POINT OF STOER

Climbing the Old Man of Stoer had been a long held aspiration and returning years later in a kayak, I looked at the route I had climbed with Paul and tried to work out where we’d gone wrong.

The tyrolean had been entertaining and the first pitch of the original route, a VS, dispatched easily enough. Soon afterwards, finding ourselves secured to a poor belay and faced with some sketchy moves up a steep corner onto a ramp, it seemed that either this was a very ‘traditional grade’, or we were completely off route. It was of course the latter. I took the lead from Paul and with a long reach, made the ramp and finally the ‘summit’. We got the abseil wrong too. If you’ve ever wondered whether a 60m abseil is possible on 50m ropes, we proved it is. As it happened, I’d led the crux pitch of the E2 though I suspect it is a touch easy for the grade, but at the time it satisfied vain ambition and I swung across the tyrolean once more, absurdly pleased with myself, despite our errors.

Chris and I nearly made another error paddling beneath the stack, timing the swell poorly and enjoying a bouncy ride through the channel.

Beyond was a 6km crossing to the northern tip of Oldany Island and our camp for the night - an idyllic spot backed by white sand to either side.

The evening was one of those glorious nights that seems must last forever.

And in the morning it was hard to tear ourselves away, but being keen to return through the narrow tidal channel, we eventually left what has to be one of the best camps of any trip only to land on another perfect beach a short while later.

Steaming in the warm sun, I stripped off the salt caked cag and ran down to the sea. Too enthusiastically it turned out as my hamstring pinged. Later, nursing the strain while making a brew, I managed to drop a full kettle of boiling water over my ankle. The cooking apple sized blister that developed made life interesting for some days. Another lesson learned - if the skin is unbroken, such a burn is best treated simply by covering in clingfilm. Once sealed, the pain rapidly eases. If only I’d known. A painful end to a superb trip.

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UP THE CREEK

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HANDA ISLAND