Mountain Hardwear News
"The Mad Mingulayans"
...or so we were called by Patrick, our skipper, whose unenviable task was to sail us to the island of Mingulay in the Outer Hebrides in June 08. My regular climbing partner Mark Garthwaite had been trying to get a team to Mingulay for the last four years, but every year we made our excuses. The amount of effort involved seemed disproportionate to the rewards. We had heard tales of teams who were stranded in their tents for a fortnight having managed no climbing whatsoever. But with Garth's persuasion we finally agreed to take our chances on what the Climbers Club website describes as 'the best sea cliff in the UK'. We can put up with a few days of rain with a claim like that.
We set sail from Ardfern and took turns to help Patrick sail throughout the night. Our main tasks were to make him tea and keep watch for lobster pots which might tangle with the propeller - God forbid that he would trust a bunch of sleep deprived climbers with anything more serious. My shift came at 4am as we turned passed Mull and headed out into the open water and I was awe struck as the sun turned the ocean turned crimson beneath the etched silhouettes of Rhum and Col. The boat was getting tossed around a little and with none of us being familiar with nautical travel, I was starting to feel a little out of my depth. The others were clearly failing to sleep in their cabins and soon appeared on deck looking worse for wear. To Patrick our host, it was all just a pleasure cruise but Garth had turned a shade of grey and Dave Pickford was trying his best to conceal the fat that he was vomiting over the side, much to Simon Tapin's delight. Least scathed from the turbulence was our final crew member, Charlie Woodburn, who even managed to out-class Patrick by preparing and consuming a greasy-spoon-style fried breakfast down in the galley.
We set sail from Ardfern and took turns to help Patrick sail throughout the night. Our main tasks were to make him tea and keep watch for lobster pots which might tangle with the propeller - God forbid that he would trust a bunch of sleep deprived climbers with anything more serious. My shift came at 4am as we turned passed Mull and headed out into the open water and I was awe struck as the sun turned the ocean turned crimson beneath the etched silhouettes of Rhum and Col. The boat was getting tossed around a little and with none of us being familiar with nautical travel, I was starting to feel a little out of my depth. The others were clearly failing to sleep in their cabins and soon appeared on deck looking worse for wear. To Patrick our host, it was all just a pleasure cruise but Garth had turned a shade of grey and Dave Pickford was trying his best to conceal the fat that he was vomiting over the side, much to Simon Tapin's delight. Least scathed from the turbulence was our final crew member, Charlie Woodburn, who even managed to out-class Patrick by preparing and consuming a greasy-spoon-style fried breakfast down in the galley.
Read the full story at http://blog.mountainhardwear.com
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