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This was a spur of the moment trip - and
here are the 24 hours that preceded it:
I got up on 22nd, and had an uneventful day until drumming at a ceilidh
in the evening. I finished at midnight and got home at 1am on the 23rd.
Unable to sleep, I put on Avatar and happily passed three hours between
2am and 5am without falling asleep (It's a riveting film, you see). This
was perfect time to leave for a trip to Arrochar and I cycled to
Westerton and got on the West Highland Line to Arrochar. How I still
felt reasonably fresh I don't know.
Cycle in and Ascent
The morning looked amazing from the outset. I brought my bike and cycled
through Arrochar. The Cobbler looked huge in the morning light and I had
one of those I-can't-believe-I'm-going-there feelings. 11 previous trips
appears not to have diminished that feeling, although I may never look
at it again with the awe I felt my first time up, when I sat at the dam
with my mouth wide open in shocked disbelief.
Since I'd cycled in, I attempted to cycle up the
track. If nothing else it would provide a wonderful downhill ride on the
way back. And although bikes may trump walking along the roads, I felt I
was expending as much effort trying to cycle uphill - if not more - and I
dropped my bike behind the mast at 100m, soaked in sweat and glad to be
walking.
Without company for pacing, I as usual bombed up the hill without
the patience to slow down. Thus I reached the summit two hours after
leaving Tarbet train station - a time to be proud of although short of
personal best. I scrambled onto the summit pinnacle, an easier objective than it had ever been before.
The mental block that had stopped me was removed in
April for the first time in seven
years, and for the first time I regarded the pinnacle as easy. The joy
of being so high up is almost indescribable, surrounded by open air and
feeling at home when everyone else was tucked into warm beds. You can't
buy this stuff, there was nowhere I'd rather have been.
Sometimes I loathe the loneliness of the hills. On The Cobbler, there
was just
overpowering unity.
South Peak
One of my main
objectives was to climb the South Peak. I'd thought about
packing rope to abseil from the summit, but decided against, preferring
not to lug a bulging rucksack up the hill. I'd climb it
without rope or not at all. And if I couldn't safely climb and
downclimb every move, I would go no further and come back intact. I
brought along a small rack and a harness if any moves could be protected
by gear, but there transpired to be little natural protection whatsoever...
A terrace on the side of the South Peak is guarded by a gap and a block
which requires of me the use of belly-friction and shimmying to get
past. I'm sure there are more dignified ways to go about it, but I
can claim to jump the gap on the return. These are all things which I learned when
I climbed the South Peak (with abseil) in April. There were no unknowns
about the route today and my only doubt was whether I could downclimb
whatever I climbed up. The moves were no place to fall - you would
bounce off the terrace then probably over the cliff below.
I left my rucksack at the bottom and started up the rock. It became
clear almost immediately that the top wouldn't yield easily, although
this route was a 'scramble'. I climbed as many moves as I could make,
then downclimbed to the bottom. When confidence grew, I made an extra
move. I must have spent 20
minutes doing just this. Still a few metres up and trying to get my head
in order, I reached the top of
the first block and the outlook wasn't good. The rock is mica schist
and unlike the perfect rock of, say Glen Coe, where holds are solid and
a dream to the hands, my route followed large blocks with rounded, flat
and usually insecure holds. The rock were damp in the shade and the
midges gathered. The route would be climbable with faith and
power, two things that eluded me as I searched for the courage to mantle
on top of the great block and straddle it a cheval.
It was clear it wouldn't go within a safe margin for error so I climbed down and packed up to leave the terrace,
quite happy with my decision.
Even if I had decided to bring rope, there were no 'bomber' anchors that
I could find that would secure me in the event of a fall.
Back across the summits, then home
I went back to the Central Peak and climbed the pinnacle again. I went
to the North Peak, where I bagged the top and went exploring. I found
gullies and scrambled about the blocks, dangling feet over North Peak
overhangs. More people were up on the hill by now and it quietly buzzed
with activity. On days like this I could happily walk all summer...
Back at the Narnain boulders I worked on a wee boulder problem I'd
found. Doubtless it's been climbed before but I continue to work on it
every time I am up there...
Back in Arrochar, I stopped by the shops before cycling around to the
train station. The road was busier than in the morning, but I found the
cycling enjoyable. And I was completely shattered too, having been on
the move for about 30 hours. I nearly dozed off on the train, but got
off at Dalmuir and cycled home along the canal.
180° Panoramas
The Cobbler - north
The Cobbler - south
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