Gneiss Work

Regular readers of this newsletter (both of you) may remember that I wrote an article a couple of years ago on the theme of the best VS in Britain, describing ascents of Great-Bow Combination on Cloggy and the Old Man of Stoer.  The article concluded ‘… I reckon that Cloggy takes some beating but I’ll reserve judgement until I have made the four hour walk in to the heart of the Great Wilderness and climbed Fionn Buttress on Carnmore Crag.’

The ‘Great Wilderness’ is the name often given to the region north of Loch Maree in the North West Highlands, a spectacular area of remote mountains, beautiful lochs and huge crags.  In truth, the wilderness tag is something of an exaggeration, as at the heart of the area at Carnmore there is a large house reached by a newly rebuilt path and a concrete causeway across a loch, but there are no roads and none of the conifer forests or bulldozed tracks that spoil some parts of the Highlands.  For the hill walker the highlight is the fine summit of A’ Mhaighdean, an outstanding viewpoint and generally reckoned to be the most remote of all the Munros, while climbers are drawn by the huge crag above the house at Carnmore.  As well as two Hard Rock ticks in Dragon and Gob at HVS, the crag has an 800 foot VS called Fionn Buttress that does not feature in any of the coffee table books but still has a considerable reputation – do a search on the UKClimbing website and you will find comments like ‘the definitive Scottish mountain route’, ‘relentlessly steep and exposed VS climbing’ and ‘a candidate for the best VS in the world’.  I know that you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet, but I wanted to find out if these superlatives were justified.

The long walk into Carnmore.

Back in June 2004, I persuaded Stewart Walker to join me on the 10 mile walk in from Poolewe to Carnmore.  We arrived in early afternoon and set ourselves up in the barn that provides a primitive doss below the crag, but 3pm seemed a bit late to be setting off on an eleven pitch route and in any case there was no rush as we had food for two days, so we settled for a shorter climb.  Big mistake.  The climb we chose, a VS called Black Mischief, was pleasant enough but the next morning it rained.  Then it rained some more.  By late afternoon the weather improved and allowed us to admire the wonderful view from the top of A’Mhaighdean, but the crags were still dripping the following morning.  Exhausted of food and enthusiasm, we trudged rather dejectedly back to Poolewe.

Three years later, and Stewart and I were again heading north on the back of a forecast suggesting that the only hope of good weather was in the far north west.  Rain followed us all the way up the A9, but things improved as we went west and by the time we reached the long winding shores of Loch Maree the clouds had lifted and we were looking forward to an afternoon’s climbing.

For non-geologists, the title of this article refers to Lewisian gneiss, one of the oldest rocks in the world and the predominant rock in these parts.  It doesn’t make for spectacular mountains like the younger Torridonian sandstone, but for the climber it is splendid stuff, superbly rough and with hidden pockets and sharp holds that allow unlikely lines to be climbed at a reasonable grade.  The Carnmore crags are gneiss, but if you want to try some nice gneiss climbing without a four hour walk, follow our example and head for the Stone Valley Crag near Gairloch, only half an hour from the road but in a beautiful location looking out to the wizard’s mountain of Baosbheinn and across to Skye and Harris.  We enjoyed a pleasant afternoon climbing the three easiest routes from the SMC ‘Scottish Rock Climbs’ guide on immaculate rock where good holds and runner placements seemed to appear exactly when most needed.

Approaching the lodge at Carnmore.with the crag behind.

I suspect that, having already been dragged off on one madcap expedition that involved a 10 mile walk to spend two days in a squalid barn watching the rain fall, most people would be reluctant to repeat the experience, but Stewart was made of sterner stuff, and agreed to a return visit to Carnmore with not even a hint of protest.  He did complain when I tried to leave half of the climbing gear behind to save weight, and although we eventually compromised on what gear to take, Stewart then added some more kit to ensure that his impressively large sac was full to overflowing so there was no danger of me being outpaced on the walk in.

5 star accommodation inside the barn at Carnmore

After a leisurely start from Poolewe, we were eating lunch in the barn by 2pm, and in view of our previous experience it seemed a good idea to go straight for Fionn Buttress.  At first things didn’t go according to plan - the approach to the crag was a tiresome flog up steep boulders and grass, and then the guide book’s description of the first pitch seemed to bear scant resemblance to the topography of the cliff and we spent a while faffing about trying to find the way.  In such circumstances the best plan, especially if your route takes the easiest line, is to forget the book and follow your nose so we did just that and after two pitches I found an unmistakeable large flake at the foot of a grey slab that fitted the guide book’s description and confirmed that we were on the right route.

Now the route started in earnest, with a bold lead by Stewart up the slab, climbed on pockets in otherwise blank rock with a long run-out at the top, followed by another VS pitch up a water-worn corner, also without much gear apart from a cunningly threaded microwire that gave moral support rather than actual security.  After a few pitches we could now appreciate the vast scale of the crag, and when belaying it was hard to avoid negative thoughts, especially when a rain shower passed a couple of miles away on the other side of the Fionn Loch.  What if we couldn’t climb one of the pitches - or what if it poured with rain when we are halfway up the route - or how would we cope with an accident in such a remote spot?

We were now approaching a substantial roof that runs across the crag, which the guide book told us to surmount by ‘sensational moves’.  I sent my man up with every confidence, and he justified my faith by making short work of the pitch.  When I came to follow, I found out why.  You know how most indoor climbing walls have an overhang covered in big holds so that even weak old men like me can climb it?  Well, this was the natural version.  Except that it was halfway up an 800 foot crag in the middle of nowhere.  And the crucial hold was far better than anything man-made - a stonking great flake of rough gneiss that you could wrap your whole hand round and heave up on whilst revelling in the feeling of complete security.

That was an amazing pitch, but there was even better to follow, although the guide book gave little away; ‘25m, 4b. Traverse right across the face to a stance on the true nose of the buttress.’  What it didn’t say was that the traverse was along the lip of a bulge above a 400 foot drop with exposure worthy of the Dolomites. It was a truly sensational pitch, with no escape from the huge exposure as on a traverse every move required you to look down for a foothold and your eyes were drawn down to the foot of the crag a vast distance below, but the climbing was easy and the gear plentiful, so that it was not too hard to stay in control and savour the experience.  The traverse ended at a tiny stance with a barely adequate belay and there was more excitement to come, a bold swing out of a groove to grab a huge flake and pull up a steep wall on superb jugs, another brilliant pitch in a wonderfully exposed position.

The space-walking traverse on Fionn Buttress

Stewart following the traverse pitch

And then, after seven pitches, the climb relented.  The angle dropped back, the huge exposure was gone and we could relax and enjoy the scenery, content that the climb was in the bag.  There were still four pitches to go, lovely climbing at about severe standard on perfect rough rock to finish on a splendid belvedere, surrounded on three sides by steep drops, where we could sit in the evening sun, pose for photos and admire the spectacular view – east across the Dubh Loch to A’Mhaighdean and Slioch, south to the huge crags on Ben Lair, and west along the length of the Fionn Loch to the sea and the islands.  Even the descent was relatively painless for such a huge crag, down steep grass slopes strewn with orchids and alive with small frogs that jumped prodigious distances to get out of the way as we approached.

The fine weather continued the next morning, but vague ambitions to try Gob were abandoned as our adrenaline supplies seemed to have been exhausted the previous evening. Instead we settled for a stress-free morning climbing a pleasant severe – appropriately named Ecstacy - on Carnan Ban below A’Mhaighdean before setting out on the long walk back to Poolewe.

Stewart enjoying the view from the top of Fionn Buttress

So is this the best VS in Britain?  Well, I don’t really pay too much attention to this ‘best climb’ business – that was just a convenient hook on which to hang the previous article – as there are so many memorable climbs on high mountain crags or adventurous sea cliffs that to single out one would be impossible.  But Fionn Buttress does justify those superlatives - it is worth every step of the long walk in and I don’t know of any other VS that can beat it for length, exposure, steepness and quality of climbing.  It would be a wonderful climb even in the most humdrum of locations, but at Carnmore, ten miles from the nearest road, surrounded by stunning scenery, and with an outlook over an array of dazzling lochs and across the Minch to the Outer Hebrides… it doesn’t get much better than this.