Lucy- Pabbay Part 1!

Well, what can I say…apart from the fact that Pabbay was awesome! Not just the climbing but the whole ‘being there’ experience. Having been to the Outer Hebrides twice before, I knew what I was in for (Mingulay was a difficult act to follow) but being on Pabbay for a week – away from what we now class as ‘normal’ life- was a special treat.
We were lucky enough to see some fantastic wildlife; an eagle, sea otters, an array of sea birds with chicks, seals and even a basking shark. We also had starlings nesting right by our tents which was kind of nice, although they were pretty noisy and we occasionally caught a glimpse of the illusive corncrake.
The weather was actually pretty good, it was quite windy most of the time but as it turned out this was a blessing. One morning the wind died and we started to get nibbled by midges, so we were relieved when the wind picked up again and thankfully had no more midges to deal with.
The team was Myself, Tim, Steve McClure, Rab Carrington, Martin Boysen and Neil and Claire Foster. A jovial bunch psyched for the climbing and cranking out on all the classic routes. Rab came prepared with a gigantic mess tent. This was to be the bonus of the trip, without it, campsite life would’ve been a chillier experience. We could all easily get in there in the evenings, cook and shelter from the wind and share stories of the days’ climbing events.

Our first day was without doubt the coldest, we headed to the Poop Deck, which was catching the chilly breeze. I think we were all wondering if we were going to have enough warm clothes for the week but after that day we made better choices of crags and the wind changed direction too. So when the sun was out (which was quite often), we were fully getting tanned, how cool is that?
My first day was great as I onsighted a big E5 (Jonny Scuttlebutt) on Banded Wall after we left the Poop Deck. This was an amazing outing, with a very steep ab. The start and initial roof seemed to have very poor marginal gear, so I had to psyche myself up to get round the roof and commit to the climbing. This was my first E5 of the year, so it was a good wake-up call.
But I later found out that I hadn’t read the description properly (typical me, I’ve never been one for pouring over guides, I just like to see a line and climb it rather than have too much info). There was a bomber cam just right of where I was, I did have a good look round when I was there but there was nothing obvious, it must have been a hidden pocket.
The other schoolgirl error I made on that route, was to forget to take my rope down! Fortuitously, Steve brought down a 70m 9.1mm sport rope, so I climbing the route on that. Obviously it wasn’t ideal, by the top the rope drag wasn’t funny, even with very long sling extensions on the gear. But hey…After the initial bold bit the climbing was amazing steep jug hauling to the top, really fun and pumpy. As it turned out, this was one of the better routes I did on the trip.
Also, I wasn’t really expecting to climb any hard routes (as my injured shoulder has been dictating my climbing level for the last year), so it was nice to get an E5 in the bag and feel that I had some resemblance of fitness. Those foundry sessions over the winter with Katherine were paying off.

Me climbing on the top pitch of U-ei.
Taken by Martin Boysen and his injured hand!

The next day wasn’t the greatest weather, rain showers, so we headed to The Bay Area. This is a sheltered smaller crag with some good lines on. I did another classic E5 here called The Hebrudean, which was great. It was absolutely lashing down at the time but we didn’t get wet at all, just the start seemed a bit greasy. It had quite technical bridging and I was never quite sure if my feet were going to stay on. I was also nearly doing the splits which my tight hamstrings and adductors didn’t appreciate at all. I must start doing my yoga again!
This route had a bit of everything; bridging, a funky traverse, then steep pumpy jug hauling- great!
Part of the plan for the trip was to have a go at repeating Lynn Hill and Cubby Cuthbertson’s big route on the Great Arch. This feature is one of the most impressive on the UK’s coast and is definitely very alluring. Steve was obviously the candidate for the crux pitch that goes through the roof, this pitch is given 7a! So after climbing on the first few days, he was abbing down to this pitch to check out the fixed gear and try and work out how to climb it. This showed great dedication, as it was very windy and cold on the arch at those times and he wasn’t getting back to the campsite until gone 10pm- luckily he’s a night owl.
So I knew we were probably going to be getting on this route at some point in the week, as he seemed quite positive about being able to climb it, so by the third day I was starting to think I needed to drop my grade a bit just to rest my muscles. There was no way I wanted to get on this very hard route feeling wasted.

But day three saw me getting on an E6- what was I thinking? It was actually amazing and I’m glad I went for it. We’d plumped for the Grey Wall recess, it was nice and sheltered from the wind and was actually hot at times. We climbed an E2 (U-ei) and an E4 (Elysium) to get to the E6. It was incredibly steep but said there was good gear, so I thought why not? It just looked so cool!
I had an amazing climb on it and got crazily pumped, hanging about putting gear in and doing big burly moves up to not awesome breaks. I finally got to a ledge feeling very pleased with myself but knew the crux headwall was to come. I was able to rest well here and in between shake outs, climbed up a couple of moves to a goodish flat hold and put 3 bits of gear in a break. I had to go up and down 5 or six times to this hold to work out gear sizes and fiddle about putting it in. It was just so steep, you couldn’t hang there long. There was no chalk on this route, so it took me a while to work out which way I wanted to attack this last crux section. I finally plumped to go up to my gear placing hold and do a long lock to a break. So feeling vaguely rested I launched up with a positive attitude- suddenly I was flying through the air!! No…my gear placing hold had failed me and come clean off in my hands, damn it! I screamed down to the parties below, terrified that it was going to hit someone, but fortunately it missed everyone and disappeared in the sea- hmmm gutted!
I pulled back up the ropes, got back on the route and climbed angrily to the top. I hate it when that happens, I’d fully onsighted the route, done all the hard climbing but couldn’t really get the onsight tick. Hey ho, it doesn’t always go your way. To be honest though, I have to just be satisfied that I climbed well on it and was not expecting to get on and do anything near that hard on the trip. Even Ste said it was hard when he got to the top and that doesn’t happen very often- there’s not much that he finds hard! After this outing, we abbed down to Pink Wall and Ste did an amazing E5 called In Profundum Laco, which even to second was stunning. It was also good to get down and see the ‘climb me’ lines on Pink wall for the first time.
After this day I was happy and tired and headed back to camp while Ste trudged over to the Great Arch to have another recce, that boy’s energy knows no bounds!

Martin's hand with a chunk missing!

The next day my arms were aching and my body was tired. There’s a lot of walking up hills with heavy bags to get to the climbing areas, so it can get tiring. Luckily, Rab said he’d climb with Ste, which left Martin and I having an easier day.
Martin wanted to do an E3 on the left of Pink Wall but it was so windy that we decided it would be a cold grim experience so we abbed back down the 90m to Grey Wall for Martin to do U-ei. I went down first then Martin came. He arrived on the platform covered in blood! I rushed over to him to find out what had happened and if he was ok. It turned out that he’d got his hand caught in his belay plate due to the initial jerkiness of the heavy rope; he’d had to just yank his hand out of the plate and ripped off a big chunk of skin. There was blood everywhere and it looked very painful but like a trooper he just carried on saying that leading would take his mind off the pain, what a star!
For someone of his ability (even at the age of 68yrs) this route wasn’t a problem and I just followed the pools of blood. Next, he decided to go for a stunning steep E3 crack pitch. Again, he absolutely walked up this, barely putting in much gear and made it look about VS. I followed a bit shocked at it’s steepness but enjoying the climbing and jams.
I finished up the last pitch, which again was of the highest standard and covered some great ground at 5b.
Martin’s hand was now very sore, so we called it a day and wandered off to check out Hoofers Geo and then back to camp.
The evenings were lovely, we were right by the beach and it was great to explore around and go for some nice walks in the late evening sun. It wasn’t getting dark till gone 11pm, which I absolutely love. There was always something to see and investigate.
That evening a plan was concocted for Ste and I to go for the Great Arch route. He had managed to look at the roof on his recces but hadn’t been able to look at anything else due to it’s steepness. So an adventure was waiting to happen…

Steve climbing our first pitch of The Great Arch route

steve mcclure - In Search Of Adventure.

First things first – The Arch has still not been climbed!

Traditional climbing is where my roots lie, but sport is an easy tick, fitting in easily around work and kids and a desire to perform rather than be scared. As the grades go up the amount of gear goes down making hard routes that can be onsighted hard to find. But I still needed the adventure, it feeling more distant with every soggy summer that passes. Pabay has been on the list for a while, “hard pumpy climbing with excellent gear on amazing rock” was the word!
This island is where The Great Arch lives, not the objective of my trip but becoming the assumed one by everybody else. It was blasted to fame in the Scottish Climbing film a while ago. I’ve not seen the film, which was probably poor preparation as usual on my part, because seeing this massive feature made me want to climb it, standing out as one of the biggest natural challenges I’ve ever seen. I knew it hadn’t been climbed without falls and that the roof was the crux so I abbed down to the lip figuring if Lynn Hill and Cubby couldn’t do it there was no chance of me onsighting it. I was right, a complex arrangement of poor holds that you’d never see from under the roof looked to be the crux. 95 metres off the boulder field below with the waves crashing and a freezing gale blowing the ropes all over the place and tangling up slings and jumars and other bits of random kit I roughly memorised the position of these holds before I got the hell out of there and kind of hoped it went away!
I wasn’t really there for any of this, I was after quality onsighting and a thoroughly nice time. The Arch felt like a job in comparison; it was going to be hard, long and scary! But it was already too late, I was hooked, the only thing that could save me was a lack of partners, and Lucy Creamer was up for it!
So we set off, already rattled by the very first move, wet from sea spray. Not good with 6 pitches to go! Deviations around nesting birds added difficulty and extra loose rock to the guide book description of ‘the rock on pitch 3 and 4 is very loose and unpleasant’. I’m bad on loose rock. It took a long time to get up to the arch, swinging leads Lucy put in some big efforts and I was pretty glad I had someone competent to hold my hand. However, reaching the final pitch, the roof pitch, we both had the feeling that this route was a route for the sake of it. A much better path is to the left, staying in the corner and avoiding the roof. Solid E5, and amazing if you can handle a little rubble. However we were at the main event. 8 hours of warm up for one hard pitch, not your average stroll down to the local sport cliff. The lip of the arch was a long way up, a safe haven, a target to aim for. Holds that I’d seen despite their size gave me comfort. Even the final unprotected wall, snappy and hard would be a breath of relief simply because I was sure I could do it. Up to there was a mystery. I set off following my nose, as you do. Pulling on a flake the size of a car it moved, my gear was behind it and my ropes under it. Not good! Heart beating fast; a scuttle left. This looked like the way. More gear a long way out and moving up now to the holds. But the holds are falling off, bits the size of bricks coming away. I have gear behind these bricks. I take it out. Another plan. I’m traversing a long way right now, gear in a sugary crack. Maybe there’s another way but its’ too late to find. If I fall off now I’ll probably be OK. And I will fall off because there is no way up. Totally blank. Stopped dead I wait for the inevitable, I want to fall off, but a hold appears, sloping and small, at the max of my reach. Somehow, stupidly, I’m pulling on it and committing to something. I’m trying as hard as I can, it could be the crux of an 8b sport route. Then I’m facing an all out slap for what looks like a hold. A complete deadpoint that has to be perfect but my chances are slim. No chance to think about my position, my gear, the slab below or anything at all in fact, with my whole world shrinking to a point resting on an edge about a metre above me. I make it, I can’t describe how close I was to not making it. It was one of those real climbing moments that don’t come along very often, where everything comes together and it all comes good. This was the route for us. If I’d fallen, even if I’d been OK I doubt I’d have had the balls to try again, just getting to that move had already shattered my feeble nerves. A 70m abseil would have been in order or rescue if it was longer. But here I was at the back of the arch, good gear greedily thrown into solid cracks. Then out over the roof, more flakes the size of tables creak under my weight, good gear maybe, but not behind them! Easy climbing at least. Then at last another solid runner and the start of the hard climbing. I can see the lip, only a span away, a relatively easy move to the sanctuary of hard moves on bad holds, familiar though, I’ll be happy there. Then I’m rushing it, feet all over the place, wanting this all to be over, and suddenly I’m in the air. The gear holds. I’m cursing. No fear now, just utter disappointment. I pull up the rope, and back onto the big flakes and this time straight out to the lip with ease and through the hard lip moves and so to the top. Lucy follows with a combination of climbing, prusiking and fear. There is no time for another go as I’m already watching the sun set over the sea and the wind is whipping over the arch and making me glad to be wearing performance kit.
So the Great Arch still awaits a no falls ascent. We could have gone back to ‘redpoint’ the last pitch but that proves nothing to me, a relative formality with gear sorted and fear removed. However, even if I did fancy it, who would sacrifice their last day in paradise to belay (as the next day was our last). And I could never have even asked. Would I go back again for this? No chance! I don’t need to. I went to Pabay in search of adventure, and for sure that’s what we got!

steve mccclure. Preparation is everything

Preparation is everything.

But I keep screwing it up over and over. Friends of mine have pointed out my lack of preparation before and I listened but still don’t seem to have sorted it out. Just a few days ago I messed up big time, but I’ll tell you about that later, and last weekend I made my usual mistake of falling off the last move.

It was on a long traverse on Dogs Dinner Buttress in Cheedale. Unclimbed but looked at by many. I spent a few days on it about 7 years ago, then a few sweaty afternoons last month and then went early to avoid the sun for my third visit this year. The traverse is very definitely a route of four quarters, and a route rather than boulder problem being over 100 moves long. Each quarter is split by a rest, though the one between the first two is poor. The first half is the meat of the problem, 8c+ to a very good rest. It could end well there. Then maybe another 8a+ to a natural break in the climbing before the last section. This is where I was aiming to finish, previously the last section had been under ivy and trees, and though now cleaned off, there was no low level traverse possible, only some potential way up at 30 feet to complete the entire wall traverse.

Five Ten athlete Paul Smitton was there already when I arrived, it was 8am, and he’d been there for ages; keen! I warmed up on bits of the traverse, and noted that the last quarter looked easy but high, something too worry about another day. I went for a burn expecting to fail but somehow ended up in the middle, more than I’d hoped! Then the next section I was freestyling, unclimbed terrain for me with Paul behind pointing the way. I sketched it to the last quarter by the skin of my teeth. So that was my aim, time to dismount? No – the whole challenge was there. Paul spotted as I progressed, up high on loose flakes, though cleaned and dry and chalked. He’d put a lot of work in! Dithering I made it, then at last back down low and across the final slab on good crimps, the easy looking section. I was within a few meters and began my celebration, a smile building within for another success. But suddenly I was stuck, right hand where my left needed to be, the finishing hold winking at me barely out of reach. Unable to reverse the move I’d dropped into I hung, clawing at the nothingness with my left as my right gradually exploded. Then I was off, gutted, only to instantly find the hold I needed, a good one too, and now a place I’d never fall off, and, had I seen this hold, a place I would not have fallen off on this go!

Preparation lets me down again. In hindsight it was easy to see that I should have given this a quick glance, guaranteeing success. Now, with the sun coming round and my energy burned it would have to wait for anther day! Sometimes though something good comes out of it (rarely). I’m glad I dropped it there. For a start Paul had put a lot of work in and was really after the first ascent, he’d been there a lot. He absolutely deserved first dibs. The last section I would never have touched if he hadn’t cleaned it all. He was to go down in the next few days and get the complete ascent to give ‘Pedigree Chum’ - one of the best traverses in the country, now totally clean and dry. Secondly if I’d nailed it I’d probably never have gone back, but now I had to, and it was yesterday that I scurried along the high last section again, aware of my aloneness should any of the snappy flakes depart, to finish easily across the previously unprepared slab. But it was back down on the ground when a spanner dropped neatly into the works of my success, the final quarter somehow unsettling me. Three quarters was not good enough, now clearly the climbing cannot end there, but the final section is out of character, high up and not hard with a very good high up rest before. But the low version is impossible – isn’t it? What about those holds? Small and facing the wrong way. Three hours later the moves were done, the section climbed with just one fall. Desperate for sure and with no rest before it: 9a+ for the lot most likely. So it’s not over. Good news, a mere three days on such quality rock would have felt too few, now there is gonna be a good bunch more!