Arguably the best route on the Old Man of Hoy

South Face of the Old Man of Hoy photo courtesy of Adam Long

James, guardian of the Burnmouth Both in Ratwick, probably has the best idea of anyone of how many teams a year climb the Old Man of Hoy. His estimate is one hunndred and fifty per year. Of these we mused, how many were by the original route? Eighty percent? Ninty percent? Ninty nine percent?

As we peered upwards into the mist enshrouded heights of the rock tower we knew one thing; there were five people climbing the original route and none on the GMB West Face route. Congratulating ourselves on our originality we gently mock the numpty cluster fuck taking place around the corner. Assuredly we tease in a couple of optimistic wires as a ‘belay’. I settle back to watch Reeve dispatch the first 5c pitch. Half-jokingly I suggest we might beat the other teams to the top.

Twenty minutes of total failure later we were again both still stood on the starting ledges. Damp, sand generating slopers, indifferent gear and fragile footholds with a propensity to crumble had defeated all upwards progress at a height of less than five metres. Daunted we swapped lead; additional RP’s were nestled into cracks, holds rigorously brushed and good jams on the lip of the overhang gained. Having stuffed the break with the largest cams I ran it out to the belay. Confidence slightly knocked we muttered something about there being no point in retreating yet and continued on.

Over the next few hours we both, backed off, traversed off, prevaricated and split pitches at additional belays. The guide description quickly became mere optimistic guidance.

Struggling to progress upwards I forced a wafer thin traverse in desperation. A unique crouching experience, stooped below an overhang, smearing sandy foot holds and pinching a horizontal wafer thin flake. Walking never felt so exposed and gear never felt so far away. Had this been included in the original ascent I’m sure it would have had a prominent write up.

We quickly realised our double set of wires were nothing but ballast whilst our double set of cams were woefully inadequate. As we climbed higher it became clear that bailing off this route was going to be a costly exercise.  I favoured building a good belay, tying both our ropes together and worrying about the consequences tomorrow whilst Reeve was eyeing up a diagonal abseil across the North Face to the sanctuary of easy ground. As both of these plans seemed worse than continuing upwards we kept going. The forth pitch stretched on forever with its thirty five metres (really?) eventually broken down into three pitches with us finally gaining the terrace thirty metres below the summit at about eight pm. A mere half hour prior to sun set. We used the terrace to bail onto easy ground, topping out in time to watch the sun set. As we descended into the gathering darkness we agreed that tomorrow we would return to finish it off.

Needless to say there was no sign of the party of five.

Another late start saw us looking down from the landward cliff top behind the old man. A slow moving team on the first pitch of the original route filled us with horror. Our plan of blasting up the trade route and abbing into the final (crux) pitch of the GMB looked optimistic. Luckily they headed left up the South Face in a shower of loose holds and fulmar vomit, leaving the way clear. One pitch of overhanging offwidth, two pitches of ledge shuffling and one good corner led to the top. We abseiled and traversed into position below the final thirty metre, overhanging corner system, of the GMB. At this point I declared that having led the lion’s share of the lower section it was only fair to let Reeve have first refusal. He almost bit my hand off.

This last pitch was epic in position and quality. The final capping buttress overhung the North West arête and the climbing was steep and athletic with enough gear to provide comfort but long enough run-outs to focus the mind. A section of wafer thin flakes added spice with the specialty being good breaks with a subsidiary fragile flake above. This left one with no option but to trust the fragile higher surface. When weighted these often held for a while before dropping you, unexpectedly half a centimetre lower onto the solid hold below. Logic flew out the window on these occasions and I’m sure I heard whimpering floating down from above along with the sandy debris.

This time we topped out with plenty of time to enjoy the summit. Three tops in two days seemed quite good going.

Having only climbed the West Face GMB route and the East Face Original route I’m possibly not in a position to argue that the GMB is the best route up the Old Man but I do know that if I head back again I’m taking less wires, a triple rack of cams and going for the one-day speed ascent. Although as Dave Turnball always insists, the best thing to take on routes like this is John Arran.