Scotland

  

The Old Man of Hoy

“We couldn’t go over for a little less, do you think?” I asked,

“ Ask me again and I’ll charge you more” Said Doug Adams, called Doogie by his friends.  We had just landed on the big island of the Orkneys, in the ocean north of Scotland. they call it the mainland, from the long ferry ride from Scrabster.  We had to run for the ferry and were carrying all of our climbing gear, coats, raingear, but I left the tent and sleeping bag in the car.  I thought about taking them, but they would not fit.

Our big beautiful golden ferry landed in Stromness at 10:15.  We watched the 10:00 ferry leaving for Hoy as we pulled in.  There were no more ferries to Hoy until 4:00.  So we started asking around, by the dock to hire a boat to Hoy.  We were already very late to start such a climb, but I wanted to see how close we could get.  And that is how we found Doogie.  One of his friends called him, and for £100  and not a penny less,  he could take us over.  There was a brief moment as I considered what it would mean if we got on his boat.  We would miss the ferry back to Scrabster, back to our warm single room apartment we had rented in Thurso, back to the car.  We might end up sleeping in the grass somewhere on a rainy cold Scottish night on the sparsely populated island of Hoy. We could stay in Stromness and visit the shops, but instead I bought a croissant to ask where the cash machine might be, and 10 minutes later we were climbing into a tiny boat to go across the sound to Hoy.

I was prepared, with two ropes, a full rack, a rain jacket, two egg and goat cheese sandwiches, and I was with Jakob and he was excited to ride that little boat, and so was I.  Doogie took us across, we landed in the tiny deserted ferry building, and I called a cab, loaned my climbing knife to Jakob so he could dig out a tick from his leg from our  climb the day before.  A few minutes later we were driving down a single lane road through the Heather with a Scottish woman who was glad we were the Grahams come to visit Scotland.

At the end of the ride, she said, I will meet you back here at 10 to 6, so we could catch the 6:15 ferry, the last ferry back.  She told us part of our problem was that the ferries do not coordinate times and that the schedule is different every day.  Then she told us it is a 3 mile walk to the Old Man.  The Old Man of Hoy, that we had seen from the side of the ferry earlier that morning, towering over the water in the clouds and mist and rain. So we set off, fast, and ended up going down the wrong trail, back tracked and got back on the right trail and hiked as fast as anyone could hike with 30 pounds of gear on their back.

The way I think about it, I  want to be ready for the possibility of an adventure.  I don’t know if it will happen, but I want to get as close as I can.  There might be a snowstorm, thunder, maybe hail, but when I get to the bottom of Mont Blanc, I don’t want to fail because I did not bring crampons and an ice axe.   So I was ready to climb the Old Man of Hoy and now we were running down the trail like crazy people, passing the group that left long before us, the ones who were on the right trail.

It was a beautiful amazing walk on a Scottish island out in the ocean above the sandstone sea cliffs, reminiscent of the Channel Islands.  It was cloudy and a bit windy but not raining. There was heather and flowers and probably sheep along  the well worn path. After a while we could see the top of the sea stack in the distance and before long, were at the top of the cliff looking down, trying to figure out how to get to the base. Finally we find a bit of trail down the escarpment, very slippery, just little steps going down.  It was late not, 1:38 to be exact, but we were going down.  As we reached the bottom two climbers were abseiling off and we waved to them. 

Soon we had our gear on, we walked along the little ridge from the main island to the base of the sea stack and I started climbing.  What a wonderful moment, we both felt it, to be climbing in the strong sea breeze, hearing the crashing of the waves, smelling the water, climbing the Old Man of Hoy, famous throughout the islands and Scotland. By the time I got to the top of the first pitch of beautiful sandstone, I was being pelted with rain. I brought Jakob up and I started the tricky traverse into the corner and crack of the second pitch.  By the time I got there it was like climbing in mud.  On the arête, the wind was drying the rock, but the rain was making the corner a slippery mud bath and we were out of time. 

If the conditions had been possible, I am sure I would have continued the climb and spent the night wandering around the island, but instead I set up the rappel, which turned into a huge rope tangle.  It was a hanging rappel, and I was dangling above the rocks, unable to move because the tangle rope.  I set up a prussic knot so I could use both hands to unweave the knots.  It took a long time, but finally I got down before Jakob had time to put his improvised rescue into place.  We threw everything into the bags in the rain, and practically ran up the even more slippery trail, reached the top at 5 to 5. We had 50 minutes to cover the 3 miles (the sign at the beginning of the hike said, plan 3 hours for the round trip). 

We made it in 45, and the woman’s husband was waiting for us in the car.  We drove down the road while he explained what was growing in the field (neeps, short for turnips), and he mentioned that the ferry to Scrabster might have overnight beds.  While waiting for the ferry to Stromness we inspected the shore line and picked up lots of limpet shells, a seal poked his head to see what we were doing. It was great.  This time it was a very small ferry that took us back to the mainland. We walked everywhere, very tired by now, but there was no restaurants open,  so we sat in a pub by the ferry terminal to see if we could stay on the ferry, eating seafood chowder in the meantime.

At 9:30 we were able to board the golden ferry, and they had a room for us. We went to room 211, which was perfect, two beds, snug together, a reading light, the Gideon’s New Testament, even a shower.  And best of all, I would not need to get Jakob out of bed to catch the 6:30 ferry.  I fell asleep while he watched World War II documentaries. The Orkney Islands are famous for their part in World War II and also contain ancient archaeological sights, and they raise lots of sheep and cows, too.

We had to catch the first ferry, otherwise we would get to our room in Thurso too late, and we yet had the long drive to Edinburgh.  It was great to feel the vibrations of the ferry engines the next morning as it slowly made its way across the channel, a 90 minute ride. Plus free breakfast, which consisted of fried eggs from Orkney with bright orange yolks, sausage, mushrooms, and black pudding. I sat by the window and sketched the Old Man of Hoy as we sailed by.