Ben Eighe and the E7 that nearly wasn’t…

“I’ll be home on Friday,” I told Marie as I threw my gear in the van and drove to the North West. Three weeks later, I returned—sun-kissed, chalk-caked, a little sheepish and desperately needing a shower. Luckily, Marie knows the deal. When the connies are primo, fleeting as they are… I must make the most of it.

Bonnie looking a little matted after a few weeks of climbing mountains and #vanlife

This was one of those springs. After an incredible week in North Wales, a solid block of high pressure locked in over the Northwest Highlands. Wall-to-wall sunshine. The kind of forecast climbing dreams are made off. Climbs were planned. Partners messaged. Nobody could make it.

Jamie Lowther had a couple of windows toward the end of the spell, but that was it. So I did what any mildly desperate but eternally optimistic climber would do: I advertised my availability online – Instagram to be exact, which is one of the benefits of having a decent number of folk from the Scottish climbing community following me. It’s always a gamble—maybe you get a legend, maybe a liability. But beggars can’t be choosers. I rolled the dice.

And that’s how I met Sam. He’d just moved up to Fort William from Sheffield with his wife. Between jobs. Loads of free time. Perfect. I did a quick Insta-stalk to make sure he wasn’t completely unhinged. He’d climbed E9, which boded well. Then again, climbing E9 doesn’t necessarily mean you’re not mad—it might just mean you’re my kind of mad.

We arranged to meet at Glen Nevis for a first climb. A bit of a "blind date," but with more risk of falling on each other. We headed up to Buzzard Crag, a short wall with a few sharp-looking E5s and E6s I hadn’t tried. After warming up on the E5 The Monster, I went for an onsight of the E6 The Handren Effect. Five metres up, I broke a handhold and flew off the wall.

Warming up on “The Monster” (E5) - photo taken by Andy Hein

Annoying, but hey—these things happen. I’d go ground-up.

Second go: I got a bit further… then a foothold snapped. Down I went again.

Seriously? This is meant to be a classic of the crag!?

Sam tied in for a go. He cruised through the section I’d been yarding my way off, only to realise—halfway up—he’d forgotten the quickdraws. Back to the deck. This really wasn’t our day!?

The sun had swung round now, baking the wall. Against my better judgement, I had one final shot, only to melt off the holds at the crux. We called it a day.

As I drove out of the Glen, I started to wonder if I’d lost my mojo somewhere on the drive up from Llanberis.

Day two, we headed to Tunnel Wall to try Romantic Reality—a classic E7 of Cubby’s.

Sam on P1 of “Romantic Reality” - quite terrifying, especially when filthy! I’d give it E5…

The plan was to warm up on the first E4 pitch. Egos engaged, we expected a pleasant intro. Instead, we found a 10m ground fall on gritty, dirt-slicked holds, with nothing better than a skyhook for protection. The final crack was even grimier. By the time I arrived at the base of the E7, I was mentally fried. Still, I geared up for the E7 pitch. I managed about 5 metres before downclimbing, cursing the filth. We bailed, hoping to return with a wire brush—and better judgement.

On the abseil, Sam went first. Once he was down, I followed, pulling on a sidepull to retrieve the backup cam used for his descent. The hold dislodged. I took what must have been a factor 2 onto the peg belay. The offending rock? It landed three metres from Sam—exactly where he’d been standing seconds earlier. It hit the ground sharp-end down. I couldn’t help but picture that scene in the classic Simon Pegg film Hot Fuzz, where the church spire spikes the bloke straight through the skull…

A gentle reminder, folks: always wear a helmet. And once you’re off the rope, step away from the line of fire.

After two straight days of breakages, bails, and brush-worthy routes, I hoped Sam wasn’t starting to think I was the liability.

We all have off days. But when the off days stack up, the doubt creeps in. And the timing wasn’t great—because in just two days, I was due to meet Alastair Lee at Ben Eighe to film an onsight attempt of an E7 for this year’s Brit Rock tour.

At this point, I was starting to question how good an idea this actually was?

Ben Eighe in the setting sun - Early April 2025

“Fascist Groove Thang” E7 6c – Ben Eighe, Torridon

Beinn Eighe is one of the great mountain playgrounds of the Northwest Highlands — a vast and complex massif of Cambrian quartzite cliffs, sweeping corries and long ridges that offer some of the finest and most remote climbing in the country. The rock is hard, clean and often superb in quality, lending itself to bold, intricate lines. It’s a serious place, where long walk-ins, changeable weather and a sense of isolation keep you honest. High on the hillside, the wreckage of a Lancaster bomber plane still lies scattered — a quiet reminder of how unforgiving this landscape can be. But for those drawn to big, adventurous days in the mountains, Beinn Eighe is hard to beat.

Wreckage from the 1951 Lancaster crash on Ben Eighe - Photo taken from Heavy Whalley Blog

Early April saw me there with my mate Trigg, ticking off the classic E5 Ling Dynasty and the modern classic New World Order E6. From the belay atop NWO, I peered down a stunning groove into an immaculate, blank-looking face — it caught my eye like a secret waiting to be uncovered. Trigg, arriving at the belay, glanced across and muttered something about it looking thin, maybe even impossible.

My good friend, photographer and highland environmental protector Ryan Balharry would tell me to shoot them, as they are destroying the landscape, preventing tree growth and damaging existing woodland… but I still think they look pretty majestic from afar.

Back home, a bit of digging revealed this mystery was actually an old-school E7 called Fascist Groove Thang, first climbed in the 90s by Gary Latter and Paul Thorburn. After chatting with Iain Small, who reckoned it was worth an onsight go, the seed was planted. Ben Eighe had already impressed me massively, so I floated the idea to Al Lee — let’s film an onsight attempt for this year’s Brit Rock.

People ask me if I feel pressure when I’m filmed climbing. Usually, not really. That’s because most films catch me working harder projects where I’ve got a decent idea what I’m in for — either I send or I don’t, no big deal. But onsighting a trad climb you know very little about? That’s a whole other beast. You could get stuck low, read a sequence wrong, or just make a dumb mistake — any of which ends with a not-so-glamorous flop onto the rope early in the climb. For me, that’s cool. But Al had driven all the way from Lancashire expecting some epic Scottish mountain action. One part was guaranteed — the Scottish mountain. As for the “action”… well that was my job and we’d just have to wait and see.

Al and Bonnie hanging out on the summit plateau of Ben Eighe in the morning before what was going to be an exciting day!

Sam got us to the top of pitch one, a smooth warm-up to get the blood pumping and the fingers used to the Cambrian Quartzite again – the rock was cold and my raynauds flared up a bit, but luckily there was very little breeze so my body warmed up fast and the fingers regained their sense of touch. Then came pitch two — the E7 6c. The only knowledge I had was from the description which didn’t give much away other than describing the top bulge as “difficult” – I guess that was probably the crux?

I started up, leaving Sam behind a small alcove, out of sight and on my own — at least mentally. The start was technical but manageable, gear fiddly but in my wheelhouse — vertical, crimpy, feet-focused. I climbed steadily until the small overlap, feeling like I’d just done a short E5. I placed a few small cams in a seam under the roof, grabbed a hefty undercut jug, and managed to reach high and get an RP above the overlap. From this position, I got my first real look at what was ahead.

Reaching into the base of the fascist groove, I grabbed the next “hold” only to be provided with what felt far from what I’d call decent… “utter shite” was more what sprung to mind. Retreating under the roof, I tried to recover a bit. The bulge blocked my view of what came next. All I could see was a gnarly, sharp sidepull up and right, which left me concluding: my only option was to clutch the “shite piece of nothing” with the left hand, set my feet, slap wildly for that awful sidepull on the right, and hope I could figure out the next move before my power ran out.

Trigg on P1 of Ling Dynasty - the only shoddy rock on this section of the wall. Pitch 2 goes through those mega roof cracks above!!!

“Alright man, I’m just gonna have to f***ing go for it! I don’t know what else to do?” I shouted to Sam — my subtle way of warning him to expect a fall.

“I’ve got you, go for it!” came the calm reply.

The “rest” under the roof had mangled my fingers something fierce — twisted and locking them in that thin crack had left blood spurting as I climbed, droplets splattering my face. I grabbed that first hold at the groove’s base, fingers crushed and clutching for skin contact. Then I lunged for the sidepull. “ARGHHH!” Even worse than expected. I stepped up, leaned out, scanning desperately. Nothing but a sea of rippling blue-tinged quartzite. Then — there it was. A cleaner, creamier patch. My eyes locked on it. I gulped hard and screamed as I launched for it: “ARGHHHHH!!!” — a jug! Somehow, still on the wall.

I matched the jug, glanced up to endless blue and spotting a sloper out right leading into the crack that’d take me home. With a big shouldery throw, then a high heel hook, I crossed onto a jug, swung my feet, and knew — victory was mine.

Launching out right for the sloper from the jug - taken by Al Lee (Brit Rock)

Me and Al met at the belay and hugged it out. Onsighting my second E7 in a week, with the whole thing captured on film — I was buzzing. Later, Al said for the movie Onsight, he’d chased as many climbers as possible trying hard onsights, but most attempts fell flat — that raw unknown makes for a tough style to capture, as not every onsight will be one that leads to success or even a dramatic fight... some just don’t go anywhere, and that’s the game of onsight trad climbing. But on this day, conditions, my mindset, the climbing — and maybe a pinch of luck — all aligned.

Blood soaked face from a knock on my nose and droplets of blood pouring out my fingertips… that’s how hard I have to try to onsight E7

Onsighting E7 isn’t an everyday thing for me, and I’m pretty selective — some are just gnarly bold nightmares that make more sense as harrowing headpoints. I’ve done a handful over the years, along with plenty of E6s that felt just as hard, if not harder. My first E7 onsight was Dalriada on the Cobbler in Arrochar — often seen as the benchmark for Scottish mountain E7s, at least in so far as quality is concerned. I’ve done a few E7s — and even some E6s — that were as good if not better, and many even tougher, but Dalriada’s position on the hanging arete of the Cobbler is what captures the imagination of all British climbers. Although Fascist Groove Thang might not have the 4-star position of Dalriada, the climbing was equally as good, it’s definitely a harder prospect, and it’s as safe as mountain trad gets. If you’re chasing an E7 onsight, this one deserves a spot at the top of your list, right next to Dalriada!