Dancing Above The Sea

Not all lines linger in the mind for long. For Willis, this one had taken up permanent residence. A good forecast this far north is not to be ignored, so when the opportunity came around it was a quick dash up to Caithness for a sea cliff adventure - and an E7 itch that needed to be scratched.

We headed up to Caithness for an impromptu seacliff adventure. The northeast coast had the best forecast in the country, so we chased it to the edge... and then a little further.

When we arrived, we knocked off an ascent of the Stack of Old Wick. It’s not on any big-grade ticklists, but I feel every stack is a classic in its own right - who doesn’t love the adventure of climbing sea stacks? Abseils, chossy rock, booming swells, and that raw, intimidating atmosphere - it’s all part of the magic for me.

One of the main objectives for the trip was to attempt God’s Gift, an E7 at a crag called the Geo of Creagan Righe. I’d checked out the line on a static a few years back during a wet weather day, but seepage meant it was far from climbable at the time. Still, something about the line stuck with me. Since that day, it’s lived rent-free in my mind, so a trip back to this part of the country was always going to happen eventually.

The crag itself is a pretty spectacular place, even just from above. It’s the sound of it that hits you first, like an amphitheatre for the sea. The geo is perfectly square-cut, like someone sliced a Tetris block out of the mainland. Waves roll in, building in size and power as they’re funnelled through the geo until they explode against the back wall. Abseiling into the climbs, it’s like dropping into a chamber of rolling thunder. I love that intense atmosphere; it heightens everything.

The climb looks improbable from above - a smooth, consistently overhanging wall with no obvious features for holds or gear. But on closer inspection, a line of thin crimps weaves a path through the steepness. Technical, balancy moves allow you to sneak through the bulges and seemingly blank sections whilst marginal placements in shallow seams begin to appear – just enough to wriggle in a few micro cams and tiny ball nuts. Just enough to convince you to have a go, at least.

I spent a few hours that morning fine-tuning my gear placements, perfecting the sequence through the thin crux, and brushing the holds in preparation for the lead attempt. Normally, I’d need to build myself up for a lead like this - get psyched, pumped, ready to commit. But this time, everything felt surprisingly calm. The weather was perfect. The pace had been relaxed all morning, with good conversation and plenty of laughter. I was in a really good headspace for a climb like this. The forerunning on the static line had gone smoothly, and after a solid block of consistent training, I felt strong on the small holds. I didn’t want to be overconfident, but there was a subtle certainty that I already had it in the bag - so the decision to go for the lead felt natural.

The climb went as smoothly as I’d hoped. It’s always a good feeling when it all just comes together. I love the battle of onsight climbing, sure - the problem-solving, the chaos, the uncertainty - but there’s something deeply satisfying about a redpoint like this. When you move through the sequences you’ve rehearsed, hit every foot placement and crimp without hesitation, it feels clean. Controlled. No panic, no fumbled gear, no uncertainty. Just flow.

More like dancing above the sea than climbing.