Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal Volume 3 Number 6

The North-East ridge of Aonach Beag

by Gilbert Thomson

THE mountain mass of Ben Nevis has immediately to the east of it two smaller masses, each of which rises above 4,000 feet. There is first the sharp peak of Càrn Mòr Dearg (4,012 feet), connected with the summit of Ben Nevis by a narrow curving ridge, and still farther to the east there is the long broad-backed Aonach, connected with Càrn Mòr Dearg by a very similar ridge. The Aonach itself is classed as two distinct mountains, the northern extremity being called Aonach Mor (3,999 feet), and the southern Aonach Beag (4,060 feet). The names are quite justifiable although the Beag is the higher of the two, for the Mor is much rounder and more bulky, and correspondingly less attractive to climbers.

The Easter meet of the Club will be memorable on account of the number and character of the climbs that were then discovered. As has been already mentioned in the Journal, Collie proved a perfect encyclopaedia of information regarding possible and impossible routes, and even after his reluctant departure he left a valuable legacy behind. The credit of an ancient victory has by universal consent been ascribed to a "dead Douglas," and in like manner the credit of the first ascent of the north-east ridge of Aonach Beag is undoubtedly due to the absent Collie. By his advice a party of three (Maclay, Naismith, and the writer) accompanied him as far as Spean Bridge on his way to the south, on Saturday morning, 13th April. Full directions were given as to how to find a "beautiful ridge," and shortly before eight we left the train and struck across the moor, passing close to the stalker's house, and then up the valley immediately to the east of the Aonachs. The morning was close and oppressively warm, and the hills were shrouded in mist, It was slow work trudging up the glen, following pretty much the course of the burn, but at last we got fairly under the mountain, and saw a fine-looking ridge on our right.

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It would be too much to say that its appearance quite came up to the anticipations which had been raised by Collie's description, but it was the best we could find in the mist, and it certainly had a good appearance. To it therefore we went, and for a thousand feet or more made our way patiently up a ridge that was always interesting, but never difficult. In fact, the suspicion of a joke on the part of our informant was not altogether absent, although it seemed incredible that a man like Collie could play off a joke on such a serious subject as a beautiful ridge. The ridge was treated with all respect, - more than it is ever likely to get again. As we ascended, it became evident that it came to a peak (top of An Cul Choire) some distance from the main ridge of the mountain, and that it was separated from this ridge by a decided dip. Further, it joined the mountain considerably to the north of the summit of Aonach Beag, in fact it was a ridge of Aonach Mor. Our new suspicion that we had gone astray, soon became a certainty. The mist cleared somewhat as we reached top of the ridge, and on looking to the south we could see the sharp outlines of another ridge, with two or three pitches that in profile were perpendicular. The ridge we had just climbed suffered so much by the comparison that perhaps our final estimate of its merits was as far short of justice as our first estimate had been beyond it.

The man who reaches the station in time for a stern view of the last train is to be pitied; and the man who has lost his purse in a strange land may be somewhat uncomfortable. But what are these tribulations compared to the plight of the climber who has spent a large part of his available time in climbing the wrong ridge? But the real one had got to be climbed. The first thing to be done was obviously to get to the foot of it, and a rapid survey and consultation resulted in a course being set for the top of a snow slope, which it was hoped might be a speedy way down. But it was a delusion and a snare. For a short distance it was too steep for a glissade, and immediately after that it became so soft that a glissade was not only a very uncomfortable, but an exceedingly slow, means of locomotion. Even vile snow slopes come to an end, but they may be succeeded, as in this case, by sloppy and rough ground, which is worse.

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The lower part of our ridge was evidently very easy, and by crossing almost on a level from the point we had reached on our descent there was a good opportunity of getting on to it by a steep snow gully on its near side. The gully led us through a gap right to the far side, where the snow stretched up in an unbroken slope of considerable steepness. For some five hundred feet we plodded up the snow, a bit of ice giving occasional variety, then for two or three hundred feet more we climbed on the crest of the ridge, up steep but easy rocks. Even when we got on a sharp rock arête our old suspicion that the difficulties were imaginary lingered in our minds, and our leader, while scrambling up to a small tower, indulged in some remarks not altogether complimentary to the ridge, perhaps scarcely complimentary to our informant. A moment later an exclamation in a very different tone hurried up those behind. This was what they saw. For fifty feet or thereabout the ridge was level, perhaps it even inclined downward. Beyond, it rose in tier after tier of grand pinnacles. To take these in face was hopeless, while there was little ground on the right, and that very steep; and none on the left, before the ridge fell off sheer for hundreds of feet. It was not a place to take chances, any advance must be made with great care, and with every precaution. After a prolonged survey it was thought that by working round to the right it might be possible to turn the first pinnacle. This involved the crossing of a steep slope of frozen snow, just over the edge of the ridge, and then the ascent of an awkward cleft from anything but a good starting place. The passage was made safe by the fact that throughout excellent hitches were available, so that the party was always securely anchored. Naismith, who had been leading on the lower slopes, continued to do so here, Maclay was at the other end, and the writer occupied the dignified position of passenger. The first pinnacle safely surmounted, the party found themselves at the foot of a fine chimney, quite vertical for some fifteen feet, but with capital holds for climbing. This led on to a narrow horizontal ledge with a flat wall of rock above. The wall was the ridge, and it ended in nothingness on the left, but the ledge ran round the end of it.

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Face and end were equally steep, and the place threatened to prove a stumbling-block, although only some ten feet high. Naismith made his way round the end, Maclay tried to work a passage to the right, while the passenger, perched at the corner, was expected to anchor the party. For some time it was very doubtful if either way would go, and the man in the middle had devised a means of climbing up by means of the rope, which by this time had been thrown over the top. But almost simultaneously there was a triumphant shout from each end. Both ways had been made to go, and the passenger, between two ropes, made the ascent in the orthodox sack of flour style. Then came an easy but very short climb up the narrow ridge, to the foot of the topmost pinnacle. Here the thin edge shot straight up for a dozen feet, and the most promising line of attack was by means of a crack just on the right of the extreme edge. A closer examination showed that the top projected beyond the bottom, and that there was an entire absence of holds. There was no standing room at the foot, or the leader could probably have got up from the shoulders of the second. To the right of this tower there seemed a very small chance of advancing, but on the left it looked as if it might be possible, by descending some distance, to take the ridge in flank. Maclay led the way in this attempt. Descending some dozen feet, a secure stand and an excellent hitch were obtained. From that a few feet more of descent led to a triangular patch of frozen grass, at the far side of which there was a six-foot step on to a higher grass patch, both of these being very steep. At the step there was very insecure footing below, and no hold above. This was surmounted after several unsuccessful attempts, but the slope above was very treacherous, and the rope, even when the middle man was untied, was only just long enough to allow the leader to catch a firm rock, and hold on while lying full length on the slope. We reached his position with some difficulty, the middle man tying on again as soon as there was sufficient rope. Since the beginning of the pinnacles a slip at any part would have meant a fall of hundreds of feet, and the rope was of essential service throughout.

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The sixty-foot rope was at this point, and for the remainder of the slope, painfully short. The slope continued for about a hundred feet, and was the least pleasant part of the climb, as holds were scarce and poor, and the general character of the place treacherous rather than difficult. It was an agreeable relief to reach the ridge again, although when reached it was a knife-edge, and progress along it was made with the body sprawling on one side and the arms thrown over the other. A few wriggles brought us to a place where standing was possible, and Maclay, who had done some hard work before these difficulties were surmounted, was relieved by the writer of the post of leader. The hard work, however, proved to be pretty much over. The rock ridge, though still sharp, continued at an easier angle, and finally two bits of sharp snow arête led to the main ridge, within two or three hundred yards of the summit of Aonach Beag, and only a hundred feet or so lower. Throughout the 1,500 feet of the ridge, right up to the top, there was scarcely a yard which did not need both care and climbing; while at the critical part the chief difficulty was to make sure of having a line of retreat in case progress should prove impossible. On several occasions, notably while Maclay was wrestling with the step on the last awkward slope, our prospects of success did not seem brilliant. The ridge had occupied about four hours.

Arrived at the top, the advanced hour indicated a return to Fort-William by the line of least resistance, but the peak-bagging instinct pointed to the capture of Aonach Mor. It was within easy reach, with only a small dip between, and we must obviously be much behind the dinner hour in any case. It was resolved therefore to "fill up the cup," and a rapid journey was made along the ridge, which is perfectly easy. At one part only is it in any way broken, and one might wheel a barrow or drive a carriage along the greater part of it. The summit of the Mor is a large plateau, rising gently from the col, but bounded on the east by a magnificent range of corniced precipices. Our ridge from the top presented a fine appearance. The scene on the west was very grand.

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Ben Nevis towered high over the intervening Càrn Mòr Dearg, and the stately peak, with its two great ridges and its impressive snow gullies, looked well worthy to be the monarch of British mountains. It was a striking contrast to the "Ben Nevis from Corpach" known to the tourist. On reaching the cairn our steps were at once retraced to the col, so as to descend to Glen Nevis, but it would have been wiser to go to the north, and reach Fort-William from the Spean side. The snow slopes on the east side of Aonach Beag, down which we hoped to glissade, were as disappointing as the previous one; they were too steep, they were broken by rocks, and they had occasional bits of ice. Steps had to be kicked down long stretches, and the last straw was laid on when half an hour had to be spent in cutting down a frozen waterfall. Darkness fell on us suddenly as we left the snow, and we had still a long grind before the welcome road was reached. As late as half-past eight there was a short glissade on a long patch of frozen snow in a shaded gully. The path, eight miles from home, was not reached till after nine, and our non-arrival caused some concern to the party at Fort-William, all of whom had returned hours before. It was nearly midnight before their apprehensions were relieved, or, perhaps it would be more correct to say, before the hopes of those who looked forward to the romance of a relief expedition were finally disappointed. The details of this relief expedition, it is understood, were carefully arranged, and will doubtless be at the service of any future climber who may happen to be benighted in the neighbourhood of Fort-William.