The Ardvorlich Stone Shouldered - 152kg / 335lbs / 24 stone - A Stone Lifter's Journey

The Problem With “Traditional Lift Only” in Historic Stone Lifting

There is a phrase that keeps appearing in stone lifting circles: “honour the traditional lift”.

On the surface, it sounds noble enough. Respect the stone. Respect the history. Respect the people who came before us. I agree with all of that. Completely.

The problem begins when “tradition” is turned into a fixed rule, or worse, a moral weapon. At that point, the argument starts to crack. Not slowly either. Give the “traditional lift only” stone a gentle tap and the fault lines appear almost immediately.

The central issue is simple. There is no single Scottish “traditional lift”. The surviving record points to local customs, local challenges, oral traditions, Victorian retellings, partial sources, contested interpretations and modern reconstructions. Some stones were lifted to the knee. Some were lifted to the lap. Some were raised to the breast. Some were shouldered. Some were carried. Some were loaded onto plinths. Some were lifted onto walls. Some were, apparently, thrown over dykes.

So when someone says “only lift it in the traditional manner”, the obvious question is: which tradition, from which source, from which period, and under what modern conditions?

This matters because “tradition” can quickly become an appeal to tradition fallacy. That is the mistaken assumption that something is good, correct or morally superior simply because it is old or has been done before. Tradition may be relevant. It may be beautiful. It may be worth preserving. But it is not, by itself, a complete ethical argument.

The same issue appears in heritage studies more broadly. Hobsbawm and Ranger’s idea of “invented tradition” is useful here. Many practices that feel ancient are often partial reconstructions, modern rituals or selective survivals (Hobsbawm and Ranger, 1983). Stone lifting is not immune to this. In fact, it is a perfect example. We are often trying to preserve, revive or imitate practices from fragments. That does not weaken the tradition, but it does mean we need to be honest about how fragmentary the evidence often is.

The question, then, should not be “does this lift honour tradition?” The better question is: “does this lift respect the stone, the site, the owner, the evidence and the future of the tradition?”

That gives us a far better starting point.

"Tradition lift only" starts to crack when applied literally

The weakness in “traditional lift only” becomes clear as soon as we try to apply it consistently.

1. Take the Inver Stone. The historical picture is already messy. The Old Man of the Stones account describes the Inver as a classic clach ultaich, a heavy stone lifted into the lap (Old Man of the Stones, n.d.). It also says the claim that it was lifted onto a dry-stone dyke is open to debate (Old Man of the Stones, n.d.). There is also the famous story of the stone being carried across the road and placed on the Inver Hotel bar counter. That particular version is described as myth in relation to Bill Kazmaier’s lift, although the same account still notes the idea of a free pint being offered to the first person to complete such a feat (Old Man of the Stones, n.d.).

So what exactly is the traditional lift of the Inver? Lap? Wall? Bar counter? Free pint? Chest? Shoulder? Press?

If a modern lifter turned up and tried to carry the Inver across a road into a hotel bar, most reasonable people would be horrified. The risk to the stone, the building, the public and the future access to the site would be obvious. In that case, a controlled shoulder or press, with a competent lifter, crash pads, spotters and permission, may be far safer than a literal attempt to “honour tradition”.

 

2. The Dalwhinnie Stone makes the point even more clearly. The earliest known record describes A. A. Cameron carrying the stone into the hotel bar, placing it on the counter and demanding a pint (LiftingStones.org, n.d.). If “tradition only” is our rule, then nobody should be lifting it to chest, shoulder or overhead. They should all be marching into the bar with it.

Of course that would be absurd. It would put the stone, the premises and future access at risk. So what do we do? We quietly abandon literal tradition and accept modern alternatives. Wind beneath the stone. Lap. Chest. Shoulder. Press. Nobody sensible complains because the alternative would be chaos.

Thank goodness for abandoning tradition when common sense demands it.

 

3. The Castle Menzies Stone is another useful example. The safer sourced wording is that the stone was carried upstairs to the dining room, where the new clan chief’s health was drunk (Old Man of the Stones, n.d.). Later interpretation suggests this may have been a test of strength for the buanachean, the bodyguards of the clan chief (Old Man of the Stones, n.d.). It is a brilliant story, and it gives the stone real cultural weight.

But do we really want to honour that tradition literally?

Do we want lifters carrying a heavy stone up the stairs of a historic castle? Do we want the risk of damaging a listed heritage building, the stone, the floor, the stairs or anything inside the castle? Obviously not. So again, tradition is not followed literally. It is adapted. The stone is used in modern lifting contexts, including carries, and that is probably the only reason the tradition can survive at all.

There is also a revealing double standard here. The Castle Menzies Stone is walked with tacky in formal settings, yet a random lifter using tacky on another historic stone could be met with moral outrage. This is precisely why new lifters get confused. The rules often appear less like stable ethics and more like unwritten social codes, enforced unevenly depending on who is lifting, where they are lifting and whether the community approves of them.

 

4. The Puterach and Pudrac stones may be the greatest irony of all. The original challenge was to lift the Puterach onto the Pudrac plinth, traditionally from the eastern side (LiftingStones.org, n.d.). That is not vague. That is the tradition. Yet LiftingStones.org (n.d.) now states that lifting to the ancient plinth is no longer possible because of wear and tear damage. In other words, the very act of honouring tradition helped make the traditional lift unsustainable.

That point alone should make us cautious and think critically about traditional lifting.

If the traditional lift damages the ancient site, then preserving the tradition requires changing the lift. Otherwise, “honouring tradition” becomes the process by which the thing being honoured is slowly destroyed.

 

5. The Barevan Stone, also known as the Putting Stone of the Clans, raises the same issue in a slightly different way. The clearer historical reference is that William MacIntosh lifted the stone onto a neighbouring dyke wall (Old Man of the Stones, n.d.). The name “putting stone” also invites broader questions about lifting, throwing and the language of heavy stone feats. But either way, nobody sensible should be encouraging modern lifters to throw or repeatedly load ancient stones around Cawdor Kirkton just to satisfy a romantic idea of tradition.

 

6. The Achernack stones are even more explicit. The Old Man of the Stones account says the stones were required to be thrown over a dyke wall, not simply placed on top (Old Man of the Stones, n.d.). If we applied “tradition only” here, we would be encouraging lifters to throw heavy stones over a farmer’s wall. The result would be obvious: damaged walls, damaged stones, angry landowners and, eventually, no lifting.

Again, tradition should give way to preservation.

 

7. The Fianna Stone has its own complications. The surviving accounts point towards lifting onto a plinth or standing stone, although the precise details are debated (Old Man of the Stones, n.d.). Anyone who has been around these plinth-style stones will know the issue. Even controlled lowering can create impact, abrasion, sliding, chipping and friction. In some cases, a modern lift to shoulder, with a controlled return to grass or pads, may place less stress on the historic feature than repeated “traditional” plinth contact.

 

8. The Saddlin’ Mare shows the same pattern. The challenge is to lift the saddle stone and place it onto the Mare, a high sloping plinth (LiftingStones.org, n.d.). LiftingStones.org (n.d.) notes that the final position is around six feet high and that the stone may slide down the face of the plinth. That is part of the challenge, but it is also part of the risk. As the site becomes more popular, the stone, plinth and ground at the base inevitably take more wear. What was once a rare local custom becomes something very different when repeated by dozens or hundreds of modern lifters.

The more popular the tradition becomes, the more damaging the tradition may become.

 

9. Then there is the Húsafell Stone in Iceland, perhaps the most famous carrying stone in the world. Its traditional identity is bound up with the sheep pen. The final challenge is to carry the stone around the pen without putting it down (LiftingStones.org, n.d.). That is iconic. It is also inherently risky. When lifters gas out under a 186kg stone and drop it from chest height onto a rough path, the historical tradition itself becomes a threat to the historical stone.

 

10. The same logic applies to the Dinnie Stones. Donald Dinnie’s famous feat was carrying the stones across the width of Potarch Bridge, 17 feet 1.5 inches (LiftingStones.org, n.d.). If we were truly literal about tradition, every lifter would need the stones moved to the bridge and would have to empty the tank trying to carry them across the road. Imagine the disruption. Imagine the damage to the road. Imagine the abrasion to the stones. Imagine the local authority response.

The Dinnie Stones are preserved precisely because the modern lifting format is not a literal recreation of the original feat every time. The stones are lifted in a controlled context, under rules, with permission, records and supervision. That is not a betrayal of tradition. That is the reason that some sort of lifting can continue.

 

‘Tradition lift only’ as virtue signalling

This is where the debate becomes more uncomfortable.

When “tradition” is used carefully, it can be a good thing. It can connect lifters to place, history and culture. It can remind people that the stone is not just gym equipment. It can create humility.

But when “tradition” is used selectively, inconsistently and publicly to shame other lifters, it starts to look like virtue signalling, or what Tosi and Warmke call moral grandstanding. That is the use of moral language to present oneself as especially respectable, principled or pure (Tosi and Warmke, 2016; Tosi and Warmke, 2020). Westra’s discussion of virtue signalling is also useful here, especially where moral language becomes a public display of virtue or purity rather than a route to careful ethical reasoning (Westra, 2021).

In stone lifting terms, this might look like:

“I only honour the true lift.”
“I would never disrespect the old ways.”
“Modern lifters are ruining the tradition.”
“Records and firsts are just ego.”
“Shouldering or pressing is not real stone lifting.”

These claims are often questionable on their own terms. The larger problem is that they allow the speaker to claim moral high ground without doing the harder work of consistent reasoning.

If tradition matters above all else, why not carry the Dalwhinnie into the bar?

If tradition matters above all else, why not throw the Achernack stones over the dyke?

If tradition matters above all else, why not carry the Castle Menzies Stone upstairs?

If tradition matters above all else, why was the Puterach plinth damaged through the very act of honouring the traditional challenge?

At some point, the tradition-only position collapses into cherry-picking. Tradition is followed when it suits the argument and abandoned when it becomes inconvenient, impractical, dangerous or legally absurd.

That is not a coherent ethical framework. It is selective moral posturing.

 

The rejection of ‘firsts’, records and personal achievements in stonelifting

A related issue is the discomfort some people have with firsts, quantities, records and personal achievements on historic stones.

I find this sad, and logically flawed.

Of course, there is a bad version of record chasing. We have all seen it. Ego before etiquette. Risk before respect. A lifter chasing a clip, a number or a “world first” with no regard for landowners, stone condition, site damage or their own limits. That should be challenged.

But the answer is not to pretend that firsts and records do not matter.

Stone lifting history is built on remembered feats. Donald Dinnie is remembered because the story is specific: two stones, bare hands, <200lb man, Potarch Bridge, 17 feet 1.5 inches (LiftingStones.org, n.d.). The Húsafell Stone has meaning because the challenge is specific: lift it and carry it around the sheep pen as the female daughter of the farmer did first (LiftingStones.org, n.d.). The Dritvík stones have meaning because different stones give different ranks (LiftingStones.org, n.d.). Even the language of Fullsterkur, half-strong and weakling is a form of classification and achievement.

In other words, the tradition itself is full of standards.

Modern sport has always been shaped by measurement, comparison and record. Allen Guttmann’s classic account of modern sport identifies quantification and the quest for records as defining features of modern sporting culture (Guttmann, 1978). Whether one agrees with every part of Guttmann’s model or not, it clearly helps explain why lifters care about first shoulders, first presses, first women, first drug-free lifts, longest carries, most repetitions, heaviest stones and personal milestones.

There is nothing automatically egotistical about that. It is one of the ways people make effort, risk and achievement visible.

A first lift can and does inspire people. I was personally inspired by Andy Cairney being the first to shoulder the Ardvorlich, I wanted to be amongst the first five to shoulder it.  This did not make me respect the stone less, in fact it did the opposite; it made that stone so important to me that I would defend it with zeal and would never lift it without the correct kit, drop pads and all! Furthermore, it connected me more spiritually to the stone and that stone became my ‘silent realm stone’ – making me appreciate the spiritual side of stonelifting in a way I never have before.  

A recorded lift can preserve history. A personal best can give a lifter a reason to train for years and deepen their passion for the history and ‘tradition’ of stone lifting. A quantity, such as “most lifts”, can show endurance, consistency and commitment. A first shoulder, first press or first female completion can expand what others believe is possible. I can’t even begin to imagine how many female lifters have been inspired to try out stone lifting by the incredible female world firsts of Sandra Bradley.

It is strange to celebrate Donald Dinnie, Guðný Snorradóttir, A. A. Cameron or the great historic named strongmen of North Uist, Ireland and beyond, then sneer when modern lifters document their own achievements. The past is not more meaningful simply because it is old. A feat done now can still be brave, careful, culturally valuable and inspiring.

There is also an inclusion point here. Not every achievement needs to be an all-time record to matter. A first lift after injury matters. A first woman to lift a stone matters. A first local lifter matters. A first shoulder for a lighter lifter matters. A first lift by someone who was told they could not do it matters. I personally want everyone to post about Gary Clarke when he becomes the first adaptive athlete in a chair to shoulder some of the historic stones. A careful personal best, achieved within the lifter’s limits and with every precaution taken, is worth celebrating. That does not weaken the tradition. In many cases, it is what keeps the ‘holistic tradition’ alive.

A final thought on the “but how do you know?” argument. The honest answer is that we do not know with absolute certainty, and that applies to almost any claim of a record. How do we know someone has not deadlifted 550kg in a rough garage gym somewhere, with no social media, no witnesses and no video? We do not. But that is not how records work. We work from the best available evidence, the most credible witnesses and the most probable account. In that sense, we recognise the deadlift record because it has been publicly performed, evidenced and scrutinised. The same logic applies to historic stones. Could someone have shouldered the Ardvorlich before Andy Cairney? Could another woman have lifted the largest of the Dritvik stones before Sandara Bradley? Of course, it is possible. But based on the available evidence, community knowledge and documented lifting history, it is highly improbable. So, the fairest position is not to demand impossible certainty. It is to recognise the most credible claim while remaining honest about the limits of what can ever be proven.

 

A better principle: custodianship over reenactment

The reasonable conclusion here is not “anything goes”. That would simply replace one lazy argument with another.

The better principle is custodianship.

A good lifter should ask:

Do I have permission?
Am I strong enough for the lift I am attempting?
Have I protected the stone?
Have I protected the site?
Have I protected the landowner’s trust?
Have I considered pads, spotters and safe lowering?
Am I avoiding unnecessary abrasion, impact or dragging?
Am I leaving the place better than I found it?
Am I being honest about what I did?
Am I distinguishing clearly between history, folklore, personal interpretation and modern challenge?

That is a far better ethic than using “traditional lift only” as a blanket answer.

Sometimes the traditional lift should be attempted. Sometimes it should be adapted. Sometimes it should be retired. Sometimes the safest and most respectful option is a modern alternative that preserves the stone for future lifters.

That is not disrespectful. It is a more mature form of custodianship.

Conclusion

The phrase “honour tradition” sounds powerful, but in stone lifting it is often built on shaky foundations. The evidence is fragmentary. The practices vary by region and stone. The traditions themselves are often contested, reconstructed or impractical in modern contexts.

If we applied tradition literally, we would be carrying stones into bars, dragging them across roads, lifting them upstairs in historic castles, loading them onto fragile plinths and throwing them over farmers’ dykes.

Very few people, if they thought it through properly, would want that.

So, the ‘tradition-only’ argument cannot be the final word. It is too inconsistent, too selective and too detached from the practical responsibility of preserving the stones themselves.

The better standard is simple: lift the stones in the safest, most respectful and most honest manner possible. Stay within your limits. Use drop pads where appropriate. Seek permission. Protect the stone. Protect the site. Protect access for the next person.

Celebrate responsible success. Celebrate personal achievements. Celebrate firsts when they are as genuine as they can be. Celebrate people pushing the boundaries of what is possible while taking every reasonable precaution.

We do not need cherry-picked 'traditional-lift-only' moralising.

We need evidence, logic, humility and strict etiquette.

That is how the stones have a chance of surviving and community to thrive.

References and bibliography

Guttmann, A. (1978) From Ritual to Record: The Nature of Modern Sports. New York: Columbia University Press.

Hobsbawm, E. and Ranger, T. (eds.) (1983) The Invention of Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

LiftingStones.org (n.d.) Dalwhinnie Stone. Available at: https://liftingstones.org/articles/dalwhinnie_stone

LiftingStones.org (n.d.) Dinnie Stones. Available at: https://liftingstones.org/articles/dinnie_stones

LiftingStones.org (n.d.) Dritvík Stones. Available at: https://liftingstones.org/articles/dritvik-stones

LiftingStones.org (n.d.) Húsafell Stone. Available at: https://liftingstones.org/articles/husafell-stone

LiftingStones.org (n.d.) Puterach Stone. Available at: https://liftingstones.org/articles/puterach

LiftingStones.org (n.d.) Saddlin’ Mare. Available at: https://liftingstones.org/articles/saddlin-mare

Old Man of the Stones (n.d.) Aberdeenshire - The Inver Stone. Available at: https://uploads.strikinglycdn.com/files/038caad4-a8cc-4163-a0a6-7ce2fbbf5151/oldmanofthestones__AberdeenshireTheInverStone.pdf

Old Man of the Stones (n.d.) The Barevan Stone aka The Putting Stone of the Clans. Available at: https://uploads.strikinglycdn.com/files/99b331a3-c704-4f54-901e-3aa8dab1521c/Barevan.pdf

Old Man of the Stones (n.d.) The Scottish Lifting Stones on Auchernack Farm. Available at: https://uploads.strikinglycdn.com/files/99b331a3-c704-4f54-901e-3aa8dab1521c/Auchernack.pdf

Old Man of the Stones (n.d.) The Stones of the Southern Highlands. Available at: https://www.thedinniestones.com/Articles%20of%20Interest/The%20Stones%20of%20the%20Southern%20Highlands.pdf

Shabo, M. (2025) Appeal to Tradition Fallacy: Definition and Examples. QuillBot. Available at: https://quillbot.com/blog/reasoning/appeal-to-tradition-fallacy/

Tosi, J. and Warmke, B. (2016) ‘Moral Grandstanding’, Philosophy & Public Affairs, 44(3), pp. 197-217.

Tosi, J. and Warmke, B. (2020) Grandstanding: The Use and Abuse of Moral Talk. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Westra, E. (2021) ‘Virtue Signaling and Moral Progress’, Philosophy & Public Affairs, 49(2), pp. 156-178.