The Blind Man of Hoy Read online

  ‘Who needs to see when the problem is this tactile?’ I thought as I slid round the bulge and mantled, jubilant and barely out of breath, onto the ledge at the top.

  ‘Wasn’t the crux on The Old Man just a glorified chimney?’ I thought happily, as Andres scuttled off to set the rope for one last problem. Maybe I did stand a chance after all. Until today the project had seemed as artificial as the routes at Swiss. With my progress today and especially my dominance of that last problem the concept had set itself in stone.

  We should have called it a day there and then; bagged our achievements and gone and messed about in the bouldering room as Andres had originally suggested but he, and Matthew, were itching to attempt the overhang. With a five-foot wide roof to cross before you could pull yourself up onto the ledge and safety, it was a monster to rival The Sloth in the Peak District but without that route’s massive jug-handle holds.

  Andres nailed it at his third attempt, Matthew turned the air blue during his three goes but only got as far as hanging upside down and groping for the ledge. I didn’t even get that far.

  We were all tired. I hadn’t really understood their description of the route and hadn’t had the energy to ask again. Maybe too I was a bit cocky. I got up under the overhang easily enough then just hung there uselessly, my strength bleeding away.

  ‘You need to straighten your arms, you’re hanging there on bent arms and legs like a child. Sort it out, Red’ shouted Matthew. He was probably just frustrated at his own failure but it really pissed me off.

  ‘Stick your whole arm in the crack and rest on it’ shouted Andres. ‘Then get your legs high up under the overhang and push out on them so you can reach the edge.’

  ‘There’s a hold in the crack over your left shoulder. No, not that side, your left!’

  ‘Straighten your arms, then push out on your legs! No higher!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No! Behind you, over your right shoulder. No, your left; yes, your left shoulder.’

  ‘Not that left, Red, the other left!’

  ‘Legs higher and straighten them.’

  ‘Left hand, Red, left!’

  Too many voices, too many instructions. I lunged for a non-existent hold and with a howl of exasperation, described a deep pendulum that, satisfyingly, all but knocked Matthew off his feet.

  I went up a second time with much the same results except this time I forgot to let go with my right arm and took the full force of my swinging fall in my biceps. The third time I was too weak to reach the crack and gave in with a whimper that left Matthew in hysterics.

  Failure had taken much of the sheen off the day for me. It was a painful reminder that the crux of Hoy might only be a glorified chimney but that extra bit of decoration was a bastard big overhang that I’d need to do a lot of work to overcome.

  When Matthew had first seen Cole’s fitness programme he’d sniffed and declared: ‘That’s because you are going to need to be at 110% the day we climb. You have no margin for error, we do.’

  What had seemed smug then, now made sense. He’d out-performed me having done little of the strengthening work I had over the past weeks and carrying a niggling shoulder injury. No matter how hard I trained I could never be over-prepared.

  Up in the refectory everyone’s spirits rallied with some food and drink. Still, I was hardly in celebratory mood and so opted for a pint of Coke to wash down a surprisingly good burger as we discussed what we’d learned over our four and a half hours of climbing and what our next steps should be.

  ‘Well, at least we now know who is in charge of supplies, Matthew.’ I began light-heartedly. ‘Thanks for thinking to bring all those snacks, it never occurred to me.’

  ‘It’s the good Jewish mother in me’ he grimaced. ‘You’re going to have to get used to eating all sorts of crap you know. Like Cole said, endurance bars are no joke. You need to experiment with them and find which ones don’t make you retch. And you can’t keep gulping down water all the time. It’s not going to be so easy to go for a piss on the Old Man, you’ve got to learn to take small sips.’ As with water so with wine I thought ruefully.

  ‘And you’re going to have to get comfortable hanging off your arms when they’re wedged in a crack and to having your head forced over to one side under an overhang.’

  ‘Yes, mum.’

  The lecture continued. ‘You’re not always going to have a choice where you take your rests. On the subject of which have you followed Cole’s advice and tried hanging in a harness for fifteen minutes at a time yet?’ His tone suggested he knew the answer already.

  It was fair comment. He’d seen limitations in my performance and was keen to flag them while it was all still fresh in the mind. It was done with the best of intentions but my self-confidence needs to be fed with equal doses of honey and lemon, especially when I’m tired, so my spirits plummeted again; the more so because I knew he was right.

  ‘Oh, fuck it Matthew. The whole thing may collapse before we get there,’ I snapped, keen to change the subject. ‘Or when we’re halfway up.’

  ‘What!?’ Andres struggled to keep up with irony at the best of times. Unlike Matthew, in whom black humour was ingrained, I tended to go easy on him. So when I came out with comments like this he knew it was odds on that I wasn’t joking and his horror now was palpable.

  Matthew and I took some delight in explaining the geology and temporary nature of sea stacks; information I felt sure Andres would check on his iPhone as soon as he was alone. Eventually, after another pint, he reconciled himself to this previously uncalculated danger and threw it back at me. ‘Well, we better climb it sooner than later then, hey Red?’

  It was another job on my to-do list. Matthew had sifted the British Mountaineering Council (BMC) directory and rung around to establish which of their qualified Mountain Guides had experience of leading an expedition to Hoy. The next step, interviewing them over the phone, fell to me and I’d been putting it off, worried that my climbing might not be up to standard.

  As if reading my mind, Andres said, ‘There’s no doubt you could do it mate. You were climbing 6a and b standard today and the wall here isn’t so different to rock as Swiss. You just need to work on your technique a little, but I can help you do that. I can set some special routes for you back at Swiss that make you concentrate on your footwork and rock-overs. You’ll be fine.’

  Somewhat cheered I got my diary out and we came up with a list of possible dates for the climb as well as pencilling in another day at Brunel. On the way back to the Underground Matthew clapped Andres on the back and declared, ‘You should be commended for your charity work.’

  I bristled at the word.

  ‘Do you realise that the combined ages of me and Red is 91. You are taking two old men up the Old Man!’

  I laughed, mostly at myself for jumping to conclusions about what he’d meant, though my aching body found more truth in his jest than was comfortable.

  We returned to Brunel twice before the weather improved enough to head to the outdoor crags. On the first occasion it was just me and Matthew, as Andres was visiting his family in Colombia. The same instructors were there as before and, in a gap between children’s parties, Ben, as I found he was called, gave us a master-class in crack climbing; teaching us how and when to use thumbs-up hand jamming methods or thumbs-down elevator door technique, if lay-backing is not possible. Those 20 minutes tuition were amongst the best I have ever received and proved invaluable for my trip to the Scottish Highlands a few weeks later.

  Andres was back for our final visit and, fitter, leaner and technically far beyond our abilities of three months before, we set about the routes, knocking them off in a fraction of our previous time and thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

  Eventually only the overhang remained.

  Matthew went up and over its huge protuberant lip at his first attempt, with a minimum of swearing and something approaching gracefulness, leaving me with mixed feelings of delight and envy.

  I
got close; so close that I even felt comfortable and relaxed hanging from the roof like a human spider and planning my next move. But in that position no one has more than a limited time to identify and grip the holds and being able to see their whereabouts saves a lot of groping about. I got my hand round the relevant lump of rock eventually on my second attempt up there, but by then my arms were so drained of energy that when I tried to close my grip my fingers splayed as if they were made of perished rubber.

  This time though it wasn’t anger but disappointment that I felt. The overhang was a boring reminder that no matter how good I got I would only ever climb to the limit of my disability. But in the past few months I’d pushed that limit a long way back and there was time to go yet.

  10

  Seeking Professional Help

  ‘I may say that this is the greatest factor – the way in which the expedition is equipped – the way in which every difficulty is foreseen, and precautions taken for meeting or avoiding it. Victory awaits him who has everything in order.’

  – Roald Amundsen, The South Pole

  Matthew had approached the task of finding someone to lead our expedition with customary diligence. His research indicated that we would be best off with a British Mountain Guide, a qualification so highly regarded that holders are in regular demand to lead expeditions worldwide.

  He had narrowed it down to a shortlist based on proximity either to London or the Highlands. The former were centred around the Peak District which is only about three hours by car from North London and where we hoped to get some practice when the weather improved; the latter would be most likely to have climbed the Old Man before or have a better idea of the logistics involved.

  Of these two desirables Matthew was more concerned about the logistics and I about getting significant climb time with the individual. Matthew had studied the map and we both knew that The Big Climb expedition had been a mammoth operation. Admittedly we were not going to need to employ the British Army to transport a mobile TV studio with us but the last thing we wanted was to get to the foot of the stack only to find that we’d left some vital piece of equipment on the mainland.

  What played on my mind though was the uniqueness of the task and the need to get time at the rock face with whomever we gave the job to. I didn’t want him (or her) getting cold feet on the crux pitch because they hadn’t fully appreciated what they were undertaking. And as much as they needed to feel comfortable with me, I needed to feel comfortable with them. Good communication had after all proved a key factor in raising my performance.

  As a former ski instructor Matthew was adamant that this should not be an issue; once he’s signed up, a professional gets on with the job no matter what he feels about the individual client; but he agreed that I needed to interview the possible candidates once he had rung round them to gauge their interest.

  As it was, our shortlist shortened itself as one name kept coming to the fore whenever the Old Man of Hoy was mentioned.

  ‘Martin Moran is your man . . . . I’d love to take you up there myself, it sounds like a great project, but Martin’s the man for the job . . . He must have climbed The Old Man at least ten times,’ was pretty much the unanimous response from the half-dozen BMG’s Matthew called. The only exception being a former Royal Marine who clearly thought Matthew sounded soft and demanded; ‘You’re not poofs are you? I don’t lead poofs up mountains!’

  Softly spoken Tyneside tones answered the phone, which threw me a bit as I had rung a Lochcarron number so was expecting Martin to be a Scot. Had I done my due diligence and checked his informative website I would have known better. He allowed me to blather on about my level of ability, the impact of my disability, my lack of recent outdoor experience, my concerns (mostly centring around the overhang) and the plan to have Matthew, Andres and I all making the ascent together. After about five minutes of listening to my rambling monologue he cleared his throat and ventured;

  ‘Yes, I’ve spoken to Matthew about the additional challenges but I think we can get you up there. I’ve been running a Sea Stack Climbing Tour for a number of years and I’ve had a lot of experience on the Old Man of Hoy. The original East Face route would probably be the best for your attempt. The only really challenging section is on the second pitch but we can lay the optimum route for you and if you’re having too many problems on the crux we can always fix on some Jumars and you can jug up. There’s no point in allowing a tricky section to spoil a good day’s climbing.’

  This was music to my ears. Although I was determined that it wouldn’t come to that (using clamps to haul myself around and over the Old Man’s bulging belly really would feel like cheating) it was good to hear that there was an alternative to having to give up and abseil down if the going got too tough.

  I could see why Matthew had come away from his conversation with Martin satisfied that he could be the man for the job. Both saw logistics as the key to success and liked to plan for every eventuality well in advance. Martin’s easy preparedness to resort to artificial climbing aids left me in no doubt that the equipment he would provide for the expedition would be comprehensive and I envisaged a climbing rack bristling with every cam, hex and nut available and Matthew and Andres drooling over such an array of kit.

  ‘Of course I’d need to climb with you beforehand so that I can get a sense of what we need to do differently and to get used to the communication system that Matthew says you use. Any chance you can get up to Scotland for a few days?’

  I explained that we’d been hoping to stay closer to home and wondered whether he could meet us in the Peak District.

  ‘Oh, I don’t need to see all of you. Just you will be enough. And Scotland would be easier for me.’

  ‘That might be tricky,’ I explained. ‘I look after the kids full-time and my wife’s job is very demanding. Do you know anyone in the Peaks who could at least give me an initial assessment to establish whether I’m deluding myself about the Old Man? I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.’

  ‘Mmm. The Peak District’s a good idea. You’ll be using many of the same techniques on gritstone as on sandstone. I can put you in touch with some guys at Peak Mountain Training who will be able to assess whether you are climbing near the right grade. If you want to spend time training with one of them and use him as your guide on the climb itself I’d be happy to have any of them as a second on the Old Man with us. Otherwise I can use one of my guys up here.’

  ‘So we’ll need two guides will we?’ I sensed costs could be rising.

  ‘Yes. I think in this instance, it would be advisable. One to lead the climb and set the protection and a second climbing in parallel with you, in case you get into difficulties.’

  I had envisaged Andres doing this but on reflection saw that Martin’s suggestion assumed control of both ends of the rope for his team, so minimising risk to his client. Still I had to minimise costs so thought I’d check with Cole whether there was anyone at Swiss who might be up to the job of seconding. I mentioned this to Martin and his hesitation spoke volumes.

  ‘Do you have any footage of you climbing to give me an idea of the system you run?’ he asked, changing the subject. ‘Matthew mentioned two-way radios.’

  ‘Afraid not. But if you want a general idea of the effects of RP there’s a good description on the RP Fighting Blindness website. They’re the charity that deals specifically with Retinitis Pigmentosa and they have loads of information and links.’ I stopped short of recommending he read my book, not least because no one in their right mind would take Joe Wynde climbing.

  ‘Well, I might be heading south to visit family over Easter, so it’s possible I could meet up with you for a couple of days climbing then. In the meantime you need to spend as much time on rock as possible. Indoor walls are good for keeping fit when you can’t get out but they are no substitute. Get in touch with Peak Mountain Training and spend some time up there working on technique, especially on cracks. I’ll let you know about getting together in April.’


  ‘Sure, that could work well Martin. My wife and kids are off to Tenerife for ten days over Easter so I’m free then too.’

  ‘Right, good. And I think I should go ahead and book the hostel on Hoy for three nights in June. It’s only a small place and it can get booked out quickly during the summer.’

  ‘Does the Old Man get busy?’ I had visions of queuing for the summit, as had been reported from Everest that week.

  ‘Occasionally you find another party climbing. But there are other routes up, so it’s not the end of the world. There’s another E1, a 5c so a similar grade, on the South Face. But it’s best to book the hostel early. I’ll reserve the whole place if I can. It only sleeps eight so it doesn’t make much difference to the overall cost and it sends the message to anyone else thinking of climbing the same week that there’s already a party there. Also it means we’ll have room if you decide to bring anyone else with you.’

  After a few minutes discussing cost we got to fixing a date for the expedition.

  ‘The weather up there can be a bit unreliable so I’d recommend having a window of three days, then we stand a good chance of getting at least one day we can climb. Also I’d suggest that we go up around midsummer’s day, that way there are 18 hours of sunlight, so even if we lose a morning to the weather we can still use the afternoon and evening. The rock dries off quickly in the wind, especially if there’s a bit of sun on it.’

  We agreed on the 19th, 20th and 21st of June 2013 and I put the phone down with the mixed feelings of a man who has just committed (with worrying ease) to a major life decision such as marriage or a house purchase. Exhilaration and fear played leapfrog in my stomach as I stood alone in my metropolitan kitchen, hail bouncing off the double-glazing, and considered the prospect that lay a mere 16 weeks ahead.

  One thing I was sure of though, Martin Moran was absolutely the right man to lead me there.

  ‘That’s excellent!’ Matthew seemed more delighted with my progress on this front than that on the physical side of the project. Within 24 hours he had extracted the names and numbers of three Peak Mountain Training instructors from Martin and begun urging me to chase them up.