Fort William - Danny’s House - Feb 2026
Meet report by Matt Cripsey
With help from old university friends (Danny and Louise) and the weather gods, I think this might have been the best Scottish winter meet for a fair while! Crisp névé, blue sky, epics, luxury accommodation, and even a seafood dinner. All in just four days.
Wednesday: anticipation
Those of us travelling by sleeper met at 8.30 pm at Euston. With seats costing one third of the price of a bed, we had all opted for the former. There’s a time and a place for luxury; this was a Scottish winter trip and suffering was de rigueur. Somehow, despite booking last, Vinnie had wound up with the coveted extra-legroom seat — for the little good it did him.
Normally a shivery 20 minutes of torpid waiting, the 3.00 am carriage change at Edinburgh was enlivened by an American climber’s tales of having had his passport revoked. Apparently he’d been too critical of the president, having, amongst other things, made T-shirts splicing together Trump’s face and Hitler’s. I think he also persuaded Vinnie to go climbing the chalk cliffs at Saltdean. He was recruiting guinea pigs for a new method of protecting the routes… (This wasn’t further reason for the passport revocation.)
Thursday: elation
Snowy ledges on East Ridge - North Buttress (II/III), Stob Ban
Station pick-up worked out perfectly. When Richard, Vinnie and I disembarked, our chauffeur, Danny, was ready and waiting with Louise in tow. You can’t buy that sort of service.
The weather was looking phenomenal, so we ditched the holdalls and made a dash for Glen Nevis and our first objective: the East Ridge of the North Buttress of Stob Ban. Not catchily titled but, according to the guidebooks, a proper ‘mountaineering’-style route of grade II/III difficulty.
The snow looked minimal on the lower steps, so we kept the ropes coiled in our packs. Danny immediately lured me over to a ‘more interesting’ start, as a result of which we didn’t see the others for the next several hours! We quickly found ourselves at the foot of a vertical wall, with the way forward looking to be up the corner it formed with a more gently angled slab on the left. Having carried them just a few metres up the route — to a much more precarious position — we strapped on the crampons, roped up and ultimately deployed my long legs to overcome the obstacle, which could only have been about 4 m… This proved to be the crux of our route. We moved together for the rest of it, belaying around boulders as required. This line had everything: blocky ridge, chimneys, a tower or two, snowy ledges... And importantly, it was long. With no one else around, it felt like a real adventure. I definitely caught myself thinking that I could have been in the Alps. Or even on Baffin. After topping out, a short snow ridge led to the summit. Cue mountain views in all directions and several minutes spent trying to name as many as possible.
The snow ridge from the top of the climb to Stob Ban summit; Ben Nevis in the background
The return route was relatively swift, thanks to South Gully, which was in great condition and easily descended. We were all very impressed by Danny, who seemed to walk down nearly the entire thing, while most of us daggered our way down what felt like fairly steep ground!
Steep entry into South Gully
Despite Vinnie’s burning feet and Del’s blisters, it wasn’t too much after dark by the time we reached the car. Vinnie then even managed a trip around Morrisons before cooking a huge carbonara at Danny’s guesthouse. Top marks. And top marks to Danny for the excellent accommodation. I don’t think our CMCers were expecting ensuites, cosy beds, beautifully laid tables and fresh teas and coffees every morning. Now thoroughly spoilt, they’ll never rough it again.
Del and Harry had arrived in time for tea, half cut after several pints at the Ben Nevis Bar.
Friday: the fateful 13th
Harry was chomping at the bit. This was his first CMC meet and he’d heard a lot about us. It was all we could do to hold him back. Today — another day of glorious high pressure — we were off to Glen Coe.
Danny was keen to check out some routes on Stob Coire nam Beith. Our targets were Summit Gully (II) and Northwest Gully (III). We were now seven. At the foot of the crag, we eventually settled on our parties and set off: Danny and me for Northwest Gully, Vinnie and Richard for Summit Gully, and then Louise, Del and Harry also for Summit Gully.
Danny and I, anticipating some difficulties, set out roped. We traversed left a reasonable way before dropping into an obvious and impressive gully after a few rope lengths. Just as we were doing so, we were surprised to see all the others arrive on the snowfield we’d just crossed. Apparently Summit Gully wasn’t further over to the right after all. We saw them start up a line now about 10 m right of our gully, soloing. We knew then that they’d be down before us, being unencumbered by a rope and on an easier line.
Our line, meanwhile, looked fantastic. What was more, the snow was well consolidated but not so much that you couldn’t kick in a ledge. Early on there was a steepening: about 4 m of 70-degree snow — thankfully this was Danny’s pitch! We ran alt leads, taking a left fork and then, later, another left fork. The belays were scant, at best a T-slot axe belay, more commonly a couple of tiny nuts. We managed to place no more than two bits of gear per pitch. There was, though, one wonderful belay on a ridge between our gully and the next line, which had a thread, a big hex placement and a nice platform to rest on — bliss!
From left to right: me, Vinnie and Louise in our gully / gullies, Stob Coire nam Beith
By 16.30, we were still in our gully, despite moving steadily and efficiently (so we thought!), without rest. It had been surprisingly amenable for a supposed grade III. Although we were having fun, I think we both agreed that we’d seen enough gully for one day. Not long after that, we reached a bowl and saw footprints carrying on up a short arete to the left. Deciding that it looked possible to top out slightly quicker by traversing the bowl rightwards — and thereby to perhaps get down before dark — I headed that way. The result was a completely run out 70 m, initially fine and then actually quite steep, with only front points biting into the névé. But the angle did lessen and I emerged into the sunshine and an expansive vista. Here too was a very flat area of ground whence to belay Danny to the top. We must have done 15+ pitches, each a full rope length. By this point, we were ready to get warm, so we snacked quickly, packed the gear and set off. The summit was still and cold, the air infinitely clear, and the colours shifting to the oranges and mauves of sunset. The oblique light illuminated the crest of the Aonach Eagach across the glen.
The last of the day over Aonach Eagach
I think we were giddy from the joy of completing such a great route: yet another with that remote, expedition feel. I know I was. I know we were also fairly keen to get down, as Danny had left his head torch, meaning any movement over technical terrain after sunset was going to be slow. We reached a point where marks in the snow looked like a group had slid down the slope on their bums. I said that I was sure Richard must be the culprit, that it looked unmistakably like his arse, and that the others must have been well ahead of us after their climb and this rapid, glissading descent. With that, Danny sat down, pushed off and went. And went. Silently, then on his back, then axes outstretched. Tumbling now, he arced to the left and out of sight. 150 m or more…
He must be dead, I thought. Badly injured at least.
Long story short, he wasn’t dead. Huge relief! But it’s interesting to visit the mindset of ‘knowing’ that your climbing partner is dead. Once I got to him, he was standing and had amazingly only suffered a big tear to his rucksack, which had struck a rock and brought him to a halt. And so we walked down, giddier still, now on the joy of surviving. The final hour or so in the dark was icy and dim (with just one torch) but eminently tolerable — since no one was dead. We were keen to get to the pub and the others and to tell our story.
However… when we got to the car park, their car was still there. And empty. There was no way they wouldn’t have gone to the Clachaig if they’d got down before us. Where the hell were they? Just then, a message: ‘About to summit’… At 19.00?!
Meanwhile, on Stob Coire nam Beith…
Planning the descent…
I’m hoping one of their party will give a full account of their story for me to include here (or perhaps even write a whole new piece?!): the short version is that they had ended up backing off their second line and had followed us into our gully. They had at some point taken a right fork (not left) and had wound up climbing steep turf steps in the dark, not long after apparently seeing Danny tumble to his death. The story goes that the rope only came out at these awkward final steps and that Vinnie took on the role of leading these sketchy moves. Also that Louise was an incredible guide, bringing a sense of control, steadiness and reassurance. And that this whole experience, rather than putting him off, has only cemented Harry’s desire to become a winter mountaineering obsessive. (He has subsequently invested in a pair of axes.) Back to the night in question and Danny and I filled the hours with a delicious dinner at the Clachaig before ordering in some pizzas for their eventual arrival back at the house at around midnight. An epic by any definition.
After much staring at guidebooks, we decided that we had all in fact done the grade II Summit Gully. But Louise, Vinnie, Del, Richard and Harry by a more challenging variation… (For anyone interested, the ‘correct’ route gives 500 m of wonderful gully climbing.)
Saturday: they are risen (very late)
The forecast was good for the morning but worsening mid-afternoon. I admit that I was annoyed to be setting out at 11.00, only to have to turn back and lose more time because Del forgot his crampons… This wasn’t particularly kind of me, given the others’ ordeal the previous day - sorry! Nevertheless, we did eventually get to Glencoe and our attempt on Buachaille Etive Mor — specifically its two Munros.
On we plodded, up into Coire na Tulaich, where most teams were already descending!
The final couple of hundred metres to the bealach formed a nice, grade I standard snow slope, which slowed the pace. Once again, great views from this point, but the wind was beginning to pick up and, for the first time during our trip, there were clouds in the sky. With the deterioration in weather anticipated, Del, Vinnie and Richard carried on along the ridge while Harry and I did the short out-and-back to the first Munro, Stob Dearg. No views from this one, but thankfully only the final 50 m were shrouded.
After the brie, about to chase down the group
Before we caught the others, who were at the bealach preceding the ascent to Stob na Doire, Harry introduced me to mountain brie. I’d never considered carrying a wheel of cheese on the hill; and I can say that I’d been sorely missing out. Mountain brie, eaten in rough-torn chunks, is undoubtedly a delicacy.
I was extremely keen to head over to the second Munro at the end of the ridge, Stob na Broige. However, this was a kilometre beyond the descent route into Coire Altruim, meaning an extra 2 km total. Understandably, the others weren’t all taken by the idea to extend the day and risk being out in the forecast high winds and snow, so I went ahead. And I have to say, it was well worth the extra distance. The rest of ridge was only gently undulating, with a perfect crest of snow making for rapid progress. The easy terrain also allowed for maximum engagement with the scenery: the ‘little Buckle’, Bidean… From the summit, you could see all the way down to Loch Etive and the sculptural prominence of Ben Starav. The sky was grey now and the highest peaks capped, but there was no sign of any imminent ‘weather’.
Snacks eaten, I trotted back to the bealach and caught the others half way down into the glen. Beneath the snowline, it was treacherously icy in the coire. We were all very glad to reach the main track along the Lairig Gartain.
High spirits carried us back to the car and home in time for a few beers at the Ben Nevis Bar. After the mandatory detour via the Clachaig. It was Valentine’s Day, and while there was no CMC romance, the locals weren’t holding back, encouraged by the live folk music.
And relax. Clachaig beers.
Sunday: down time
Vinnie and his lobster
The weather finally turned. With Del and Harry having set off for home at 5.00 am, there were now just three of us. Since the Fort William Mountain Festival was on, we decided to check that out. Vinnie and Richard went to a talk by the SAIS on avalanche safety and planning, while I went to a talk by Dave MacLeod and the Scottish Mountaineering Press on publishing in the outdoor industry. The talks were great, as was the event space, which was filled with an art show, cafe and bookshop.
With Vinnie demanding lobster and prosecco, we booked a table at The Crannog for dinner. Great seafood all round, nice local gin and fair portions of mussels.
Despite spending all day just pootling around town, we still found ourselves running the length of the high street to catch the sleeper. Vinnie then taught us some Italian card games before we all settled down for a much needed sleep after some of the best Scottish winter days I think we’ve ever had.
Roll Call
Matt
Vinnie
Del
Harry (new member)
Richard
Danny (our host, local expert and Matt’s university friend)
Louise (unofficial guide and Matt’s university friend)