by Andy Smith

We roused ourselves from our brief but comfortable bivouac on the Bealach a’ Gharbh Choire, the pale dawn heralding a perfect Skye day. Way below us to the east we could see that remote and magical spot below the fine peak of Sgurr nan Stri where the River Coruisk flows into Loch Scavaig. To the south, the Small Isles Soay, Canna, Rhum and Eigg were visible across the calm Hebridean sea, with the fascinating and shapely peaks of Rhum in particular attracting the attention.

It was 3.45 am on Tuesday 27th May 1975, the occasion being the Club’s Spring Bank Holiday meet to the Black Cuillin, the party comprising Ronny Hindmoor, John and Lesley Evans, Sean Jennings, Andrew Hothersall, Martin Coggins, Anne Pendlebury and myself. We had left Glen Brittle at eight the previous evening and scrambled up Sron na Ciche via Collie’s Route , reaching the top in time to see a gorgeous sunset. Later we had romped along the crest of the ridge in bright moonlight, reaching its southernmost peak, Gars Bheinn, before heading back to our bivouac site. Now, with the stars fading rapidly, we packed our sacks and climbed to the top of Sgurr Dubh na Da Bheinn where, having warmed ourselves up and reached a superb viewpoint, we paused for breakfast.

Ahead, the jagged crest of the Main Ridge encircled the head of Loch Coruisk to its final peak and our ultimate objective - Sgurr nan Gillean a long day’s scrambling away but tantalisingly close beyond the coire. We soon reached the famous Thearlaich Dubh Gap, the first and most difficult rock pitch of the day. We abseiled into the Gap and the pitch out of the Gap was well led, the rest of us thrutching up one way or another ­ the rock was polished and strenuous and we took close on an hour to get our party of eight across. We left our sacks whilst detouring slightly from the Main Ridge to take in Skye’s highest point, the paramount Sgurr Alasdair 3257 ft .

The next section, around Coire Lagan, is possibly the finest stretch of the whole trip: Sgurr Thearlaich, an abseil down to Bealach Mhic Coinnich, the surprising Collie’s Ledge to Sgurr Mhic Coinnich and the magnificent scramble over An Stac culminating in the unique Inaccessible Pinnacle. We soloed up the moderate but very exposed east ridge of the Pinnacle and abseiled down the short west face. It was now 11 am and getting very hot time for lunch.

The ridge becomes sustained, brilliant scrambling: Banachdich, Thormaid, Ghreadaidh, Mhadaidh, Bidein Druim nan Ramh, An Caisteal, Bhairnich, Bruach na Frithe: the roll call of evocative Gaelic names familiar to every Skye afficionado. Each Munro has a number of tops which all have to be visited, and even on a clear day, route finding is not straightforward in places. It must be very tricky in mist, compounded by the occurrence of magnetic rock to confuse the compass.

We were now beginning to get tired and dehydrated. It is well known that there is no water on the ridge and we were carrying large water bottles, but on such a hot windless day, our supplies of liquid had dwindled rapidly. Fortunately there were still a few snow patches lingering from the winter to provide us with a welcome supply of cool melt water otherwise we might well have had to give up.

The Bhasteir Tooth is usually done via Naismith’s Route , an easy but very exposed pitch and the last place on the ridge where a rope is needed. Unfortunately, when we arrived a large army party was having a prolonged abseiling epic on the route, so we circumnavigated it by dropping into the Fionn Choire to the north before tackling Am Basteir itself.

We arrived at the final peak, Sgurr nan Gillean, at 7.30 pm, nearly eighteen hours including the bivouac after leaving Gars Bheinn, not a bad time considering the size of the party and the sweltering conditions.

After staying together all along the ridge we now split up, some wanting to hurry down to the Sligachan Inn to ensure a pint, the aesthetes preferring to linger and enjoy a perfect evening in the hills, chatting, admiring and photographing the views and consuming the last remnants of food.

At last we reluctantly left the tops and wearily set out along the seemingly interminable track back to Sligachan, reaching it just before 11.00 pm, twenty seven hours after leaving Glen Brittle: twenty one peaks, many of them Munros, fifteen miles of ridge with at least 10,000 feet of ascent and the roughest, wildest, mountaineering Scotland has to offer. It was my longest day out in the British mountains - and the best!