Walking on the Wild Side: Michael's Deaf Blind Challenge

Those readers that follow me on Twitter will be aware that I have recently been involved as part of the support team for Michael Anderson, a Deafblind man who climbed Ben Nevis on the 21st of July.  I wrote a couple of articles for the Voice for Arran before and after the event.  They are reproduced below: 

Part 1: The Preparation

Michael Anderson likes a challenge but his goal of climbing Ben Nevis for his 70th birthday is going to be a mighty test of his stamina and determination. Michael is both deaf and blind and hopes to climb the highest mountain in Britain to raise money for DeafBlind Scotland, a charity which supports and campaigns on behalf of people with dual sensory impairment, a complex disability that can be incredibly isolating.  Michael hopes to raise money towards a Training and Resources Centre that will support people with deafblindness, their families and guides/communicators.

I agreed to get involved with Michael’s challenge long before I met him.  As soon as I heard about his plans to climb Ben Nevis I wanted to help if I could and put myself forward as a member of his support team. However, it was not until a grey midgey morning on the shores of Loch Lomond in June that I finally met Michael, his daughter Fiona and her partner Nina. Michael is a gentle man with a soft voice. His kind exterior belies a man with a core of steel. Meeting him for the first time, for a training day on Ben Lomond, I wondered what on earth I could offer Michael and his support team. My knowledge of the mountain is one thing, but my experience in guiding deafblind people and the additional challenges we might face was at that point non existent.

On the Summit of Ben Lomond with Michael Anderson

At first I walked alongside Fiona and Nina and watched how they patiently guided him along the early sections of the path. I wondered at how, taking Fiona’s arm, Michael intuitively followed and copied her motion, gauging the size of steps and unevenness of the ground by feel.  Michael wears a hearing aid, and the two women loudly described the footpath before us.  Suddenly Michael stopped.  “We are in woodland?” We tried to explain how green corridors of oaks and birch surrounded us.  “May I touch a tree?” Michael asked.  Carefully we led him over to an ancient and gnarled trunk.  “Ah yes,” Michael smiled “An oak”.  Later he would identify a fallen birch by the feel of the papery bark under his fingertips.

Michael’s sense of direction is better than that of most sighted people, as is his balance, despite his damaged hearing. He has Usher’s syndrome, and has had a hearing impairment all his life; his sight has deteriorated slowly since he was a boy, and at the age of 33 he was registered blind.  He recalls climbing a mountain with his brother as a child and the wonderful emotions that awoke in him: “it was an amazing, uplifting sensation, both in what one has achieved and what we could see.  That was my first ever climb and I believed a seed was sown”

As a younger man, Michael enjoyed walking in the hills around his Berwickshire home and he is still exceptionally fit and active despite his disability.

For me to get a handle on how best to guide Michael and become part of his team, it was time to experience a glimpse of his world.  Approaching a rocky section of the path, I closed my eyes and took Fiona’s arm. I felt a huge leap of faith at this moment, and suddenly the act of climbing a mountain was condensed into each tentative step. Simple descriptive commands work best and though to the guide this can seem incredibly repetitive, it is vital information.  “Step up and over, left a bit, forwards, rock in path”. This steady flow of information is the guidee’s lifeline to progress. Fiona and Nina are very skilled at this, but as we approached complicated sections of path I could see the concern etched on their faces. 

Taking a turn at Michael’s side was nerve wracking initially, but his kind manner and careful concentration soon helped me to relax. Michael has an iron will and even though it was clear that he was weary, he never complained and continued to smile graciously. We left the treeline, and climbed up in to the grey clouds. He was keen to learn when the mist closed in.  We described the views, and how they faded from sight. He sensed the cold wind, and the brightening of the sky as we approached the summit.  Standing at the trig point taking photos, Fiona and Nina had tears in their eyes, but Michael’s face was a picture of pure joy.

Wise people say that when you reach the summit of a mountain you are only half way there, and for Michael this is more than true.  Each step is placed with equal care in ascent and descent, and as fatigue set in, the reality of the challenge dawned on us. Progress was slow, and through the stony sections painstaking. Ben Lomond is a lighter shade of Munro than Ben Nevis, which standing at 1344m is a worthy challenge for any hill walker. The Ben Nevis path is rough and rocky, and the weather on the hill often violently nasty.  We expect to be on the hill for at least eighteen hours, and will have to carry additional food, water and equipment.  Walking back through the woodland on the banks of Loch Lomond, I felt humbled by the immense challenge ahead for Michael, and honoured to be part of making it possible.

Part 2: Ben Nevis.

It was never going to be easy, but climbing Ben Nevis was a huge challenge for Michael Anderson and his support team because not only is he deaf and blind, but at 70, no spring chicken either. Michael was raising money for Deafblind Scotland, a charity that supports people with dual sensory impairment.  As part of his team I was able to take part in one of the most satisfying challenges of my life, and although it was hard for everyone involved, not least of all Michael, the whole experience was a huge adventure that forged new friendships.

We met at 4.30am at the visitors centre at the foot of Ben Nevis. The team comprised Michael, his daughter Fiona and her partner fun loving Nina, a cheerful young woman called Meg, George- an experienced mountain walker, Phil- a gear freak and walking guidebook writer, and finally, myself.

We set off in the early morning gloom grateful for evenness of the initial sections of the path. Michael set a cracking pace for his guides, and not even a peculiar design of stile (hard to describe to a blind man at 5am) slowed him down much. Optimism set in and as the sun rose and we were joined by other walkers on the track, the plan started to look distinctly feasible. By mid morning, Michael was striding out confidently alongside the “Halfway Lochain”. 

“Its in the bag” we thought….

The section of path above the half way lochain is very rocky. Loose boulders of considerable size litter the path despite recent work by the Ben Nevis Partnership. As we wove in and out of the obstacles in our way, progress ground to a standstill. Putting one foot in front of the other, we zig zagged our way up the shoulder of the mountain. I could see that this was taking its toll on Michael and the team and I began to seriously worry whether we would have enough energy left in hand to descend this sort of terrain.  I called a meeting and expressed my concerns.  Anxious that Michael was concealing his physical state from the team I asked him to level with us. Normally a quiet and polite man, he looked uncomfortable. Eventually he spoke: “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, “I feel we are going too slow. I can go faster; I don’t need to go round everything!” 

Relieved, we pressed on, and the pace quickened. The support from other walkers on the mountain was fantastic. Phil was also sending out live updates to the internet via a satellite beacon that logged our exact position online. We felt as if the whole world was rooting for us to succeed.

We were joined by Jim, an elderly gentleman who was walking alone and looking for company. As we neared the summit, to my horror Jim took a turn for the worse and collapsed cold and insensible. Concerned that he was hypothermic, we wrapped him in warm layers and gave him sugary food. He perked up a little with some Kendal mint cake, but was hazy and incoherent. He looked in a bad way, but knowing that calling a rescue immediately would guarantee Jim could become seriously cold and ill in the long wait for help, trying to get him moving seemed like a good idea. George and Meg volunteered to descend a little with him.  I suggested that if he showed no sign of improvement in 10 minutes, they call the emergency services. In the event, Jim was able to walk off under his own steam after being fed and watered extensively.  It later emerged that he was diabetic and had not eaten sufficiently for the ascent. I believe he owes his life to George and Meg. 

On the Summit of the Ben!

Meanwhile, Michael was nearing the summit of Ben Nevis.  The final undulating plateau seemed to drag on interminably, but eventually at around 1pm the ruins of the observatory loomed in to view through the cloud. It was an emotional moment, with photos and phone calls home. We were even treated to a view, as the mist parted to briefly reveal the magnificent North Face of the mountain.

The descent was as hard as we knew it would be. Every single one of us was feeling the pain as the afternoon wore on in to evening. Michael seemed to have more energy than the rest of us put together.  At dusk, the midges descended hungrily.  We couldn’t escape them so plodded on regardless. Eventually, at half past ten, we crossed the bridge in to the visitors centre car park. For me this was a wonderful moment, tinged with relief and a huge sense of achievement. Michael had climbed Ben Nevis, and in doing so, had become the first fully blind and deaf man to stand on Britain’s highest mountain. 

Congratulations to Michael, and a huge well done to the entire team.  I’m looking forward to walking with you all again and eagerly waiting to hear what Michael’s next challenge will be!

To find out more about the work of Deafblind Scotland and the many other fundraising events they organise visit the website: http://www.deafblindscotland.org.uk/

You can support his incredible effort by donating to Deafblind Scotland on Justgiving.com: http://www.justgiving.com/teams/deafblindclimb

Paps of Jura: Two out of Three Aint Bad!

Whilst working on Jura last week, I had a day free to enjoy out in the hills with Wally.  It was impossible to resist the lure of the Paps of Jura, and yes, "pap" does mean breast. Jura has three very shapely ones, which are visible from the high points of my own island, so I was keen to get a closer look.

Approaching Beinn Shiantaidh, the "Sacred Mountain".

There are no paths for walking the paps that are marked on the maps, and a bit of research on the mobile internet did not reveal many clues as to approach, so we made it up as we went along. We approached from the north, via Evans Walk, and cut across bog and heather until we were standing under the Northeast face of Beinn Shiantaidh, gaelic for "Sacred Mountain".  From here, a treacherous scree path picks its way up improbably steep slopes between crags, scree and steep heather.

The screes did not look any easier as we got nearer. 

At times it seemed as if we were climbing the biggest pile of stones in Scotland. 

At last the angle eased, and the summit came in to view. As we posed for pictures on the top, I hoped that an easier descent would present itself, as the route we had come by did not seem a good option for heading down. 

The pile of stones had a top! Beinn Shiantaidh summit. 755m.

Happily I can report that there are easier ways on and off the mountain to the south, and after a few false leads we were soon descending a straightforward mossy gully under the nose of the south ridge. 

We turned our attention to the second and highest of the paps, Beinn an Oir, the "Mountain of Gold".  The good news was,  a clear path up the stony flanks was visible. 

Beinn an Oir, Mountain of Gold. 785m

From the top the views were stupendous, and we could easily see the mountains and hills of home, looming on the horizon beyond the Kintyre Peninsula. 

The south ridge of Beinn Shiantaidh, with Arran visible beyond.

We were also able to look across to the final Pap, Beinn a Chaolais, or "Mountain of the Sound", which overlooks the sound between Islay and Jura. It didn't look very inviting; more like another towering scree trudge, so we decided to head back to the coast and an awaiting beer, with plans to return, and approach from a new trail that has been laid as part of a hydro scheme to the west.  It looks like an ascent of all three would be easily achieved with that approach.

More stones... Beinn a Chaolais, the one that got away. 734m. 

Lovely views back to Beinn a Chaolais as we retreated in the afternoon heat for our beer.

Wild Wild West: Islay, Jura and Kintyre

Its been a hectic few weeks up here with lots and lots of work, leading guided walks to look for otters and other wildlife, as well as mountain walks in the hills.  I've also picked up so interesting work doing butterfly surveys for Butterfly Conservation's Wider Countryside Butterfly Survey, which has definitely taken me off the beaten track! Below are some photos from my recent trip to the wild wild west of Scotland.  In the next update I'll write about about a walk up the Paps of Jura on my day off.

Islay is the place for big skies and long beaches.... This is Loch Gruinart. A great place for watching seals and other marine wildlife, and also hooching with common blue butterflies when I was there.

Big skies make for big sunsets.  Perfect with a glass of Islay whisky!

The Oa Peninsula is a great place for dramatic coastal walking, and if you are lucky you might just catch sight of a chough tumbling in the wind.

 

This is the American Monument, on the southern tip of the Oa, erected in memory of the men who were lost when two American troopships went down off the coast of Islay towards the end of WW1.

On the little boat across the Sound of Islay to Jura.  I'll blog about the Paps of Jura in my next entry. 

Back on Islay, this is the loch at Finlaggan, where the great halls of the kings of Dalriada stood on crannogs linked to the land by a causeway. 

Heavenly meadowsweet in bloom on the boggy shores around Finlaggan. 

On to Kintyre, this is the rocky coast near Carradale, with Ailsa Craig just visible on the horizon.

And finally, a tranquil beach on the west coast of Kintyre, looking back beyond Gigha towards Islay and the Paps of Jura.

Surprise! Ailsa Craig

What a treat I had today!
Only yesterday I was musing to myself that this year might be the first in a a while that I've not been out to Ailsa Craig.... Then this morning, a random tweet (if you "do" twitter my handle is @snoweider) and before I knew it I was crewing for Ocean Breeze Ribtours aka Elspeth and Russell Cheshire who run regular trips out to Ailsa during the summer months. Thanks to Elspeth and Russ for these stunning photos lifted from their brilliant blog.


Ailsa Craig is famous for it's unusual profile, a fabulous microgranite that was mined  until recently for curling stones, and of course being an enormous gannet colony. In addition to the 70,000 gannets, perched high above the firth of clyde on tiny ledges, there are also several thousand guillemots and razorbills, kittiwakes, fulmars and of course the charistmatic puffin.

As the weather was good, we were able to land on the island and have a look at the ruins of the mining village and associated industrial units.  It's a really interesting place, and although the last residents left in the mid 20th Century it has a feel of having only just been abandoned, with the points on the railway still working, and curling stone blanks littering the raised beach. 

We lingered just a little too long, and had to race the falling tide back to Lamlash. Luckily the water was flat and friendly, and before long the Isle of Pladda was alongside us and we were rounding the Southend of Arran. An amazing trip. I can't wait to go back!

Lake District Heatwave: Part 3 Gorgeous Grisedale

Five days of hot weather and tiny rockshoes were playing havoc with my poor bruised toes. On the final day of our holiday they rebelled.  A day in big boots was in order. Pinnacle Ridge on St Sunday Crag, Grisedale, is a classic grade 2 scramble with a sting it its tail: A pitch of moderate climbing that has a couple of thrutchy moves.  Just what is needed to add a bit of interest to the day.

Another day, another lake.  This is Ullswater, seen from the ridge of Thornhow. 

We parked at Patterdale and walked in via Thornhow, traversing across boggy and bouldery slopes above Grisedale to reach the base of the route. It isn't obvious at first and we puzzled for some time over the approach description in Scrambles and easy climbs in the Lake District. Eventually we located the start of the route and found the initial scrambling to be fun and easy, over jumbled blocks and spikes.

Later the climbing became more technical with a steep groove on the left of a tall tower to be climbed (avoidable with a nasty traverse on chossy slopes). We were lucky with the conditions, the groove is often greasy, but for us was beautifully dry.  The climbing was over far too quickly, and it wasn't long before we were basking in the sunshine on the summit of St Sunday Crag.

Striding Edge and Helvellyn

There were great views of Striding Edge and Helvellyn, bristling with people.  We headed southwest along the ridge to the glinting blue of the Grisedale tarn, where it was impossible to resist putting those battered feet in to the cool water.  

Thank you Lake District for a corker of a week.  :-)

Lake District Heatwave: Part 2- Beautiful Borrowdale

So its midweek and we are well and truly stuck in to the climbing in the Lake District and expecting the heatwave to last and then suddenly Woah! It is drizzling on and off.  What to do? Easy, saunter down to the cafe at Shepherds Crag, Borrowdale for a huge fried breakfast and sit and look at the will-it-won't-it weather for an hour or so.

Handy cafe at the bottom of the crag.  It would never catch on in Scotland....

Before long the sultry conditions returned and the day blossomed in to another hot crag fest on nice rock with lovely holds. We started gently with Jackdaw Ridge (left), before ticking the classic lakes V Diff Little Chamonix. This route is a must do, and many have, meaning that the crux holds are polished, and the hilarious step/slither across the void at the top of the third pitch is nervy. Sitting astride The Saddle at the start of the final pitch my relief was palpable. I learned later that there is a secret foothold that makes these moves easy peasy. Oh well. I'll just have to do it again...

 Wally on the first pitch of Little Chamonix

By mid afternoon we were over heating again and returned to the cafe to meet friends for ice cream. A perfect day marred only slightly by the discovery that a mouse at the foot of Little Chamonix had chewed it's way in to my pack, eaten most of my compass cord and had a feast on a granola bar. Hmmm.

We camped further up the glen (oops "Dale") and with the forecast still set fair, the following morning headed for a mountain crag above Combe Gill called Raven Crag (there seem to be a lot of these in the Lakes). On a recommendation from a friend, we headed up the classic Diff, Corvus ("arguably the best diff in the Lakes"), and were not disappointed. The climbing was continuously interesting, despite the broken and green nature of the buttress, and the "celebrated" hand traverse (above right) was great fun. 

The views down Borrowdale from the top of the crag were stupendous.

Enthused by such fantastic climbing, we descended to the base of the crag and also climbed Raven Crag Buttress, an esoteric V Diff that deserves more attention.  The line was very green and vegetated, and yet the climbing was fantastic, on huge steep holds, interspersed with delicate sections of climbing. If you have ever wondered what some of the Lake District classics were like before the crowds and the polish, check out this route!

Climbing amongst the heather on Raven Crag Buttress

All that remained on reaching the top was to run over to the summit of Glaramara, and enjoy the fabulous panoramic views from the top. Another perfect end to a perfect day in the Lake District.  

Up next: Grisedale.

Lake District Heatwave: Part 1- Lovely Langdale

Yep, you read right, I've been south of the border. To some this may not be surprising (it is where I originate from), but those who know me also know that I have vowed never to tousle with traffic, queues and expensive car parking ever again. And yet last week I found myself in the Lake District, in a heatwave, looking for rock to climb.

The story began in Langdale, a place I know reasonably well, and anticipating a long week of climbing, we started gently with a couple of routes on Upper Scout Crag. Even by English standards this is a valley crag with an easy walk in, which is just as well, as the day was roasting hot. The classic routes on this crag are imaginatively named Route 1 and Route 2, both V Diff (ish). The latter takes a rising line through ledges and slabs, while the former is more direct and probably the more satisfying for it. In between routes, it was all I could do to lie very still in the heat, trying to cool down. (We don't get this kind of heat in Scotland...)

Day 2, and we decided to go a little further afield and visit an old favourite, Gimmer Crag.  Gimmer is notorious for having an arduous approach, but after 6 years of living on Arran and stomping up and down Glen Rosa, an hour walk in to a crag feels like roadside! Nevertheless, the heat was astonishing, and we were glad to arrive in a heap at the looming base of Gimmer Chimney (V Diff). 

The compelling line of Gimmer Chimney

The route is really only 4 pitches long, but after a sweaty thrutch in the lower chimney, it was all I could do to lie in the sun a bit more.  Game over. Heat 1, Lucy 0....

Day 3, and at last I'm starting to get the measure of the weather.  An early start put us down a grade and on Middlefell Buttress in the cool morning shade. This is one of the most famous Diffs in the Lake District and rightly so.  Although now quite polished, it is still quite straightforward, with the only sting in the tail being the descent. With hindsight, this would have been a great approach to Gimmer. However, on this occasion it was an early finish for ice cream, and then a drive up to Basenthwaite to visit the Lake District Osprey Project.

Still to come: Borrowdale and Grisedale!