Many older climbers have the reputation of being fierce and confrontational when speaking to the younger generation but as Cubby explains its all just part of the climbers' apprenticeship.
You know, I can't think of anything more pleasurable than spending a few hours yakking over a gourmet coffee and a home-made piece of gingerbread in my favourite cafe. The only snag is that I've got favourite cafes dotted all over Scotland! Come to think of it, a large portion of my climbing these days seems to be dictated by the nearest cafe!
Anyway, Happy New Year to you all. I hope you managed to get out into the snowy mountains, if not to climb, then at least to burn off all that turkey and Christmas cake. Unfortunately we were grounded with the dreaded lurgy. Ah well, never mind, it didn't stop us from a visit to our local cafe though and for what - yip, more Christmas cake!
Just as I was about to gorge on yet another hefty portion of cake, I detected a nod and a grin from the far end of the table. It was Dave Bathgate. For those of you who don't recognise the name, The Curtain (see pic) on Ben Nevis might ring a few bells, or Freak Out in Glencoe. But Dave has pioneered far more impressive routes all over Scotland and other parts of the world for that matter. It's an interesting thought though, being recognised for a climb that through the advent of the front pointing revolution has undoubtedly become the most popular grade V in the country. I doubt Dave will be remembered for his harder climbs, they're just too adventurous for most.
As one of a group of outstanding young Edinburgh climbers who called themselves The Squirrels, Dave and fellow member, Bugs McKeith inspired what was to become one of the most powerful Scottish climbing partnerships during the 60s. Like many Scots before him however, Bugs emigrated to Canada. It was here, having adapted his Scottish winter experiences, that he pioneered a new approach to ice climbing. The results were impressive and many cutting edge frozen waterfalls were climbed, such as Pilsner Pillar, Ice Nine and Takakaw Falls. Bugs also left his mark on the big alpine faces of the Rockies but tragically, it was here that he and his wife met their fate, killed while attempting a new route on Mount Assinaboyne.
The younger generation of Scottish climbers are often accused of taking their climbing and themselves just too seriously. An opinion that has to some extent filtered down from an ageing generation. But, I would have to say that my own personal experiences back in the 70s were not of a light hearted confrontation that you might expect, quite the contrary in fact. And dare I say, Dave Bathgate was just one of many hurdles I had to cross.
It was Hogmanay 1976 and somehow or another we, "we" being Hamilton, Alan Taylor - the Chimp, Rab Anderson and myself, found ourselves at Big Ian Nicholson's in Glencoe. Ian had a reputation as one of Scotland's most outstanding climbers during the late 60s and early 70s and within minutes we were engaged in conversation. I sensed it was leading somewhere and then, despite having consumed large quantities of alcohol, his whole manner and tone of voice altered. "What do you think of the Creag Dubh?"
Graham Desroy on a modern day ascent of The Curtain on Ben Nevis
Talk about being put on the spot, I was 18 years old, weaned on tradition and climbing folklore, not to mention a deep respect for the Creag Dubh but unfortunately for me the few members that I had met appeared to be suffering from what some might describe as a mid-life crisis!
At the time I had just come across Norrie Muir for the very first time on a trip to the Clachaig. Despite Norrie's credentials as a brilliant mountaineer (some of his Scottish exploits include, Minus I Buttress, Left Hand Route and Psychedelic Wall on Ben Nevis and Silver Tear in the North West), I had great difficulty in discriminating between them and the specimen I had just met at the Clachaig. To young upstarts like myself what would you think - unshaven and with long, black, straight greasy hair, parted in the middle, Norrie looked like something out of a Clint Eastwood western.
From the bar he approached me slowly, bending his knees slightly and shifting his weight from one foot to the other and chanting. In one hand he was only just holding on to a pint of heavy, in the other a quarter whisky bottle shaped can which, beneath a layer of oily grime, the word "Nitromores" could be read. Now whether or not it was done for effect, I don't know but I tell you it worked! "You're the wee w*!?ker from Edinburgh," said Norrie in a squeaky Glaswegian accent, barely able to see through slit, mole-like eyes and a grin that exposed the odd missing tooth and just as many black decaying ones. He still chanted towards me, pouring the contents of the Nitromores can into his pint, which bubbled and fizzed! I was speechless.
The remainder of New Year was spent at Alt na Feidh barn, an infamous hang-out that has since burnt down. Some young lads were there, younger than myself and were asking all sorts of questions about this and that. In fact it was the Leinster twins, John and Kenny who became accomplished winter climbers with numerous early repeats and some first ascents to their credit. Anyway, "what do you think of John Cunningham?" one of them asked. Having had a few drinks, I stupidly gave an opinion, fortunately in great praise of the man but the very fact that I had the audacity to give an opinion, was enough to entice two completely evil-looking characters from a dark corner of the bothy.
It was none other than George Adams and Norrie Muir. To the unacquainted they were a formidable sight! The subdued lighting highlighted only part of their faces and their gnarled climber's hands, crumpling the Tennents lager babe on the side of their beer cans, while the remainder of their bodies merged into the darkness. But what caught my eye was a large cyst, protruding from the side of George's neck, which appeared to pulsate and grow with his increasing anger. He literally growled at me, and then said in a deep, gravelly voice, "Cunningham will be a better f*!?in' climber than you'll ever f*!?in' be". Gulp! In later years as a young adult, I got to know George really well. Some of you might remember him in a TV series presented by Muriel Gray about skiing, in which George would often appear as Grumpy George the ski expert.
"Well Ian," I said, thinking I should be open and honest, "to be truthful I haven't really got much time for people like that." Instantly regretting what I had said, Ian grabbed my wrist very firmly. And with a very disappointed expression and a sincere voice said, "don't you ever, ever say that about the Creag Dubh again". Those standing close to me turned and looked on with a degree of concern. There was a pause. Ian eventually let go of my limp wrist, whacked me across the head and said, "aye, yous are all right".
Only half an hour later, a well-oiled Bathgate weavils his way to the corner of Ian's living room where I quietly skulked. "So Cubby," that same serious tone in his voice. I detected another drilling. "What really happened on Freak Out?" Arghh here we go again...
Some friends of mine were terribly upset when they were confronted by others in relation to the way in which they had completed some first ascents, in some cases routes that were not even first ascents. Yes, serving an apprenticeship - it's tough I know but don't think you're being singled out. Most of us will experience some sort of confrontation during our lives, regardless of the level we climb at. Just be careful whom you upset!
Cubby
17/1/2002
