“Some summits are difficult. Some are remote. A very small number are truly extraordinary.”
This expedition began not with a summit, but with a phone call. The plan to activate Soay and Boreray had been in the making for three years. Twice before, weather and sea conditions had beaten us. The challenge with these islands is not the climb itself, but simply getting ashore. The Atlantic Ocean decides whether you’re allowed to visit, and more often than not, the answer is no.
Then the call came.
Saturday and Sunday looked good. That was all I needed to hear.
The Land Rover 90 was already packed and ready. On Thursday evening, after putting the girls to bed and saying goodbye to the family, I pointed the bonnet north and set off on another adventure.
My first stop was Tebay Services, where I met Dave @G1JKS for a coffee and a quick radio equipment handover. It was a welcome break in the journey and, as always, great to catch up with Dave before continuing north.
After a night in the tent box, a bacon bap and coffee at dawn, I set off again for Ullapool. The roads behaved themselves and, after a fuel stop and a couple of caffeine top-ups, I arrived with plenty of time before the evening ferry.
I found a quiet lay-by overlooking the sea and spent an hour simply relaxing. The pace of life slows down when heading for the Outer Hebrides. Soon enough, I was boarding the ferry.
As Ullapool disappeared behind us and the vessel headed west, the excitement really started to build. Another adventure was getting closer.
Three hours later, Stornoway emerged from the horizon. From there it was another drive across Lewis and Harris to Horgabost Campsite, where my good friend Tim @G5OLD was already waiting. A quick handshake, tents up, and I was asleep almost immediately. Or so Tim tells me by my snoring.
Meeting the Team
The alarm sounded at 06:00. After battling the ever-present Hebridean midges and consuming the essential brew, Tim and I headed to Leverburgh to meet the rest of the team. Many of us had spoken for years but never met face to face. This expedition had survived cancellations, broken plans and weather disappointments. Finally, after three years, we were all together. A bacon and sausage roll from the legendary butty bus provided the final fuel before departure.
There we met the crew who would make the expedition possible. Archie, Ruaridh and skipper Stuart were absolutely outstanding throughout the trip.
With gear loaded aboard and safety briefings complete, the ropes were cast off and we headed west across the Atlantic towards St Kilda.
Soay Appears
As the hours passed, seabirds followed the boat while stories and laughter filled the deck. Then the first shapes appeared on the horizon; Boreray and Stac an Armin. The famous sea stacks of St Kilda. It felt surreal. Soon Hirta emerged fully from the sea, and beyond it, hidden for so long, lay our first objective - Soay.
A small dinghy was recovered from St Kilda Harbour and carried us around the western side of Hirta. As we rounded the headland, Soay came into view. A huge green mountain rising directly from the Atlantic. Remote, Wild, Intimidating - everything we had hoped for.
Landing on Soay
The landing itself required absolute concentration. The transfer from dinghy to rock lasted only seconds, but timing was everything. One mistake and you’d be in the sea. Simon and Hugh went first with climbing equipment. Tim and I followed soon after. The route immediately presented a 30-metre rock climb from sea level.
Clipped onto the safety rope, I began the ascent. The adrenaline hit instantly. I loved every second.
Once above the cliffs, the real climb began. The terrain was steep, grassy and exposed. Occasional boulder fields demanded concentration and the drop behind us was a constant reminder that mistakes were not an option. Fifty-two minutes after leaving the shoreline, I touched the summit rocks of Cnoc Glas (GM/SI-122). We had made it.
Activating Cnoc Glas
With the weather behaving itself, I quickly deployed my trusted SAW EFHW antenna on a 6-metre carbon pole and connected it to the ever-reliable KX2. The station performed flawlessly.
Results from the summit were:
- 27 QSOs on 40m SSB
- 9 QSOs on 40m CW
- 2 Summit-to-Summit contacts
- Additional contacts on 2m FM
Special thanks to Dave @G1JKS and Andy @GM4LLD for the S2S contacts.
Meanwhile, Tim was enjoying a successful activation on 2m SSB using his homebrew beam antenna. After everyone arrived, we gathered for a summit photo before beginning our descent.
An abseil returned us safely to sea level before transfers back to the main vessel. One summit down. One enormous objective still to come.
A Night on St Kilda
Back on Hirta, tents were pitched and, after a very long day, I finally enjoyed a well-deserved Firepot Chilli Con Carne. I’ve never seen a meal disappear so quickly.
That evening Tim and I climbed Conachair (GM/SI-098). Tim had never activated it before, and we hoped to complete a Top Band activation later in the evening. Joining us was James, a hillwalker curious about portable amateur radio.
As darkness approached, the summit revealed spectacular views across the archipelago.
Tim worked an impressive pile-up on 40m SSB before I moved onto CW. While I was Dah and Ditting away, Tim got his 2m SSB beam out and worked a few more stations. Then the weather changed. Within minutes, drizzle became heavy rain. Our planned Top Band activation was postponed immediately. It proved to be the correct decision. Only a short distance into our descent, the heavens opened completely and we were absolutely soaked. The long, wet walk back to camp served as a reminder that out on St Kilda, conditions can change very quickly.
The Big One: Boreray
Morning brought showers, coffee and porridge. The weather looked promising enough for an attempt on our second major objective - Boreray.
If Soay was serious, Boreray was something else entirely. Stories of shepherds being stranded there for weeks gave some indication of the island’s reputation.
The skipper carefully assessed multiple landing options before a decision was made. Even then, conditions were far from perfect. The swell surged violently against the rocks. One member of our group unfortunately ended up in the sea during the landing attempt, but thanks to swift action from everyone involved, he was quickly recovered and safely back aboard the main vessel. It was an uncomfortable reminder that we were operating in a genuinely remote and unforgiving environment.
Climbing Mullach an Eilein
The ascent was relentless. Steep grassy slopes rose directly above us. Footing was poor. Vegetation frequently gave way beneath our boots. Every step demanded concentration. I’ve completed many difficult climbs over the years, but Boreray ranks among the most serious.
Eventually we reached the narrow ridge leading toward the summit. The exposure was immense. A near-vertical drop to the Atlantic on one side and steep grassy slopes on the other. At one point I could find no safe route forward and signalled the group behind to change our approach. Fortunately, another line presented itself and we continued cautiously towards Mullach an Eilein (GM/SI-118).
Activation on Boreray
Unlike Soay, space on the summit was extremely limited. I decided against using the pole and instead ran the antenna wire carefully down the slope. Conditions were challenging. Starting on CW, I managed one contact with Declan @EI6FR. Switching bands improved things considerably. On 20m SSB I added four more contacts including a S2S with Tom @HB9EVF. Not huge numbers. But that’s completely beside the point. We were operating from one of the most remote and rarely activated SOTA summits in the British Isles. Every QSO felt special.
As the wind began to strengthen, it was time to leave. After one final summit selfie with Tim, we carefully started the descent.
Success
The journey down required every bit as much concentration as the climb up. Eventually we regrouped near the ropes. Handshakes were exchanged. Smiles were everywhere. We had done it.
Three years of planning. Two failed attempts. Two extraordinary island summits activated successfully. A fantastic achievement by everyone involved.
The boat journey back to Leverburgh was full of laughter, stories and celebrations. A cold beer in one hand and memories already being replayed in the other. Those are the moments you remember forever.
The Journey Home
That evening, Tim, Kenny and I celebrated appropriately with pizza in Tarbert before parting ways. The next morning brought another battle with the Hebridean midges, a ferry crossing, breakfast aboard the CalMac and eventually the long drive south. Eleven hours later I stepped through the front door. The girls were delighted to see me. And just like that, the adventure was over. Or perhaps only just beginning. Because expeditions like this stay with you long after you’ve returned home.
Final Thoughts
St Kilda has a way of getting under your skin. The scenery is breathtaking, the history is fascinating, and the remoteness is unlike anywhere else in the UK. What made this trip truly special, however, was the people. A fantastic team of operators, climbers and friends sharing an experience that very few will ever have the opportunity to enjoy.
To everyone who made the expedition possible, thank you. To everyone who chased us from home, thank you. And to anyone considering a visit to these remarkable islands someday: Do it. You won’t regret it!
Below are a few more images of our trip, hope you enjoy!
73, Ben
GM4BML/P
