It’s been over three decades since I first set foot on the Isle of Rhum—spelled “Rum” in many an old guidebook. This trip was my second trip to the Isle of Rum, the first being a similar school trip year before with a group and my father. Flipping back through my tattered diary from the spring of 1997, I’m reminded just how transformative that trip was. It became the spark that lit my passion for fell running, eventually leading me to take on the Welsh 3000s with Tim the next year although more to say about that experience another time. It also marked the start of many amazing adventure Tim over the coming years. But in those early days, I was just a wide-eyed newcomer, enchanted by Rum’s rugged peaks and the camaraderie of traveling in a gaggle of eight adults and fourteen children on these amazing school trips.
22nd March – 3rd April 1997
Saturday and Sunday
Arrived at Stancliffe Hall School to help pack. Then Nelly went to Tom Gilman’s 21st, and I went down to the pub with James Savile and Maggie. Got up at 10 o’clock, and it was a mad rush to get organized and packed in time. At lunchtime, Linzi arrived to help, and we tabled and packed everything by 3 p.m. We took a minibus to Matlock station, then traveled to Derby, Crewe, and up to Glasgow by train, followed by a private coach to Mallaig.
Monday
We arrived at Mallaig on the west coast of Scotland at 5:00 a.m. and the kids spent two hours in the fish market, as it was the only shelter space we could find although there was the expected smells! At 8:00 a.m., the ferry terminal opened, and at 8:30, the Fishermen’s Mission opened; serving possibly the best bacon butties in the world!
The ferry was different from five years ago, bigger and now a car ferry. Useful, hey for an island you can’t take cars too. Our route meandered through the Small Isles: Eigg, Muck, and Canna. Before finally reaching Rum. Each of these islands has its own unique character:
- Eigg is famous for the dramatic An Sgùrr, a towering volcanic plug dominating the island’s skyline. The community here is known for its successful buyout from the previous private owner, making Eigg one of Scotland’s pioneering community-owned islands.
- Muck is the smallest of the four, a low-lying island with fertile farmland and a tiny but close-knit population.
- Canna is rich in archaeological history, home to ancient ruins and a long history of Norse and Gaelic settlement. It has also been a hub for bird conservation, particularly puffins.
As we approached Rum, I was struck by how imposing it looked from the water. Unlike its smaller neighbours, Rum is a rugged, mountainous island, a wild and dramatic place. Once on land, we found ourselves later than planned due to the extended ferry route. Tim and I moved all the kit to the bothies with the help of a Land Rover and a driver. The group split between two bothies: males in Stables, females in Stalkers.
Tuesday
Unpacked the rest of the kit and had a gentle stroll along the coast, soaking in the vastness of the landscape. The remoteness of Rum became immediately apparent, no real roads just landrover tracks, no real infrastructure, just the sea, the mountains, and a scattering of old buildings left from previous generations.
Wednesday
We went up to Coire Dubh. The kids were getting blown about, and when we arrived, we had a quick hailstorm. I carried on up with Tim to check out the ridge. On the col, the wind was so strong we had to crawl at some points. I made good use of my ski goggles and stopped to take in the view towards Harris, an almost indescribable sight where sea and sky blended together in a never-ending expanse.
Rum’s Cuillin Ridge, sometimes called the “Rum Cuillin” or the “Rhum Cuillin,” is one of Scotland’s most dramatic and lesser-known mountain ridges. Though not as famous as the Skye Cuillin, it has all the same ruggedness, jagged peaks, exposed ridge lines, and volcanic rock formations that make for an exhilarating and technical traverse. Looking across its skyline, I realised this wasn’t just another Scottish hill walk, it was a real mountain challenge.
That night, there was a Scottish ceilidh dance because the ferry couldn’t get in, leaving a group stranded on the island. I didn’t go, I just packed my kit for the ridge and tried to chill out.
Thursday – The Big Ridge Day
I was up at 8:30, washed, and had breakfast. Tim asked if I had seen the weather. I said I hadn’t. The forecast claimed conditions would deteriorate, but, as usual, it was totally wrong.
By 9:45, we were setting off into the Rum Cuillin, a landscape that felt intimidating. The plan was ambitious: a full traverse of the ridge, covering multiple peaks, steep climbs, and exposed ridgelines in a single push. The route: Kinloch → Coire Dubh → Barkeval → Hallival → Askival → Trollaval → Ainshval → Sgurr nan Gilleach → Ruinsival → Harris (via road) → Kinloch
This was my first real experience of fell running, and looking at my notes now, I packed for a survival situation rather than a light and fast traverse. The sheer amount of warm clothing I carried just reflects the brutal conditions we expected and ultimately experienced, on the day.
Wearing:
- Walshes (classic fell-running shoes)
- Gore-Tex socks (for keeping feet warm and dry in boggy terrain)
- Thick socks (for warmth)
- Tracksters (light running trousers, these were common wear for British mountaineers in those days)
- Boxers
- Thermal top
- Buffalo top (windproof pile layer—basically an oven when moving fast so ideally for cold conditions)
Carrying:
- Bivvy bag (in case of emergency, these days I carry a lovely light sil-nylon bothy bag for fell runs)
- Duvet jacket and spare socks (extra insulation)
- Goggles (the wind had been so strong the day before, we anticipated needing eye protection)
- Balaclava
- Thermal gloves + waterproof over-mitts (windchill would have been brutal)
- Waterproof top and bottoms (to cut the wind and keep out the hail)
- Map & compass (Rum’s ridges are technical, and navigation was essential)
- Head torch + spare battery (in case we were out later than expected)
- Plasters & scissors (a basic first-aid kit)
- Water bottle (and after the Coke bottle incident, I was grateful for my Nalgene with an attached lid!)
Food:
- Flapjacks (dense and easy to eat on the move)
- Mars bars (quick energy boost when needed)
In hindsight, I carried far too much gear, but on a remote, exposed ridge, it felt like a necessity. The extra weight certainly added to the challenge, but it also reinforced just how serious the conditions were and my lack of experience at the time.
The early climbs were exhilarating, a mix of steep hands-on scrambling and exposed ridges, with strong-force winds buffeting us at times. We moved efficiently, navigating the volcanic rock and soaking in the sweeping views over the Hebrides.
At Ruinsival, we spotted the Land Rovers carrying Nelly, Linzi, and the seniors, returning from litter-picking in Harris, a strange contrast, seeing them cruising along below while we battled across the tops.
And then, the suffering began. By the final stretch, I was completely spent. My legs were burning, my pace slowing, and I could feel the weight of my pack with every step.
Then came the moment that cemented my respect for Tim. Without a word, he took my rucksack and carried it alongside his own, cruising along effortlessly while I struggled to keep up. It was humbling, but it also taught me a valuable lesson, about pacing, resilience, and how small acts of support can make all the difference in the mountains. That final section back to Kinloch was a blur of exhaustion, but I had made it.
Looking back, this was the moment everything changed. It wasn’t just a long day out in the hills, it was the start of something bigger. I had never strung together a route of this scale before, never pushed myself to this level of exhaustion, and never felt this sense of achievement at the end of a day in the mountains. This was my first real fell-running adventure, and it was entirely down to Tim that I picked up this lifelong obsession.
Over the coming years, we’d have countless other mountain-running adventures, but this was where it all began.
Friday A Change of Plans
James, Abi, Tim, Charlotte, and the juniors headed to Kilmory for a day of litter-picking. I had intended to run there to join them, but a deer survey was underway, and I was advised not to risk disturbing the animals. With my plans thwarted, I spent the morning building fires and lounging around, embracing the rare moment of stillness in such a wild setting. By 3:30 p.m., I started feeling restless, so I decided to head towards Dibidil along the marked path. Finding the start of the trail wasn’t as straightforward as I’d hoped, I couldn’t locate the beginning, so I opted for a cross-country route instead, scrambling up to the plateau before cutting across to meet the path. From there, I followed the trail down to Dibidil Bothy, then retraced my steps back. The evening air was crisp, the landscape vast and empty, and I relished the sense of solitude that Rum so often provides.
Saturday – Kinloch Castle
After packing up, we moved to Kinloch Castle, one of the strangest and most fascinating buildings I’ve ever stayed in. Built in the early 1900s by Sir George Bullough, it was a lavish Edwardian hunting lodge with opulent furnishings, a grand hall, and even an orchestrion, a mechanical music-playing machine! By the time we stayed there in 1997, parts of the castle had already started falling into disrepair, but we still got an incredible tour of the castle, getting a glimpse into the extravagant world of the Bullough family.
We stayed in the old servants’ quarters, which was surreal, sleeping in the same rooms as the people who had once worked here, while imagining the wild parties that had taken place in the grand halls just a century earlier.
Sunday – Playing Catch-Up
In true teenage fashion, I stayed up too late the night before and woke up late as a result. By the time I got myself together, the rest of the group had already set off for Kilmory, so I had no choice but to play catch-up.
The walk was spectacular, tracing the coastline and weaving through the rugged terrain that made Rum feel so far removed from the rest of the world. By late afternoon, we all returned to base, where Abi and James, who had stayed behind, had dinner warm and waiting for us.
Monday and Tuesday – The Mountain Bothy Adventure
Packed up and left Kinloch Castle to hike out to Guirdil Bothy, a remote Mountain Bothies Association (MBA) sheltered on the far side of the island. The setting was breathtaking: wild, rugged coastline, no other people for miles, just us and the sea.
That night was one of the defining highlights of the trip. After dinner (which was a bit of a disaster due to the lack of flour), someone posed the question: “Why not sleep outside?” Tim immediately grabbed his bivvy bag and headed out. I followed soon after, stuffing myself into my bivvy while the rain and wind picked up. It wasn’t the most comfortable start, but somehow, I still slept well. I woke once in the night to one of the clearest night skies I’ve ever seen, no light pollution, just stars stretching endlessly above and the sound of the sea just metres away.
This was one of my early bivvy adventures and there were many more to come, and staying in the MBA bothy, combined with the Rum Ridge traverse and Kinloch Castle, made this trip unforgettable.
Nelly always taught us one golden rule: leave mountain huts in a better condition than you find them, preferably with kindling or logs ready for the next people who arrive wet and cold. We took this seriously, making sure the bothy was spotless before we left.
Wednesday – Chaos at the Pier
Tim was just heading to bed at 8:10 a.m. as I was getting up to finish packing—a reminder that some of us had slightly different body clocks by this point! I managed to get everything squared away just in time for the 1:00 p.m. deadline.
Before leaving, I stopped by the tea shop to write postcards, one last attempt to capture the essence of Rum before heading back to reality. Then, we made our way down to the pier to wait for the ferry, which was running late.
The drama kicked off when we started offloading our kit. The ferry misjudged its approach and had to pull away, circling around for another attempt. In the confusion, the small boat which we were on that had gone out to meet up, ended up losing a chunk of its hull when it kissed the larger vessel a little harder than nessasary. Nelly and Savs were in the thick of it, helping unload, and got caught up in the chaos, although all was well that ended well and we all made it safely back to Mallaig. Unfortunately, Tim missed his train connection and had to take a taxi to Fort William, hoping to catch up with this train. Once everything had finally settled, we grabbed some food at the Fishermen’s Mission before boarding a coach to Fort William, where we made a brief stop to see if we could find Tim and to drop off our rubbish at the bottle banks.
Thursday – The Journey Home
We made a pit stop at a service station for breakfast. Savs kept us entertained with a sock puppet show, adding a touch of ridiculousness to the bleary-eyed journey. I managed to get some kip on the coach before we finally rolled into Glasgow at 5:00 p.m..
There, we unloaded the coach and transferred to the train for the final leg home. I slept through most of it, only waking up in Edinburgh when Savs suddenly announced, “We’re in Edinburgh. You’re needed at the Guards Van end.” Cue a mad rush through the train, just another episode in the ongoing inter-train company wars. We somehow navigated the mess and continued southward. Next stops: Derby, then Matlock, before finally arriving back at Stancliffe Hall School, where we were went out for beer and lunch a well-earned thank-you for all the hard work put in by the staff.
Afterwards, I headed to a friend’s house for the night, which somehow ended with an eye-opening visit to a Clay Cross pub. A one-time experience I never repeated!
Next it was time to head straight into my next adventure a little hike from Edale to Ilam with my father and more about this here: https://richardcole.me/2025/02/the-yha-peak-marathon-from-edale-to-ilam-1997