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“Mummy” said the small boy sitting in the bath playing with his genitals, “are these my brains?” “No son” said his mummy, “not yet”.

Throughout our lives, our decision-making is rarely controlled solely by our brains. Decisions made by the heart are often the easiest to make and, pleasingly, often the easiest to stand by. Those made by our testosterone producing organs often lead to short periods of happiness. There were several short periods of this happiness over the coming weeks.

Prior to the publication of the new SMC Lowland Outcrops guide came the inevitable scramble to tie up loose ends and climb new routes. This process, of course, continues now that it is off the shelves and into our sacs. The peculiarly named Kamikaze Squirrel crag in the Scottish Wildlife Trust’s reserve at Fankerton was such a venue for a post-publication scramble.

The history of recorded climbing at the crag started with a short, poor route named Wee Chimney; a 4 metre 4b solo for Allan Wallace in 95. He returned in May 2003 with brother Raymond to put up a collection of 5 routes from Severe 4b to E1 5c. The first three routes in the book in the middle of the crag look excellent. The obvious and sinuous Carron Crack E1 5c looks superb and appears to be the classic of the crag. It is also a roost site for Pipistrelle bats so time your evening session wisely! So far, after four sessions at the crag, Stuart and I have climbed none of these routes in the new guidebook as we have been too busy brushing and climbing our own routes.

A reconnaissance dander up the glen in late April, new book in hand, proved to be multi-sensory overload; tinnitus-inducing birdsong above a living carpet of bluebells wrapped in the over-powering pungency of wild garlic. I took a few snaps of the crag on my new digital toy to sell the idea to Stuart. His enthusiasm matched mine and we agreed to head up after work as soon as springtime weather would allow.

A Tuesday evening at the beginning of May saw Stuart’s enthusiasm carry him most of the way up our first new route. 9 metres of well protected, if somewhat dirty and vegetated, Severe climbing up to an overhanging cornice of woodrush gave Stuart good sport. A direct finish using a horizontal tree provided much hilarity for both leader and second. Our first new route together was in the bag! It was obvious that a good stiff brush would have been as useful as our bristling enthusiasm. Given that neither of us had owned a brush for a number of years, our enthusiasm was all that we had! Our second route of the evening, strangely enough, was much, much cleaner (it was my lead after all!) but with the same comedy finish. A wee bit shorter at 7 metres, but a wee bit harder at HVS 5a. By now the midges were making themselves known. The wild garlic wasn’t keeping those vampires away! We stuffed kit into sacs and bailed out well pleased with ourselves.

We had noticed an obvious line straight up between our two routes. This would, unlike our first routes, require cleaning before climbing. A deep pile green carpet that would not have looked out of place in a Forrest Furnishing showroom obscured the rock underneath. Writing this I now have that bloody jingle stuck in my head! Worse than that, guess who’s face I see singing it? It seemed appropriate that the day Stuart and I were supposed to be on a Rock Improvers course at Polney should still go ahead, only not at Dunkeld! A few pints in the Hogshead the night before slightly delayed our morning departure, yet we found ourselves keen for the off with our shiny new brushes in hand.

Suspended by our abseils, we brush away like New York shoe-shiners with the dichotomy of Rock Improver and Moss Disapprover appearing through the mist of airborne stoor. Our decision to clean this line was essential in order that we would get the first ascent. There was no way that the line would go in its natural state. How many lines have been put up in their natural state in Central Scotland without any prior cleaning? Maybe with hobnails it would go, but sticky rubber would just skite off every time. If, when I attempt to climb the line, I can’t do it then I have just cleared off many years of slow growth. Bugger it, this is not one of the major issues effecting Scottish climbing right now, even if it is on an SWT reserve! I brush with a little more gusto and “clean” off more years of slow growth this time from two of my knuckles. Bugger it indeed! I have no idea what thoughts are going through Stuart’s goggled head just now. Probably football and/or beer! True to the forecast, the Heavens open and we ab down. On the walk out we blether about our decision to clean the lines. For someone wearing ski goggles, Stuart seems to be very environmentally aware! We agree that it is right that the lines are cleaned properly. Infuriatingly the weather conspires against us for the next week. We sleep uneasily in our beds at night with nightmares of waves of green fur enveloping our beloved routes.

The last day of May sees us sleep-deprived eco-terrorists back in the Glen. The midges tell us that we are not welcome. “Best get a move on “ as I set off. The grip of a bold lead must have been in my blood so into the unknown I set. Unfortunately that part of my blood must have been siphoned out by the clouds of Cullicoides so I place gear in the crack to the right. A few tricky-out-of-balance-footless moves through the bulge lead to the ridiculous security of the cornice. A sling around the tree makes the final hilarious heave safe. The hee-hawing soon stops as Stuart gets himself engrossed in the climbing. Back slaps all around! We both agree E1 5b and Stuart names it Death to the Greys.

We look again at the line to the right, a line to the left of the Wallace brothers’ Carronade. Their route gets E1 5c but we are not sure that our line looks that easy (yes, I know that easy is not the right word!). It looks really poor for gear, as well as hard climbing. I chicken out of the on-sight lead, fearful of a groundfall this close to the long, long, long summer holidays. A rather convenient excuse don’t you think? A top-rope is rigged and with a couple of rests and with a few clucking noises it feels like a goer. I also remove a wee loose flake to open up a gear placement and give some of the holds a gentle brush. On the lead I climb up to the roof of the Carronade moving leftwards through the overlap with difficulty. In the process I lose sight of my feet and climb awkwardly yet somehow scratch my way to the ledge above. I place more gear to the left and continue up more easily with a nice crozzly pocket out right. This is really pleasant climbing before yet another comedy finish. Stuart follows and once again the Glen rings out with the peel of overzealous back-slapping. E2 5c and we head for the Red Hoose in Dunipace to celebrate.

The following week we hope to make our last night in this midge and tick (I didn’t mention the ticks, did I?) infested Hell. All goes well for the onsight until I’m airborne. Once again we should have cleaned the route first. The midges are worse than ever so I keep climbing. Woops! Airborne again! Each time the gear holds, getting better and better seated. Yet each time I transfer my weight to my hands, my feet skite off the rock. I take a third fall before my hands and feet stick to the increasingly clean rock. I place lots (too much?) of gear in the crack of Carronbridge and start the unprotected bum-in-space traverse to the arête. Superb climbing! Around the arête I place a nut in a perfect slot and continue upwards. More gear and yup, you’ve guessed it, the standard crag topout! Stuart brings his manners with him this time and struggles with the traverse (which was nice!). Over more beer in Dunipace we agree HVS 5a and raise the first glass to ourselves and another to picking ticks out of our nethers later that night!

The new guidebook mentions nothing of the topouts. For that reason, we’re telling you now; approach them with the right attitude and who knows, you might even enjoy them!