The Rock That Keeps On Giving

What I keep returning to in bouldering is its ability to absorb our imagination and its open-ended nature. Dumbarton Rock, despite its heavy historical footfall, still keeps giving new 'lines'. In bouldering, there is a crucial core to enjoying it and this is the simple sense of play. The eliminate philosophy of deciding what lines to climb means a single lump of rock can provide limitless entertainment and fun. There aren't any restrictions as to line - it is the movement and quality of moves which counts, which is why we can get so absorbed by graffiti-scrawled rock in a tawdry industrial setting and still feel like we are lost in a new world. This focus on the actual climbing rather than the line dictated by the architecture (these are always the obvious aesthetic lines which are climbed first) means anything is possible and any move can be as good as another: the rock doesn't really care which way you go, after all. Hence the birth of traversing, such as the classic Consolidated Traverse, which opened a whole new game at Dumbarton.

A case in point are the new 'link-ups' and traverses which seem to be the future of Dumby, as they provide this 'custom-climbing' approach which allows you to choose what problem you'd like to climb, a bit like a supermarket with hundreds of brands - just take your pick. Take the Mugsy Cave, for example. Chris Houston began linking and eliminating holds in new sequences with problems such as Houston, We Have a Problem (best name of the year!) and then Will Atkinson (and Malc Smith, amongst others) stepped in and linked up some old classic problems and suddenly we have a mini-Bowderstone! An example of Will's open-eyed approach is this classic link-up of Mestizo Arete, Mugsy Traverse and Malky, which he called Nice & Sleazy. It links a series of aesthetic (and hard) moves on a typically slopey and archetypal chunk of Dumbarton Rock:

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...

Stone Country

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