Andy Nisbet – Fine Mountaineer

Scottish climbs and publishes new route descriptions each year in its Journal. In 1985 Andy co-authored his first climbing guide The Cairngorms with Allen Fyffe and thus commenced his continuous involvement with Scottish guidebook writing right up until his death. His great knowledge of the hills and rock faces, gleaned over years of sustained hillwalking and climbing made him an obvious choice as New Routes Editor. He took on this important time-consuming role and continued enthusiastically for over 30 years. He was President of the Club from 2010 to 2012.

Not long after Vertigo Wall Alfie gave up front line winter climbing but Andy continued with his phenomenal output of new winter ascents across the length and breadth of the Scottish Highlands. Two climbs in the Cairngorms particularly stand out. In January 1980 he did all the leading on a very icy Goliath, a classic 1960s rock climb at Creag an Dubh-loch. Then, at his peak in February 1985, he and Colin MacLean climbed the 800foot Needle on the Shelter Stone Crag of Ben Macdui over two days. Some say the ascent of this long, sustained extreme rock climb was probably the most difficult mixed climb in the world at that time. The word ‘mixed’ in a mountaineering context implies climbing on rock covered with snow, thin ice or hoar frost in sub-zero temperatures. It is for promoting the skills and having the tenacity required to make numerous ascents of hard mixed winter climbs that Andy will be especially remembered.

Although his undoubted forte was winter climbing, Andy was an all-round mountaineer. He tended to underplay his ability on rock, but he was no slouch, having a penchant for bold friction climbing on smooth slabs. His output of new rock climbs throughout the country almost matches his list of winter routes, both being without comparison to any other Scottish pioneer past or present. Even before becoming a professional guide in the mid-80s he had climbed in the Alps and the Himalayas. The North Face of the Eiger and a winter ascent of the North Face of the Matterhorn are included in his alpine tally. In 1985 he took part in an expedition which attempted the then unclimbed North-East Ridge of Mount Everest.

I climbed with Andy a number of times in the early years before he left Aberdeen for Glenmore Lodge. He certainly impressed me on a new winter route we did together on Beinn a’ Bhuird. One of my best memories of being with him was on a weekend to Reiff, on the Rubha Mor peninsula north of Ullapool, in May 1982. It was at the time when the now popular Reiff sea cliffs were first being explored. On the Sunday, four of us made the fine coastal walk out to the far point of Rubha Coigeach to investigate the distant golden coloured cliffs. Unfortunately, a heavy drizzle had set in by the time we reached the crags and the immaculate walls of perfect sandstone were dripping wet. We spent some time checking other cliffs farther round the headland then set off to walk back to Reiff. “I think it’s going to clear up” says Andy with his usual optimism. The other two were not convinced and continued south. We went back to the Golden Walls. Soon a warm wind got up and the clouds began to disperse. Within an hour the sun was out and the rock was drying. Late afternoon in that beautiful west coast setting we did four climbs. Andy had run in the inaugural London marathon the previous weekend and had still not fully regained his strength. Nevertheless, he was determined to lead an enticing crack which had caught his eye. He did eventually succeed and it was later named Andrew’s Crack. As we walked back that glorious evening, I knew we would both return to the Golden Walls. I also knew he would be back long before me, and so it turned out.

Robin Grant writes:

It must have been on one of the school hillwalks that I first encountered Andy. Although he was three years younger than me, his red hair and obvious enthusiasm for the hills made him stand out from the other younger boys. I do remember sharing a tent with him on a walk through Knoydart with teachers Donald Hawksworth and Patrick Scott, an expedition which gave Andy and myself the chance to make our first ascents of the magnificent Ladhar Bheinn.

After leaving school I lost touch with Andy for many years, though I enjoyed reading about some of his climbing achievements in magazines and guidebooks. It was in 2005 that I got in touch with him again when I came across his website and found that he did some private guiding. Although I have always been mainly a hillwalker I did a little rock climbing in my student days, mainly at the lower grades, and I was keen to do some of the classic rock climbs in the Scottish mountains before I got too much older. Tower Ridge on Ben Nevis was my first choice, a climb which is relatively easy in rock climbing terms but highly regarded, and Andy said he would be delighted to guide me up this fine route.

When our agreed date arrived towards the end of June it promised to be one of the best days of the summer so far, with warm sunshine and clear blue skies. Andy clearly had friends in high places! I picked him up from his home in Boat of Garten and we headed west, whiling away the miles reminiscing about the old days at the Grammar School. The walk up the Allt a’ Mhuilinn path to the foot of the climb was delightful, with stunning views of the North Face of Ben Nevis ahead. At my request Andy pointed out on the cliffs above some of the much harder climbs which I had read about. We lunched in the hut at the foot of the North Face which had provided a base for so many famous climbers in the past before heading upwards to the start of our route. On the climb itself Andy was the perfect guide in every way – it had been more than twenty years since I had done any rock climbing, and I found both his reassuring presence and the huge handholds at crucial points of the ascent very comforting. We crossed Tower Gap, the sensational cleft in the ridge which bars access to the summit plateau, and soon reached the top of The Ben. It had been a wonderful experience for me climbing with Andy on such a superb classic route, and I hoped to have the chance to climb with him again.

The following summer I got back in touch with Andy and suggested we tried Crowberry Ridge on Buachaille Etive Mor. Andy warned me this would be a bit harder than Tower Ridge, but thought I should manage it OK. After the long drive to Glencoe we set off for the short walk to the foot of the mountain on a day which was initially cloudy but showed promise of improving. The crux pitch of Crowberry Ridge is the famous left traverse from Abraham’s Ledge (named after the Abraham brothers who made the first ascent of this route in 1900), where an exposed traverse gives access to the upper part of the ridge. When we reached the rather precarious ledge in question I took one look at the yawning gulf below our feet, the lack of sizeable handholds and footholds on the traverse, and timidly suggested to Andy that perhaps we should keep to the more devious easier route which avoids the crux. But Andy was a very experienced guide who had no doubt dealt with nervous clients before, and recognised that I just needed some gentle encouragement. He assured me that I would be absolutely fine, and his confidence was infectious. He checked my belay was secure before setting off on the traverse, helpfully pointing out some crucial handholds for my benefit. He climbed the pitch with the ease and elegance which befitted a climber of his expertise, and his two ropes snaked steadily upwards. When my turn came to climb I followed nervously, but managed to stay in contact with the rock. The rest of the route was more straightforward, and after a short 28

abseil from Crowberry Tower we were soon sitting at the summit of the mountain enjoying the glorious views over Rannoch Moor and towards Ben Nevis, the weather having improved dramatically by this time as if to reward our efforts on the climb.

The last climb I did with Andy was in 2009, when he guided me up East Buttress in Coire Mhic Fhearchair on Beinn Eighe. I was hugely impressed by the alpine atmosphere of this route with its interesting variety of quartzite pitches dominated by the imposing Central Buttress nearby, and I was very grateful to Andy for recommending it to me as one of the best lower grade climbs in Scotland. Climbers often do not take the time to visit mountain summits when they complete a route, but when we reached the top of East Buttress Andy kindly agreed to my request to make the diversion to the summit of Beinn Eighe, in spite of the fact that this meant he would be about an hour later getting back home.

The classic routes I did with Andy have given me some of the best days I have ever enjoyed in the Scottish mountains, and it was an honour and a privilege for me to climb with someone who has become a legend of Scottish mountaineering. Of course I am only one of many clients over the years who have benefited from Andy’s expertise and reassuring presence in the mountains, and all of us feel the loss after his tragic death. He will be much missed by all whose lives he touched, but his legacy will live on as mountaineers continue to climb the routes he pioneered and refer to the guidebooks he authored. He will certainly not be forgotten.

Alfie Robertson writes:

My very first memory of Andy was of a little carrot haired second-year whinging on a pass beneath Ben Narnain because he was compelled to descend bereft of his fourth Munro of a very long day. The fact it was misty, raining steadily, almost dark and the rest of the party were exhausted had little impact on him. It was a foretaste of the unflinching enthusiasm, dedication, determination and obliviousness to discomfort which led Andy to make an enormous impact later not just on my life but that of Scottish mountaineering in general. However our half century of hills together really started a couple of years later when I was invited to join him with a couple of other enthusiastic 'Munro Baggers' for a Christmas trip to Killin. We spent a week slithering around on snowy peaks sans axes, crampons or any particular idea of what we were doing. I particularly remember sliding down Meall nan Tarmachan in a state of blank terror.

However we survived not just Tarmachan but Andy's subsequent detour into a snowy ditch with his Dad's old mini on the way home and spent the next few years scrambling up 3000ft summits with all the energy of youth. The core team solidified into a trio of Andy, me and future doctor Kenny Maclean (1964-70). The ensuing three years I remember as an intoxicatingly happy blur of sun, rain, mist, hills, youth hostels, getting lost and all the finest joys Scotland has to offer. And jelly. We ate lots of it and not much else in my memory. I have never quite worked out why we chose jelly as I can think of nothing else with less food value, but there it was. Strawberry jelly, orange jelly, raspberry jelly...... We summited Munros to them all. Happiness was measured in the number of summits conquered during each rigorously planned expedition. The planner was Andy, and Kenny and I followed contentedly in his wake. It was in those years more than any when Andy built up that remarkable hill sense and experience which later made him such a splendid guide and climbing companion.

By 1972 we had run out of Munros and needed a new purpose to life. Kenny sensibly left the team to pursue a distinguished medical career, while Andy and I drifted into climbing, which like many others we had encountered via the mandatory ascent of the dreaded 'In-Pin' (Inaccessible Pinnacle) in Skye. The most notable feature of our early climbing was a complete absence of talent. I well remember an embarrassingly inept failure on the summer route of The Needle on Shelter Stone crag in front of a benignly amused Clive Rowland (a famous climber) who queued patiently behind. (If you had told Clive that within a few years one of these hopeless bumblies would complete the first winter ascent of this route I think he would have fallen off his stance with disbelief!) Neither of us had any great gymnastic ability on rocks. But Andy soon found that his remarkable determination and organisation could compensate for that and after a few years we had made ourselves into a reasonably respectable rock climbing team. But it was in winter that the real revelation came as Andy discovered that his talents were perfectly suited to the Scottish cliffs wreathed in snow.

A handily subsidised winter course at Glenmore Lodge gave us a boost as beginners and we progressed relatively quickly as a winter team. By the late seventies we had progressed from our clumsy beginnings to competent ascents of reputed routes like Eagle Ridge and Parallel Buttress on Lochnagar. Though we climbed as equals at the time the real push came from Andy who was hugely ambitious and inventive even then and had already started his remarkable new routing career. Occasionally our ambitions outran us, and our final big ascent together of the fine Vertigo Wall on Creag an Dubh-loch was an outrageous botched ascent far beyond our safe capabilities at the time! No one was happier than me when Andy righted the outrage a few years later by a competent ascent with a more experienced and stronger companion.

What followed over the next three decades of Andy's glory days as one of Scotland's most remarkable climbers does not need to be re-hashed here as you can read it in a plethora of guide-books. And these remarkable routes were ascended with far stronger partners than me. But if the winter climbing team broke up, the friendship certainly did not. Andy proved himself my kindest and most loyal friend over decades. We continued to climb as friends long after his ability and dedication outstripped mine. This summer would have been our 50th anniversary as climbing and walking companions. We already had climbing plans for Scotland, Spain and Greece later in the year. But our last climb was destined to be a glorious peak in the Pyrenees last autumn when with typical kindness and patience Andy guided a keen young Australian lass up her first ever multi-pitch climb. His enthusiasm for all aspects of climbing and the outdoors was unquenchable and he loved to share it with everyone else. It was an energy undimmed even by injury and bereavement in his later years. Despite everything he was a wonderfully happy person to share time with and hundreds of colleagues, rope mates and clients will remember that as consolation for our sense of loss.

And for me there was much more than climbing. I remember Andy fondly in so many other ways - as a competitive hockey opponent, a patient bridge partner, a student flat mate, a dogged grouse beater, a gently loving partner to his wife Gill, a quietly remarkable woman, and as a distinguished son to exceptional parents. John and Brenda may have been initially disconcerted when their academically brilliant son devoted his life to climbing but they were active outdoor people themselves and accepted his choice benignly. And John happily lived long enough to fully appreciate the unique and astonishing achievements of

his offspring. Tower Ridge on Ben Nevis and Half Dome in Yosemite with his Dad were not Andy's most significant ascents but they certainly counted among his happiest.

The Sabbath

Whilst wading in a river, for fishing is my craft, When a voice from nearby road declared “Man, are ye daft?” I know that I’m in Scotland, so people could be right, To declare if you’re sane or not and yell with all their might. But really I’m only fishing and I’m sure I am quite sane, And doing nothing to attach any blame, So I continued on my way, but no fish, and a bit down crest, When approached by a young man, all smart in his Sunday best. “Now look you” he said sternly and with a furrow on his brow, “You’re not allowed to fish, it’s the Sabbath don’t you know?” Well, I had completely forgotten this Scottish law in force, So in my best Aussie accent said “Sorry, mate, of course”, So, if to Scotland you should go, remember the Sabbath Day.

George W. Warder (1935-46)

George and his twin brother Harry are two of the Club’s Nonagenarians and live in Australia. The poem is based on a true story of fishing on the River Don at Kintore during a holiday in Scotland in 1991.

Big Hill Days

Meeting up with Robin Grant (1955-68) at our School-Leavers 50th Anniversary last November reminded me of an unsuccessful, but very enjoyable, Big Hill Day with a younger Grammarian, Phil Kammer (1967-72). Here, as well as recounting some adventures with Phil and others, I offer some ideas which I hope may inspire younger FPs (and even older pupils doing their Duke of Edinburgh Awards) to go off road in Scotland.

Robin is a very keen hill-walker and it is thought that he became the first teenager to climb all 277 Munros when he climbed the Inaccessible Pinnacle in the Cuillins of Skye as his last Munro with Ian “Twinks” Stephen in July 1969 to become Munroist No. 90. Twinks was No. 89. (Twinks, Archie Baxter and Jim Flett were the core of the School’s Maths Department for many years). When in 1973 Robin’s father finished his Munros and became Munroist 124 it is thought that they became the first father and son completion team. Of course no-one climbs all the Munros in one day but circuits such as the Pentland Skyline (Edinburgh), the Glen Affric Munros, the North Laggan Munros and Tranters Round offer suitable challenges.

In 1987, wanting to raise money for Oxfam, Robin went for a solo weekend walk from his home in Ballater. Over two days, with an overnight in the Shielin of Mark bothy, he completed the traverse of Morven, Mount Keen and Lochnagar - a roughly triangular 31