Sky Pirates Of Hoy

The exclusive story behind the first para-alpine ascent of The Old Man Of Hoy

The first rule of B.A.S.E. jumping is:

1. If there is any doubt, do not jump!

This is easily said when the pub is closer than your landing area. But when you’ve spent three days travelling to get there, and three years waiting for a moment of opportunity, that crucial three letter word - ‘not’ - can vaporise as fast as the molecule of ether in the opening scene of Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas.

Saturday, May 10th
At home, I'm checking the weather forecast on the computer, waiting for the barometric weather chart to download. As it scanned through the coming days, a large area of high pressure remained centred over the Orkney Isles. Could this be the moment I had been anticipating for the last three years? If the weathermen were right, the wind would be at its calmest this coming Wednesday. I had to be back in the Lake District on Friday night in time for Shaun Ellison’s wedding (my B.A.S.E. jumping mentor). 800 miles, 2 ferry journeys, a two hour approach and the best part of a day to get to the top. Was it enough time?

But the cogs of a particularly large and sinister clock had just clunked into action. It was too grand an opportunity to pass, but who would I take? It’s not easy getting time off at such short notice. Gus Hutchinson-Brown and I had already planned our wing-suit flying trip to Europe in two weeks. I knew he couldn’t possible consider this as well. But... perhaps for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? I took a deep breath… and phoned him. The tension dissipated as I breathed out and his answer phone kicked in.

“Gus, I have a proposition for you, call me back, it’s really important”

The old Emmett sales technique was in full flood, and moments later Gus’s name started flashing on the screen of my phone. Gus, a successful computer programmer for the M.O.D, had recently been relocated because his employers discovered he was a BASE jumper! Soon he was off on a two month sabbatical. Now, two weeks before his summer holiday, surely the MOD couldn’t be that generous?

The Orkney Isles on Tuesday evening

Monday, May 12th
Oh my god, Gus had pulled it off! He left the office in Guilford, packed the car and set off to pick up Roger Holmes in Basingstoke. My fiancée Katie decided she couldn’t miss this one either, so the four of us convoyed north from Bristol in search of the ‘Old Man’s Dream'.

Tuesday, May 13th
Scotland, 3 am – We’re all knackered, and end up camping in field with half the Perthshire population of rabbits.

7 am – Team psych woke us up. We packed the tents and hopped in the ‘Team Machine’ for a 5 hour mission to get the ferry to Orkney from Scrabster, a stone's throw from John O' Groats. We made the ferry on time. While the others crashed out, I got a chance to pack my parachute and contemplate whether or not this was actually going to happen. The wind was blowing hard and the supposed ‘high pressure' seemed more of a myth than a reality.

Cliffs can be dangerous - so remember to bring a parachute

As we arrived on Orkney, I hastily searched for luminescent ribbons and bamboo. This items are useful for making wind markers that can be strategically placed around a B.A.S.E. landing area, and can give vital indications of wind direction and turbulence. Eventually, I found some.

We took a second ferry to Hoy, and arrived in time to walk over to scope out the Old Man and see if it's possible to land at the bottom. We had no way of knowing this before we left the south of England. Plan B was to land in the sea - but when its 8 degrees and you're attached to various lines and suffocating material, that seems less than ideal.

9pm - We speed march over to the Old Man, with the excitement levels starting to go off the scale. We simultaneously get the first view, and feel more like fledglings about to contemplate the first leap from the nest. My heart goes out to Roger: it’s going to be his first climb outside, ever! What a legend.

Then we leg it down to the landing area to scope it out. It's rocky and uneven. Pretty spicy… but possible. Chatters of nervous excitement. It's too windy at the moment to contemplate the jump, but tomorrow’s the big day. Tomorrow, according to the weatherman, should be the calmest.
We mark out our landing area, place those wind markers, and leave ropes and climbing kit stashed at the base. Afterwards, we head back to the bothy, crumble into sleeping bags, and pass out.

Gus Hutchinson-Brown climbing the overhanging crux chimney pitch of The Old Man

Wednesday, May 14th

6 am
We wake up early to a gorgeous midsummer's day. The wind has fallen to almost nothing, as predicted. We get the rest of the kit, and strike out for the Old Man. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. Was the weather going to hold for us or not? It takes a few hours getting the kit down to the bottom, and organised into haul bags. The new Mountain Hardwear sacks were perfect for this, with their unique 3 point attachment.

12.20 pm

“ Right then, lets get to the top of this Badboy”

We all grinned excitedly as I set off with two single ropes, an extra haul line, full rack, jumars and hauling kit, SLR, video cameras, water, rucksack – the lot! The mission on, wow, what an adventure. Deep inside I had confidence that Roger and Gus would be able to get to the top of this thing. However, the daunting proposition of a complete novice climbing this towering monolith definitely added to the excitement. I also knew that if either of them fell off the crux (E1 5b) pitch there was a good chance they would be left suspended in space, unable to get back on the rock.

The infamous chimney climbing on the main pitch was utterly brilliant, oozing with exposure and an extra helping of steepness. All I could think about was how the boys would find it. Just before the crux, I made a chalk inscription on rock to inspire confidence. It read “ Go for it ” with a big smiley face.

I had to back up the belays extensively before setting up the haul. The weight of three base rigs, helmets and our protective equipment was fairly significant, and it was a good challenge hauling with one hand, belaying Roger with the other whilst taking intermittent video footage and the odd photograph too. I huge smile flooded across my face as I saw Roger peering round the corner. He had flashed the crux with a bit of jiggery-pokery, to my great relief. What a legend.

Roger Holmes nearing the summit of The Old Man, his first outdoor rock climb!

Gus, too, made it through the unorthadox chimney moves, beaming from ear to ear as he reached the belay. The hardest part over, with only three short pitches to the summit. All day the wind had been totally calm. Even as we reached the top with whoops of joy and a team embrace, it seemed that the gods were still on our side. It really was going to happen!

Sky Pirates of Hoy: Roger Holmes, Gus Hutchinson-Brown, and Tim Emmett

7.30pm - By the time we had packed up all the ropes and climbing gear ready to hurl it from the top, it all started to change. The sea-grass on the summit had begun to rustle in the wind. SHIT!

The second rule of B.A.S.E. jumping is:

2. If it’s windy, do not jump!

We were all ready to go. But the wind was too strong. The markers at the base were all fluttering in random directions, and the wind blow invisible shapes around the stack. I wasn’t happy about committing to the jump in these conditions. Neither was Roger, so we decided to take a half-hour breather to wait on the wind. We had previously decided that if two of us felt that the conditions were marginal, none of us would jump.

I couldn’t believe after all the preparation, all the energy and excitement, and all the driving, we may not have the chance to actually do the jump. After a day of complete calm, here we were on the top of one of the most exposed and windiest places in Britian, ready for the jump of our lives. And it was WINDY. Talk about sod's law! We must have thrown several dozen clumps of grass and twigs before the wind finally subsided. The three of us gazed into each other eyes for the mutual nod of approval. The green lights started to flash between us - Exit , Exit, Exit...! YES !

Tim jettisons the haul bags from the summit after the wind falls back

9.00pm - A split second thunder bolt shot of adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream. My god, it really was going to happen. I picked up the haul bags and hurled them off the side attached to pilot parachutes. The ropes were gone. There was no turning back. We were alone on the summit of the Old Man: just three helmet clad bravados, armed with parachutes and large saucers for eyes. The cold sea glinted back at us, four hundred feet below.

Tim Emmett making the first B.A.S.E. descent of The Old Man: 9.00pm, May 14th, 2008

Tim's canopy fully open within seconds of take-off, flying towards the only safe landing place below The Old Man. Photo by Roger Holmes

Gus Hutchinson-Brown making the descent: photo by Roger Holmes

As the last man landed, we all whooped with joy. Everyone was OK and the sense of relief was unbelievable. All that was left was to retrieve the cold beers from the sea, toast Bonnington, Baillie and Patey for the first ascent back in 1966, and begin the celebrations.

Team celebrations after the successful first descent

Special thanks to:

Katie Schaitel for her great patience and filming, and to Roger and Gus for making it such a memorable quest.

Also thanks to Shaun Ellison and Leo Houlding for all the adventures that lead up to this.

Many thanks to Mountain Hardwear, Jazz Apples, and Petzl Charlet Mozer; www.pureadrenalin.co.uk and www.alpbase.com

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This article is dedicated to Angus Hutchinson-Brown (1979 - 2008)