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By Darren Lambert - June 2003
I had been waiting for a chance to attempt this classic mountaineering outing for years. May/June seemed to be the ideal time for an attempt, so when our old mate Tim came looking for potential partners, he needed to look no further. The combination of school & public holidays in France & UK, and the amount of annual leave left only a narrow window of opportunity. The plan was to travel to Skye on the Wednesday, walk to the start of the route on Thursday evening, bivvi, complete the route on Friday, travel home on Saturday, attend Mark Smith's xth birthday party in Suffolk on the Sunday (where for the mathematicians, 30ish<x<50ish). Best the weather be good on Friday then.
The forecast looked reasonable, but by no means conclusive, however we took a chance. Clare & I set out for Skye as planned, picking up Tim at Glasgow airport, and arriving in Glenn Brittle around 2am Thursday morning. As we emerged from our tents at 8am, we took stock of our surroundings - plenty of campers, the sea, the beach, and the low cloud. No visible ridge. A call to the Culverhouse Weather Centre however revealed a good forecast for Friday, and the instruction "Go For It!". So go for it we did. After a couple of hours agonizing over how much gear (weight) to take, and a couple of hours driving the car 15 miles to Sligachan then cycling back, we set out for Gars-bheinn at around 6pm. Between three we took two 50m half ropes, a basic rack (nuts 3, 5-10; Friends 1.5, 2.5, 3.5; two mid-range hexes; 4 quickdraws; and two 8 foot slings each). Personal gear - Bivvi Bag, waterproofs, Thermarest (wimps), Lightweight Sleeping Bag (wimp), food, 4 litres water, harness & helmet.
One of the guides describes the ascent of Gars-bheinn's scree slopes as "an early test of character". Another mentions "purgatorial". I couldn't describe it any better. We arrived on the summit at 9.30pm, in the cloud, and it was cold - the bivvi spots are right on the summit. Straight to bed then.
We had set our alarms for 5am although I didn't need it. I had been counting down the seconds since about 3am when I woke up feeling quite cold. Clare seemed in the best humour as she claimed to have been just warm enough in fleece, full Gore-Tex and sleeping bag. I couldn't wait to get moving.
We met a couple of disheartened souls travelling in the opposite direction, just before the ascent to Sgurr nan Eag. It turns out they had bivvied in Coir' a' Ghrunnda and were off to bag Gars-bheinn, however they had already got lost in the cloud on Sgurr nan Eag. They never did catch us. We were using Andy Hyslop's miniguide which we found excellent - very few wrong turns over often complex ground. The guide saw us safely to Sgurr Dubh Mor, and our second Munro. The cloud was kind of clearing, and we were on guide-book time - just. Traversing over Sgurr Dubh na Da Bheinn and down to Bealach Coir' an Lochain we overtook two more souls who had also bivvied in Coir' a' Ghrunnda. They had bagged Gars-bheinn and Sgurr nan Eag the previous evening - sneaky, and obviously not quite as stylish as our own attempt of the whole ridge in one day. While the sneaks scoffed cake, we scrambled up to the lip of the TD Gap - reported to be the most technical bit of the traverse. Abseiling into the gap we made a full assessment of the route out on the north side - a steep green crack, absolutely running with water. From the guide, we were to expect a grade of V-Diff or Severe. Frankly, the theoretical grade was irrelevant. Rock boots wouldn't have helped, even if we had them with us. It was treacherous, to say the least. Tim lead it and made it look hard. By the time Clare had seconded, the cake-eating sneaks had already decided they had no chance of leading it themselves. They asked if we would take their rope up. We did, and we would be glad later.
After I had also made the climb look desperate, we packed the ropes and continued to the summit of Sgurr Thearlaich, making the obligatory detour to bag the third Munro - Sgurr Alasdair, the highest point on the island. By this time the sun was out and we could see most of the ridge ahead. We had lost time on the TD Gap, and we seemed to have an awful lot still to do. Descending into Bealach Mhic Choinnich we had a brief debate about the line of King's Chimney, the second part of the ridge that called for ropes. We agreed that it was the streaming, dripping corner crack (what else?) with the move out right under the overhang. Again, Tim stepped onto the front of the rope and made it look interesting. Easier than the TD Gap, but rock boots would have been welcome this time - for the traverse under the overhang. Three safely up and onto the summit of our fourth Munro - Sgurr Mhic Choinnich.
A brief stop to pack the ropes, have a bite to eat, a glug of water and survey the route ahead. We were now well behind time, so we decided to miss out the direct ascent of An Stac, which looked enormous. Instead we scrambled up an easier line on the west side - to the base of the Inaccessible Pinnacle. A stroke of luck - no queue. A team had just completed the route and told us they had waited an hour and a half, due to a slow team ahead. We decided to move together for speed, which gave Tim the chance to tie his first Alpine Butterfly in anger. It was a joy to climb on dry rock, and in such a fantastic position. Within the half hour, we were striding off the summit of Sgurr Dearg towards Midget Ridge and Sgurr na Banachdich, Munro number six. This was a significant summit. It was as far as Tim had reached on a previous attempt. This was also where the ridge took a turn toward the north-east - making an escape back to Glen Brittle ever further. It was 3pm and decision time. We were three hours behind schedule, with an estimated arrival time on the summit of Sgurr Nan Gillean of Midnight, if the guide-book was to be believed. I felt quite disheartened at this point however we made a decision to push on - the weather was still good, and we had our bivvi gear.
Having made a slight wrong turn on the descent of Sgurr na Banachdich, we re-gained the correct line over the pleasant top of Sgurr Thormaid. The south ridge of Sgurr a' Ghreadaidh loomed ahead. The scramble up the ridge was very pleasant, as was the traverse between false and real summits. At the summit of our seventh Munro we met some very charitable chaps who donated some vital energy in the form of chocolate and bananas. Our water was low and Tim had run out of food. We were actually going very well at this point, and I was perking up. We scrambled down some tricky terrain to An Dorus then straight on towards Sgurr a' Mhadaidh, Munro number eight, followed by its three tops, which provided the steepest and most technical scrambling so far. Arriving at the grassy Bealach na Glaic Moire, we re-assessed our position. 5.30pm and we completed the last section in guide book time (just). Still on for a midnight finish. The next section over Bidein Druim nan Ramh was billed by some as the crux from the route finding and technical scrambling perspectives. At this point we convinced ourselves that we only had the resources to make Bruach na Frithe - still four hours away. The Bhasteir tooth would have to wait for another day. At least we had the chance to traverse Bidein in good conditions, which would be valuable if we came back another time.
Cracking on, and as the summit of Bruach na Frithe disappeared into cloud, we set about the south summit of Bidein. Good scrambling and very enjoyable, save for the awkward descent into the gap between summits. Crossing the rock that bridged the gap, the ascent to the main summit wasn't half as difficult as it had looked, however the descent on the other side proved a little troublesome. We had been advised to spend time looking for the correct route here - so we did. Eventually we descended into the gap below the north peak via an unlikely looking line - the first bit was quite tricky. The last bit into the gap looked desperate to tired eyes, so we made a short abseil. The north peak reared up ahead of us and our hearts sank. The scree gully down into Coir a Tairneilear looked more inviting, which is saying something. 7.30pm and we had been on the move for fourteen hours. If we descend now, we might even make the pub.
As it turned out the descent was quite challenging - loads of scree to sap whatever energy we had left, followed by unexpected cliffs where it had looked like a grassy downhill jog. We drank from a very refreshing waterfall, which was heaven after spending so long rationing water to small glugs. With the main challenges over we had a choice to make. A four mile walk over the moor to Sligachan, and the car - e.t.a. past closing time. Or, a mile and a half walk to the Glen Brittle road and the hope of hitching a lift to the campsite. The latter sounded like the best bet, and we arrived at the road just before 10pm. Clare virtually laid down in the road to stop the first car - going in the wrong direction, and not even to Sligachan. The second car was going in the right direction, however it had five up so we didn't even bother sticking out our thumbs. Nevertheless, the car screeched to a halt, window down. It was the sneaky cake eaters, with family. It turned out they had baled out at the TD gap, but felt they owed us one for taking their rope up. Without arguing, we spent the four miles back to the campsite with our feet trailing out of their hatchback - our rucksacks on their laps. Heaven. Beers at the tent. Heaven.
So, a failed attempt but a fantastic day out. We'll try again one day. A world away but also thoroughly enjoyable was a pint of Mauldons in Mark Smith's back garden on the Sunday afternoon.
Darren