In reply to Wicamoi:
About 1970 I used to go to a place called Ballygalley, a small basalt crag on the coast, about thirty miles north of Belfast, a kind of miniature version of Fair Head. A guy called Des Agnew owned a hotel locally; he’d helped develop the crag. He’d drive by to check out who was there. I guess he felt a little proprietorial. He’d sit in his car and watch you, then get out and come over.
One time I asked him about Fair Head, which was in its infancy (eight routes!) Des casually mentioned that he’d tried the first ascent of the very first route. He’d got maybe about 80 feet up, realised it was too loose for ground-up (not that the term then existed), banged in a peg and abbed off. It was probably a ring peg, so you didn’t need to leave a krab. A lot of those old 60s pegs were for European limestone, not granite or basalt. Not really the best means of retreat but all you had back then.
A while later, a guy called Emmett Goulding had a go. Emmett was a kind of Irish Joe Brown, marvellously talented, the best climber in the country. I never met him but you can imagine, as a silly 16 year old, I pretty much hero-worshipped him. Anyway Emmett got to the same high point as Des and came to the same conclusion. But, unlike Des, he didn’t ab off. He took out Des’s peg and reversed (gulp!) Then, according to Des, “he sought me out and returned the peg.”
“Was he taking the piss?” I asked. (Yeah, I know, cringeworthy, I was so, so immature!) Des fixed me with a steely stare. Very quietly, yet with immense dignity, he replied. “No he wasn’t. Emmett was simply being Emmett - the perfect gentleman.”
This brought me up short. If my hero behaved in such a gentlemanly fashion, then… maybe I should. Of course I didn’t turn into a icon of propriety overnight and I’m not one even now but… the seed was sown. And, as the decades went by, that seed ripened. Slowly, very, very slowly, I began to realise that how we conduct ourselves on and off the crags ultimately matters far more than how hard we can crimp or how long we can deadhang. Emmett’s lesson to me was one of pure example. He never knew of it.
Des and Emmett. Well, even as the dumbest 16 year old going, I couldn’t afford to be totally socially blind. I’d grown up in arguably the most tribal country in western Europe. My guess (it’s only a guess) is that Des was a pillar of the business establishment, kind of the guy running the local Masonic lodge. Back then, if you didn’t own your house, you didn’t have a vote. And if you were a landlord, with six houses, you had six votes. Not Des’s doing, not at all. But still the world he swum in. And Emmett? His brother was Cathal Goulding, commander of chief of the official IRA. Now the official IRA was a world apart from the provisional IRA who supplanted them viciously. I never agreed with Cathal Gouding’s politics - Marxist/Leninist; I think he wanted Ireland to be a Marxist state akin to Cuba. And I never agreed with his means. But I will always have a huge respect for his integrity. Emmett, of similar integrity, wasn’t a politician, he was what we’d now regard as a dirt-bag climber. But my guess (a guess) is that he would have been very left-wing indeed. And he was probably terribly poor. That hardly won peg could probably have come in handy for an Alpine north face. Des wouldn’t have missed it and would certainly have regarded it as fair game. Yet Emmett chose to give it back.
So, as the country was about to rip itself apart with 40 years of terrorism, body parts strewn wantonly all over the place, here were these two figures, from two entirely opposite ends of the social and political spectrum. And yet one could be the perfect gentleman. And the other could acknowledge it with immense dignity.
This tiny vignette has given me enduring hope that people, even of hugely opposed views, could meet simply through a shared sense of honour, could leave all the other stuff behind just for a little while, could find an enclave of decency, which maybe – just maybe – might help to put their differences into a context of common humanity. Ultimately two things are for sure; we’re all on this planet together and none of us is on it for very long.
Des died in the Alps in the mid 70s; his heart gave out on him. He died fighting the good fight, which is probably the best that any of us can wish for. Emmett died recently, after prolonged cancer. Back in the 1990s, I phoned him to ask him urgently for help with an article about one of his former climbing partners. By then he was old and tired and the next day he had a gruelling six hour trip each way across Ireland on crap roads in crap weather for the funeral of another former climbing partner. But, when I tentatively phoned the following evening, he’d pulled out all the stops to get me what I needed. For Des – and, all those years later, for me – he was indeed, ‘the perfect gentleman’.
Emmett’s example had a huge impact on me. Maybe it will resonate with a few others also.
Mick