.
Still somewhat euphoric after Owey, Geoff and I planned to take advantage of the good weather and lack of employment to get out climbing somewhere/ anywhere. We were joined by apprentice layabout Anis, still struggling to reconcile his training with Glenmore Lodge, with a day or two out with Alfie. I dont think we helped the situation any!
A glorious day at Malin Head soon turned sour when we found all the rock oily, and in the shade, with no immediate prospect of improving. Carbolic Crack was apt, and Malin Headcase’s lower section best avoided , though the upper half was alright, well no worse than usual. We gave up and went to Dominic’s Bamba cafe for coffee and solice.
Should have gone to Dunmore as it doesn’t face north, so we did. Anis had been there, so we diverted to Brasil Rock at the last minute, and were rewarded with sunshine and dry rock. Alhambra ( Geoff says 3***) Hustler( Geoff says technical for a HS), and Broadbinns Emporium ( better than it looks apparently) finished off the day nicely, and suddenly it was all worth while.

PJ, Thomas , Margaret and self went to Scotland to prepare the way for the great one, one whose destiny was about to be fulfilled. To pass the time before the coming, Margaret led me astray, to pay homage to the unworthy, a mere Corbett of such nonentity and remoteness, as to not justify the last trudge through the mist and drizzle to its miserable highpoint. ( PJ and Thomas wisely did Sgurr Donail on the Ballachulish horseshoe).

So demoralised was I, that I could venture no further than the retail wilderness of Fort William Main street the following day.

Spirits recovered on Thursday and we had a fine walk over the Grey Corries range, bagging a number of summits including a couple of new Munros for me.

On Thursday evening, the great one and his disciples arrived, to set up operational headquarters in Witherspoons.

As fortold in the scriptures, the day arrived, with the multitude gathering in Glen Nevis in anticipation of the great event.

Heavenward, they rose in unison ( except the old and decrepid, who took the cablecar round the back) up the flanks of the Lochaber giant to the summit, where the great one gained enlightenment, and joined the ranks of the celestials- (Margaret and Jimmy). Nectar was in great supply ( and Dungiven paintstripper), before the multitude floated back to earth on a airborne chariot, sort of.

Celebrations went on into the night, but in the morning there was light, and it was good.

They sought the celestial tower, and after much labour, privation, (and dehydration) the faithful came to the gateway.

But there came amongst them, a false prophet, Finbarr, who leadeth them ashtray, and they forsook the anointed one, so it came to pass that the first became last and the last became first. And the lord sent a cloud to separate and confuse the pilgrims, and it worked fairly well, but the faithful prevailed and reached the promised land, some eventually, and indeed they came upon great multitudes milling about looking for salvation, or the way down.

But gettin down was another story. ( Revelations 2, V17).

Margaret did another Corbett.

Trials and Tragedy in the Alps.

The only things of note I did in a month in the Alps this year, were the traverse of the Pelvoux with Fergus, and the Gran Paradiso. The former was great, but make sure to bring enough rope to make 40m+ abseils on descent, as the glaciers have retreated substantially. The second week of the MI meet at Ailefroide wasnt actually that bad, but Courmayeur was more unsettled ( although the campsite was excellent).

I didnt actually see the Gran Paradiso at any stage, thick cloud and light rain/snow prevented any level of visibility, but we got to the top thanks largely to Anthony’s GPS and the new GPS compatible map ( does this mean my alpine map collection will have to be replaced?). Needless to say, as soon as Fergus, Ant, PJ and self got back to the hut, it cleared up. This was the story in 2014, the weather was unsettled, capricious, and the forecasts entirely unreliable.

Still, we came back safely. Sadly others didn’t!

Alan

Great trip, many new climbs (some destined, perhaps, to become classics). See guide book later for details. Also kayaking and kite flying (don’t ask). Good to see Valli, Ivan and Martin Boner. Great help and hospitality from Dan Betty Gallagher et al. No trip to Owey now complete without a visit to The Donkey’s Pelvis (provided you have the head, stomach, liver and stamina).

Bill

PJ and I got word that Ivan Krella, Dave Millar and Kevin McGee were heading to Gola for the weekend and arranged to meet up for the 11 o’clock boat. Jimmy’s ship seemed to have shrunk a bit as he was driving (sailing?) a 5 man rib that took 2 trips to get the 5 of us and our gear across. Turns out he still has the big boat but some churlish bugger got him in trouble with the law, taking a picture of his overloaded boat and ended up with him having a €1750 fine, so he uses the small one as and when.

It pissed down all the way from Derry but, as is the way with Gola, once on the island things were merely a bit cloudy while the mainland got drenched. We set up camp and, after a bit of difficulty with Ivan’s one-man conundrum of a tent that took four of us to sort out, were off to the walls.

PJ and I settled for Mhachaire na nGall wall and did Bootleg , Wendy Raindrops and Alan’s line (all Severes) before joining the boys on the main wall for something a bit harder. While Ivan and Kevin had a go on Ship Wrecked (E2) we abseiled down Kept Woman with the plan to do Metric Tonn or The Plagiarist (both HS). We didn’t account for the tides though, couldn’t access the climbs and ended up back on the main wall for Lunch Money (HS). A cracking wee short route, very technical move in the middle as the corner leans out, exactly what you don’t want it to do!

So it was teatime and back to the camp for the usual cooking and fireside shenanigans, involving large quantities of beer, Guinness, wine and Czech poteen. There were a bunch of Queen’s students there too, on the tail end of a 10 day trip but they kept themselves to themselves and left the rowdiness to the older generation. Maybe they’d run out of supplies by that point? We took full advantage of the beachside fire ring they’d built though, a lovely spot to spend the evening.

Hangovers intact we headed to the walls again next day, the boys doing Asgard, Ceol na Maire and probably other E2s while PJ and I tried to decipher the descriptions for the routes on the east wall of the Narrow Zawn. We finally gave up and headed to the old staple Gripple Wall and a run up Pride Of Gola (S).

The blue skies finally arrived though I’d been pretty well toasted the day before because of the light cloud cover. So we rounded up the day with a rattle on Gripple Wall, a supposed VDiff that had a testy bit on the middle more reminiscent of HS routes.

We retired to the harbour to soak up the sunshine as we waited on the boat and got chatting to the Strabane Ramblers, many of whom were having a swim, and who’d enjoyed a day out touring the island. They knew PJ somehow, name-dropped Marty McGuigan and were well aware of Climbfest.

Once again Gola didn’t let us down, it’s always worth the trashed hands from the granite to sample such fine climbing and scenery. Unbeatable.

Anthony