The iconic Black Cuillin Ridge dominates the landscape of Skye. Its traverse involves climbing and scrambling along the 12km ridge crest from one end to the other, taking in 11 Munros (and 22 peaks total) along the way. Adding to this the 7km walk-in and the 6km walk-out, the ascent totals over 4,000m. Whilst much of the traverse falls into in the grey area between walking and climbing, a full traverse also involves pitches of rock climbing to ‘severe’ grade and multiple abseils. It’s a mountaineer’s route, and tests every skill in your repertoire for moving fast in the mountains.

Second Time Lucky!

Tom and I had plans to do the traverse back in June. I was training quite seriously. Big, long days out in the Lakes, trail running and lots of ‘severe’ multi-pitch climbing in boots. However, just before we were supposed to head up to Scotland, I sprained my ankle. Our plans fell to the wayside and life suddenly got very busy with work, house renovations and finally being able to visit family across the country. After nearly a month of living an unusually sedentary life, we found ourselves with some time to spare and so nonchalantly checked the weather forecast for Skye. We saw a couple of days of perfect conditions forecasted, and decided to go for it.

My definitely-not-peak fitness was a huge worry; enough so that it kept me awake for many nights in the run up to our attempt. It’s completely normal for me to experience anxiety when I have a big summit or route ahead of me, but this was on a whole new level. For perhaps the first time in my life, I was genuinely not sure whether I would be able to complete the mammoth task ahead of me. Statistically, you have a higher chance of making it to the top of Everest on your first attempt than you do of completing the Cuillin Ridge… this terrifying statistic plagued my thoughts constantly in the run-up to our big adventure!

TRIAD and CREST

The traverse is most commonly completed over two days in a strategical approach dubbed ‘CREST’ (Cuillin Ridge Expedition Style Traverse). Having multiple days to complete the ridge means there is considerably less time pressure, and therefore more time to actually enjoy the experience and the views. It does, however, require spending a night high on the ridge. TRIAD (The Ridge In A Day) takes this already huge goal up a notch and involves completing the ridge in a single day using a fast and light approach. Obviously this negates the need for a bivuoac, so you only carry what you will need for the day. However, because of the sheer length of the ridge, you need to be moving fast and continuously from start to finish. Any potential hold-ups, such as delays at the notoriously busy sections or navigational issues, can completely ruin an attempt.

After plenty of careful consideration, we decided to opt for the TRIAD approach. I am a bit of a mountain masochist, and love nothing more than a good old suffer fest! We were both pretty confident we could successfully do the traverse over two days, as the technical difficulties are comfortably within our limits. The real challenge, and unknown, was whether could we do it all in one day. I’ve had plenty of long and physically demanding days out in the mountains, but nothing quite to this scale. As someone who is continuously doubtful about her own abilities, this was the perfect opportunity to push myself to the limit, and hopefully, prove to myself once and for all that I am more capable than I think I am!

Kit

Tom and I decided to take the ‘fast and light’ approach seriously, so chose to use our 15L Salomon XA running-style rucksacks. We received plenty of skeptical looks on the ridge as our packs were minuscule compared to everyone else’s! I carried up the rope (35m) and my own personal gear (water, food, spare layers, camera, helmet, harness, belay device, a Prussik and some abseil tat) and Tom took our small climbing rack (nuts, a couple of cams, carabiners, slings, extendable quick-draws) and his own personal gear. Whilst it was a bit of a squeeze getting everything into the packs in the first place, once we were on the ridge with our helmets and harnesses donned, I was extremely grateful to have such a lightweight and comfortable pack.

We both started off with 3 litres: 500ml in each soft flask and 1 litre in our 3L capacity bladders. We drank most of this on the hike up to the loch at base of the ridge where we downed another fresh 500ml before filling the flasks and bladders to capacity.

Critically, we had hiked up to An Dorus (considered the half-way point on the ridge) the previous morning and stashed 4 litres of water in a collapsable container. Even with the total of 9 litres I consumed throughout, I ended the day considerably dehydrated thanks to the unrelenting sunshine.

Logistics and Preparation

As neither of us had ever been up on the ridge before, we realised that navigation would most likely be our weak spot. We spent countless hours pouring over blog posts, maps, YouTube videos and anything else we could get our hands on. I must have read Adrian Trendall’s guidebook cover to cover about 50 times! We took the book with us on the traverse, and it truly was a fantastic resource.

The biggest logistical problem with the Cuillin Ridge traverse is the fact that the start (Glen Brittle) and end (Sligachan) points are about 13km apart. As we only had one car, we had to figure out how we would get back to our tent once we descended from the ridge. People often stop off at the Sligachan pub for a celebratory dram and then rely on hitching a lift back to their camp. However, because we were doing the ridge in a day, we weren’t sure if we would be down in time to hitch a lift from the departing pub-goers. We decided to drive the car to Sligachan the day before and leave it there, to ensure we had a way back to our tent.

The final decision was which walk-in approach we should take. The normal approach goes straight up to Gars-bheinn. However, I had seen this described as “an excruciating scree slog”. As scree is my mortal enemy, I didn’t want to start the day with something I hate. We decided to go via Coir’ a’ Ghrunnda instead. The downside of this approach is that it brings you to Sgurr nan Eag. You then have to make your way to the official start of the ridge at Gars-bheinn before doubling back the way you already came.

An Alpine Start

Our adventure started with a 2:30am alarm. I quickly scoffed down a cereal bar and threw my clothes on. I made my way to the toilet block as quietly as possible to do a wee, brush my teeth and apply suncream. Still half asleep, I got a very rude (but effective!) awakening when a group of drunk girls came into the toilets literally screaming about how “Ryan is such a dog'”…

I made a quick escape back to the tent and donned my already-packed bag just as Tom arrived back. We looked at each other, smiled drowsily, and it was suddenly time to go! The walk-in was easy and enjoyable. However, we already knew it was going to be a hot day – even at 3:15 in the morning we were sweating in just our t-shirts.

As we got closer to the loch, the terrain changed from an easy path to a path-less scramble over and up big boulders. We lost our way a couple of times, struggling to figure out the best way around the rocky obstacles with our limited head torch light. Finally, we made it to Coir’ a’ Ghrunnda. We filled up with water from the loch and had a quick snack before starting upwards to gain the ridge, just as the darkness was starting to lift.

On the Ridge

At 6am we found ourselves on the ridge at Sgurr nan Eag. There was no time to waste, so we dropped our bags and made our way over to Gars-bheinn. We reached the summit of Gars-bheinn just as the sun had burst into the sky, drenching the rock in the most gorgeous golden light. We stopped for a few pictures before heading back to our bags. At 7am, our traverse had officially begun!

I found having to repeat that small section of ridge very demoralising. It was quick and easy, but for some reason it really annoyed me! Because TRIAD-ers generally aim to get on the ridge for sunrise (6am at this time of year), the fact that we only technically started the ridge at 7am made me feel like we were already an hour behind right from the get-go.

Back at our bags, we donned harnesses and helmets and made our way towards our first objective: the TD Gap. Once at the gap, I was relieved to get the rope out rope out of my tightly-packed bag. Tom tied in normally, and I tied a figure-eight on a bight so I could clip in and out with a carabiner. Thankfully there were no other parties at the gap, so the climb was quick, efficient and rather uneventful!

Suffer Fest

At some point after the TD Gap, I fell into a sort of dehydrated/sun-stroked trance. I was walking, scrambling and climbing on auto-pilot, with an empty mind and without remembering to eat or drink. The heat from the sun was almost unbearable. Sweat was dripping down my head, running the suncream into my eyes. I felt absolutely terrible. I was dizzy, moving quite clumsily and felt similarly to how I feel at altitude when not acclimatised properly. Every step took a huge amount of mental effort. There was no conversation between us. We were both stuck in our hyper-focused worlds of making it to the next objective.

I began to realise how much more slowly I was moving, but somehow didn’t make the connection to any of the likely reasons. I thought I was just exhausted already, that I wasn’t fit enough and that the chances of me making the full traverse were hanging somewhere around zero. My morale plummeted, but I tried (with mixed success!) to keep my negativity to myself. I continued on in my sorry state, trying to push as hard as I could but feeling like I was just hitting a wall.

Out in the Midday Sun

The next big objective was King’s Chimney. This is only a ‘v diff’ climb, and is supposedly particularly straightforward when dry, but I found it thrutchy and quite strenuous . Tom made it look easy, gracefully bridging his way up and easily finding the right line. I ended up ignoring the beta and instead jamming as many body parts as possible against the rock and heaving myself inelegantly up with lots of grunting and a small bit of swearing. In hindsight, I recognise that my sun-stroked state probably contributed to the perceived difficulty of this climb!

The 250m long grade 3 scramble up An Stac was exhilarating and uninterrupted. Anywhere else, this would be an incredibly sought-after route in its own right. I could tell that the scrambling would ordinarily be very enjoyable, but it felt far from that for me. The heat of the sun radiating off the black gabbro made it feel like I was trapped in an oven. There was no breeze at all to relieve us, and I felt completely drained of energy. We pressed on, and I tried to summon all the mental strength I possibly could to keep me going.

An Unwelcome Rest

We arrived at the Inaccessible Pinnacle at around 11am to find a train of people moving slowly up the pinnacle. A party of 3 guys and their guide were queuing ahead of us. The guide assured us that his team would be soloing and moving quickly – we weren’t too worried about the wait. It took a while for the climbers on the pinnacle to clear before the guide and his clients set off. His clients were novice climbers and required slow (and wobbly!) coaxing up the pinnacle. It was incredibly nerve-wracking to watch.

We spent the time re-applying sun cream, eating and drinking as much possible. I immediately started to feel like the blanket that had been smothering my brain was lifting. The dizziness abated, my mind cleared and I was suddenly alert and energised. I felt like a new person!

We discussed whether to move together or solo (climbing unroped). Remembering how clumsy and exhausted I had just been feeling made me nervous, so we agreed to move together. It was a lovely little climb, but felt much easier than I had expected. I ended up regretting not just soloing it! As we reached the top of the pinnacle, a guide with his group asked what we were doing. As soon as we told him we were going for a one day traverse, he stopped his clients and let us go ahead. We crowded onto the abseil point and rigged up as quickly as possible.

At the bottom, I looked at Tom, grinned and said “Tom, I think we can do it!”. We had lost a very critical hour from having to wait, but for the first time since starting the actual traverse, I felt positive and confident.

Peaks and More Peaks

The following few peaks flew by and our pace greatly increased. We were chatting happily as we scrambled along, and I finally got to appreciate the sublime views and the joy of the route.

Cloud had started to roll in over the ridge and we were blissfully happy to find ourselves sheltered from the worst of the sun for the rest of the route. However, we were both starting to get very thirsty. Getting to An Dorus was the most important mission of the day so far. It held our extra water and was our only designated rest stop. I started to panic that someone would have stolen our water. We had hidden it well, but I was convinced that the heat of the day would have tempted even Jesus himself had it been spotted. I can always rely on my brain to come up with a worst case scenario and then obsessively dwell on it for the foreseeable future!

On the descent from Sgurr Thormaid lie three pinnacles known as the ‘Three Teeth’, which are normally bypassed. However, as we tried to weave around the obstacles, the ‘path’ we were following disappeared. We crossed the ridge again and again looking for a way around them, but found nothing but cliffs. Eventually, we decided to just tackle the pinnacles head-on. We ascended one of the fangs but found ourselves on a ledge surrounded by vertical drops. After traversing the tooth, descending, traversing again, we re-ascending, we finally found (a quite difficult and definitely ‘climby’) way up to the crest. We wasted about 50 minutes and a lot of energy with our mistake, but we learnt an important Cuillin navigational lesson: if in doubt, find the crest and stick to it!

A Very Welcome Rest

We made it to An Dorus and scrambled with speed over to our stash spot. I was overjoyed to find our water still there. We took our bags off and sat down for the first time on the ridge, shared the water between us and pulled out our long-awaited treat – a McDonald’s cheeseburger! Despite being stale and dry, at that moment, it was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. That simple 99p cheeseburger was the biggest boost to our morale the whole day. We rested for around 30 minutes drinking, eating and soaking up the views. Our break was long, but it really did feel amazing!

We moved fast over the following peaks. We were reinvigorated psychologically, and had somewhat replenished our water and calorie starved bodies. I was feeling uneasy about the hour we had lost at the Inn Pin and the almost-hour we had lost on the fangs, but I was also feeling incredibly motivated. We both felt confident that we could make up some of the lost time now that we only had one rock climb, a few abseils and some ‘moderate’ climbing we knew we would solo standing in our way. We still had an awful lot of distance to cover, not to mention the remaining ascent, but I felt self-assured and strong.

For me, the more technical sections on the ridge actually felt the easiest. The climbs and scrambles were well within our comfort zone and, as you generally move more slowly up these sections, they actually felt almost restful! Belaying Tom on the few sections that we pitched gave me much-needed periods of rest and recuperation. I was glad to have a water system that enabled me to sip, hands-free, whilst belaying.

The Last Climb (and a lot of scramble-walking!)

The continuous scramble-walking was by far the most draining. For this reason, Bruach na Frithe was my least favourite part of the day. The seemingly endless series of slogs up and down felt somewhat akin to torture. I was absolutely pining for the infamous climb up the Basteir Tooth for a bit of a reprieve! The ‘severe’ graded Naismith’s Route was one of my biggest worries in the run-up to the traverse. Even though it’s only technically as difficult as the climb out of the TD Gap, the fact that it comes right at the end of the ridiculously long day made me seriously anxious about my ability to climb safely and competently when I was sure to be absolutely exhausted. As it turned out, I actually felt much stronger at this beautifully exposed stage of ridge than I did back at the TD Gap!

As we descended from Am Basteir, we knew we only had one more peak to top before the entire traverse would be complete. I felt mixed emotions. Part of me was longing to stand atop the final summit and for the ordeal to over. Part of me didn’t want it to end. In spite of the suspected sunstroke, the exhaustion, the relentless ascent and exposure, I was in my absolute element.

Ups and Downs

Shortly after Am Basteir, Tom had his first and only emotional blip of the day. In our relationship, Tom is the stable one. I am emotional and easily blighted by fear, self-doubt and worry, whilst he is generally a pillar of stability and support. It’s not uncommon for me to have ‘mountain meltdowns’ when exhaustion or fear gets the better of me, but it’s something I’ve very rarely seen from Tom.

All of a sudden, he found himself in an incredibly negative headspace. He was analysing and obsessing over our mistakes of the day. He was certain that we wouldn’t make it to the final summit before darkness fell. In that moment, he was convinced that the entire day had been a failure. His capacity for rational thinking seemed to have upped sticks and disappeared. We talked through his thoughts on the move, and I did my best to assure him that it was just the exhaustion making him feel that way. He was genuinely shocked that extreme tiredness could effect his emotions that severely. At some point, he made a conscious choice to ignore the noise and focus on simply finishing the route. The change was instantaneous; he was abruptly back to his (often annoyingly!) optimistic self.

The Final Peak

On our way up to Sgurr nan Gillean, we took the ‘Tooth Chimney’ instead of the easier ‘Groove and Arête’. This is a ‘diff’ climb that we decided to solo; our last hurrah on the ridge! It was a beautiful section of classic chimney climbing, and the perfect end to our escapades. The sky was already starting to darken, so we moved upwards at pace.

As we made our way along the narrow summit ridge to Sgurr nan Gillean, the most amazing sight unfolded beneath us. A sea of cloud had accumulated below us, stretching as far as the eye could see. The peaks of the Cuillin Ridge rose majestically out of the cloud, with everything else obscured. The sun was just starting to set and the sky was filled with colour. Russet, rose, turquoise and indigo fought for dominance in the darkening sky. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my life.

Finally, we were there. At 8pm we were standing on top of our final peak. The huge expanse of summits we had climbed were laid out before us, highlighting the colossal task we had just completed. We hadn’t seen another person in hours. It truly felt like we were stood on top of a world with no one else in it. I really didn’t want to leave. But the sun was setting at speed, and we didn’t have much time before we were left in the dark. We also knew that, as excited and satisfied as we felt, we weren’t finished yet. The descent had always been the bit I was dreading the most, but I had refused to think about it throughout the day. At 8:20pm, we left the summit.

What Goes Up Must Come Down

The initial descent from the summit of Sgurr nan Gillean requires pathless down scrambling. We knew that we needed to get as much of that done as possible while we still had light, as it would become far more difficult to navigate in the dark and far more dangerous. Our goal was to find the path before darkness fully set in. As we made our way down, we started to notice the visibility was becoming greatly reduced. It was that gorgeous, thick sea of cloud we had seen from the summit! Somehow, while admiring its beauty, we failed to realise that we would have to pass through it to get down to the valley.

As we descended deeper into the cloud, the last of the light left the sky and it was time for head torches. The cloud was so thick that the beam from the head torch simply illuminated the white fog, obscuring absolutely everything. It felt like we were on the inside of a ping-pong ball. We had to stay within 2 metres of each other, or one would completely lose sight of the other. Trying to navigate in a white-out is hard at the best of times, but when it’s combined with the darkness of night it becomes pretty impossible. There was no path yet, and we couldn’t see any features until we were literally on top of them.

A Long and Terrifying Descent

We soon found ourselves on incredibly dangerous terrain – a series of grassy plateaus with steep, rocky cliffs between them. We were having to down-climb sections that felt harder than anything we had done on the ridge itself. The map and compass were entirely useless at this point, so we had to rely solely on our phones. Mine was about to die and Tom’s was very low on battery. I turned mine off so that, if worst came to worst, we would have some battery left to phone Mountain Rescue. It was one of the only times in my life that having to phone for a rescue in the mountains seemed like a real possibility. I was terrified.

We knew that we had to get out of the cloud as soon as possible so we could see well enough to avoid any dangerous drops. We also knew that we had to find the path before Tom’s phone battery died. After around 2 hours of desperately searching, and trying to avoid the worst of the cliffs, we found our way out of the cloud and onto the path! After hours of feeling like we were trapped in a nightmare, going round in circles, we knew we would be okay. The path was easy to follow and the rest of the descent passed quickly. My knees were burning to the touch and incredibly sore, but I knew we were so very nearly done!

We arrived back at the car at 1am. Our three hour descent had turned into a five hour descent. Obviously we were far too late for last orders at the Sligachan bar, so we headed straight back to our tent in Glen Brittle where we proceeded to have the best nights sleep of our lives!

Final Thoughts

As I write this, I find myself forgetting the difficulties and struggles I faced on that ridge. I seem to only remember how mind-blowingly beautiful the views were, how enjoyable the scrambles and climbs were and how incredibly happy I felt when I finally stood atop our final summit. It was hard. Probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I know that for a decent portion of the ridge I felt like absolute crap, questioned why I was doing this to myself and promised I’d never put myself through anything like that again. And yet here I am, after the fact, wishing I could be back doing it all over again. It’s the age-old paradox of mountaineering!

Big mountaineering adventures always fill me with a feelings of clarity and complete contentment. I felt truly alive on that ridge. All the big doubts and challenges of ‘normal life’ had fallen to the wayside, and all that was left was an extreme sense of happiness from living in the moment and truly appreciating all that was around me. Completing the traverse of the Cuillin Ridge in a day is something that I am immensely proud of having achieved and an experience that I will never, ever forget.

Lessons Learnt and Helpful Hints

• You need to be constantly alert for the whole ridge. Even the sections of ‘walking’ tend to be on super exposed slabs that are tilted so as to tip you over the edge. The mental exhaustion is definitely the biggest challenge of the day. Your body slowly starts wearing out, but you can’t let your attention or mental fortitude slip for even a second – it’s psychological warfare!
• Stashing water at An Dorus is realistically what ended up ensuring our success on this one-day traverse. The sun is not to be underestimated on the Cuillin Ridge. Although the air temperatures weren’t crazily high, the heat from the sun and the lack of any wind made it feel incredibly intense. I drank far more water than I had banked on, and carrying ridiculous amounts of water is not an option when speed is of the essence. Just make sure you label your water supply and take your containers with you when you leave – there’s a problem on the ridge at the moment with people leaving water bottles which is completely unacceptable.
• Don’t forget to eat and drink! You’d be surprised how easy it is to forget to do such basic things when hyper-focused on time and speed. You should be able to eat and drink on the go, but even if you have to stop for a minute it will ultimately be worth it. I felt better and more energised for the entire second half of the traverse than I did for that first section when I was dehydrated. As a result, I was quicker, more alert and actually able to enjoy my time on the ridge.