Features
Adventures on Sron na Lairig
By Stuart Clymont
Sunday 25 January 2004 dawned calm and bright as we set off for Sron Na Lairig, Glen Coe. The 4km walk was an excellent warm up for the fleetingly glimpsed ridge looming ahead. A ‘Grade 2’ with stars, the article in the latest MCofS magazine had me salivating.
On arriving at the easy slopes at the foot of the ridge there was clearly a poor covering of snow, sloughing off easily under our feet and balling up. I roped up to my friend Iain, as he was unsure of using crampons on rock. My brother in law, another Ian, preferred to climb solo at this point. Onwards and forever upwards, we gained height, ascending two easy rock bluffs and reaching a significantly steeper section. The snow cover was still poor as we entered a narrow gully, looking hard in its very lean condition.
NEVER TRUST A RUSTY PITON!
“I’ll lead this”, said Ian. No arguments there, as at 15 stones I was easily the heaviest. I took up the belay, foolishly belaying directly under Ian’s feet. I set a large hex in a crack. ”Bombproof”, I stated.
After a few feet of scratching on bare rock, loose gravel and turf, Ian spied an old rusty piton tightly wedged in a crack. “That’ll do nicely”. After another five feet he traversed to the left, having spied some turf to use. On reaching it, however, it was loose and shallow. Rocks under his right foot were moving. I saw it coming; I dashed to the left quickly, too quickly, as I appear to have pulled out the protection. I felt a thump from a rock on my helmet and then the sound of the rope moving fast across my jacket. I took the strain of the rope dynamically on my belay plate; still managing to burn both my forefinger, thumb and index finger, taking skin clean off all of them. I looked down to see Ian pick himself up from the foot of the steep section, having fallen over 50 feet. His madness was confirmed by a wide beaming smile.
Deciding the gully and ridge was not truly in condition; we began to descend. I was still roped to the two Ians’. In hindsight, a short period of calming nerves should have been taken after the fall. In the event, it was not.
MEL GIBSON RIDES AGAIN
After only descending twenty feet on this 30 degree slope, and using my two axes facing in, my feet slid down a few feet. I basically slumped against the slope and my left axe pulled through. The right one, however, held tight but as my body twisted down the weight came on my right shoulder, which, unbelievably, came out of its socket ( an anterior dislocation!). I stopped myself easily with my left hand and looked at Ian, “I’ve put my shoulder out!”
I slid another 5 feet and stood up on a small flat section. “You’ll need to put this in for me”. I could see what Ian was thinking, “no way”.
I had no movement at all, my hand was limp and my arm was a dead lump, any jarring caused searing pain. I had no idea how to get it back in, but in it must go. I tried to push the joint but all I got was stabs of pain. My forehead was cooling, but sweat ran into my eyes.
I remembered a Mel Gibson film; use a belt and pull it back in! But I couldn’t raise my arm upwards. In a flash of inspiration, I grabbed my front points on my right foot with the fingertips of my right hand and, keeping my right leg straight, I pulled away towards my left. I felt severe pain, I screamed inside, but remained quite quiet on the outside. There were two definite clicks and all pain subsided instantly.
“I’ve got it back in. I don’t want to spoil your day, why don’t you two carry on”. They just looked at me.
We stayed roped as we were still about 1400ft up. About 100ft lower, the unimaginable happened, I jerked on the rope and out popped my shoulder again!
The pain was as bad as before, I moaned loudly this time. I quickly grasped my right foot and pulled for all I was worth, “click, click”. Pain gone, more sweat flowed.
The two rock bluffs came and went. I was glad of the tight rope from Ian. Then it happened, a third episode of pain. I could scarcely believe it, the others looked sick as I again pulled at my arm, this time with more than I was worth. “click, grind, stretch, click”, the utter relief. I had vomit in my mouth this time.
The 4km walk back was an ordeal, each step a worry as fear of a further episode wore me down. I looked back at the beauty of Sron Na Lairig. It will forever hold memories for me.
The staff at the Vale of Leven Hospital were amazed at the story, the doctor was in dread as I related the tale, moving my right arm about. X rays revealed no fractures, but with weeks of immobilization and then physio for the inevitable frozen shoulder, my winter season was over, just as the snow arrived in earnest. What a bummer!