The Cuillin Ridge, Isle of Skye, Scotland

Third attempt at the full traverse of the Cuillin Ridge

This is in a different league

Why bother?

Setbacks on this attempt

Bivi spot with a view of the sunset

The next section was new to me

Unnecessary down-climbs

An official guide/client partnership

Final decision of the day

ADVICE FOR OTHERS:

If you want to do the single traverse in one day:

If you are only human and want to do the traverse over 2 days:

Here is an extract from my diary covering two sun drenched days I spent on the Cuillin Ridge this summer. I attach a few pictures to bring the story to life. Hope you like it.

Eight munros were climbed on this trip, not quite the full 11 intended. The two which were "firsts" for me were:

151. Sgurr a’Ghreadaidh 973m / 3110 ft - Sunday 16-07-06

• meaning "peak of torment"
• pronounced "skoor a ghraytee"

152. Sgurr a’Mhadaidh 918m / 3012 ft - Sunday 16-07-06

• meaning "peak of the fox"
• pronounced "skoor a vaady"

Third attempt at the full traverse of the Cuillin Ridge in Skye: 11 munros, 13,500 feet of ascent, 7 miles, 68 tops. Wow this really is a cheeky little monkey of a walk. To cut to the quick, I descended after 31 hours on the ridge, 3 munros short of the end, dehydrated, knackered and delirious muttering “god damn it, it chewed me up and spat me out” and “I’ll be back!” as I staggered downward in search of water.

Wisdom states that there are no failures only lessons, the lesson here being a successful attempt at the ridge depends on having traveled the whole ridge (on day trips) in advance. The ridge is like a maze of twists and turns, climbs and descents that amaze and bewilder. A successful traverse depends on being able to follow in the steps you have trodden before (like the mythical character who laid a trail of string through the labyrinth of the Minotaur)

For the average Munro Bagger this definitely is a different league. The days of merrily wandering your way to the summit, map and compass redundant at the bottom of the rucksack, the trip planned the night before are history. This attitude may prevail when attempting small sections of the ridge on a day trip but for the full traverse a whole new mindset must prevail.

The ridge offers the most challenging mountaineering environment available in the British Isles. Moderate climbs are common, some grade at Severe but the grading on the ridge (to my mind) seems to ignore the effect of exposure. The Inaccessible Pinnacle is a humble Moderate from the long side but I challenge anyone to climb it solo and not rate it at as Knee Trembling! The exposure is incredible, vast yawning expanses of emptiness either side of you seem to have a suction all of their own, welcoming you like the Sirens on the Clashing Rocks in the saga of Jason and the Argonauts.

So why bother? Because the views are incredible, the scrambling and climbing is exhilarating and the ridge will push your mountaineering skills to their limit, even the rock climbers amongst us will feel satisfied spending time on these dizzy heights. There really is nothing else like it to compare in the UK.

On this attempt I suffered a number of setbacks. First of all my climbing companion decided he had had enough just short of Sgurr Alasdair. We swapped various items of kit, arranged to meet at Sligachan the next day, shook hands and parted company. As I ascended the Moderate chimney beneath Alasdair I occasionally glanced back to see Ian descening on the steep scree into Coire Lagan. From the summit of Alasdair I could see his tiny figure making its way across the bottom of the corrie until he vanished from view. I was sad to see him go.

I carried on purposefully to Sgurr Dearg that evening, determined to make the North side of that summit before sundown so that I could enjoy the sunset from the comfort of my bivi bag. I couldn’t find a pre-prepared bivi spot so I had to waste time making one. I underestimated my length by about a foot which became apparent as I wriggled into my bag just in time to watch the sun drop behind the hills of Glen Brittle Forrest. A beautiful end to a fantastic sun drenched day.

I couldn’t sleep and ended up watching the sun go down, the light fade to dusk then to twilight then dusk and surise. I didn’t mind a bit. How many times in a lifetime will I get the chance to watch the sun set and rise in one sitting?

The next section of the ridge was largely new to me; fatigue due to lack of fitness and sleep, and dehydration as a result of the intense sun, made the going tough. Route finding was tricky (even with Andy Hyslop's guide to hand) and a number of times climbs got a bit hairy, especially with the rucksack doing unpleasant things to my centre of gravity. On a couple of occasions the Little Baby Me (mommy!) emerged as a fairly easy Moderate transmogrified into a Severe, a tell tale sign that I was going the wrong way.

At the foot of Sgurr a’Ghreadaidh I removed my rucksack to take a drink. As I gulped the water down my sack decided to go for a wander. I turned round to see it tumbling ass over tit down a steep slope then vanish into a gully, after a disturbingly long time I heard it crash on the rocks below, then another crash, then another…

It probably took me at least a full hour to scramble down (past various abandoned belay points) to recover my sack and return to the starting point. At one point I was chimneying at full stretch above a 20 feet drop between the steep sides of the gully, grimacing with pain as the rough gabbro serrated the skin on my shoulder blades.

Upon opening my recovered sack I found all my food which was stored at the top of the sack had been vaporised into something resembling toothpaste by the impact of the fall. Yummy.

I got involved in two other hefty unnecessary down climbs after completely misreading Andy Hyslop's mini guide, at least another hour wasted. The guide states the first top of Sgurr a’Mhadaidh “looks horrendous” and “but can be passed by a path on the right, then ascend directly to the ridge”. To my thinking the first top was the summit and I was well on my way to Loch Coruisk before I realised the error of my ways (all of The Three Tops of Mhadaidh are after the summit itself).

At the first of The Three Tops of Mhadaidh I found the said path but with no indication of how far to follow it I found myself once again marching towards Lock Coruisk trying to find an easy way up. I couldn’t find one so I climbed back to the summit and stared at the first top in complete disgust trying to fathom it out. I followed the path back to where it petered out and just started climbing, in a short space of time I found myself on a Very Difficult/Severe climb above a certain death fall with my Little Baby Me clamouring to get out.

I froze to the spot trying to look like this was all planned as a couple of climbers appeared from nowhere, stared at me for a few seconds, muttered something to each other and then moved on. I even managed a shout of “lovely day!” as they passed out of view. I then immediately implemented Plan B. Part down climbing, part falling with style, I extracted myself from my predicament and rushed to the point where the climbers had vanished hoping to pick up their trail.

They were an official guide/client partnership (easy to spot). Cuillin guides are notoriously protective of their routes, their livelihood depends on people not knowing the way, so I approached them with caution. They were already ascending directly on to the ridge about 10 metres from the start of Andy’s path. After a brief exchange with the guide he said I was welcome to follow but I could tell he wasn’t exactly happy about it. The hills are open to everyone, I’ll take whatever route I please, and I would have followed over that section regardless of his reaction.

By the end of The Three Tops of Mhadaidh (requiring three climbs) I had finished all my water and could taste nothing but suntan lotion in my mouth. I was done. Knackered but exhilarated. The penultimate decision was to descend. I had given it my best shot on the day and had a wonderful experience. I was fully satisfied and felt very little disappointment at not completing the walk. I had learned the secret of a successful traverse and the pleasure of completing that challenge was still something I had to look forward to.

The final decision of the day was whether to descend to Glen Brittle and risk the chance of a lift to Sligachan (a 10 mile walk if no lift was forthcoming) or simply take the hike cross country. Never one comfortable putting my fate in the hands of others I decided on a compromise; a long descent to the road in Glen Brittle, stash my gear by the road for collection later and double back to take the 6 km cross country hike to Sligachan. Plenty of time to plan my next attempt: a day trip to reconnoitre the route across the final section of the ridge (which I have already done but in the opposite direction) then a fourth attempt at the full traverse secure in the knowledge that I have unlocked the secret of the route across the mighty Cuillin Ridge. No mistakes only lessons.

The physical aftermath of the ridge was a completely numb right foot (still present at the time of writing), serrated shoulder blades and finger tips, sunburn, two 6 inch long gashes in my left thigh and a bruise the size of a saucer to boot and a giant blister on the ball of each foot. Psychologically the dramatic beauty of the ridge is implanted forever. Was it all worth it? You bet. I’ll be back one day soon.

If you want to do the full traverse in one day:

• You have to be extremely fit. Be wary of the available written guides (whose authors are generally people who have set time records for the ridge and are completely out of touch with the average walker) that suggest this is possible. I have attempted this a number of times with “fit” people, it didn’t happen. Athletes only.

• You have to know the exact route you are going to take. The ridge is a complex and sometime tortuous route. The first time you travel it (even with a guide book in hand) you will take many a wrong turn, requiring re-tracing your steps and down climbing that wastes a lot of time. Confidence in your navigation can only achieved by having traveled the route (in the direction of your single traverse) before. Map (even 1:25,000) and compass are virtually useless, the Cuillin gabbros is magnetic and the terrain so inclement that a map cannot accurately reflect it in any usable detail.

• Take and know how to use a rope. Anticipate queues at some of the difficulties on the route (The TD Gap and the Inn Pinn particularly)

• Water. Either carry up to 4 litres (you will need it on a hot day) or know in advance the four possible locations to get water. It is true that you cannot find water ON the ridge but what else would you expect on a ridge that is literally razor sharp in sections? Water can be found with a little down climbing and indeed one of these locations is my candidate for Most Beautiful Place in the World. Well worth a visit.

If (like the rest of us) you recognise you are only human and want to do the traverse over 2 days:

• You have to be “fit”. What does “fit” mean? Well can you do the the Glen Shiel ridge (7 munros) in a single day and still tell a joke (and get a genuine laugh) at the Loch Duich Hotel bar after 5 pints? Then, the next day do the Aonach Eagach ridge and having lost the toss, do the walk back to pick up the car at the Meeting of Three Waters?

• You are great at climbing up to VDiff/Severe with a 35 lb rucksack on your back. What you scoff? Then weigh the following: Rucksack, Bivi Bag, Kip Mat, Sleeping Bag, up to 8 litres of water (at a kilo per litre), two days' worth of food, Rope, Harness, Gear, Stove, Pan, Fork, Camera, Sun Tan Lotion, Playboy…

• You can brush off Vertigo like dandruff.

• You are prepared to let the rough Cuillin Gabbro “chew” the nerve endings in your fingers like a rabid dog. Painful for a day or so then all the skin peeled off mine a week later.

• You are prepared to be blown away by the views of Rhum, Eigg, Muck, Soay, the Inner and Outer Hebrides and Ireland on a clear day.

• You can cope with a bivi on the unforgiving Cuillin Gabbro with a view of a stunning sunset that will imprint on your mind forever (I didn’t sleep a wink)

• All the conditions of the single day traverse also apply (except being as fit as the X-Men’s Wolverine)

Alternatively you could just say f***k it I’ll give it a stab anyway. Assuming you don’t fall off you will have a hell of a story to tell your grandkids.