Macinnes was a giant among men and mountains

Climber will be remembered not for the peaks he overcame but the lives he saved, writes Martyn Mclaughlin

The death of Dr Hamish Macinnes at the grand old age of 90 has robbed Scotland of a giant among men and mountains.

For him, climbing was a pursuit of self-reliance, a test of mental acuity as much as physical agility, where the next peak was met by the raising of eyes and the lifting of hearts.

He never embarked on a single ascent which did not have an objective risk, but each one was meticulously assessed and measured. “You have to consider what you want to get out of the sport,” he once observed. “And just how far you are prepared to go.” Very few people were better climbers than MacInnes, but no one so perfectly distilled the philosophy of his calling.

He was always appreciative of the beauty which surrounded him while climbing, and the almost transcendental experience of conquering seemingly insurmountable obstacles thrown down by nature. But at heart, he knew such places revealed something even deeper. Only when confronted with jeopardy could the truth reveal itself. Macinnes found his truth, and helped others find theirs.

The many tributes and obituaries already written, and those still to come, will rightfully attest to his remarkable exploits. In exploring his own limits, he travelled far and wide, blazing a trail for climbers across Scotland and the world.

He was aged just 16 when he successfully scaled the Matterhorn, and was deputy leader of the first all-british team to scale the southwest face of Everest. He was also part of the British group which tamed the Bonatti Pillar of the Dru, one of the great rock faces of the Alps. In ordinary circumstances, the feat would have been remarkable – the fact Macinnes did so with a fractured skull, suffered after a rockfall, made it doubly so.

One of his most exotic pursuits took place in the mountainous borderlands spanning Brazil, Venezuela and Guyana, an outcrop which inspired Arthur Conan Doyle to write The Lost World. There, MacInnes ascended the overhanging prow of Mount Roraima, part of a plateaux flanked by 1,300-foothigh cliffs on all sides, with its few nooks home to scorpions, vipers, and tarantulas. He had been alerted to the route thanks to a letter from his good friend, John Streetly. “Dear Hamish,” he wrote, “I feel that we have just the thing for you down here.” How right he was.

But it was his homeland where Macinnes loved to climb more than anywhere else, ever since he moved with his family from Gatehouse of Fleet to Greenock, and began his lifelong love with mountains. He first climbed The Cobbler alongside Bill Hargreaves, a neighbour who worked as a tax inspector during the week, but yearned for the great outdoors come the weekends. Macinnes could wish for no better companion, as Hargreaves adopted the same fastidious approach to his hobby as he did his career, ensuring that a system of safety checks was in place.

From the modest peaks of Arrochar, Macinnes went on to test himself on some of the country’s most challenging routes. Climbing with Chris Bonnington, he completed the first ascents of Agag’s Groove, Crowberry Ridge Direct, and Raven’s Gully, all on Buachaille Etive Mor in Glencoe. He also made the first ascent of Zero Gully on Ben Nevis and the first winter crossing of Skye’s indomitable Cuillin Ridge.

Through all these climbs and countless more, Macinnes ensured his place in the history of moun