Five go to Fair Head

by Paul McArthur

I had been thinking of writing an article on Fair Head for quite some time. Whether initially for Irish Rock Climber or for one of the British magazines I hadn't really planned, but the problem I was facing was deciding on what aspect of Fair Head climbing I was going to cover. Writing an article on the overall crag, covering how to get there, what the weather is like, mentioning a few classic routes etc., can be quite wishy washy and would really be no more than a glorified version of the Fair Head guide introduction. So I knew I wanted to stay away from that idea. An actual history of the climbing at the Head, particularly a resent history is a much more meaty affair and would be a far greater and intense read than general information. But this has to be done properly involving a lot of research to whittle out all those tall stories from the sometimes more far fetched truth. This is something that would or could take quite a while to complete, but certainly be worth a go.

For this article I realised most people prefer to read about the routes and the adventures involved in them, some of them always turning into classic tales in which most climbers like to relate to. So the following is really five mini articles on five routes which I have climbed over the last four years. This should not be considered as a graded list, or even the best routes at the Head, although, in my option, everyone is worth three stars. No, thinking about which routes to include was actually quite simple.

The following climbs are some of the most memorable and enjoyable (some frightening) routes that I have had the pleasure to climb on this wonderful cliff and to still remember nearly every move and emotion from routes that were climbed nearly four years ago clearly makes Fair Head one of the great crags of Britain and so far in my experience, Europe.

RAGLAN ROAD E3 (6a,5c)

The first pitch of Raglan Road is probably one of the best climbs on the cliff and is certainly a fine tribute to the old master, Calvin Torrans, and his ability to spot a brilliant line on a rarely visited section of the crag. I have only ever gone as far round from the Grey Man's Path to climb the classic Hurricane and have never thought about looking at the other lines further on. An easy thing to do on such a huge length of crag. During this occasion I was climbing with Eddie Copper who, I have learnt over the last couple of years, has his advantages and disadvantages when climbing at Fair Head. The big plus is his ability to find the routes from the top of the crag, set up an abseil in record time and arrive at the bottom of the route with such pin-point accuracy that the Gulf War bomber pilots would have been proud of. The less walking in rock shoes the better' is a motto he takes quite seriously. The disadvantage however are the routes themselves. Most are bloody desperate and many are just hard. Well, that is not strictly true or fair, but the people who have climbed with Eddie Cooper will know exactly what I mean.

So on this particular summer's day when Eddie mentioned about climbing Raglan Road I was somewhat, pleasantly, surprised about his choice, until he muttered something about trying a new variation for the second pitch. My heart then started to thump when he asked me if I had any sky hooks with me. The route description for the first pitch of Raglan Road had always intrigued me when the last line of the description finishes with 'lunge for flat hold.' This is probably why the route has seen so few ascents as most E2 climbers would have very little experience in 'lunging for flat holds' and I know most are quite happy to keep it that way. But I was game enough and starting to abseil down noticed Cooper smiling, realising now I had no choice.

The route starts up a blunt arête where you delicately bridge up a wide corner/groove. The top of the groove becomes quite narrow and you are forced to move right on a brilliant exposed hand traverse along a flake to a small ledge finally giving the legs a momentary rest. Looking up, the wall becomes vertical again, but with a thin crack racing up the first section, stopping dead at a very slight bugle. Placing a good nut I moved up left starting the crack. Good finger locks and small foot edges made the climbing complete bliss and good nuts for protection made the moment even more enjoyable. At a reasonable hold I was able to stand in balance and scan the next few moves and that all important lunge. I was able to get a bomber No1 walnut at head height, but I noticed the crack above thinned out too much to get anything else of worth in. A hard rock-over up reached a pocket on the right and I stopped and managed to fiddle a poor RP into the crack. I looked up to what I guessed was the target hold and thought about the guide book description 'lunge for flat hold', so I did, got my left hand over the hold, slipped off and came down, pulled the RP out, but thankfully stopped a few feet lower, the No1 walnut biting happily in the crack. "Bollocks" I said and a cheer came up from below. "Bastard" I shouted, and an even bigger cheer came from below. What are friends for? I moved up again and replaced the RP (just in case), lunged for the hold, making an even worse attempt than the first and ended six foot lower with the RP hanging limply on the rope. "Fuck it!" I went up again, did not bother with the RP and went straight for the hold, held it, got my feet up and moved a few feet higher to the belay. "What's all the fuss about?" Brilliant.

The first pitch is now correctly graded E3 6a and Eddie's new top pitch....Well that's another story, but you do need those sky hooks.

TRACK OF THE CAT E4 (6a)

Track of the Cat is situated on the wall right of Blade Runner. Looking up towards this wall, once you first turn the corner (from the Grey Man's Path), the lines of Blade Runner and Jolly Roger clearly stand out, but it is not until you walk right up to the face itself that you notice a thin broken crack line shooting straight up this otherwise blank section of rock. This is the 50m pitch of Track of the Cat, long, sustained, technical and good gear. A combination that would guarantee any route a queue of climbers if situated on any other crag in Britain, but like most routes at Fair Head only a small number of climbers have had the delight in savouring some of the best climbing in the country. Track of the Cat is E4 6a and is top of the E4 graded list at the back of the guide. There are harder E4s, but I say Track of the Cat certainly qualifies for having the most concentrated number of 5c/6a moves on it. Never desperate, but they just kept coming and coming until finally you pull over the top.

Track of the Cat was my first E4 lead at Fair Head. Probably not the most sensible route to try as your first E4, but I had inside knowledge as five months earlier on a cold March day I seconded the route with Eddie Cooper. Even though I fell off half way up I knew I had a good chance in leading it and so when August arrived it was time to give it a go. On that particular day I had planned to try Rusty Halo (another E4 situated further round), but on abseiling down the line the hand jamming crux through the overhang looked a bit too painful and I chickened out. When I reach the bottom I decided to then try Track of the Cat, so when my partner in crime arrived down, we pulled the ropes, quickly coiled them and headed the short distance back over to the new objective. The actual technical crux on the climb is low down, but can be the route stopper. It is a hard move and has dropped a few good climbers. If you can get passed this section without too much effort you should be capable of completing the climb. The bottom six metres of the route ascend a steep slab with a thin sharp crack running up to a small ledge. Above the ledge the wall steepens to 90° continuing up until a slight bulge and corner near the top.

Standing at the bottom looking up, the top of the route seemed a very long way up and the 50 metre length the guidebook indicates must be short, and a surprise belay ledge hopefully awaits the trying climber. If only? I looked down at the rack hanging limply around my waist and I knew it wasn't going to be enough. The initial crack is climbed on good finger locks and edges until you reach a point where you have to make a high step up on the right, off a tiny foot edge, reaching up to a flat hold. Once the hold is caught you quickly move up easily onto a narrow ledge. Placing a small nut at waist level you make a couple of committing moves up around a small niche until you can reach the crack again and some better gear. The climbing from now on is a series of side pulls and high steps intermingled by the odd good flat edge. Enough gear placements are available to keep you happy, however you soon realise that you have to start spacing them out or you will quickly run out. Halfway up I was coming to the point where I fell off the time I seconded the route with Eddie. It involved a balancy high rock-over up onto a good edge, but again I messed it up, over balanced, falling a couple of feet onto a good friend placement beneath me. I got it the second go and continued slowly, but steadily up until I reached the base of the comer which led finally to the top. By now I was low on gear with only half a dozen nuts left and a couple of medium friends. I also only had one quick-draw left and my arms were beginning to pump. It wasn't looking good. I peered down at my last runner, 4ft below me, and I then looked at the base of the corner, which ended with a slightly flared crack.

"Shit, so close."

I remembered the next few moves as a 'sort of lay-back around into the corner using small edges on the right for your feet. The move wasn't that bad, but it was definitely the most insecure move of the route, and not having a piece of gear to fit the crack was making it even more insecure. After about five minutes I managed to half place one of the friends in the flared crack. It was a bit wobbly, but it certainly made me feel a bit happier. I bridged my right foot over onto an edge and got both hands around the arête of the corner. I quickly counted to three and pulled myself around and up, continuing to slap up the arête until I managed to jam my left foot into the flared crack. Higher up I got a good hand jam where the crack became deeper. That was it! A couple of easier moves up the corner and I pulled over the top. 'Safe" I shouted and pulled back from the edge. I felt so happy to have actually led an E4, even though I fell off, I just let out a huge yell which must have been heard in Ballycaslte. It was a brilliant feeling. Setting up the belay I realised the pitch was only about 45 metres, but looking back over the edge, Dominic standing at the bottom looked very small. With a smug grin on my face I shouted down 'Climb when ready,' this I was going to enjoy.

EQUINOX E2 (5b,5b)

I must admit for fledgling climbers arriving at Fair Head for the first time it is a bit of an eye opener. After learning many of their skills and strengths on the 'one move wonder' routes of the Mournes, even the short 30m pitches on the Prow, were the next move feels just as desperate as the last, is definitely a shock to the system. Myself included. In the first year of climbing, and this was after climbing quite a few E1s, scattered around the Mournes, I can unashamedly remember taking one and a quarter hours to climb The Fence, a 24 metre VS 4c situated on the Prow (my first route at Fair Head), and I'll tell you, I fought for every move. And after struggling up Girona on the same day it certainly must have been a shock to my system as I didn't return to the crag until the following Spring. I guess it just took 9 months for my body to fully recover. But I did plan to return, were other similarly shocked climbers have quickly decided to stay happily on Mournes granite. This isn't to say that the grades at Fair Head are any harder than that in the Mournes, it's just there's a lot more climbing involved.

Equinox was a route I had heard about even before my first ventures on the cliff. 'Twice the size as Cenotaph's Corner on the Cromlech and four times more impressive,' it definitely has an aura about it and standing at the bottom of this huge corner, the E2 grade did not mean a thing. It looked impossible, frightening and totally inspiring all in one. lt was created to be climbed. In May 1992 Paul McDonnell and I had already climbed a few of the E1s on the Prow and the two pitch HVS Hell's Kitchen. We felt good and strong so we decided it was time to jump onto something slightly harder and bigger. Equinox immediately came to mind. It was mid-week and Paul and I could not wait until the weekend to test our skills on this monster corner. So on the Wednesday I left work at 4.30pm, picked up Paul and sped up the motor way towards Ballycastle. We were at the base of the route by 7pm, had two and a half hours to climb the two 5b pitches before it got dark and we were ready. I led first. Continuous bridging with the odd layback move. The gear was good and plentiful. Cruise control was on. I reached the overhang and traversed right, placed a hex in the back of the crack and peered over.

"Where's the belay ledge?" I shouted.

"It must be a hanging belay," came the reply.

"But the guide says a small stance." I looked up again and saw that the crack widened out to a small niche and I guessed that this was supposed to be the 'so called' small stance. Shit. This was my first experience of a hanging belay, or in this case a semi-hanging belay and after drowning the not so perfect crack with gear I tied myself off, sank slowly into my harness, half lying across the corner and shouted down in a not very convincing voice "Safe!" I quickly pulled in the ropes, stuffing them half neatly around my feet and stuck Paul on belay. He soon started to climb and I quickly forgot about my precarious position and slowly began to relax my harness. While Paul was climbing it suddenly became quiet at the stance. I couldn't see him due to the overhang just below my feet and I felt as if I was the only person on the cliff. I started to day dream. I knew when Paul arrived at the belay reality was going to hit me hard and this unique moment was going to be lost forever, but Paul didn't come, the rope had gone tight.

"What's wrong, Paul?" I tried to look down past the overhang to see if he had fallen.

"Nothing, the rope looks like its jammed at the overhang."

I pulled and pulled, but the rope didn't budge. I peered down again and saw that the ropes had jammed up against the hex in the overhang and the harder I pulled the tighter the ropes and hex jammed together. Fuck! Shit! Bollocks! There was no way I could climb down and free the ropes. Double bollocks! "Hang on Paul." I tried various attempts at flicking the ropes out, but they where stuck fast. I do not know how long I was trying to free the ropes, but it felt like forever. Keeping one eye on the now setting sun and the other on the rope I yanked as hard as I could and finally the ropes jumped free. Thank Christ.

"OK. Paul climb."

Paul soon reached the belay and we sorted out the gear. I quickly dug out my watch from a zipped pocket and looked at the time. 9.15pm. Oh, shit. The light was beginning to fade when Paul started up the top pitch. Thankfully it is only 21 metres long and the top looked as if you could just reach up and grab it. Paul huffed and puffed and climbed as quickly as he could, throwing in a piece of gear every couple of feet. Finally he reached the small ledge below the top and pulled over the edge. We both cheered, as we knew now we were home-dry. I started up the top pitch in the dark, but with the rope above me it made it quite good fun groping around for the holds. Soon I pulled over the top and after untying the ropes quickly set up the camera for that all important summit pose. You think we had just topped out on Everest, but this was much more fun. For the rest of the week Paul and I both walked round with permanent grins on our faces. Fair Head had given us a small taste of some real adventure, and we wanted more.

MIZEN STAR E2 (5b,5b)

Mizen Star has to be one of the most striking lines of any crag. It's 'fork lightning' crack shooting up the otherwise blank wall looks like it was painted on by some ancient artist. It certainly looks harder than its 5b rating indicates and with the crack cutting through a small overhang at 3/4 height it only adds to the speculation that this is only supposed to be E2. But looks can be deceiving and thankfully in this case and to the relief of many climbers Mizen Star's grade is spot on. Not too hard, not too easy and with a wee bit of spice thrown in on the second pitch, the line produces probably the best E2 in the country.

Saturday had arrived and I was at the crag with Ronan Brown, a Belfast climber who had climbed a few of the big E3s along the cliff. He was the big league compared to my 3rd division and today I was hoping not to let the side down. We agreed to do Mizen Star and I was to climb the short 2nd pitch. Ronan had led the line a few times before and was really looking for an easy day. I was happy to have a top rope for the 1st pitch as my jamming techniques at the time did not fill me with confidence, but I was worried about the bold start or the 2nd pitch. Another climber had shouted down the descent gully while we headed over to the route. "Oh, you don't want to fall off that top pitch." This was slowly eating away at me while Ronan headed masterfully up the 1st pitch. Soon his lanky frame reached the overhang, which he dispensed with ease, finishing quickly up the final crack to the belay. It was my turn now and after a long chalk up I stepped onto the rock. The 1st pitch of Mizen Star can be broken down into three distinct parts. The first section begins with a short corner system leading up to large flakes which you layback for a couple of moves, finishing at a narrow foot ledge and the start of the main crack. This next part is the meat of the route and the section were your hand jamming comes into full play. Starting up the crack is pretty straight forward with plenty of holds on either side to use. Higher up the holds disappear and jamming your hands in the crack provides your only upward movement. Soon the edges for your feet disappear and for a couple of moves your feet have to use the crack (Aaah!). All this felt very insecure and very strenuous and I was very glad to have the rope above me. Suddenly looking up I found myself at the overhang. After retrieving a piece of gear my hand flapped above the overhang looking for the holds. "Over to your right" shouted Ronan, and finally my hand fell onto a huge jug. So begins the final section of the pitch and what I thought was the crux. Using the good jugs you have to get your left leg over the overhang and with the foot hopefully jammed in the crack, rockover quickly until you achieve a standing position, both hands now tightly jammed in the continuing crack. My arms were pumping at this stage and I was surprised that I didn't fall off. Quickly pulling out the gear I climbed on and reach the belay ledge, whistling during the last few easier moves, just to show Ronan that I was clearly in control of the situation. When I reached Ronan he looked at me and I looked up towards the start of my pitch.

"Oh, you don't want to fall off that top pitch"

Those dreaded words came flooding back to me and I suddenly felt very small. Ronan must have felt the negative vibes coming from me as he offered to lead the pitch.

"No, no its OK, I'll give it a go."

The top pitch of Mizen Star was nowhere near as impressive as the first, but the bold start did give it a bit of a reputation and had in the past repulsed a few strong leaders. The crux is climbing the wall above the belay on flat holds and side pulls for about 20ft, until you reach your first piece of protection, this thankfully is a bomber No.9 rock which fits a perfect v-shaped slot on the right side. However a fall from these quite delicate moves means you land on your belay and if you miss that you're then going on for a potential 30ft or 40ft fall down the first pitch. So far no one had been known to have fallen from the moves and I didn't really fancy becoming the first. I stood there standing above Ronan feeling the first few holds. I looked up and across to where I was supposed to go and then I looked down. I didn't fancy this and after a quick whinge decided to take up Ronan's offer to lead the pitch. What seemed like five minutes later Ronan was at the top pulling in the ropes. The guy just walked up it. Soon I stepped up from the belay and slowly moved up across the wall. I reached the good No.9 nut which marked the end of the crux. "God. That wasn't too bad, you silly shit". I soon raced up the remainder of the pitch, which was fairly straight forward. After the climb I was kicking myself for not giving me pitch a proper go and for chickening out. That night I phoned my friend Paul and asked him if he fancied going up to the Head the next day and doing Mizen Star with me. He agreed, but thought it was a bit strange that l insisted on doing the bold top pitch. "I had my reasons," I said.

The next day I lead the top pitch of Mizen Star, and although a bit hesitant at first, the sense of release from actually doing it was amazing. Since then I have led the pitch twice and even though that first step off the belay reminds me of that very first attempt, the holds now just keep getting bigger and bigger.

PS. About two weeks after my first encounter with Mizen Star, some climber did fall off the top pitch and landed on top of his belayer. But its OK, he was English and hurt nothing more than his pride, but I did feel for him.

MAINSTREAM E4 (6a)

Mainstream will not be too familiar with many people as it was only first climbed during April of this year. They always say 'free publicity never hurts' and as this is one of my routes and my article ...well am I not supposed to highlight some of my most memorial routes. The line is situated on the right side of the Grey Man's Path decent gully, about 20 m further up from Low Profile. I always thought that it was about time I tried to do a new route, but I never really fancied abseiling down a 90m line, cleaning and brushing every foot of the way. I've seen what it can do to a climber and I'll tell you it's not a pretty sight. So when I noticed two grass filled cracks on this gully wall I thought that these would provide a perfect introduction to the art of cleaning at Fair Head. I spent a day cleaning both lines and I could not believe the amount of shit that came out of the cracks. At the end of the day I was covered with dirt, but now with most of the grass gone two very impressive crack lines started to appear. The left hand crack was my main objective with its very distinct sharp arête. It looked hard and at first I thought it was going to be too difficult for me. The right hand crack was continuous from bottom to top, cutting through a slight overhang at half height. It looked more doable so the next day I was up at Fair Head I concentrated to finish cleaning this line. A few days later I led me route, grading it a brilliant and well protected E3 5c. Child's Play was my first new route at the Head, but I soon turned my attention back to the arête. A week later I was back. I cleaned out the small thin crack in the back of the corner which formed the arête. This provided the gear I was hoping for and I knew now that I at least could give it a go without decking out. September arrived and I went off to France for three weeks. When I came back the winter rain seemed to arrive early and foiled my attempts to check the route out again. With the year coming to an end I was content in climbing Child's Play, but the arête was always in the back of my mind.

Easter weekend arrived, the weather was good, I was climbing well, so on one of the days I walked over to the Grey Man's Path to see what the winter had done to my route. It was still there, of course, dry, clean, but it looked even more impressive than last year. I abseiled down it again giving it a quick final brush. All the way down I just kept saying "This is brilliant. This is going to be brilliant." I was starting to get excited and decided the next day to give it a go. The morning arrived I dragged Eddie Cooper over to the gully (or did he drag me). When we reach the gully I looked at the line. Shit! There was a small wet patch on the wall just right beside the arête. I wasn't sure if it was going to effect the climbing, but as we were here I might as well try it.

One advantage when cleaning a new route is that you roughly know what size gear to bring with you. On this occasion small wires were required, plenty of them. No.1 and 2 walnuts and zero sized friends would definitely be handy. For the upper section where the crack widens out a small selection of medium to large nuts and friends would be enough. So after borrowing selective bits off Eddie's rack, we abseiled down, sorted out the ropes, Eddie put me on belay and I stepped on to the rock. Climbing the first part of the arête was a matter of bridging delicately up, your right foot on the right wall, your left on the edge of the arête itself. The gear was tricky to get in at first, but I knew it would get easier further up. Soon the good edges on the right wall ended and I had to make a high reach for a good small hold on the arête. Grabbing the hold I pulled up, the left foot now on a small slopping edge on the wall, my right foot smearing around in the back of the corner. I struggled to get a small TCU into the crack above, but I was beginning to tire. I jumped hand to hand on the small hold trying to shake out each arm, but it wasn't working. I was beginning to pump. Panicking I shouted down.

"I don't think I can hang on?"

"Nonsense! Climb down back to those good foot holds". I slowly retreated down and bridged back across the arête and wall. From this position I was able to rest my arms fairly well. I also was able to check if the TCU was OK by giving it a hard pull on the rope. It stayed and I felt much better. The move up from the small hold on the arête was going to be hard. It looked like you had to somehow smear your feet on the right and pull hard, with the crack in the back of the corner only accepting your finger tips, to eventually stand on that good hold back on the arête. The TCU seemed good and I knew with Eddie belaying I had to try it. No backing down now. I climbed back up to the hold on the arête, locked off with my left arm, reached round the arête and forced my fingers into the back of the crack. Once they felt well jammed, I smeared my right foot on to the wall, half lay backed up until I was high enough to jump my other foot onto the good hold. Standing up I was able to reach a good edge on the left wall. "Phew, made it." At this point the crack got slightly wider and I was able to place a couple of bomber No.2 walnuts. I definitely felt much better now. Another couple of moves up gained a break and some more good gear. The climbing eased off slightly, but you still had to concentrate on your feet or you could easy slip off. A high reach got a small undercut where the arête moved slightly right, ending at a small overhang a metre higher. Pulling up and again bridging across the arête and sloping foot holds on the right wall I was able to gain another, but perfect undercut slot in the overhang itself. This was brilliant. Placing a small nut just above the overhang I pulled up, stepped high over the bulge and got a bomber finger lock where the crack started the widen out. Above me a perfect No.1 Camelot fitted into the crack. This is brilliant. I noticed some noise from behind me and I looked around. On the other side of the gully a group of walkers had settled down and had watched most of my ascent. Climbing the last few metres up the crack I finally pulled over the top. A big round of applause came from the other side and as I pulled back from the edge, I turned round and took a bow. Who said climbing cannot be a spectator sport.