Around 3.15pm on Friday the tally of deaths on Scotland's mountains this year rose to 12. Police confirmation of the event later that night provided the basic facts and conveyed the due respect. "About 15.20 on Friday 08/03/13, police were alerted to a report of a climber having fallen on Bidean nam Bian, Glencoe. Glencoe Mountain Rescue, assisted by RAF helicopter R137, attended and carried out a search of the area. During this search the body of a 39-year-old man was found. No other information will be released at this time until all next of kin have been informed." Within hours climbers were being warned of deteriorating and wintry weekend conditions on the mountains.
This was only the latest death. Two weeks ago the 11th person to die on Scotland's mountains this year was 51-year-old Mark Phillips, an environmental officer with the Highland Council. Phillips was an experienced climber who had moved into the Lochaber area with his wife and child simply to be close to the mountains. An inquiry into his death two weeks ago continues, amid speculation that he fell while being rescued by a helicopter team from RAF Lossiemouth.
Even on these peaks, 11 deaths before two months of the year have elapsed seems unusually high. Soon the esteemed Scottish newspaper columnist and former politician Dorothy Grace Elder was reflecting a general sense of unease when she called for restrictions to be placed on Scotland's angriest mountains. Perhaps planting mines in the foothills to deter recalcitrant climbers was what she had in mind.
You have to encounter Scotland's mountains close up to realise that only by a minor miracle do more people, bewitched by their terrible beauty, not die on their slopes. Earlier this year television cameras recorded, as best they might, the forlorn rescue attempts on Glencoe at another fatal accident. In the pitch darkness of 2am on a sheer rock face, you could pick out a handful of torches gingerly progressing upwards against a howling wind and driving sleet in sub-zero temperatures. They belonged to this sceptred few who volunteer to endanger their own lives out of a love of the mountains and a profound and joyous humanity.
Kevin Mitchell is the leader of the Ochils Mountain Rescue Team, a 35-strong body of men and women who tend to the nearby hills and glens in Clackmannanshire, 40 miles north-east of Glasgow. The peaks and crags of the Ochils may not possess the jagged precipitation of the Highlands, but they have grandeur none the less and possess their own power over life and death.
We are standing in the shadow of Dumyat, a 420-metre peak which defines this part of central Scotland and is popular with walkers and climbers alike. Today the sky is slate-grey and a gothic mist is beginning to curl around the base of the rocky crag that leans out from the hill. "We were up there last week," says Kevin, but it wasn't a good day. "A young hang-glider collided with that face and we had to get up there and bring him down."
Earlier in the day Mitchell, a 51-year-old technical manager with a plastics company, and another member of his team, John Willis, a 64-year-old retired academic, were proudly displaying their new headquarters at the foot of the Ochils. At a cost of £200,000 – the latest parcel of largesse from the St John's ambulance order – the bungalow-sized premises are a haven for team members and other community groups. "The St John's people have given Scottish mountain rescue £3.5m in the last 10 years. Their support makes a massive difference to us," says Mitchell.
They are both affected by this year's deaths on the Scottish mountains. "These are real tragedies," says Willis, "but they come in cycles. I remember a difficult period for deaths on these peaks in the 1970s." Neither is keen to criticise careless climbers. "Most people these days come very well prepared and daft behaviour is rare. Accidents happen and human error cannot be helped."
Each is adamant, though, that mountaineering – from hill-walking to rock-climbing – is among the safest of pastimes. "Our figures show that around 230,000 people engage in mountaineering activity each month. That equates to nearly three million each year. That means the average climber in Scotland would need to climb every day for 55 years before having an accident," adds Mitchell.
He has just returned from a joint training exercise with Norwegian mountain rescue: "What pleased me most is that they and others view Scotland as having a world-class mountain rescue service."
Each member of the team must be an experienced mountaineer, and each will be medically trained to a high standard. They are trained in the most hostile weather conditions to prepare for anything the mountains might throw at them. Each time they venture on to their beloved peaks, they know they might not return.
"We would simply love to pass on our knowledge and expertise to others and we are in discussions with various agencies to widen our education programme," said Mitchell.
Could it be part of the school curriculum? "Well, I could see how this work, especially the need to interpret changing weather patterns and understand avalanche behaviour, could be part of a geography course," says Mitchell.One of Scotland's most prominent mountaineers, Cameron McNeish, describes the deep physical and emotional magnetism of Scotland's mountains. "There is considerable physical effort involved in climbing a mountain and this exercise releases endorphins in our body – a kind of feelgood natural drug. The excitement of tackling risk and challenging situations releases another natural drug called adrenaline – this heightens our awareness and sensitivity. Add that to the sheer pleasure of being in a remarkably beautiful environment and a sense of achievement and the resultant mix is highly potent, a natural high like no other that I know of."
The breathtaking beauty of Scotland's mountains allows politicians to boast of it as a world-class climbing destination, a key component of the £1.4bn tourist economy. It is curious how little of that keeps the mountain rescuers afloat. The volunteers themselves aren't expecting an answer any time soon. Just as there can be no easy explanation of death in the mountains in winter.
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