What an experience. Final exams, as well as jamming the grey matter full of endless facts and figures, stacked up high ready to spill out onto the page in some exam hall, certainly teach you some interesting lessons about yourself. I’d recommend it to anyone with the mental toughness to make it through.

The feeling the night before my first final was a bit like reaching the crux last move on Requiem a couple of years previously. I felt like I had been desperately struggling right at the limit of my ability for a seemingly endless period but all that effort, the most I’d ever mustered in my life meant nothing unless the next bit worked. In both situations, I had this horrible empty perception of just not being up to the job, combined with a crushing weight of internal and external expectation. Quite an extreme feeling really.

The above comparison brings me back to that old question - why climb? Why climb if the same challenges can be found in "normal" life? Climbing is often thought of as being different from other sports in that it is a way of life for many climbers, bigger than a hobby or keep fit pastime. I think this is because climbing, through its multifaceted challenges and rewards has more to give than other activities. For some at least, climbing is a staple provider. Hence, our unrelenting devotion confounds those who don't have "the disease".

The soaring cliffs at Fairhead

It is also my belief that the mental and physical "needs" of an individual should not be considered as separate. Often, mental stimuli enter at the mind and filter into the body and vice versa. Science, not to mention experience, tells us that a balance is needed between the two, and that this balance is clearly different for different people. After two months of enforced inactivity and a growing feeling of strangulation I walked out of my last exam and could at last redress this balance.

My first opportunity to do this was the joint Mountaineering Council of Ireland and Mountaineering Council of Scotland meet at Fairhead in Northern Ireland a few days later. If ever there was a place to get some physical stimuli this was it! About two miles long and 120 metres high, “the head” is more battleground than playground. This turreted grey barrier stands guard over the Irish Sea, hiding the otherwise gentle topography of the Emerald Isle from Rathlin Island and the nearby Mull of Kintyre. I’m sure even passing giants on the famous causeway would have to look up at Fairhead.

During our introductory slide show at the Tollymore mountain centre where the meet kicked off, my eyeballs bulged from behind beer goggles as images of soaring buttresses and searing splitter cracks flicked by. I looked round the room feeling suddenly a long way from the safe little study area that had been my whole world for the last two months. Other faces also looked shocked. Even the invite to the meet told us only to bother coming if we were comfortable on steep ground of E1 upwards. However, our host informed us that despite the ominous appearance there was a big range of grades from VS to "E whatever you're havin yerself". I wondered what this grade might be like as more pictures of unclimbed features were shown.

The show was given by Calvin Torrans. I’d heard of him before. A driving force in Irish climbing for three (or more?) decades and a long time mountain guide, he looked just like I expected him to - like a hard fecher. Despite being 60 years of age, I didn’t find it hard to picture him muscling up the new E5s he’d recently done on the many beautiful sea cliffs he showed us. His staring eyes were almost as intimidating as the pictures he showed us and they spoke of a driven character beneath. However, a broad grin was just as permanently fixed on his face as the stare. It seemed obvious that despite the long years as a guide and hardcore climber, he still loves and enjoys everything about it.

Dave MacLeod on The Hustler E3 (5c,5c,6a)

These qualities seemed to be a theme in almost all the hosts. I don’t think I spoke to any that weren’t solid on E3, male and female. The difference between them and local climbers of other areas in the UK was striking. Sometimes at Stanage I’ve got the feeling that some of the boulderers wouldn’t even bother stepping off their mat if someone wasn’t watching.

Occasionally in Scotland it seems that some climbers are actually happier moaning about bad weather than out ticking routes when the sun does come out. Climbers in Ireland definitely seem to be in it just for the climbing (and the craic of course). There certainly isn’t much likelihood of enjoying an audience at Fairhead to watch as you float over the rock, not that you would be anyway given the abundance of evil jamming cracks and offwidths.

My partner for the weekend, Willie Rock was no exception. From the moment we piled out of the minibus Will was stumbling off across the moor to the crag with me dragging behind. His pace on the rock was just as frantic, eating up holds as if someone was counting how many he could grab in the day. The Irish appeared to like their climbing just like their Guinness and their craic - non stop and as much as can be crammed in.

Will showed me several gnarly but nice climbs over the weekend - but I’ll never forgive him for taking me up The Fame Game, E4 (for a man with fists the size of breeze blocks maybe). This crack was the foulest experience in offwidthing I’d ever contemplated. Thankfully I was on the blunt end of the rope. I say contemplated as after 20 minutes of thrusting, bending and torquing various parts of my anatomy into a vicious ten foot slot near the top I declined to suffer any more and pulled on a runner. I moped frustratedly up a flake to the top. Maybe this was what Calvin meant by E whatever you’re havin yerself? The hole in my ego was at least partially stitched up when I found out that Will (a seasoned slot squirmer) had also resorted to the Camalot 3 hold.

Dave and his Irish host Will on Wall of Prey E5 (6b,5c)

Later we moved round to more familiar and altogether more pleasurable territory - an overhanging wall. The Wall of Prey is one of the crag’s most eye catching lines and is a Calvin Torrans testpiece. The route used to be an E4 until the huge "fangs" of rock hanging from the crux roof dropped out leaving a smooth maxilla. Rather than blunt the route’s fierceness, this event actually sharpened its bite to a cutting E5 6b. Much more at home with crimps in my hands than stacked jams and clumps of lichen, I took it steady and savoured every move.

All around, echoed grunts and jangles came from other parties (probably the most Fairhead has seen in some years) and were the sound of a great few days climbing for all and a success for the hosts. A serious accident involving one of the Irish climbers on the first day was the only negative event and certainly served to keep the gloomy and foreboding nature of the place at the forefront our minds.

Various writings and rumours had suggested Fairhead was the best crag, or at least best low profile crag, in the UK. If you like atmosphere by the bucket load and serious cracks by day and craic by night is your thing, then this is not a mile off the truth. However, be prepared to put up with some dirty rock, occasional very big loose blocks and the odd sandbag (an Irish passion I think).

One thing is for sure, the Irish hospitality is worth the trip on its own even if it does rain non stop (a likely reality). At £10 return Glasgow to Belfast, you really should go and find out for yourself.

Dave MacLeod
20/6/2002