The Pinnacle of UK Mountaineering

Whilst I have been lucky enough to explore some of the most incredible places in the world, I am undeniably guilty of not taking the time to appreciate what is on my doorstep.

Now that I am living and working full time full time in the UK, I have spent the last few years making a concerted effort to keep my adventures closer to home and find out, fist hand, what my home nation has to offer. The latest incantation of this new mind-set was our trip to the Isle of Skye to experience the fabled Cuillin Ridge.

For enthusiasts of the mountains, this humbling range needs no introduction. For those a little less familiar, a traverse of The Cuillin Ridge is uncontested as the pinnacle of British mountaineering. It is found in the Black Cuillin mountains on the Isle of Skye, off the west coast of Scotland, and is a continuous knife-edge ridgeline that links all 22 summits in the range. I could waffle on, but the British Mountaineering Council sums it up nicely:

“Describing the Cuillin Ridge as a scramble would be like billing K2 as an exciting mountaineering route – true, but fatally understated. It’s not the technical climbing that makes traversing the 22 peaks such a legendary challenge, although the 20-mile round trip crosses plenty of grade 3+ territory and takes in three Severe grade climbing pitches. No, the real reason why so many attempted traverses end in failure is the enormous physical and mental toll posed by this Alpine-style epic”

Attempting the traverse in the Summer is a rite of passage for many a mountaineer and is most commonly tackled over the course of two days, with an overnight bivouac somewhere atop the ridge. Traversing over the course of two days favoured by many for a couple of reasons: Firstly, the extra time means that the very experience of being on the ridge can be soaked up and enjoyed to the fullest. Make no mistake, the two days will still be epics, but there will be time to stop and smell the proverbial roses.

Secondly, it is simply much safer. The Ridge demands competent rope work, and competent rope work takes time. Eliminating the need to rush any of the crux sections will mean there is time to double check knots, place that extra piece of fall protection and take a second to properly assess a route before committing.

For the elite, and those that know the Cuillins like the back of their hand, a traverse can be tackled in a single day. In fact, the current record holder, Finley Wild, completed the traverse in a superhuman 2 hours 59 mins… Respect.

In winter, however, the Cuillins morph into a different beast altogether, one that could go toe-to-toe with the most demanding alpine routes that Europe has to offer. This is what my climbing partner, Jack, and I had in our sights. Jack, aka ‘Bear’, and I met whilst living and working in the Sierra Mountains of California and have been lucky enough to share many an adventure since then.

We spent months pouring over maps, honing our rope skills and burning through our savings with concerning ease to make sure that we were as equipped as we’d ever be; this was not the kind of trip to ‘make-do’ with janky old gear! Soon enough we were sat, along with Jack’s Dad (an iron man veteran and all round machine of a man), in our tent at the base of the Cuillins packing and repacking ready for an early start the next morning.

It was a predictably cold start, and once the stoves were fired up boiling water for the porridge, we ventured outside the tent to scope out the conditions that we would be facing on the looming Cuillins – in classic British mountain style, they were concealed by a veil of thick cloud with only the foothills visible with a dusting of snow. I was expecting a buzz of activity at the camp filled with climbers going through each of their rituals before setting out but, to my surprise, we were the only ones showing any signs of life… Perhaps everybody else knew something we didn’t!

By 7am we were setting off into the clouded unknown to summit Sgurr Nan Gillean, the first of the 22 Summits that form the ridge. Of course, it didn’t take us long to hit the snowline and find ourselves on the receiving end of what transpired to be a pretty relentless barrage of snow & hail, the kind that stings your face and makes you wince even though deep down you are loving every minute.

We reached the first Summit and, right on cue, the clouds lifted for a brief moment we were presented with the entire ridgeline in all of it’s intimidating glory. I knew the route like the back of my hand by now but I had not expected in to be so imposing in the flesh, the scale of this place was unbelievable.

Luckily, we had taken a few moments to soak up the view and make some route plans because, sure enough, as quickly as the clouds lifted they had closed back in on us and we were now very definitely alone and committed to tackling this monster.

The conditions were snowier than expected which actually made for good progress; my crampons gave good footing and the route options thus opened up a little. Having said that, the odd sign of a trail under the snow was a welcome sight and a comforting reminder that people had been here before us and we weren’t in fact on the moon! The weather behaved exactly as expected; completely unpredictable and a pain in the arse. The clouds would roll in and out and each change in conditions brought it’s own kind of pressure; if visibility was bad, intense concentration was needed as well as a cool head. If visibility was good, then it was time to make the most of it and make as much progress as possible! It was a relentless combination that proved to be exhausting both mentally and physically. Combine that with the constant exposure to potentially fatal drops and we were beginning to find out why the Cuillin Ridge has earned such a formidable reputation.

Our steady progress on the first day was eventually haltered by a weather front that closed in and never let up. Wind speeds increased and the snow began to churn again, seemingly for what would be the entire night now. Despite our intentions to spend the night on the ridge we were faced with the necessity of escaping from our position and retreating to a safer, lower position and regaining the ridge tomorrow morning. Thanks to little more than experience & luck we had the presence of mind to mark every feasible looking escape route we passed on my GPS device, so all we had to do was retrace our steps to the most recent marked point and drop off the ridge from there and find our way back to the road.

A short, tense down-climb gave way to an easy scree-run which soon dropped us at the foot of the Cuillins. It was a bittersweet moment; relief to be down and safe in less-than-ideal conditions but a twinge of longing to be up there roughing out the night. We had made the right decision, the weather continued to deteriorate and we were back in the relative safety of our tent.

With the prospect of regaining the Ridge in the morning looming over us, we lit the stoves, got some food down us and packed in for the night..

…To be continued..!