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Sgurr Dearg - The Inaccessible Pinnacle
Map The Inaccessible Pinnacle! Done it. Wow. This was the main reason for the trip, to scale what the Scottish Mountaineering Club guide describes as 'the most notorious peak on Skye'. Sir Hugh Munro himself didn't manage this one - it was first climbed in 1880 by the Pilkington brothers who founded Pilkington's Glass.
I had hoped to do it earlier this year, in May, but had been rained off and the guide I was in touch with, Winky O'Neale, had reckoned it was too dangerous a proposition in wet or windy conditions. She'd gone off on hols now for the rest of the season, probably to avoid the midges, so I'd looked up a couple of contact numbers on the internet before coming. The last number I tried was a one man operation who said he was booked up that week but gave me the number of a chap who occasionally took on extra work for him. This was Ron. I rang Ron and when he agreed to give it a go I told him I'd be able to get to Skye on Monday and climb on Tuesday or later. We agreed to have a go on Tuesday. I stayed Monday night in Broadford and rang Ron to confirm arrangements. He said the forecast was for rain from 2.00 pm on Tuesday but supposed to be better on Wednesday so I agreed to change the plan and climb on Wednesday instead. Of course Tuesday turned out to be a cracking day all day, just right for InPinning, while I skulked and kicked my heels all day, nervously reluctant to do anything else and risk any show-stopping blisters or the like. Then on Wednesday morning it was raining! Grrrr! I was getting a bit wound up by now, worried that I might end up forever chasing the weather and never getting to go up. Hoping for the best, however, I drove round to Ron's at 9.20. The rain had stopped by then and though it still looked pretty uncertain we agreed to drive to the Glen Brittle campsite and consider things from there. When we got there it was cloudy but dry so we got the gear ready and set off along the now familiar path up Coire Laggan.
We had quite an easy walk up to the lochan where Ron filled his water bottle and then we climbed the An Stac screes, sticking to the left where the ground is a bit firmer. There was loose cloud around now so we couldn't see too far but eventually we got to the base of the Pinnacle and sat down for a bite to eat and a think. The rock was wet, there was mist all around and a cold, gusty wind was numbing my fingers to the point where I had to put them in my mouth to get the feeling back - hardly ideal conditions and I could see Ron wasn't too keen. He said the rock would be wet and slippy and did I want to try it? 'You're the professional,' I replied. I could see he wanted to jack it in really but I wasn't going to be the one to call it off so after a contemplative pause he said he'd give it a go and see how it was. Up he went, soon disappearing from view. Then the rope went tight. 'That's Me!' I yelled as instructed. Pause... 'Climbing,' I shouted. 'No! Wait!' Then: 'Climb when you're ready.' 'Climbing,' I yelled and set off.
The ascent of the Pinnacle was the scariest thing I'd done for years. Halfway up the first section you arrive at a bit with no easy way up or handholds. But what can you do? You're half up and tied by a rope to someone out of sight further up - and naturally the clouds chose this moment to break and give some fine vertiginous views of silver streams winding their way to Loch Coruisk, thousands of feet below. Gulp. But I couldn't stay there, I had to do something. I'm still not sure how exactly but I got past the difficult bit and continued on to the belay point where Ron was waiting, gathering his runner (a tape loop placed round a secure rock, with the rope running through it) as I went. After that the second section had better handholds but it does get extremely narrow and exposed. There's a drop straight down on either side as you find yourself inching your way up a sharp edge with no real option of going backwards. But I made it and soon enough I was standing at the top by the Bolster Stone, mightily relieved. I'd done it! Now the only thing left was getting down. Ron set up the ropes and I abseiled off the top. It felt a bit anxious, stepping off the horizontal and putting my trust in the strength of that rope but it was OK and I had no problems - keep your legs wide is the main thing. Down to the base I went and YIPPEE!
Ron shouted down to me to release my carabiniere which I did - unfortunately I didn't realise he meant take it off the rope as well so when he came down it jammed up against his own harness and nearly cut him in two - how he laughed. He wasn't keen to do Sgurr Mhic Choinnich in the cloud after that so we set off back down. On the way down the scree (we went the scree path this time as Ron thought it quicker for descending) we met a chap on his own who asked us where he was. He said he wanted to do the horseshoe, but neither of us was sure what that was. Ron advised him to try again on a better day as visibility was poor at the top so he turned back. It rained quite steadily for the last mile and a half of the walk back but at least it had held off for the climb - in fact the rock had dried out while we were climbing and hadn't been slippy. Cold hands though. We had a couple of celebratory beers in the Sligachan Hotel then I drove Ron home (Ron fee £120). At that point I found all the B&Bs were full, hotels too, so I returned to Sligachan resigned to setting up tent on the camp site there. The light was going now - it was 8.45 - and it started to rain again so I had to erect the tent between the worst of the downpours amidst air so full of midges you could slice it. Got it up though and after a reasonable vegetable quiche and chips and a Guinness at the Sligachan Hotel I crawled into the tent. Slept OK-ish - there was a near-full moon so it wasn't very dark and when I stepped out for a pee at 3.30 the skies were mostly clear. (Ron was a great chap and I was very grateful to him for being prepared to give it a go in less than favourable circumstances. He did say he hadn't finished his mountain-leader course yet though, and a couple of things on the day made me smile - in retrospect. One was when he'd set up the abseil at the top and told me to set off in my own time. For the life of me I couldn't understand it - I looked at the rope and my fittings and it looked to me that if I stepped into space the rope would just come whistling through the metal ring and follow me down to the ground. 'I'm a bit confused, Ron,' I said. 'Won't the rope just pull through that ring?' After a bit of thought he said 'Well I'll tie it on then…' Then after the climb when I asked him what would have happened if he'd fallen off whilst in the lead he said 'Well I'd have been stopped by the rope.' 'Was I supposed to grab hold of it if that happened,' I asked. 'Er, yes. Would you have done?' Hohoho. We'll never know, eh.) | |||||
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