Author Archives: Nick Bullock

While writing and stuck behind the screen of a laptop the minutes, hours, days, month’s race by, it could be two weeks since I returned from Scotland… Maybe it’s three? Writing a memoire is a cathartic experience, writing and remembering … Continue reading →

  At high school my English teacher called me sly. She told me that at least with the others, the other trouble makers – the disruptive, the loud, vulgar, obvious – she knew what they were – she could handle that – she … Continue reading →

The drive from Roy Bridge to Lochnagar is becoming a regular occurrence. A slow twisting, mesmerising battle with fatigue and hare avoidance. Arriving at the Glen Muick car park at seven pm, I shuffle, re-arrange, plug-in the stove, wrap my … Continue reading →

Riasg, the CC Hut at Roy Bridge is a modern bungalow. Sitting close to the radiator looking through the large window I watch the rain fall, it soaks the grey lichen stuck to the crisp bark of the silver birch. … Continue reading →

I walked through Glenmore Lodge’s double doors on Sunday evening and immediately sucked the thick with-anticipation-air. It clung to the wood and the nice chairs and the reception counter, it filled my nostrils, crawled through my body. I sensed expectation. … Continue reading →

Two days into my round two of Scotland winter with four moderate Ben routes bagged I can’t help but think it’s a funny old game this British winter climbing lark. I love hard mixed climbing but if it doesn’t feel … Continue reading →

Recently, after climbing a new route on Ben Nevis, I was contacted by Trey Cook who runs and writes for Chamonixinsider.com Trey asked, “How would you rate the climb using a French grade, in fact, what’s the biggest difference between climbing in … Continue reading →

I suppose it was the black and white picture of Yvon Chouinard, ‘Sorting Out’ on page 2 of Glen Denny’s Yosemite book that did it. Chouinard, a man with a young man’s frame, all cut and defined and wearing a … Continue reading →

Tower Ridge, a slim snowy finger pointing toward the CIC Hut was on our left and on the right, the short and beefy Observatory Ridge, encrust in ice and snow, hemmed us. The snow, perfect powder in which to ski, … Continue reading →

Police sirens, blue flashing lights, large white balustrades, Bentley’s and halogen lights lighting gold gilt fencing. I walked through the dark Green Park avoiding puddles from the recent rain. Buckingham Palace stood aloof and sparkly, separated from the riff raff, … Continue reading →