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Welcome to the world of JHB Bell & Co. suppliers of the world's wettest and greenest rock! climbing routes. What follows is the company brochure, designed to attract wealthy clients to explore the vertiginous heights of our mountain fastnesses. History does not record how many unfortunate victims climbers perished on attempted the harder routes but women of the period were known to hitch up their voluminous skirts and romp up the more amenable grades. Modern day parallels can be drawn with today's routes which also seem to have their fair share of big girls' blouses!

The Saturday had been a wash-out or should I say a snow-out. We had all piled out of the CIC with great intentions of doing some ice routes. John Thompson, Big Willie Scott, Kevin Thole and for myself, this would be my first ice climb. I was excited as we plodded up through the gorge, exiting on the left up a loose soaking gully with a final nippy move up a wet wall onto a moving escalator of scree.

We had arrived unexpectedly on the Island of Westray after an exciting crossing from Kirkwall. I say exciting, as, once clear of the sheltered island waters we hit what I considered a large swell and I spent most of the voyage leaning over the edge of the wooden rail, whooping and shouting as each successive wave was spotted, analysed, "Oh no, that's a really big one!" and breached on a froth of foaming spume by the mighty Earl Thorfin. In reality, the captain was probably commenting on the relative calmness of the crossing, but old land lubber Young was having a whale of a time!

It had been two months since the car caught fire and I had decided to cycle to work instead of looking for a new one. It's around 15 miles door to door and I used to cycle it along the main road, a dirty, noisy affair and I swore never to repeat the experience. I had, however, discovered minor roads and canal paths which meant I only had a couple of miles on "A" roads, four or five on minor, quiet roads and the rest along the canal.