HIGH STACKS

The best known sea stack in British coastal waters is undoubtedly the 130m high Old Man of Hoy.

This red, Old Torridonian Sandstone ''totem pole'' attained stardom in 1966 when the second ascent was televised live by the BBC. The first ascent was made a short time before by ''Rusty'' Baillie, Tom Patey and Chris Bonington. Though I missed out on that first ascent with my friends as I was climbing in the Alps, I did take part in the historic TV spectacular and over the years got to know this particular Old Man pretty well. Like most of its compatriots, it was joined, like a Siamese twin, to the main coastal cliff by an arch. This collapsed in the early 1800s. Today the good burgers of Kirkwall are rightly concerned that their singularly most important scenic relic may collapse in a heap of red rubble into the eastern Atlantic.

The final 30m chimney on the ''tourist'' route up the stack severs the pinnacle like an old-fashioned clothes peg and it overhangs at the top!

It's not a question of ''is the Old Man going to collapse?'' but when? Possibly this semi-detached section of the old arch will drop off first, leaving the main mass intact. If it does it will be the demise of the Dougal Haston-Pete Crew climb up this South East Arete.

Possibly the finest route on the Old Man was by Murray Hamilton, Pete Whillance and Paul Braithwaite. It's a dramatic crack line called ''A Few Dollars More'' which goes directly up the north face. The name is a reminder of the then generous BBC contracts department.

However, the loftiest stacs in the British Isles, Stac Lee (172m) and Stac an Armin (196m), are to be found in the St Kilda group, both whitewashed with gannet guano; spectacular hunks of rock in a mindblowing oceanic setting, endlessly hammered by both surf and bird droppings.

Though they are not up to the technical climbing calibre of their mainland contemporaries, they have an awesome presence.

Some of the earliest rock climbing ascents were made by the St Kildans, not for the glory or personal satisfaction but for the more mundane task of harvesting gugas, or young gannets and countless eggs. As well as a taste for omelettes, they were partial to a cooked puffin in their morning porridge!

It is interesting that their rope techniques developed in parallel to that in Britain and in the Alps, where the party would be led by the most able man, moving together on easier rock and one at a time when it became difficult. They had no climbing boots, but scaled the rock in their bare feet or rough stockings made from the wool of the island's Soay sheep. Their early ropes were made from plaited horsehair.

The St Kildans were surely the pioneers of rock climbing, certainly in Britain.

There is an account by R Moray of the ascent of Stac Biorach on neighbouring Soay dating from 1698. This route is graded ''severe'' in modern standards.

''. . . after they landed, a man having room for but one of his feet, he must climb up 12 or 16 fathoms high. Then he comes to a place where having but room for his left foot and left hand, he must leap from thence to another place before him, which if he hit right the rest of the ascent is easy.

And with a small cord which he carries with him he hales up a rope whereby all the rest come up. But if he misseth that footstep (as often times they do) he falls into the sea and the (boats) company takes him in and he sits still until he is refreshed and then tries again, for everyone there is not able for that sport.''

I don't think that there would be too many volunteers for ''that sport'' today!

The Great Stack of Handa has an interesting history. As the name implies, it lies adjacent to the Island of Handa in north west Scotland, not far from the mainland village of Scourie. As well as being host to an overcrowded bird colony, it is situated in one of the most scenic corners of the world. The stack has been hewn by the ocean out of the islands bedrock of rose-red sandstone leaving a narrow passageway, an alleyway, 115m deep which in the breeding season, every available ledge is occupied and it resembles a formally dressed capacity audience in La Scala.

The Stack is a fascinating lump of rock, sitting in its alcove like a fat lady on a chamber pot. It actually rests on five stunted columns, which can be seen at low tide. In fact, one Alistair Munro, a fisherman from Tarbet, passed beneath the stack at low tide in his boat. It was Alistair who took us to the Great Stack in August, 1969, when, with my friends Graeme Hunter and Douglas Lang we made the first ascent. I think that circumnavigating the stack by boat in the three-to-four metre wide channel which separates the stack from the island was more exciting than the climb. It's a hairy place! But we weren't the first on top of this mighty 115m pedestal. A bird man was there before us. Donald MacDonald from Lewis, a bird fowler, crossed, hand over hand on a rope which spanned the bay, so that it rested on top of the Great Stack.

Considering that this was enacted in 1876 it was quite a feat. Donald, who had taken a line behind him, then pulled his compatriots over by breeches buoy. Their motive was of course purely utilitarian, not like our ego trip.

They were there to destroy a colony of great black-backed gulls that had taken up residence on the top floor of the stack and who were depleting the bird population, an important part of the island's economy at the time. This Great Stack rope trick was repeated in 1967 by Tom Patey and party and again in 1990 when I filmed it for a BBC series.

There are of course many fine sea stacks dotted round the Scottish coast, but probably one of the most popular and the most forgiving, is the 67m Old Man of Stoer. This lies up the coast from Lochinver and the first ascent fell to Tom Patey's party and the help of a local hotelier's ladder which they used to cross the short channel to the foot of the plinth. The deployment of a ladder has been superseded by a horizontal access rope, strung like a washing line between the mainland cliff and the stack.

Another of Tom's conquests was Am Buachaille which is at Sandwood Bay - a short gull's flight south of Cape Wrath. This ''Herdsman,'' for that's what it means in the Gaelic, lies further out from the mainland cliffs and is a more serious undertaking. Again Tom's ubiquitous siege ladders were used to get to the pinnacle. Modern day climbers either swim or use a small rubber dinghy for the crossing. Its ascent is fraught with tidal problems.

The most memorable fun stacks for me are in Shetland close to Hillswick. One is called Mina Stack, like a slender ballerina.

Kenny Spence was the climber with whom I made the first ascent and a few days later, in the company of Joe Brown and Don Whillans, we climbed the ''Drongs''. The Drongs have several heads like a hydra and we were faced with the perennial dilemma of all stack climbers, how to get to them. They were beyond the ingenuity of Highland rope tricks and beyond the reach of all the ladders in Shetland.

The problem was solved by Don, who, as was his wont, gravitated to the local hostelry, where with singleness of purpose (even buying a drink), sussed out the only small boat owner in the bar, a local worthy who had won a leaky tub in a bet. Over ''reaming swats'' he asked: ''Will you take us to the Drongs, Jimmy?''

The swaying potential Charon almost choked at the prospect, then started a drunken chant . . . ''You'll no get up the Drongs. You'll no get up the Drongs!''

Don and Joe were probably the most powerful climbers of their generation, but until we went up to Shetland, they hadn't climbed together for 14 years. In such persuasive and illustrious company we did get up the Drongs.

FIVE OF THE BEST

1. Climbers on the summit of the Old man of Stoer, Sutherland.

2. Looking back at St. Kilda from the summit of Borery with Stack Lee below.

3. The Great Stack of Handa, first climbed by Donald MacDonald from Lewis in 1876 in order to destroy a colony of great black-backed gulls.

4. Stack Lee, St. Kilda, a

profusion of guano.

5. Chris Bonington on his ascent of the original route up the Old Man of Hoy.