Run to the Hills

Late spring/early summer is prime time for heading to Scotland's mountain crags for some fine rock action. There's usually a spell of great weather at this time of year, and the evil midges haven't awoken from their winter slumber.

I've been out and about a wee bit in the hills the past couple of weekends - Garbh Bhienn, Glen Nevis and Lochnagar - and had myself a blast. It's led me to ponder the wondrous nature of it all, which I bring to you via those magic internet tubes they've been digging up your street to install.

I love the full-sensory experience of mountain cragging. The 'crackcrackcrack' of the nesting grouse, the musky aroma of bog myrtle, the welcome feel of the lip at the back of that granite sloper, the tin-foil taste of adrenaline in your mouth. Most of all, though, it's the views. Spending so much time on a rock face means you get to see the landscape transform throughout the day - herds of deer swarm by, the clouds do their thing (sometimes all the way down in the valley) and the shadows stretch off into the evening. There's no way I'd have the patience to see that sort of thing in real life, so getting to experience it is like getting the free gift in your bowl of climb-o-pops (except you don't end up leaving it lying around and eventually just getting it stuck in your foot).

The climbing itself is usually great too. Being four pitches up from the corrie floor makes everything that little bit more committing, and a spot of exposure always makes things more fun.

I think, though, that the most compelling thing about mountain cragging is exemplified by the chap in the foreground:


Sam's a fairly gnarly sport climber who's just crossed about 100m of steep snow to get to the base of the rock. He's in the most excruciating pain any man is likely to feel because of the hot aches in his hands. The route he's come to climb is almost comically easier (on paper) than his usual fare of overhanging crimp-fests, but will feel disproportionately hard. There's no glory to be had for him climbing this, or anything approaching what most people would call 'fun'. I ask him the next day what he thought of the route, and he grins from ear to ear and says 'awesome'.

Says it all, really.