The story of my trip up The Old Man of Stoer starts in Tremadog, a week before we were due to go to Scotland.
I’d been climbing with Wendy and Ross for about a year and they were finally introducing me to multi-pitch in preparation for Ross. 30th birthday trip. They chose Creagh Dhu Wall and as usual I trusted their judgement and just went with it. I was feeling a little nervous, the approach was awkward and the top of the climb was a long way away, not to mention it had rained all night. Ross was leading the first pitch and had just disappeared around the corner when a couple rocked up at the bottom of the climb. I was belaying and Wendy was talking me through how the ropes would work at the top of the pitch. It soon became apparent that the couple and another friend that turned up wanted to climb Creagh Dhu Wall and the woman was frustrated that we were there. The couple proceeded to have an argument as they tried to make a decision weather to wait or move on. Eventually the woman acknowledged us and asked how experienced the three of us were. I can be quite hot headed and as I thought it was rude of her to ask I thought it best that I let Wendy respond, she explained that herself and Ross climb frequently and that this was my first multi-pitch (actually they are both SPA and current instructors – Wendy has the habit of underselling herself). They were obviously trying to figure out how long we were going to be, which made me feel under more pressure. Their friend then asked if we had rock boots, looking at our walking boot clad feet, all I could think was ‘please just go away.’ They were about to leave when Ross radioed that he was safe, so they decided to wait and see. I considered their behaviour to be quite rude and against the ethos I had come to associate with climbing, perhaps my next move wasn’t much better. After beginning my ascent I deliberately faffed around with the first bit of gear, I was nervous enough as it was, the last thing I needed was these three watching my every move. Sure enough it worked, they must have decided I’d take too long to climb and moved on. At the top of the pitch Wendy reassured me that that doesn’t normally happen, a phrase I knew well by the end of the day. The rest of the climb was a bit nerve wracking but not too difficult, the hand/smear traverse was a bit slippy which made reaching the top even better.
I put complete trust in Wendy and Ross and have a lot of respect for them as climbers, so when they say ‘we ab off that tree’ that’s what I do. Wendy went down first but realised half way that the rope had got caught around the corner on a ledge and was now above her. With no way to retrieve it she attached herself to another tree and Ross came down second to sort the rope. I had never abseiled on my own before so Ross had had to sort out my prusik before descending, which meant attaching my belay device via a sling. So when it was my turn and I approached the overhang with a crack above it my body swung into the overhang and my weight on the sling pushed the two ropes into the crack and jammed my belay device. I was stuck. My legs weren’t long enough to reach the wall to push myself away so all I could do was jump and hope it would come free. A quick shout down to Ross ‘If I let go with both hands will I die?’ the response was ‘no’ so with a wing and prayer I jumped and freed myself. To a more experienced abseiler that probably doesn’t sound too scary and to be honest I just enjoyed the challenge.
The last climb of the day was Christmas Curry and all was going well until I was half way through seconding the middle pitch. I was trying to retrieve a piece of gear from inside a crack, which I couldn’t see very well, and holding onto a nice big jug with my other hand. At this point it started to belt it down with hail. Still trying to retrieve the gear I now had a mini waterfall pouring from the jug and down into my sleeve and Ross shouting for slack so that he could get into a cave for shelter. I slipped and slid up the climb to Wendy’s belay ledge and literally hugged the wall knowing that the only way was up. On reaching the top of the climb I was massively relieved and exhilarated, but I hadn’t been put off I just had to choose my clothing more wisely for the sea stack next week. Incidentally when we reached the top of the first pitch of Christmas Curry a couple appeared at the bottom of the climb and asked very politely ‘we are lost, we are looking for Christmas Curry?’ To which we responded they had the right place, they seemed very nice and were more than happy to wait for us to move on before they climbed, only put off by the rain, restoring my faith in the climbing community.
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