Bloody computers...

Annoyingly I've lost the photos from this weekend. Is some for of sadistic mass delete my computer has deleted most of the photo's from last year, another load of files which I've no doubt will prove important in time and 3 hours worth of admin. Most of the photo's are backed up on my external, but it's really annoying to have lost this weekends stuff!!!

No snow in wales...

I packed up my tools, poons and all my other winter gear in the vain hope of good conditions this weekend. Instead I manged to get some burning sunshine at Gogarth!

We set out not exactly as early as I'd hoped (something to do with beer/hangover again). Driving to Wales me and Andy had rain, wind and what looked like not good conditions for anything other than drinking tea in pete's. Having missed the turning off the A55 for Llanberis (I've no idea how I missed it) we found ourselves heading for Gogarth and the possibility of good weather. We stopped off at Macdonalds. I haven't been there in ages and suffering from a hangover it probably wasn't the best food to eat, however it kept me going for the rest of the day.

We pulled into the South Stack carpark about 12ish and looked at the gloomy clouds clustering around Holyhead Mountain. Our objective was Gogarth's Main cliff on account of our lack of abseil rope. If you've not been to Main cliff then I'll tell you it has a walk-in but, BE WARNED it's not exactly a walking for the faint hearted! It is a great laugh though and get you into a great place at the base of Main cliff. at this point the sun was shining, well burning down on us. I had to strip off our extra warm layers and pack them away in the sack. The weather was actually gorgeous and I couldn't believe our luck.

Our proposed routes for the day were a link up of Simulator (VS 4c) and Bezel (VS 5a) which would take us up a initial cliff, across a grass slope and then up the final groove line of Bezel. The guide book read that Bezel was hard for the grade at VS but was well protected. This line should have let us top out and walk off from the top of main cliff (hence the sack with the shoes in it). I took the first pitch...

what are you faffing around for? just hold it and move on
no because I can't hold it, I don't have gear in... I just can't do this...
that right run away then, back off....

This would have been the arguement you could hear going on in my head at the crux of the first pitch. After my ego boosting performance last sundance re-climbing a scary slab route on the grit (San Melas E3 5c) I was getting scared on a multi-pitch VS at only 4c. To say I was scary was an understatement. I've climbed harder and scarier stuff than this is winter, what was up with me?

I think I know what was up. It was steep, the waves crashing beneath our feet, gulls screaming in the skies above and below. We where alone on the cliff and would have to get ourselves out of any mess. It was exactly where I wanted to be, but I was still scared.

As it happened I didn't fall off, and I made the move trusting the rubber on my shoes to stick and my hands and arms to actually work and hold on. It was as I had hoped easier ground there after and I belayed happily below Andy's pitch. Andy came up with much swearing and anger at the crux (he did have the sack on after all) and arrived happy yet angry at the climb. Many mutterings of "this isn't bloody 4c" we heard as he started the next pitch. Even more mutterings were heard when he turned round, backed off and said "you lead it". I took the sack and headed off.

This quickly went from a hard move to a eaiser scramble with a bit of loose rock, some turf and a few wet holds. I enjoyed it loads and yelled up Andy to join me at the belay. He came up and ran up the turf to the base of Bezel.

Bezel is a climb I've tried before. My first attempt at it was with Tom when Me, Tom, Toaf and Soames went to main cliff the first time. A humbling experience as I'd just done Emulator (E1 5b) and thought a mere VS would be well easy. Stupidly neither me or tom read the topo/description properly and I had to bail off the first pitch leaving behind a prusik (on if many I lost last year actually). After a new and better guide book, and a decent amount of time spent reading the topo and finding the line I set off. I was about 5 metres off in my first attempt! I sent the first pitch with no problems.

The light was fading but I thought we'd got more than enough time to complete the route without head torches. Not wanting to get caught out I stuffed mine on my helmet, just in case. The route had 1 pitches to go (25m on and a 9m), but I assured Andy I would just run them together and we'd top out soon enough. We'd actaully discussed bailing off the route already but I'd failed once and a little darkness never stopped anyone. We had head torches anyway.

So I lead the next pitch which started off with some stretchy bridging. I'm not so flexible so I could feel this pulling the muscles in my legs. It was full of gear opptunities all the way up (loads of slings and nuts) and I cruised up. I'd switched on my headtorch, but only noticed I'd actually needed it when I got the the next stance. This concerned me a little but I pushed on through wanting to top out.

The last pitch was a fist fight with a hand jamming crack. It was awesome! The crack wasn't smooth sided like grit cracks and all the little quarzite nubbins and edges dug into my hands. The jams themselves felt so insercure I thought I would fall off but I couldn't put anymore outward pressure on them as my hand hurt so much. Tap would have been a blessing. I topped out in the pitch black, shaking with fear and adrenaline. I probably had the biggest grin on my face ever that I hadn't fallen off. It would all be over soon and we could head to the pub.

This is were I was slightly mistaken. As andy started up the pitched he yelled up:

"Errr... I've dropped my headtorch, I can't climb this in the dark"

So after a bit of thought and in my scared state from the last pitch I lowered Andy to the last stance, tied off the ropes and abseiled to Andy. We then abseil to the bottom of the pitch intending to walk out and round to the top and pull up the ropes. We put or shoes back on to walk out and low and what did we find in Andy's boot... his flipping headtorch! He reasoned it was probably easier and safer if we both just walked back along the path because prusiking up would be: 1. hard work and in the dark, 2. Andy had not really prusiked before and 3. the walk off would probably be safer with 2 people. So off we walked.

The scramble off is even worse in the dark but it was a fun walk off. I thought we'd just find the ropes quickly and then head home. This was not the case. I've never been to the top of maincliff before and it's well, horrendous in the dark. After an hours hunting around on slippy rock and 80 degree turf I called it a day and went back to Andy. After a minor stress at the sky about everything all we could do was laugh and reside ourselves to come back in the morning after a well earned beer in the pub. Simply put we left my ropes, which have seen me through 2 years of hard climbing, summer and winter and caught me when I've fallen off, hanging at gogarth.

We had a good night in the pub but kept running over the events of the day. What had we done wrong? what if we'd have done this or that? should I have done things differently? did we make the right decisions? What could we have done better? Three pints later and my tent to myself meant I stayed up and thought about this alot. I came to the conclusion that I should have rigged a retreivable abseil with the hoards of tat I'd brought with me and just sacrificed a piece of cord. Then we could have got out with the rope. I think even before that we should started earlier in the day, meaning we wouldn't have got caught out and climbed a little quicker maybe hauling the sack instead of climbing with it.

We went back the next day and rescued my ropes, which involved me prusiking back up them (after some serious bouce testing) as we both figured it would be eaiser just to top out that way. Amazingly it had not rained at Gogarth and my ropes were dry and coiled up at the bottom just as I'd left them. The walk out was something I would rather have done with axes and crampons on, or actually pitched with a climbing partner. We gave up climbing that day because we wanted to go to Wen Zawn but had no absiel rope, and out hero factor was running pretty low. We just met some friends and wondered the dinorwig quarry a little.

So what did I learn about Gogarth. Well it's a great place to test yourself and then learn from the experience. I'll put something up on the "lessons learned from sea-cliff climbing" when I get round to it. It should be quite interesting as although I've made plently of mistakes there, pretty much every day has been one of the best days out.

Rejigging my blog...

I've been trying to fiddle around with the layout of my blog somewhat. I'm basically bored with it a little and want to mess around. I've tried to make it easier to find some of the stuff I've actually written, but I think it needs a bit of streamlining (there is way more labels than I thought I had). On the point of rejigging I notice that some of the text appears in one font and some in another. I'm trying to sort this out, but I don't actually know that the problem is in the first place...this could take some time.

I seriously should have put some moisturiser on my hands after last nights climbing session. I haven't really been trad climbing in along time and I do tend to use alot of chalk, jokinly reffering to it as OCC (obsessive compulsive chalking). It's just a habit to climb and chalk up. I know I don't need it because I climb just as well without chalk. I guess it's just a way or procrastinating over a hard move. I've even worse if I ever go bouldering.

We kicked off last night with some bouldering. I was actaully looking forward to it because there was a problem I'd seen a few people on last week that I liked the look of. I didn't feel like I would be able to get on it last week as I felt weak and trashed from my first wall session in ages. This week however I jumped straight on it and felt like I was going to do some damaged if I completed it. I managed to send it anyway, though not too smoothly. It didn't matter, I'd managed it and as my first problem I was happy with my whole session.

I went on to fall off a 7a and bash my arm in the process (nice cut and bruise). Then climb fairly well at F6b ish level. On the whole it was just nice to get some exercise.

My crampons came yesterday as well, and another ice screw! Shame its all thawing.

Welsh winter climbing, lessons learned...

As well as Scotland I’ve managed to get a few great days winter climbing in Wales so far this season. In fact I might have done just as much climbing in Wales as I’ve done in Scotland thinking about it. Wales has been a good teacher just as much as Scotland…

Bandoliers:

God I actually hesitate to write this post. I’ve been an advocate that gearloops are the way forward since well, since I’ve been climbing. I’ve tried a bandolier before and it just didn’t work, but this was always for rock climbing. This weekend just gone Stewie made me use a bandolier (as he out ranked me on experience). His argument was that especially at lower grades you’re covering easier ground most of the time so it make sense just to keep belays simple and swap the gear over quickly. This I found out meant that hanging stances (or semi-hanging) where quick and easy to swap over on. Apart from the fact that I’m a little big when I’m in full winter kit and struggle to get a sling over my head and arm, this system has been excellent.

It for change-overs at stances we had 2 slings, one with ‘draws on it and one with pro on it. Screw’s were racked on our harnesses. I’m thinking of pinching Toaf’s gearlooped sling. I think this’ll be a good compromise as you can rack everything on one sling, but compartmentalize it. I’ll see how it goes.

I’ve also retied a larger sling to see if that works a little better getting it over my big head.

Remember that if you come to the crux pitch then you can always take 5 minutes to re-rack the gear on your harness where you like it? Simples.

Screamers:

I’m now the proud owner of 2 of these. For those who don’t know what they are in think their proper name would be a “load limiting sling”. They’re a full strength sling, but then it’s folded and stitched to break at 3kn. This breaking of the sling reduces the impact on the piece of gear. The main benefit of this isn’t that it makes a bad piece good, but that it can make a marginal piece that little bit better.

I’ve been placing a screamer on my first runner if it’s in ice no matter what, but I’ve found myself running it out a little over less than ideal placements. So I carry 2 at least. I mean I hope I’ll never have to use them, but you may as well stack the cards in your favour…

Pick placements. Be inventive?

It’s going to be quite hard to break an axe, especially a DMM fly because each one seems built like a tank, made to take abuse. I found that torqueing them in cracks was no problem, but don’t be afraid to give it a little extra help (ie with the hammer) to help the placement sit well.

Ditch the leashes…

…or rather have easily removable leashes. I’m not going to start complaining about the DMM fly because so far it’s met all my standards. It resharpens well, it’s not broken yet. Hell I like it, but I do have a few little gripes. I’m adding pinky baskets to the base of my fly’s made from quark bits when they come (http://www.ukclimbing.com/images/dbpage.html?id=104120). These will be similar to Martin Browns adaptations. However I’m afraid of dropping the things so some tiny carabiners (camp nano’s at 24gms) and 5 metres of elastic will suffice to solve that problem.

I don’t want to live without leashes either. Now I can afford to buy brand new clipper leashes etc, so I’m stripping the leash out and then shortening it and using a small ‘biner to clip it through the head of my axe (again camp nano’s). Simple, clipper leashes! The beauty of this whole system is that I can replace everything back to normal if I find it doesn’t help at all but at the same time I can have leashless tools with landyards, or tools with clipper leashes! What more could you want?

More Welsh Winter climbing...

Wow! Another weekend in wales winter climbing! I drove across early on Saturday morning to meet Tom at the car park beneath Dinas Mot. It was a pretty weird arrangement seeing as I’d meet him for one day in Scotland. As it turned out it was him, Charlie and John (and a guy named Jack who I’d not met before) who’d come across to take advantage of the good weather.

I had borrowed Toaf’s crampons this week. He’s skiing in the Alps somewhere and I thought that he wouldn’t mind. Also I’m planning to replace my super12’s with something a little more aggressive. Having some G14’s to play around with meant I could convert to monopoints and see how I faired. My first impressions of the crampons when I converted the whole thing are how robust it is. I’m a little worried about anti-balling plates and they are a little heavier than what I’m used to.

I teamed up with Charlie and John and we all headed over towards Dinas Mot for some winter cragging. Dan and Jack jumped on Jammed Boulder Gully (grade III) and said it was an awesome climb with 3 pitches (2 snow and 1 ice pitch). We instead after a little faffing which involved me backing off a mixed approach to what looked like an awesome icefall (I even managed to retrieve my sling). Settled on The Black Cleft (grade IV,5). This route wasn’t in perfect condition, with a little too much unconsolidated snow, but when we found some ice it was alright.

John took the start of the first pitch, but couldn’t do the chockstone in the chimney. Instead he accidentally placed his own chockstone when He snapped off a hold and it jammed in a crack. He came back down and built a belay and brought up me and Charlie. Charlie then took on the mantle of the leader and headed up. As he was climbing John told me that Charlie love and excels at thrutchy moves so he was perfect for this pitch. Charlie made the move after and series of thrutching and what appeared to be a leg jam. After a bit of salmoning (very technically move somewhat akin to how a fish flaps when it is out of water) he pulled through and tried to find a belay. I think this was the crux of our climb, finding protection. If it had been completely iced up then we’d have had gear all over the place. Instead crumbling sugar snow and seams of ice provided little.

He got a size 2 cam in and yelled that it was about a 5 (on the grand protection rating system of 1 – 10) this was alright, until he down graded it to a 3. As the banter continued he said it would be alright, but it was left unspoken to just not fall off. I was brought up first and very carfully tested out my monopoints. They let me teeter up on tiny edges and nubbins of rock allowing me to careful bridge up the chimney. However I did also manage to get some salmoning in. John seconded well and sat himself on top of the chockstone, the belay was cramped to say the least.

So with a single cam in I started up my pitch. I was looking for gear like nobodies business trying to find anything. As I climbed upwards I had to make major use of my monopoints on all the little edges and eyebrows of ice available. As I moved up I realized that there was no hope of me reversing the moves I’d just done so I was forced to keep climbing. Eventually the gradient lessened, I found some turf but also some snow. After another 15ft of powder snow I got the a break and s massive stance. Unethical as it seems I pegged a knifeblade thin seam and drove my mixed hook in for a decent belay. I figured I deserved on. We’d been joking about the pegs and that once I made the tap tap tap of placing one, when would hear a hunting horn down in the pass as the local ethics committee descended on us. I didn’t care, but as I tapped away I heard John making hunting horn noises below me. I yelled I was safe and relaxed.

The next pitch looked amazing. The Chimney had slanted leaving an set of steep icey steps on the right but some hanging icicles on the overhanging left wall. I’d belay out of the line of fire, through both choice and protection. I was an awesome place to be in. John took this next pitch and had a god time smashing off the icicles above, in fact there was a continual rain of debris down the hole pitch as he climbed it. IT was supposed to be a 45metre pitch, but he ran it out for 50metres and was 1 metre off a decent belay. I guess 60metre ropes really do pay off. His belay consisted of turf placements, and hammered in ice axes.

We walked off down the front after following a likely looking set of footprints. The weather was good and clear and we had hours of daylight left. Tom and Jack had already finished and were sitting in Pete’s eats so we joined them down there for tea and a discussion of tomorrow activity.

They all seemed to be going to Black Ladders and I said I would let them know. I was meeting Stewie in the morning for a day’s climbing.

I retreated to the Vaynol Arms to see if I could meet some of the Ceunant MC and see what was in condition and where they recommended going. I got in and there was only 2 others in there. This gave me chance to dry my socks and dach mitts by the fire. I met Rich in there and he invited me to stay over at the Tyn Lon as there was a little space and I didn’t really have anywhere else to stay.

When I got in I walked in the room and they asked if I was one of the “homeless Wrekin lads” who they seem to take pity on. I was asked why I didn’t just join the club as they are based in Birmingham it sort of makes sense. I like the Wrekin MC though and all the people in the club. We’ll see.

After a manic texting and calling spree I just told Stewie to meet me at the Tyn lon at 0730 then next day. So his little head appeared at the window while I was eating breakfast, demanding entry. We discussed a few options about where to climb as neither of us had a real plan. I plummed for either Black Ladders or Creag yr Rheaedr. Black ladders lost out when I pointed out that Rheaedr was almost roadside and just a short drive up the pass. I was left to sort out the gear as I was packed and just took as many ice screws as I could muster. Off we went.

Talk about roadside. You can see Rheaedr from the road and it was covered in ice. As we walked in we could already see a couple of teams on the main icefalls already. After checking the topo they came in at grade V’s and VI’s and Stewie didn’t want to start on anything that hard. I also didn’t either, but still wanted to get onto them as they did look so good. We’d heard from my intel in the pub that the ice was fairly brittle so we headed round to do Grooved Slab (grade IV). No-one else was on this bit of the crag so we had our pick of routes and we geared up beneath it. I racked up for the first pitch.

This turned out to be a little solo of about 20 metres on good easy ice to find out first decent belay. Here I built a bomber anchor (after all the dodgey gear the day before) and brought up Stewie. Before I brought him up I was told to re-rack everything on a couple of bandoliers. Urgh! I hate bandolier with a passion and have never been able to get on well with them. But Stewie was in charge as the older and more experienced member so I did what I was told. Bandoliers swapped it watch Stewie climb the next pitch.

I turned out with pitch wasn’t too hard, but just had crap gear. Tied of ice screws, a bad peg, it all didn’t add up to much until Stewie reached a sling and some good ice and proclaimed he would belay there. I followed him up, easing my monopoints onto tiny edges and hooking carefully. Everything seems easier seconding, but this felt like it would have been a scary lead.

He gave me the bandoliers and I set off up what turned out be the best pitch. A good ice buldge, which I swear was over hanging slightly made for the first little crux. I got some good screws in and climbed up over it onto some bad ice. From there I found another good screw and just carried on up as there was no belay. Up another 15 metre wall of ice, missing the little pockets of bad snow and sticking in screws where in needed them. I then did something really stupid. I fumbled a screw with my gloves on and dropped it. I was so annoyed at myself. I guess accidents happen.

I topped out onto a would be grassy ledge, covered in snow and tried to find something to belay off of. I ended up climbing around for half an hour, breaking some rock trying to force in a peg and having to settle for a bomber screw, and driven in ice axes and a braced stance. I could hardly hear Stewie so just put in on belay and gave the three tugs. I prayed he wouldn’t fall off, but he’s really good at ice climbing so I had nothing to worry about.

When he topped out, I apologized for taking so long and my crap belay. He said it was fine, we’d just more together till we got to the top. So off he went disappearing round a corner and putting in gear mind-full of my belay. Eventually everything came tight and I stripped it all out and yelled I was climbing. I didn’t even get a response, but he knew. I plodded off round, taking out the few pieces he’d placed and then plodding up through the snow to meet him. He was sat belayed to a spike with a grin on his face.

We shook hands and decided on our next course of action. It turned out that we where both happy to call it a day and head down. The allure of a brew in Pete’s and a bad weather report for the late afternoon was more than enough. As we headed off we saw the MRT chopper coming in close. I circled a few times and then winched someone down. We’d already figured someone had had an accident. Apparently some had fallen from the top of the cascade, stripped out most of their route but missed the deck by about 3 metres. That was like an 80-100metre fall. The guy looked in pretty bad shape when we offered a hand. He’d got a compound fracture on his elbow, broken ribs and maybe a punctured lung. They took him away in the chopper.

I hate it when something like that happens at the end of a great days climbing. It encouraged me to get another screamer whilst in Llanberis though. As it turned out we’d only been out on the hill for about 5 hours. They shut Llanberis pass after we’d driven out so getting off the hill was a justifiable decision I guess. As for the monopoints, I couldn't get over how great they were. I'm definatly getting my own pair and G14 and I'll be setting them up as monos. If you have the opptunity then try them out. So what a great weekend!

A week in Scotland: Lessons Learned…

Think of this as me trying to pass on some of the mistakes I've made so others can benefit!

Hydration:

We learned pretty much the hard way about hydration. We didn’t drink enough water on the first day. I take 1litre out on the hill in summer, and 1.5 in winter. This might seem odd, but summer days are usually shorter and I just accept a little dehydration (also my summer rack is heavier so I need to loose the weight somewhere). It is a faff taking off your pack and then digging around to find your water bottle. Maybe keep it outside your bag on the walkin, or use a hydration pouch?

DON’T just not drink because it’s too much hassle.

[Having just read a blog by Andy k (http://www.andy-kirkpatrick.com/blog/view/giving_up_the_drink/) and having spent the weekend carrying 1.5 litres around in my pack up 2 grade IV’s and not drinking a drop, I’m reconsidering taking 1.5 litres on the hill. Also it give me a chance to make something out of foam and duck tape… Watch this space]

(and yes a picture of us drinking beer comes under the heading of "hydration")

Breaking trail:

Scotland had taught me… don’t do it. There is always someone else more eager or dumber than you who’ll go out earlier to break trail. This is defiantly a time to follow not lead. However if you do find yourself being that “eager team” take my advice and find all the other eager teams in the car park and join forces for the walk in, especially if your breaking trail through deep snow. It’ll pay dividends in the end. Having a bigger team means moral is kept up, because chest deep snow is particularly demoralizing. Also you may meet some great people and make some great friends!

Belaying in the line of fire:

This may seem obvious but it isn’t. I mean for rock climbing your mate isn’t usually dropping loads of ice, snow, neve and the occasional rock on you. So when I found a decent belay it didn’t click that I would be underneath Andy at the time. I got pelted with so much snow, ice and other crap that it wasn’t it. It did make belaying more interesting whilst dodging ice, but this fun was ended when a basket ball sized piece hit my head.

I know sometimes you end up stuck belaying beneath someone, but at the base of routes I think it just pays to belay out of the way. Put your hood up, tuck your buff in so nothing can go down your neck and get your goggle on for eye protection. At the same time when you’re climbing try and be as careful as possible not to knock anything off.

(in this picture I was right in the line of fire from all the crap Andy sent down, in future I'll find somewhere better)

Looking for protection:

After reading up loads of stuff on winter climbing, especially by Andy Kirkpatrick it was pointed out, well drilled in to me, that we as modern winter climbers have infinitely more possibilities for protection than they did in the good old days of mountaineering (in hobnailed boots!).

A modern mixed rack with warthogs, pitons, mixed hooks, nuts, superlight rocks, tricams and humble hex’s (or torque nuts) means that you can protect most classic or much climbed routes well. If you take the time to look for pro, chips off the ice and clean out cracks, then those long run-outs will be a little shorter. Also at belays do the same thing. Don’t just accept that crappy peg! If must take it out and replace it. There’ll be something else to belay off and if there really isn’t then take a braced stance.

I should probably say here about leaving stuff alone too. If you find an established belay then you should leave it as it is. Don’t think “hey free stuff” I mean how many more pegs do you need anyway? You’ll only end up taking them out and someone else will have to put them in, increasing rock damage. You should make a call on this when you get to your belay though.

Keep things sharp!:

Ok I’m already getting called “the File” by Andy for my near obsessive re-filing and sharpening on my picks and crampons, but it is important. I couldn’t think of a good analogy for why you should keep your pick sharp. It’s just sensible at the end of the day. This thing is going to be whacked into ice, turf, munge, you name it. If its sharp at the start it’ll take less effort to get the damn thing in. It’ll save you energy.

Anyway it’s relaxing resharpening your picks before another big day out. They don’t have to be needle sharp each time you head off, but just tidy them up and remove any burrs or flat edges.

Make sure you actually swap the gear over!:

Mostly when I rock climb we both carry a rack (unless we’re trying to go light). Therefore each belay requires giving back your leader the gear he placed and moving on with your rack. When winter climbing don’t forget to hand over the rack BUT also check what you’ve got on your harness. I just removed all the gear from Andy’s harness trying to be efficient at one belay. I thought it was then odd when he declined any gear for the next pitch, but I figure it was easy and he knew what he was doing. He then ran out of gear because he thought he still had all the bits from the last pitch, which I’d “helpfully” taken off and re-racked on the bandolier.

Things I couldn't live without...

...winter climbing.

BD ice clippers. These little plastic 'biners are simply like the most innovative idea ever (not just BD ones, I mean the whole concept). For those that don't know then they are little plastic 'biners that are held sort of poking out from your harness so you can rack screws (or anything you want) on them. I brought 2 initially as I was trying to expand my summer harness with more gear loops (I just brought a DMM Renegade in the end, another quality piece of kit).

I have one sitting either side of my harness meaning I can rack screws equally. This is a great plan although I can only place screws one handed with my right hand (another skill I need to learn). But simply racking and removing the screws is a doddle.

They are so good infact that on my first winter day out Rob and Stewie, who are both much more experienced winter climbers (Stewie's climbed in Canada and Scotland loads, and Rob is just gnarley) were so impressed by this little pieces of plastic I was sporting they went out and brought themselves one each that very day.

I would urge anyone going winter climbing to get at least 1 or 2 if you can afford it. At £4 a piece this is a steal compared to how useful they are.

So a little bit of ice then?

After drying off and getting a couple of hours kip I started to get restless again. I mean I’d woken up in a snow hole that morning but I wanted to do something with my day! A quick check of ukc and google earth found Newmoreton and the location of the “Oui Oui” ice fall. With our recent cold weather spell and my vast winter experience (note: sarcasm) I figure it was in. Anyway it was a 30 minute drive away so it was worth a look. I knew I would have to sell it to Andy as a good idea, but he was pretty restless with no climbing for the past 4 days so I went in with:

“40metre, grade III icefall, 30minutes drive, what do you think?”

“I’m in”

I don’t think we’d ever geared up so quick, slung a load of ice gear in the bags and boot of the car and we were off. About 30 minutes later we were driving down a little country road staring as the crag next to us looking for some ice. I was beginning to get a little despondent as there appeared none. As I started to think about turning back into vied came this beautiful little icefall nestled up on near the far end of the crag. We’d found it.

About a million other people had had the same idea as me, although possibly a few hours sooner because the little parking area was crammed full. I managed to sneak jess onto the end and we ran in. Well I sort of semi ran/slipped and Andy podded along. All the people walking back down gave us more and more information about the condition of the icefall. I kept hearing it was melting out and was getting a little unstable. I figured we could just climb quick and safely. I didn’t think I was going to collapse, but we’d make our final decision when we saw it.

Hanging for a little at the base of the route we could already see about 2 other teams on the route. After an inspection of the ice at the base and a discussion with everyone else I didn’t seem all that bad. It was quite deep ice and it just meant that placements would be harder to come by and necessitate a little digging. I was sunbaked too. I wasn’t too worried about it to be honest, but I think this was more from ignorance rather than good judgement.

I dived on the route easily climbing up the first little slab after choosing a decent line. The gear required a little digging but it was alright. I’d only gone up with a light rack of 6 screws and my superlight rocks and pegs, thinking it would mainly all be ice. It was good enough ice. The angle was quite nice and not taking on the calves and there was good ice in the wide cracks for screws. I even had some company as a guy was seconding along side me.

I think I should describe this place a little. There was a waterfall hanging above some slabs which is what fed the icefall. The water fall didn’t have any routes on it, seeing as it look unstable and thin but the slabs below provided some great ice climbing. You then climbed off the massive ledge and abseiled off a tree to the base. As I came to about 4 meters from the end of the route it needed a traverse off to the ledge. I told the guy seconding to go first as we would just end up with tangled ropes. I now stood and waited below the hanging waterfall…

So much for my limited experience. I heard a sickening crack and looked up. I always thought that slow motion was clichéd but it happened. I looked up to see that a pillar had snapped off the waterfall right above my head. I just held tight onto my axes and yelled “shit” as long as I could. I kept my head down and tucked myself into the ice as much as. I thought that was it, I was done for crushed by falling ice. If it didn’t kill me it would rip me off for sure and I’d end up injured.

It hurt a lot getting hit by the pillar and it seemed to last forever. I kept expecting to have a horrible sensation of holding on tight to my axes, but moving through the air as they’d been ripped clean out. It didn’t happen, instead to roaring was over and the guys at the belay were yelling to see if I was ok. I yelled I was, shook off the ice from me, yelled to Andy I was ok and then climbed as fast as I could to the belay. I think I was shaking, in fact I know I was shaking. I felt so glad to still be there.

I think the defrosting pillar was a curse and a blessing. If it had snapped off and been solid then I really don’t think I would have escaped without injury (or at all) but instead it broke when it hit me and I got a nice beating from a couple of tones of ice instead. It’s something I’ll remember forever and an experience I’ll learn from.

Andy still seconded the route, but really quickly as we needed the screws out. Then the guys who had asked me if I was ok let us abseil on their ropes, save the faff of throwing down two ropes. We abseiled down and plodded out, the car park was now empty, unsurprisingly.

I think I should point out that our youthful inexperience ignored a warning in the guide book:

“If there is any hint of a defrost then Do not climb on the icefall the risk of collapse of the waterfall above is too great”

We were lucky.

Snowholing and a little ice...

Even though the snow had been falling like mad over night we tried again on the next day. We left a little later, but still earlier enough to beat the skiers. The road was closed again and we despaired a little (believe me there a video of our madness). Today was different though. The snow relented long enough for them to clear the road and us to make it up to Coire Cas.

Here we geared up but the prospect of breaking trail all walk in was very disheartening. I walked around the car park looking for likely looking teams hoping to head to the same place. I found a 4 foursome made up of Dan, Tom, Charlie and Mikey from Sheffield way. I asked if they where also going to t-Sneachda and if they’d like to break trail with us. We all set out together in the end.

Breaking trail is the single most demoralizing activity I think I’ve ever done. I’ve tried to describe it to people who have not had the “joy” of doing it. It’s like having 2 8 year old kids hanging on each leg, and then trying to walk through custard. Having 6 people made such a difference. We’d each break trail till our muscles gave out, then collapse in the snow until the person behind took up and mantel. Usually the last man would haul the previous trailbreaker out of the snow. Being last in the line gave you a rest for a little while you followed in a nice flat trail broken by 5 other people. I’m not saying it was easy, I’m saying it was bearable.

It was also slow. In 2 hours, 6 of us managed to break trail though waist deep to chin deep snow for about 1.5kilometres (without taking into account the uphill). But we where also tired. A group consensus was reached that by the time we got to t-Sneachda, we’d have no time to climb and would have to head back. I also happened that we’d stopped by the deepest snow yet. Our next course of action was decided for us, we just all started digging. We’d

walked for ages and it seemed like a good idea so we dug snowcaves. They weren’t the text book dig into a steep slope snowcaves. They were work with what we’d got, so dig down then up! I proved myself a worth digger, not leaving my cave for an hour and getting people to shovel all the snow out of my entrance.

After a while my snowcave started to develop into something that actually resembled somewhere to sleep. It had 2 entrances and 2 of us inside it working

on making it bigger. I asked Andy if he wanted to spend the night there almost jokingly at first. I mean we’d had an idea before about going snowholing, but we’d stopped the idea because it meant climbing in full kit and digging a fresh snowhole at the end of the day. Full kit was a massive amount of stuff to carry, but I figured we could just haul the packs. At the end of the day it was written off because of the weather. But now we had a snowhole about 1hours walk from the car park, pre-dug. I mean it seemed like a great idea.

In the end we all decided to bug out and head to Aviemore for some coffee and extreme shopping. Me and Andy discussed on the way back what to do as the weather was bad or to put it another way, whether to go snowholing or not. It was too much of an opportunity to loose in the end so on the way to meet the guys in Aviemore we stopped of and dried our kit and made some more plans. Our trip to Aviemore (again) allowed meeting them for coffee and buying some supplies for the night ahead.

We settled back at the hostel to repack our dried gear. We would be going to try and go climbing the day after, so effectively we’d just employed a base-camp half way into t-Sneachda. We could have gone the whole hog and started with porters and rigged some ropes up to siege come of the routes! It took quite awhile to quell Claire’s fears that I wouldn’t get crushed by a collapsing snowhole or avalanched. We then ate our possible final last good meal and headed out.

It was a little weird driving to the carpark at night because it was the same darkness as I’d driven to in every morning. It just felt like there was something wrong with the light conditions. I think my brain expected it to get lighter! We jumped out the car, hefted our heavy packs and headed out along the now good path into t-Sneachda (well halfway in at least). After a while we came across our tree that marked our snowhole only to find it wasn’t there. Instead a mighty cavity where it once stood (or stood under even) was there. I strongly suspect that it was smashed accidentally by another party. This posed a big problem for sleeping out in a snowhole!

Well never fear, we had come armed with a shovel and after checking out likely snowholes made by some groups on courses I started digging another one. I never imagined that at 11 at night I’d be sweating in the middle of winter dressed in a base layer and salopettes. I dug like crazy trying to make something worth sleeping in. After about an hours hard digging I produced something more akin to an emergency shelter snowhole rather than the luxury snow hotel we’d produced before. Never fear, we are young, tough and stupid we’ll sleep in it anyway.

Andy had to sleep with a Damocles ice axe poised above his head as an air hole. Having thought about it we probably didn’t need one as we couldn’t block out entrance. Getting in and out of the hole was hard work, especially since I was soaked through. Eventually we where tucked in nice and snug, snug being the operative word. I’m glad I’m not claustrophobic as it was pretty small. I apparently fell straight to sleep (I think I’m developing the ability to sleep anywhere) and snored to boot.

At 5am Andy woke me up and exclaimed meeky “dude can we leave, I’m cold and wet”. My reply was no. I was warm and there was not way I was getting out. Andy made his case and I relented as he was actually freezing cold and soaked through. We bugged out as quick as we could as soon as we released the promise of a warm bed and drying room.

So how did snow holing go for us?

Well I think we learnt a lot, ie find steeper and deeper snow to dig into. Also colder conditions pay off for snow holing as I was soaked through after digging each hole and had to sleep in a soaked couple of sleeping bags. I think double bagging with one synthetic and one down bag really works well. I think we’d probably have just been better off digging holes for our heads and torsos and leaving our feet outside the hole and staying drier.

I’ll defiantly go snow holing again as it was great fun!

Day 4. Shut down by the weather...

Well after a rest day on day 3 due to being knackered and there being an unacceptable avalanche risk we headed out again only to be shut down by the weather. They couldn’t get the road up to the ski centre cleared. We’d sat around for over 2 hours hoping the snow would stop and they’d let us up but it didn’t happen. We didn’t fancy heading out later in the day as the weather reported more snow. A late start, heavy snow and a walk out in darkness just seemed to be asking for trouble.

As Claire and Leanne had come to join us we decided to check out some roadside icefalls we’d spotted the day before. We geared up and the girls joined us see what this whole ice climbing thing was all about. Then ensued a gearless nightmare of a mixed route with power-squeaking a plenty from me.

We geared up in deep snow and inspected the thin ice seam that I proposed to climb. At most it was 4 inches think, at least a few millimeters. There was turf and cracks and eyebrows of ice to use instead. The main thing I was worried about was finding some gear to place! I started up anyway and was quickly spat off after about 3 feet. I immediately jumped back on but with a different mindset. Instead of trying to climb this quickly I would just take my time and make each placement count. This did take a lot of time as the ice was bullet hard so chipping a decent placement for both axes and crampons was awkward. Eventually I got my mixed hook in a decent pick placement. This was more of a hook than a hacked out hole. I figured it looked good enough so I clipped it and moved on. I wasn’t like I had a choice either I couldn’t down climb it.

My ice pretty much ran out at this point. It was replaced with foot deep powder snow hiding any placements. I aimed for turf and cracks I could clean off and see, but I’m pretty sure I just brute forced my pick into some crud rock as I topped out. I got a decent sling around a spike and topped out. Man I was pumped, and scared. If I’d had to do that on a mountain route god knows what would have happened. I did have a massive smile on may face and was soaked through from powder snow. I opted to abseil back down instead of trying to find a decent belay. Being honest I was tired and wet through, fear had me a little gripped to.

Andy wasn’t up for hunting down more roadside mixed madness so we headed back to get warm and dry. Another day over, but my first taste of hard mixed climbing. I was happy and psyched for the next day.