First Impressions Recalled

Geoff Turner

A CLUB: An organised group of people, sharing similar beliefs or interests and having regular meetings.

I applied to join the Merseyside Mountaineering Club in July1972, but after reading the club Newsletter about great climbers doing VS or even more, I got cold feet. My few exploits were at best at V.Diff. standard. Eventually, with the probationary 6 months coming to a blank end, I plunged and booked on the March 1973 Glencoe meet.

On my way through Maghull, I was to pick up two schoolboys who had recently joined - Mark Diggins and John Peake. Listening to them in the darkness of the car, one could tell they were keen, but little did I realise the extent to which their keenness would eventually take them - John to migrate to live amongst the North Wales hills and become an extreme climber, Mark to become a UIAGM guide and the Chief Examiner for the British Mountain Guides Association.

Much later that night we crept into the rendezvous, a converted cowshed called McColl's Alpine Accommodation. The cold light of dawn confirmed my worst fears. Most of the inhabitants looked like the fearsome Clan McGregor - all unshaven, many bearded, long haired and alarming animals. Some were already sucking lager from cans and throwing flick knives at the wooden supports to our bunks. I later learned we were two groups, one of Glaswegian suckers/flickers and the other the MMC who were only distinguishable by their ability to speak in English.

After two nights in the cowshed we (the MMC) left to take residence in the relative comfort of Llagangarbh. They seemed a convivial lot and a noisy RAF officer called Ian Wright set the theme for the week - 'Monosodium Glutamate to be incorporated in every conversation'.

I was on a steep learning curve, my first meet and my first Scottish winter trip into the mountains. I kept in the background and observed: the formidable Jones brothers, Nick and Lew, a constant menace to the meet's food supply; the pony tailed 'Tonto' Lewis with grater edged humour, uncompromising and an obvious future 'hard'; Bill Sutherland, another recent addition to the club, destined for universal approbation as 'The Historic Club Secretary'; Ray Harold, precise, organised and having 'standing' within the group and many others, some alas, no longer with us.

Several days of good conditions ensued whilst I followed the crowd up and over the Glencoe ranges and used, for the first time, my borrowed ice axe and crampons. I was particularly impressed the day we ascended Dinner Time Buttress, followed by the ridges over Bidean in ever increasing storm conditions. This was later cancelled out by my surprise at their mass retreat from the Am Bodach start of the Aonach Eagach ridge in superb conditions. But I still regarded them as infallible.

I still remember the magical night when we took chairs outside Llagangarbh to watch the Northern Lights display. The first weekend concluded with a mass meal in an upstairs room at the Glencoe Hotel. Pete Smith engineered to mistakenly sugar his haddock for our entertainment.

As the week wore on, the party dwindled until only three were left, Gordon Mattson, Fred Smith who was meet leader and me. Gordon was a man of unusual stamina; he apparently took a train to Bangor on Friday nights and walked to Cae'r Fran for a weekend of hillwalking, then walked back to Bangor on Sunday for the return train.

Fred Smith, perky, patriarchal, indefatigable, seemed possessed to 'do' every peak on Rannoch Moor and required me to accompany him through the deep snow on moor and mountain - finally sliding down from the summits at great speed on plastic bags. Fred concluded the week by leading me up Borrowdale's Troutdale Pinnacle on the way home. Yes, I thought, these will do - they meet the crieria - 'organised with a shared interest' - and yet they are so different.