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The Aonach Eagach – “that’s the worst over”
As there have been a couple of recent reports thought I'd return to our own experience in 2009
I get vertigo shooglies when using ladders. A quick reference to my walk report on Sgurr a Mhadaidh will evidence this mountain terror. I can work myself into a feartie munro frenzy by reading a couple of walk reports and a piccie or two of the odd cliff edge.
Every year my more experienced chum Malcolm and I organise a walking trip for friends, and they, not knowing any better, all look forward to the annual spring outing.
This was our fourth year and with a couple of the easier Cuillin under our collective group belt, Malcolm resolved that the Aonach Eagach would be an ideal taster on the way up to Kintail for the main weekend’s walking. The group was experienced enough and ‘ready’ and Malcolm has long stated to me that he did it 10 years ago and difficulties of the ridge are overstated.
I had for years intimidated myself with pictures and stirred myself into a fearful emotional mess about the ridge. Malcolm said it is easier than it looks in pictures - slightly exposed but not dangerous. Our other friends were up for this as they were daft enough to trust Malcolm’s verdict, and so the plan was best laid.
I had serious doubts, but reserved judgement and confined my comments to screaming at Malcolm that he was obviously trying to kill us all and that I hated him.
Prior to the weekend I exhausted a great deal of will power banning all thoughts of the ridge by deep breathing, thinking of green and pleasant places and chanting OM for minutes at a time. The day arrived, my fears surfaced and manifested themselves in the tendency to continue screaming at Malcolm and asking him what the S.O.B. thought he was doing and who he thought would provide for my children once I had plummeted to inevitable doom.
We had started onto the hill later than we intended and it took years to ascend the occasionally steep but straightforward Am Bodach, as a new member of the party was less fit and very slow. We did in fact rest up for a snack before the final pull to Am Bodach.
I don’t remember it, but I am reliably informed that at one point I almost instructed our slower colleague to stop eating – blame the nerves for I was a bundle of them.
We stopped for pictures across the glen
(must learn how to use photoshop!!). We posed for some "final" 'piccies with the ridge stretching away westwards,
and it did indeed look less fierce than some pictures. On top of Am Bodach I was desperately keen not to start, as well as desperately keen to get it over with.
The descent of Am Bodach is much as is described elsewhere.
I was surprised to find it felt safe enough if care and time were taken, and there was enough of ridge width to avoid any sense of real exposure at that point. Looking carefully shows Hans bum shuffling down just above Richard's locks.
The easier walk to Meall Dearg (not being tempted out to the Chancellor) reinforced the slight hope that this ridge may be manageable and my communications with Malcolm subsided into vitriolic cursing of him and his forbears. Hans and I were the most nervous in the company and we reassured ourselves by being aware that we could descend northwards off Meall Dearg if we felt overwhelmed. Neither of us referred to the gnawing awareness that once on the rest of the ridge there was only one way to go. We also reassured ourselves by gripping tightly to anything that didn’t move.
And so we descended from Meall Dearg, and I have to confess the rest was a bit of a blur as I concentrated as hard as possible on not being scared enough to stop and cry, whilst plotting with Hans on how most cruelly to dispose of Malcolm and all his abhorrent progeny. I was not really able to use the camera, as my focus became survival of the nervous.
The chimney was not the trial I thought it might be, because it was a welcome chance to focus on scrambling and keep the mind from fearfulness.
Indeed, it seemed that, quite perversely, the trickier the downclimb or scramble on the ridge, the easier I found it to replace fear with focus - always looking to slide the bum over a bit, or scramble sideways a bit to relieve the exposure.
At some point in the ridge, I think it was after the first set of pinnacles, Malcolm announced “that’s the worst part over” suggesting we could relax a bit. I was elated for two or three seconds, but…having rehearsed this ridge for years in my mind and in books, I pointed out that the major part of the pinnacles must yet be to come as well as the tricky bit at Stob Coire Leith. Malcolm stroked his chin, stared at the pinnacles ahead and acceded that I may be right, as it was a long time since he had done the ridge and there were bits he had forgotten. That did it - I was going to swing for him. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was clambering round a pinnacle with four limbs attached to walnut sized fragments of rock 2000 feet above Glencoe I would have gone for his throat.
Instead I settled for further streams of foul abuse and a threat to kill his pet coy carp.
Dougie and Brian were more comfortable with the exposure and, along with Malcolm, led the way along the ridge.
The Aonach Eagach is exposed; as a convicted feartie I am allowed to say this, though I had a sense of always having firm foot, hand and bum holds.
The pinnacles were really awkward, but never terrifying, though one final downward section was seemingly impassable without ropes. It was there that the only other two walkers we met on the ridge that day caught up with us. We bypassed by descending very steeply down a rough dirt and rock gully on the north side, with an awkward re-ascent. The other two elected to bypass this obstacle on its south side but compared their route quite unfavourably to ours when we all re-emerged further on. One more bad step at Stob Coire Leith and the path became simply a narrow and enjoyable ridge walk, exaggerated by photo angles and you might just catch Brian and Dougie bottom right of the pic.
followed by the even easier ascent to Sgorr Nam Fiannaidh. Perhaps the adrenalin confused my perception, or affected my memory but I think the final tricky looking path was enjoyable after the tightness of the preceding mile, even though the photos suggest I should still have been clenching buttocks and throwing rocks at Malcolm.
It was my most exhilarating mountain experience (second even to Bertha the barmaid at the Old Forge). I was lightheaded and elated at dispelling years of fears (good name for an 80s pop group).
Hans and I, equal fearties, were particularly pleased with each other. He congratulated me as he prised my hands from Malcolm’s throat. We all then spent an age on top of Sgorr Nam Fiannaidh
basking in our achievement as much as in the evening sun. Hans, Scotjamie, Dougie, Brian and Richard
We decided on the direct descent to the road – a vicious and gruelling slide on scree and rocklump grass, not to be recommended though it is shorter than the Pap and safer than the Clachaig Gully. The best Clachaig pint of our lives followed, and off we drove to the Kintail Lodge as high as hills for the rest of the weekend. I shall say to all of you, if I can manage this, so can you.
The only photies were taken with my old-point&shoot idiot-proof-nikon, so apols for quality.
PS
Malcolm’s my hero