Four Men at Fairhead

By Greg Fell

The Cast
The Great Man	Rob Matheson
The Young Man	Craig Matheson
The Past Master	Keith Phizaclea
The Offwidth Champ	Greg Fell

“I’m not going there,” said the great man at length, “the routes are just of no significance,” this comment alone was enough to cause two of the ensembled throng to nearly drop their pints. This was a crag that had been hailed by Johnny Adams as the best crag in the UK, and Johnny has been around.

“No significance, balls to that!” We said in unison. “You’ll see significance when you get there.”

“Well I’m not going.” And that was the end of that conversation.

Now to put a few things into perspective, the great man knew a few things about significant routes, being a prolific Lakeland new router of the 1970s and having done a few very significant routes of his own. But we knew better, we had been to Fairhead earlier in the year, and had fallen in love with the line after line of stunning quality and tremendous climbing. Truly a place to make Pembroke pale into insignificance.

And so it came to pass that one Friday evening in august, we finally managed to coerce the great man and his son into a car that was pointed north to Stranraer and then onto Belfast and Fairhead. The drive up was fairly uneventful. The ferry was calm and fast. The Stenna HSS is no ordinary tub. It is more like a night-club travelling at 50 knots through the Irish sea. On the other side, an hour or so spent tearing through the Irish countryside in the wee small hours saw us parked up at Murlogh bay.

“So where’s the hut then” the great man’s son (hereafter known as the young man) said.

“Up there.” The past master pointed to a spot roughly halfway up the dark hillside. “it takes about ten minutes, so lets pack up and get up there.” True to his word, ten minutes later we had arrived and shortly after that, at about 3.30am we got some kip.

The view from the hut is magnificent. It is possible to see right across the beautiful Murlough Bay to the jutting prow of the eastern end of Fairhead, like four millstone edges stacked on top of each other. It was this end of the crag that we headed to early the next morning. The weather was inclement, drizzling a little. This wasn’t good news on two counts. Firstly we wouldn’t be able to climb. Secondly and more importantly, having spent a good deal of our collective credibility in persuading the great man coming to Ireland, if we had been unable to climb, the past master and myself were in danger of a severe bollocking.

Fortunately the drizzle was short-lived and on the crag things were looking dry. The great man selected a route called Hurricane for his first route. Imagine a perfect hand crack such as you would find on many gritstone crags. Hurricane is like this, but it is the best part of 300 feet high with move after move of perfect jamming. “What sort of gear will I need?” Shouted across the great man.

“All of it.” Was the response. Fairhead is one of those crags where if you can carry it, you will get the chance to place it. Big gear placements abound, and than means big. Seldom have the friend 4 and hex'11 seen so much use.

The weeks climbing that started with the great man on hurricane is undoubtedly the best that any of us had had on the crag anywhere. The phrase “that was the best route I have ever done” was beginning to sound a little cliché by the third day. At the end of the week we tried to compile a Fairhead top ten, but struggled to get the list down below 20 routes. I have tried to describe five of the 30 or so routes we did that week. Not necessarily the best five, all are brilliant, but the sum up the types of climbing that you will encounter at Fairhead.

Raglan Road, 75m, E2 (5c,5c)

I was lounging around on the floor as the past master was carefully bridging his way up the corner that forms the brilliant first pitch of Raglan Road. He cruised up to the top of the corner, from where we had read stories of a desperate lunge to a sloping hold. In our case, superior technique saved the day, and a quick reach secured the jug above the crux. We never found the aforementioned sloping hold. Maybe it had fallen off to reveal a jug! The guidebook description of the second pitch describes an offwidth crack that forms the crux of another route, the Curser. We didn’t’ have to wait long to find out why it was so named. A heinous, bulging, slimy gash led upwards. Where to go was obvious, but how wasn’t quite so easy. A few shuffling moves saw my shoulders and thighs locked into battle just below the difficult bulging section. Time to play the friend 4! What followed is certainly not described in climbing manuals and probably best not described in polite company. Desperate, grunting convulsion movements saw a gradual grinding upward progress and an eventual easing of the difficulties.

I expected the past master to cruise up after me pronouncing the pitch easy, being an aficionado of such matters. To my delight, he didn’t. He followed with the same desperate grunting thrashings as me, the praise for my lead at the top earned me the nickname of ‘offwidth champion of all Scunthorpe!’ (Note to Scunthorpe offwidth climbers - from an orderly queue, if you think you’re hard enough!)

Jolly Roger, 57m, E3 (6a,5c)

If Hurricane is the perfect hand crack, then jolly roger is the perfect finger crack. Snaking up into the sky for 75 metres, this two pitch route is one of the classics of the area. A tough first pitch and a long sustained second pitch gives one of those routes where finger size is vital; easy for the slim fingered, desperate for those with fat sausages. The Past master was definitely in the latter category. Struggling up the first pitch, trying to stuff oversized fingers into an undersized crack, he was nearly off on a number of occasions. Tenacity saved the day and soon I was ready to throw myself at the second pitch. It was one of those pitches that seemingly went on forever, though giving superb climbing. The sustained nature of the climbing told itself as I was spat off near the top of the pitch. Afterwards, Keith told me that there was so much rope out, he scarcely noticed that I had come off. On reflection it was probably because he was asleep!

Born to run, 81m, E4 (6a,5c,5c)

The guidebook says it is one of the best climbs in the country. This proved interesting on two counts; firstly we wondered just how good it was since we had already done some of the best routes of our lives earlier in the week, the phrase “that was the best route I’ve ever done” was beginning to sound a little cliché. Secondly, we had also been getting a bit of a spanking from some of the E2s and E3s. Surely this was going to thrash us severely. Finding the route was an expedition in itself. Walking underneath massive cliffs that we knew had seen very little development was impressive beyond the call of duty. The route was located eventually, however. It is a very impressive line, a short crack scoots up to a tough looking roof, above which easier climbing leads to a stance. The top two pitches looked marvellous, a superb finger crack, 53 metres long and sustained 5c. As we expected the past master quickly got to the roof. A tough sequence of layback moves got him above the roof and to easy ground, or so I thought from the floor.

“Shit,” said the past master, “ I’ve got the wrong hand in the good jam, I could be off here.” Moments of pure trauma followed. It wasn’t that the route was run out, he had excellent gear at his knees. It was just that we didn’t want to bodge such a fantastic route. Eventually, after much cursing and wobbling, he sorted himself out and cruised up to the belay.

The second pitch was as we thought, long sustained but brilliant. Tough sequences interspersed with good (ish) rests and seemingly endless good runner placements made for enjoyable climbing. Eventually I reached the top groove. It was one of those ‘eyes out on stalks’ moments, out of gear I realised I had to bomb on for the top which I just made on the rope stretch with nothing to spare. With no rope the belay was going to have to be ingenious and it took some time to set up properly. Eventually Keith joined me at the top. A fantastic route, but is it one of the best climbs in the country. Too right it is, it’s one of the best climbs either of us had done in the whole UK.

Face Value, 80m, E4 (6a,6a)

Face Value is a strange route for Fairhead. We had become used to jamming up endless crack and corner systems, and had even become reasonably proficient at it. It was with some trepidation that I launched myself at the first pitch of Face Value. “Something is missing” I said to myself, “aye, a bloody great crack that’s what” was the response. Some difficult moves got me off the ground and committed onto the pitch. Surprisingly steady moves saw me at the pod that is referred to as the crux of the route. Which was tackled with the knowledge that there was a bombproof friend at my feet. The remainder of the pitch gave fantastic face climbing, with tons of gear and and few resting spots up to a hanging stance below a big roof. So far, the hanging stances had been just that, hanging and uncomfortable. There was at least a foothold here to rest on. Good I thought to myself, feeling satisfied until I saw the belay. When I eventually shouted that I was safe, it was with some uncertainty; my hanging belay consisted of 2 rock 1s (bomber ones, however) and a friend 1 at knee level. Needless to say I instructed the young man not to fall off. He did. The physical nature of the climbing was beginning to make itself felt on his young arms and the poor lad was lacking his usual sprightly energy. Eventually he got up, and with no hesitation offered me the second pitch.

The crunch of the second pitch involves a long reach over the roof above the belay. No problem or so I thought. Quickly moving up to place bomber runners in below the roof, I moved out to have a look over it. It was a long way. I shuffled back into the niche to get the runner ready. Moving back out, I slotted the excellent runner in above the roof, clipped it and moved back to rest and prepare myself. Now those people who know me often comment on my arms as being considerably longer than theirs. On this occasion it was a good job, as the crux of the pitch consisted of a looooooooong reach around the roof and pulling up to excellent holds. Above that, tough sequence of moves leads to the easier upper wall and to the top.

Salango, 60m E3 (5b,5c)

Salango is all that is good about Fair Head: steep crack climbing and tons of it. There could be no doubt as to where the route went, a fantastic overhanging hand crack leading up the edge of a buttress in impressive scenery. The technique involved was equally obvious, start at the bottom of the crack and grind your way to the top on perfect jams. It was obviously going to be strenuous, so we made sure the Past Master had the harder top pitch. I led steadily up the first pitch, placing as many runners as he felt like placing on the way, and that was a lot. Now it is not that I was a coward, but with so many perfect slots, it was embarrassing to pass them by. It was another one of those pitches where the local phrase ‘Gear on demand’ seems very apt.

The belay was a typically small semi-hanging stance. The past master followed me up with some ease, but then we expected him to, and got ready to lead through on the second pitch. The guide mentions the first section of the second pitch to be difficult, and Keith soon found out why. We speculated after the ascent that years of breeding had left our English hands fatter than the standard Irish hand, Keith just couldn’t get his hands to fit into the crack. For perhaps the first time ever on a crack pitch, the past master slithered back down to the stance to readjust his cap! Goaded into a fury, Keith made short work of this section on the second attempt, and continued up the crack on the usually awesome jams. The rest of the second pitch was not easy; sustained jamming led up to a nasty looking pod where some ingenious moves led to the top of the route. Salango is truly a tremendous route, one of the best at Fair Head, and one of the finest hand cracks in the UK.

An Bealach Runda, 112m, E1 (4c,5b,5a)

An Bealach Runda is a mountaineering route of the highest caliber. Just getting to the route is an expedition. The walk along the bottom of the crag to get the route is long and difficult, hopping among massive man eating boulders. The views of the cliff however are inspirational. The route follows a line roughly in the centre of the crag. It gets little sunlight and can be cold. When we arrived, we were on the last day of a long week and were absolutely knackered. We had agreed to knock off just one more route and then head back for the ferry. When we got to the route, just to the left, we could see a clean, perfect hand crack snaking up into the sky (X men). Knowing it had received it’s first ascent recently, but nothing else about it, we were keen to have a go. Fortunately perhaps the state of our arms and the need to climb quickly to catch the ferry meant that we stuck to the easier route.

(The knowledge that the line possibly hadn’t had a second ascent fuelled our imaginations for a second trip later in the summer. When we arrived that time our arms were fresh and there was much scuffling as to who should lead the bottom pitch, but that is another story.)

The first pitch of An Bealach Runda is unlike many around. A long off width cum chimney cum flared horror show led eventually to a stance. The pitch is disguised as 4c, but we felt that perhaps it was 4c to those experienced in the art of thrashing and grunting. The second pitch contained some sensationally exposed climbing up onto the top of a huge free standing pillar of rock and then some difficult moves, still very exposed led up a ramp, giving good face climbing with not a single hand jam in sight. It was perhaps the best of the easier pitches we did at the crag and is atypical of the climbing found there.

There is a sting in the tail. An easier pitch led up to an innocuous looking series of moves just below the top. Starting this sequence is desperate, but fortunately soon the difficulties eased and we were deposited into the sunlight once again.

Conclusion

So that is Fair Head. All I can add is that five years later it is still just about the best two weeks climbing I have done anywhere. For those who like crack climbing, you will not be disappointed. The routes seem like mountaineering routes, but they are in a crag situation with relatively easy walk ins and descents. If you enjoy steep clean cracks but don’t enjoy a trip to Fair Head, give up! By the way, if you are going and have got any spare space in the car, give me a ring!