Rudolfshutte,
winter ski and climbing area.
Back
in winter Scotland, the first ascents or difficult repeats continued,
‘Centurion’(VIII,8) solo on Ben Nevis, The Demon Direct (IX,9) in
the Northern Corries with Steve Paget, and Crazy Sorrow (X,II) with
Steve Lynch in Lochnagar. Over this latter, the first so highly
graded, a storm of criticism erupted. ‘Pre-placed gear, abseil
inspection, aided moves etc’ being the screams from the keyboard
warriors but also some of the protectors of the Scottish winter
climbing ethic, but Mullin either did not care or pretended not to.
An innocent enquiry about this controversy by Simon Richardson hit a
raw nerve and resulted in an unfriendly response to be followed by
three abusive e-mails. And that was the last time Simon communicated
with him, although he writes that despite everything he still
regarded Alan as a friend, and that he was the best winter climber of
his day. Interestingly Dave MacLeod who also climbed with him gives
him the same high rating, but noted he was without a doubt ‘the
most intense person I’ve ever spent time or climbed with’.
(For
those interested the name ‘Crazy Sorrow’ comes from a lyric by
Bob Dylan, but it is also a book title by Susan Bowes about a deadly
family feud in the Appalachian Mountains)
In
2004 Mullin, abruptly announced he was giving up climbing, his
injuries suffered during his army career had caught up with him. He
had an operation in a private clinic in Sheffield to try to alleviate
this in 2003 but he had to accept that his injured knee was ruined.
He also still suffered from his spinal injury for which he had
continued to take an opioid pain killer.
Stopping
climbing in which his star had Shone so brightly despite the fact it
had been for such a brief period seemed to be as Kevin Thaw writes,
‘the beginning of a downward spiral’. Marion his wife noted ‘he
became very withdrawn and we could see a dramatic change in him’.
He was admitted twice in 2004 on an informal basis to the local
psychiatric hospital in Inverness. He was diagnosed with ‘Bipolar
Affective Disorder-manic phase, Personality Disorder and possibly
drug induced problems’.
He
then became an outpatient but in August 2005 he failed to attend an
appointment and thereafter had no contact with the hospital until his
next admission in 2007.He had stopped taking the antipsychotic
medications he had been described citing bad side effects. He tried
to find new directions away from climbing by studying philosophy and
psychology via the Open University. He was very enamoured of the
writings of Nietzsche. He trained as an alcohol counsellor, but
quickly gave that up, later enrolling on an anthropology course at
Aberdeen University.
The
whole terrible story then unfolds, and no one is better qualified to
give insight into its development and causes than Grant Farquhar the
books editor, for he is a practising psychiatrist. I will leave the
reader to follow this to what may seem an inevitable demise with
first a suicide attempt by slashing his wrists and walking in front
of a car on the A9 road suffering an ankle fracture, damaged ribs and
multiple soft tissue injuries. He spent eleven days in Raigmore
Hospital in Iverness before being admitted in the care of his wife as
a voluntary inpatient at the New Craigs Psychiatric hospital.
Ten
days after admission the medical staff wanted him to stay but he
wished to go home so on his own instigation he discharged himself
‘against medical advice’, although once again he was prescribed a
suitable antipsychotic- medication. There was much more suffering for
his family and Alan before the final breakdown, when he became so
delusional his wife drove to the Dingwall police station to seek
help. Two police officers followed her back to her house, and managed
to enter but Alan told them to leave, moved himself upstairs to a
bedroom warning the policeman that to come up to him would be at
their own peril. Knowing he had been in the army and was a trained
combatant the coppers then called for backup. 15 officers arrived at
the house, five in riot gear along with negotiators and dogs!
Eventually
after five hours of stand-off, and Alan threatening, under orders of
the area commander they removed him from the house. Instead of having
him sanctioned and entered into hospital, due to multiple
misunderstandings he was held in police cells and appeared the next
day at Tain Sheriff Court charged with ‘a breach of the peace!’
Instead of being removed to a psychiatric hospital he was sent down
to prison. And on March 9th
19 days after this, again due to a series of calamitous decisions,
including the stopping of ‘special observations’ and the removal
of his cellmate to attend court; when officers did check his cell
they found him hanging by a radio flex. He could not be resuscitated.
They discovered a number of suicide notes in his cell.
There
was an inquiry held into his death eighteen months later, but it
appears nothing has changed and throughout Britain there have been
numerous inquiries, but the sad conclusion is that the culture seems
to be in many cases like Mullin’s, that suicide is inevitable. I do
not think Grant Farquhar thinks this is so and there is much more to
his analysis than I have written. Preventing suicide is difficult,
but rates vary within different countries prison systems and real
effort should be made to bring the best practice into our service.
There
is then a final chapter of reflections and thoughts about the
subject, but for me my view is that Alan Mullin was the classical
case of an Outsider. Throughout history such people have appeared,
disrupted, and changed how other people think or behave about the
meaning of their lives or the approach to their activities. They are
often difficult to know but they usually make a positive contribution
to our lives, often like Alan Mullin at great cost to themselves and
those who love them.
Photograph: Ian Parnell
Crazy
Sorrow is well illustrated with many outstanding historic colour
prints and contains contributions from many other climbers and
sources. It is well produced and though highly priced is unlike any
other climbing book I have ever read; think Irvine Welsh and
‘Trainspotting’ or Colin Wilson’s ‘The Outsider’. It is a
hard read, but it touches on a subject that we all need to know much
more about. So my recommendation is despite the sadness at the
terrible outcome do, buy and read it!
Dennis Gray: 2019
