Aig an Oir — Hamish Macleod

More and more recently, I am finding myself sweating buckets while completely absorbed in the television. This is due mostly to the ever-growing number of visually stunning films on the subject of adventure sport, and having spent some of last night watching the incredible Queen Maud Land film from the North Face climb team, I thought I would write something about my own recent attempt at vertical cinema.

Filming on the auto-belays at Glasgow Climbing Centre.

There are few who would not be inspired by the successes of filmmakers like Jimmy Chin and Chris Burkard, whose respective films Free Solo and Under an Arctic Sky recently made waves not only in the communities surrounding their subjects, but in mainstream entertainment. The production value on display in these films and those similar to them is outstanding, and the passion of both the contributors and directors for their chosen subject matter is evident at all times.

In Under an Arctic Sky, Burkard and his team travel the length of Iceland in tank-like, industrial looking Land Rover defenders. At night, banks of screens beep at them, keeping them abreast of the latest weather reports and in touch with the outside world. Both these factors are hallmarks of a well-resourced and exceptionally well organised production, and they certainly aren’t accessible to everyone wishing to make a film about going outside. However, the primary tools for storytelling remain much the same. The difference in picture between a small Sony mirrorless and an FS7 are marginal, and the sound kits available now are as idiot-proof as they are microscopic. The basic equipment is now so portable and easy to operate that anyone with a clear goal and a driving license could, in theory, make a compelling piece about adventure sport.

As such, I asked Kenny Rankin to help make a climbing short, to investigate the limits and challenges associated with just going out and filming a route. Kenny is a fluent Gaelic speaker and probably ranks among the Gaelic community’s top athletes, although admittedly competition for the title is very slim. Metaphorically speaking. As no award ceremony exists for this yet, his minuscule reward for achieving such physical excellence was a day spent in my company in East Ayrshire, repeating for the cameras a climb that most people would be content to scrape through once and then never touch again.

It was decided very early on that we would make it a Gaelic film, mostly because there was no reason why we shouldn’t. However, I think it’s important that the Gaelic language is seen as more than just a curiosity within the climbing scene. Almost everyone with an interest in climbing has visited somewhere like An Teallach or Sgùrr Alasdair, and while mispronouncing the names of the peaks is far from a heinous crime, perceiving the language as something which now exists only in the names of ancient mountains, rather than as a vibrant part of Scotland’s modern culture, is a problem. Hopefully as more young people are inspired to take up the sport by the excellent facilities available in Glasgow, the balance will begin to shift slightly.

In choosing our route there were a few key factors to consider, the main one being that it was November in Scotland and we weren’t making an ice climbing film. We also had to find somewhere near to Glasgow, as we’d called in a load of favours and I was keen to not take the piss. We settled on a route called ’The Edge’, a HVS 4c route which looks totally bonkers from the ground, and looks steadily more so as you climb it.

Ten minutes after leaving the car park I was bemoaning the fact that my tripod wasn’t made of aircraft-grade aluminium, and by the time we’d hiked to the top of the route to build safety anchors, I was seriously considering launching it from the top of Loudoun Hill. If I aimed well, not only would this action destroy the tripod but it would take with it to the grave the aggressively stupid Spirit of Scotland statue which stands nearby. It became apparent throughout the day that the tripod was about as useful as a wetsuit in this scenario, so I’ve only got myself to blame for all this.

Rappelling off the route for a quick turnaround on the day

I then set about choosing the locations of the anchors which would allow me to safely hang over the edge of the wall to get an unobstructed view of our climb team. Once Kenny had made them safe enough to support a fully loaded Ford Fiesta, we set about filming the first attempt. This was done with a camera at either end of the climb and it yielded good results, but there was a significant section of the climb in the middle that we missed. For the second attempt, we enlisted the help of drone operator extraordinaire, Calum MacAulay, again utilising the two cameras at each end of the route. Finally, we did a pass using GoPros and the drone to fill in any remaining blank spots.

Thanks to the help of our small crew of volunteers, I was able to shoot something that cut together really easily. Thanks must also be extended to the Glasgow Climbing centre, who opened up early for us so we could shoot our main interview there, before very kindly letting us film on the autobelays. The film below was made possible by about ten people being extremely generous with their time, equipment and expertise. I am very grateful to all of them, and now live in constant fear that I will be called upon to make one of their business associates ‘disappear’.

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Hamish Macleod