Prelude: The Old Man

One week before leaving the country I climbed the Old Man of Hoy (the tallest sea stack in the UK). You could call it a milestone. It was a route that tested my technical skills and physical ability after three years of rock climbing. More importantly, it was a route that epitomises what I love about the sport- exploring remote and beautiful areas, going where most people can't get to, and laughing at how spectacularly pointless it all is.

Source: http://www.pierspettman.co.uk/gallery/lejog2/day49.shtml

The Old Man

The Old Man- he stood,

Waiting for the tickle of time and tide

To crumble his weary bones

And wash red sand upon a distant shore.

Curious seals watched from below.

They thought him proud!

Too proud to join them playing in the surf,

Too stubborn ever to lie down and rest.

The gulls- they were indifferent.

"Live or die, old fool" they cried,

"We are not bound to the Earth as you are".

Even the ones who hatched in his palm.

Aboard Viking ships and from high cliffs

The people stared.

Was it fear they felt, or admiration?

The same question they asked

Whenever they met a stranger,

But this stranger's seconds were their years,

His inches were their miles, so

His secrets stayed with the sea.

Then there was us.

Offering a sweaty handshake and

Hoping to make some small impression,

Or at least offer to the Old Man

A moment in our lives that we would always

Compare to other triumphs or defeats,

And remember when we too were old

And patient, and content, like him.

The seals watched, the gulls laughed,

As our four clumsy bodies wrestled

Against all human instinct, until

They lay, stripped and relieved, among

Innocent wildflowers and grass.

A tangle of rope discarded for now,

As we let sun and wind and birdsong

Wash away all notion of danger,

As if nature wished to remind us

That however long we had awaited this moment,

It was not a second to the Old Man,

Whose secrets would always stay with the sea.


I went home a slightly strange way. It involved camping in a car park. The car park was full of midges. It was also raining. Perhaps there are some things about Scotland that I won't miss. The next day, however, I took the train back to Perth from Glenfinnan, and surely there is no more iconic train journey in the country than the West Highland Line (including the Harry Potter viaduct)! With so many faraway train journeys ahead, it seemed fitting to enjoy a familiar one once more.