On the 1st of May, my friend Dean and I drove the nine hours north to Mallaig, and started our island adventure. After a well needed sleep, we boarded to ferry to the Isle of Rum.
The ferry crossing was thankfully smooth (I’m awful on boats) and we were soon on the isle, along with what seemed a huge party atmosphere at the campsite. Do we stay, or do we go..? Dean already had a cunning plan, so we loaded up our huge bags and ascended hills and camped near Loch Coire Nan Grunnd. It was only a couple hours round the island, and a peaceful as can be. In the distance we saw the odd fishing boat, but no people and no party..! Drizzle greeted the evening, but we were fed and safely tucked ourselves up in our tents.
The night however was long and loud. Wind battered us and the Manx Shearwaters howled all night. An impressive sound they may give, but we barely slept. The forecast was for continuing winds, so we abandoned any thought of the ridge and headed back to Kinloch. We were in no rush and enjoyed a huge breakfast, before setting off, arriving about midday. The campsite was still busy, but the owners were a delight and allowed us to store some extra kit, before we took a look at the now closed Kinloch Castle. It may be partially fenced off, but looking through the windows exposed us to a plethora of stunning rooms filled with books, furniture and objet d’art. What a shame this beautiful building is still closed up..!
The post office and shop are wonderful (go and buy everything you can), and a Scotch broth and tea set us up for the walk to Harris Bay.
The Landrover track allowed a swift passage to the bay, which was flanked by the beautiful hills of the western coast. Here stood a beautiful house, in need of repair, and the mausoleum to the Bullough Family, whom once owned the island. We brewed and ate with Mull, Coll and Tiree on the western skyline. It was idyllic.
The next morning dawned cold and clear. The lighthouse at Oigh-sgeir stood bright white in the morning sun. We departed the bay after a hearty breakfast and arrived back at Kinloch, where we rested for the afternoon. We were going to need it.
Next morning we were up early for the ridge, whether we liked it or not. The campsite had been noisy half the night, and as I finally dropped off, the sun beamed over the horizon.
What a mountain day it was. In 14 hours (yes, we are that slow), we only met four other folk. We left the campsite in silence and for most of the day, it was as though the world was sleeping. Barely a breath of wind moved the air and we ascended the col at Bealach Bairc-mheall in good time. I was surprised that no one else was on the hill on such a beautiful day.
Our ridge journey began with an easy ascent of Barkeval, before scrambling and route finding fun on the rounded peak of Hallival. I was thankful for Dean’s excellent navigation skills and together we took on the crux of the route – the ridge of Askival. I’d read of huge exposure and technical moves, but when we finally began the section, it seemed much easier. That didn’t stop me asking for a rope on the crux move, which Dean swiftly fixed, and within minutes we had summited the highest peak of the ridge. Sounds easy doesn’t it, but there was still a lot of work to do.
When you hear the word ‘Ridge’ you think of sharp edges with a continuous height. Not so here. The decent to the Beach an Oir rattled my aging knees, which I had strapped up, but as I’ve written before – downhill without toes really hurts. We climbed the twin peaks of Trollabhal, before another crunching decent, and then we ascended Ainshival. It was here that peace reigned. We had met only four other people all day and now we were alone on the hill, with no wind and a deafening silence. Laid before us were Eigg, Muck, Ardnamurchan, Mull, Coll, Tiree, Barra, South Uist, Canna and Skye. Glinting in the sea was the lonely lighthouse on Oigh-sgeir. The horizon seemed endless and I’d have happily overlooked this wonderful vista forever.
I felt overwhelmed with the moment. An inner peace filled me, and I felt as though this was a moment, a place where I could happily end my days. My heartbeat slowed almost to a stop and my eyelids slowly shut out the world. When I opened them again, the evening sun was casting across Eigg, illuminating the sky with a crimson tone, and dancing across the shimmering sea. There was not a sound, and my entire nervous system felt both alive, and asleep at the same time. I can only remember a few such moments in all of my life. They’re indescribable in words, you just have to feel the tingles in your spine to know what they feel like.
If only we could bottle such moments for times in our lives, when all feels confused and chaotic.
We descended into the bothy at Dibidil and I put what’s left of my feet up to rest. They’d taken a battering, but it was all worth the pain. I remembered the reason that we were here. Back in 2017, I crossed the Cuillin Ridge on Skye under the guidance of Martin Moran. As we looked south, Martin remarked ‘Thats your next challenge Nigel’. He pointed at the ridge on Rum, and though it took me a few years to get there, it had been crossed. We lost Martin in 2019. He is sorely missed by many, and has been a huge inspiration in my mountaineering career. Dean and I toasted his memory with a wee dram and crept into our sleeping bags.
The next morning we crawled back to the campsite at Kinloch and relaxed after the long ridge day. My skin grafts were aching, but a shower and hot food soon picks up your spirits. Our trip here was done and home called, although we did manage a couple of hours on the magical isle of Canna, before we alighted in Mallaig.
I must come back here again, and tour more of these beautiful mountains of the sea.
My thanks to Terra Nova Equipment for the use of a Solar Horizon 2 Tent for this trip…