Ben Nevis by Ken Crocket and Simon Richardson

The new edition of the SMT publication 'Ben Nevis' has been published and it's a real treasure trove for the Scottish climber! Ken Crocket has done a great job of updating his sections from the older edition and Simon Richardson has added an inspiring and knowledgeable section on modern winter development.

The production levels of the book are tremendous, with full colour photography and illustrations on every page. It's the absolute bible on our biggest mountain and weighs in at a hefty but soild hardback of 416 pages.

The book delves deep into the details of misty history and introduces us to an almost-lost character list of rum characters who have climbed on this mountain over the years. Early travellers and mappers are given due introduction and the early Raeburn years are given due credit for their technique and boldness.

The book is divided into chapters just like the 'eras' of devlopment on the mountain: the Ben seems to go through fashions and modes like a shape shifter. It had its tweed era, its alpen-stocked brigade, it has had a step-cutting era, a rock era in the 70's and 80's and more latterly a hard mixed winter era... each chapter delves into the people who have coloured the mountain with their climbs. It ends suitably with Dave MacLeod's epic Echo Wall ascent, and it seems apt to a resilient Celtic nation to harbour the hardest logistical and technical rock climb on the planet.

There are also welcome chapters on Geology, Industrial & Social Heritage, Mapping and Natural History which bring a more holistic touch to the book. It really is an essential buy for anyone interested in our highest and most dominating mountain and is a superbly produced tome that will reward with years of return reading. The photographs are inspiring and the stories are well researched and colourfully written.

I'm selling copies on the main Stone Country site for £25.00.

Vertical Landscapes: Exploring Glasgow's Hidden Bouldering

With the new guide to Glasgow Bouldering forthcoming, and with the last two years spent scouring our local landscapes for vertical diversion, many of us discovered a closer, more nuanced appreciation of climbing and how it helps maintain mental wellbeing as much as physical. The big mountains and wilderness landscapes were for the first time excluded from access and our pandemic taught us all to appreciate the landscapes on our doorstep. Even the urban world has its own small wildernesses and landscapes to immerse ourselves in for a while. For me, the daily walk in lockdown occasionally became a hunt for an esoteric piece of rock spied on the OS map or Google Earth. Rumours of boulders and mythologies of obscure rock were hunted down to help feed a hunger for the vertical. Even Dumbarton Rock was out of range, lying outside of the Glasgow City boundary. It's a venue which famously makes the blood run cold, with fiercely exposed overhanging routes, highball boulder problems and cl...

The Lost Township of Grulin on Eigg

‘The Stony Place’ as it translates, the archaeological notes on the RCAHMS database for Eigg, state baldly the lost humanity of Grulin as early as an 1880 OS survey map: ‘…eighteen unroofed buildings, six enclosures and a field-system’. Now a scheduled monument and memorialised as a ‘depopulated settlement’, though it is not obvious if the verb is passive or aggressive, Grulin Uachdrach (Grulin Upper) is, like Hallaig on Raasay, a place of violent silence and resonance. Who lived here and why was the site abandoned? If it were not in Scotland, suspicions might fall to the climate, remoteness and apparent unsustainability of the stony place, a rabble of large rocks under the steep slopes of An Sgurr, but the carefully constructed walls tell us it was once a thriving township – the kilns, folds and blackhouse walls integrated with the giant boulders such as Clach Hosdail. In 1853 the whole of the village of Grulin, both upper and lower, housed fourteen families who were forced to l...

Timeline Walks of Scotland #Hallaig to Screapadal on Raasay

'Tha tìm, am fiadh, an coille Hallaig ...' Hallaig - the lost village of Raasay - is a powerful place. Arguably, it has become a shibboleth for the soul of Gaelic culture. To visit it, to just be there momentarily and feel the resonance of the place, is to know the fragility of place and home, of how kinship can be shattered and how loss can invade a land. Aptly, Hallaig is now a site of pilgrimage for those who value the universal lessons of history. There are t errible reasons for the loss of Hallaig. Its silent mouths of abandoned shielings, the dumb sheep meandering amongst the ruins, whisper with Sorley MacLean's poetry. The place misses the sounds of day-to-day community, and all around the woods and burns and slopes this tough but rich landscape once made this a hardy paradise under the eastern cliffs of Raasay. Facing east to the dawn and overlooking the peninsula of Applecross and the berry-dark depths of the Inner Sound, the walk to Hallaig leads quietly...

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