Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal Volume 6 Number 1

Maccoitar's cave, Skye

by Scott Moncrieff Penney

THERE were kings in Greece, though perhaps not so great, before Agamemnon, and there are climbs in Skye besides those on the Coolins, though perhaps not so sporting. I know that members of the S.M.C. visiting the Isle of the Mist rarely stay at Portree. They sometimes pass through en route for Sligachan, but the more approved plan is to take a boat of their own, like the Mackintoshes at the Flood, and anchor in Loch Scavaig, whatever the weather, or to bring their own houses and pitch them above the flood on the shore of Loch Coruisk. But fate has ordered me, less fortunate, to winter in Portree. The Coolins are sometimes visible, generally not, and when they are, and the day is still and cloudless, there is always something to prevent me going to them, not to mention that John Mackenzie has temporarily deserted the township of Sconser for the slightly larger village called "Town" par excellence. So as the homely "Cat's Nick" is far away, I have to look for "practice scrambles" nearer at hand. One excellent one I have found, or rather I have been taken to, and already I have so much taken to it that I have "done" it three times in ten days.

It is somewhat out of the ordinary run of climbs, being a fairly long cave with two good pitches in it. To add to its attractiveness there are the facts that it requires light (artificial), and that it may have its charms enhanced by the presence of female beauty (natural). It is situated high up on the steep northern shore of Portree Bay, just beyond the "Black Rock" at the entrance to Portree Harbour. It is within half-an-hour's walk of Portree, and may be reached by a scramble up from the path by the water's edge, by a sheep track along the face of the cliff, or by a steep descent of some thirty feet from the table-land above. The entrance is narrow, and narrowness, combined with a lofty roof, is one of its characteristics throughout its entire length. It slopes steadily downwards at a moderately steep angle, with occasional rises, affording pleasant scrambling all the way until the piece de resistance is reached.

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This is a perpendicular pit, about 13½ feet deep to the nearest standing ground in the centre, but shelving a foot or two more on both sides. It is guarded by a boulder which slightly projects over the mouth. Between the boulder and the right-hand wall of the cave is a large, loose, but safely jammed stone. Round either the boulder or the stone the rope may be passed. If the boulder is utilised, it is best to allow the two ends of the rope to hang down and to use it double; but to the stone a single rope can be tied. The difficulty of the throw-off, if the face is to be climbed, is that the first foothold is on a ledge below the boulder. On the upward journey there is really no need of the rope for persons having a moderately long reach. From the floor of the pit progress is made by squeezing under a large stone, and the path of the ultra stout is here barred. Just beyond the stone another less perpendicular drop of about ten feet brings the explorer to a small circular chamber at the end of the cave. This descent is of the nature of a chimney, and by jamming back and feet against the walls all fear of slipping before again reaching terra firma is removed. The passage of the cave in and out for a party of four takes an hour and a quarter, doing it comfortably, and allowing time for adjustment of the rope, the lighting and passing of candles, and the inevitable card-leaving in the ubiquitous bottle.

I was first introduced to the cave by one of the local bar of Portree, for lawyers here, as elsewhere, show their good sense by being foremost in their devotion to the climbing craft. On that occasion, as we had left no directions for a search party, and had no second rope, and as I was doubtful about being able to manipulate the first pitch going up should my friend sprain his ankle in the second pitch going down, we stopped short of the end at my request. Three days later, however, with the courage engendered by the moral support of a second rope, I undertook to pilot the Procurator-Fiscal (as yet uninitiated) to the utmost corner of the cave, and successfully carried out my contract.

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My last visit was the most enjoyable as well as the most scientific. My original guide and I were accompanied by two ladies, mother and daughter, who both climbed excellently, and we were plentifully supplied with string for taking measurements. We had an adventurous start, for the wind going along the cliff was so strong we thought it advisable to rope, and my patient instructors in the S.M.C. will be glad to know I cast on the proper knots without a hitch. We carried a bicycle lamp, two carriage candles, and an ordinary candle, and the illumination was satisfactory. We fixed a nail into the cliff at the mouth of the cave, tied the string to it, and carried our clue like Theseus along the ups and downs of the labyrinth. We made the length of the cave to be 190 feet, but as that was practically a "bee" or a string line in the air, we may safely, without exaggeration, call the passage at least 80 yards.

Prince Charlie has a cave of his own some miles farther along the shore, and no outstanding man is associated with this one. Its name would seem to indicate that it was used at one time by a cottar's son for the purpose of hiding, possibly from the press-gang. While I hope mine is a virgin descent so far as regards the S.M.C., I heartily recommend the scramble to any member of the Club who may find himself stranded for an afternoon in the capital of Skye, provided he does not happen to be wearing his best Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes.