Extracts from Newsletter 19
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I was bored, really bored, so bored that I just couldn't be bothered not to be bored. It was Winter, it was wet and the only place to go was the Hamster Cage. The prospect of picking wood chippings out of my shoes yet again was to much to bear. I had had enough, there had to be somewhere, anywhere, I would even tolerate students ... students ... university ... Uxbridge .... Brunel Wall. There where no choirs of angels but life was looking up. A few phone calls and a high speed dash round the M25 and I was there.
Brunel Wall is great in that end-of-a-sports-hall-old-style a-bit-like-rock sort of way. It has huge crash mats and no top ropes. You could solo and fall off without fear; deep water soloing without getting wet! There are not set routes, just pick a line and climb it and, just to give the testosterone a massage, there is a massive overhang to do all that macho 'sort the men from the boys' power climbing stuff. But round the back, past the "Beware of falling climbers" sign, there is the delightfully named PUMP ROOM containing tortures of exotic delights. We played at spiders on the roof and pretended to be called Yves or Arnoud (or Liv), only to mutter "Merde" when reality intervened.
So if you get the hamster cage blues head north!
This Years annual jaunt north of the border in my mind was memorable for two reasons, firstly the lack of snow and secondly (in some part due to the lack of the white stuff) a lack of activity. Numbers attending this years meet were in excess of last years meet by all of two extra attendants. Those attending being Captain Keen (alias Derek Buckle), Robert (son of Captain Keen), Graham Thompson (driver of a trusty Volvo estate, didn't notice the Labrador though) and Alistair (the farmer) Cochran who ventured forth in the aforementioned Volvo. Leading the pack though were Nick (madman) Atkins, Mark (turquoise suit) Goodman and Steve (mobile health hazard) Harris travelling in Nick plain clothes Peugeot.
Having cunningly prearranged to meet the others at the Little Chief at Crianlarich and arriving at 4:45 am, the opportunity to grab some sleep was taken before opening time at 7:00. When we woke everything was white and pretty after a covering of snow, A-HA! we thought, this bodes well for climbing.
After enjoying a hearty breakfast, Nick Mark and I decided to head straight for the accommodation - the West Highland Lodge at Kinlockleven. The snow made the driving conditions interesting and most of the mountains appeared to have a reasonable covering. Nick very kindly gave a lift to a hitchhiker on the way to Kinlockleven, from whom we were able to gain vital information about the pubs, we where told to avoid the Terrorist pub as it was full of Irish, after being somewhat alarmed that we had mistakenly time warped into Northern Ireland, he made himself a little clearer in his thick Scottish brogue that he was referring to the Tailrace! On arrival at he bunk house the warden seemed quite surprised and a little agitated to see us so early, despite my having OK'd it with him on booking.
A few hours kip and Mark and I had a good walk southwards along the West Highland Way, with excellent views of the Mamores which at that time had plenty of snow and looked very inviting. Meanwhile Nick carried out some vital field work in researching the local hostelries, this was a big sacrifice by Nick and we were very grateful for this useful investigation.
Meantime Derek, Rob, Alistair and Graham were straight out on the hill post breakfast, of course, and had an enjoyable day on Ben Lui, although Alistair was a trifle miffed at having to carry the rope all the way up and down the hill without using it, some quite reasonable snow conditions were enjoyed.
An enjoyable evening was spent in the Fort William curry house, with Nick continuing some more vital groundwork by testing their vindaloo, which appeared to get the better of him. Later the Antler Bar was tried out on Nicks recommendation, 9 out of 10 for the beer, 4 out of 10 for atmosphere.
Sunday - and the forecast was for strong winds, so the consensus was that we would walk up into the lost valley and try some of the snow/ice climbs that go in various directions out of the valley and then we would come back down. Yes that definitely sounds very sensible! Well we all headed up Glen Coe through the driving rain, half expecting someone to suggest that this was a silly idea and we would surely get very wet, trouble is that nobody did. Upon arrival at the car park we found that the Keen team had actually been debating whether or not to head out, blimey the conditions most have been bad! Head out we did heavily cocooned in our waterproofs.
On reaching the Lost valley, one important item seemed to be missing from the view, SNOW. We had to cross over a large waterfall at the head of the valley and traverse slowly upwards to the south before being able to set foot on the white stuff. A long and slightly devious snow plod followed, following the line of least resistance. Derek, Rob and Alistair headed the crocodile of climbers as we cramponed ever upwards, not knowing precisely where we would end up. As we approached the ridge of Beinn Fhada we could hear the wind gusting violently, with occasional gusts catching us lower down the slope. The only way to secure oneself was to thrust your ice axe into the slope, flatten yourself as much as possible and hang on bloody tight.
Derek and Rob had obviously reached the top as they disappeared from view and Alistair was about 30ft above me. I could now hear and feel the violent gusts of wind on the ridge and on me. Suddenly the wind increased and in anticipation of another gust I desperately attempted to thrust the shaft of my ice axe into the slope , but I was on a rock step and it wouldn't go in, Shit. Suddenly I had been blown off the slope and was heading down at great speed, keeping cool I started my ice axe break, making sure I did it gently to prevent the axe being pulled from my grasp. Just as the ice axe was starting to bite my right leg hit a rocky part and I was thrown sideways, thinking my leg had been broken. I then started to accelerate at a greater speed, sod this for a game of soldiers, this time I thrust my axe in and lent on it with all of my strength, finally coming to rest about 40ft lower down the slope.
Graham looked somewhat surprised at me having come back down again, are you OK? I think so, but I'm going back down. The others on the ridge persuaded me I should go up as they were on the summit, the route actually exiting by the summit cairn. So up I went. It was impossible to stand up on the summit, the best one could do was to crouch behind any available rock. We had yet to get off the mountain and the way off was along the long ridge then drop back down into the valley and on to the Glen Coe road. We managed it, obviously, but it was a struggle against the wind, the failing light and general tiredom bought on by the struggle to stay either on the ridge which was quite alpine and exposed in places, or to remain standing, which at times we didn't. We got off the ridge before the light faded and then had to ford a stream in spat. By the time we arrived back at the car park the light had completely gone. Nick and Mark who had both had to unfortunately abort the day earlier due to leg / groin problems came back up the valley to check we were OK, as we were expected to meet them in the Clarhaig earlier. In retrospect it was quite an experience, and I can now honestly say that it was an enjoyable day but I had to pay for it with a badly swollen knee and ankle debilitating me for the rest of our stay.
Monday was grey, wet and horrible, so a rest day was in store for all. The Fort William leisure centres wonderfully cheap sauna, Jacuzzi and swimming facilities where made good use of, followed by a trip to Safeways to get frozen peas to reduce the swelling.
Tuesday I rested again. Nick and Mark walked up to the reservoir above Kinlochleven, after a mornings R&R. The Keen team went over to the Anoch Mor area and took the ski lift up to climb what snow was available. That night Nick, Mark and I headed for home early as the forecast was not good for tomorrow. The others aborted things early the next day and headed for home, as it was raining ..... again. On the way back I realised that I had left the frozen / several times defrosted, cold compress/peas (in fact it was corn as they had run out of peas!) in the freezer. Just hope that nobody tried to eat them?
Next year I reckon Chamonix, or Scotland only if we are sure of decent conditions.
Steve Harris.
We set out on a miserable morning in March for a ten day break in sunny Spain, with no real thoughts of climbing, but packed our boots just in case. On our first day we went just south of Antequera to El Torcal, an area of weird shaped rocks. On discovering the delights of dry grippy limestone our climbing holiday began. Sod the ropes and no leading experience this was soloing territory, everything from easy peasy upwards with literally thousands of climbs to ourselves.
Back at base in Montejaque, surrounded by limestone mountains, we couldn't resist the temptation of the pyramidal Cerro Tabizna. Full of confidence, "It's limestone after all", we planned our assent via a green gully - BAD move, green equals viscous, prickly bushes (we don't have this trouble at High Sports). On finding this route too difficult we retraced our steps. About to go elsewhere another gully caught our eyes. We quickly gained height but at 2/3rds up spiny undergrowth, poisonous plants (so the botanist says) and loose debris made the going somewhat hairy. We hoped that on reaching the top we would find an easier way down but a matter of meters below the easy ridge to the summit we had an attack of the sensibles and reluctantly descended the same route.
So, it's back to El Torcal, climbers heaven, to conquer 8 summits in two hours, only another 25,432 (approx.) to go.
Tom Parker & Isobel Allan
More than slightly depressed, Derek and myself drove through Llanbris Pass at midnight on Friday - not a glimmer of snow anywhere in the mountains around us. In the morning the cloud base was high and the mountains opposite the bunkhouse sported a few tantalising tendrils of ice high up on the flank of Clogwyn Y Parson.
Calculating the freeze level, and using the guidebooks excellent informationon the conditions required for each crag we decided to hit Black Ladders on the north side of Carnedd Dafyd. In two hours we had climbed the reservoir track, crested the col between Carnedd Dafyd and Carnedd Llewelyn and descended to the East end of the crag. Still no sight of snow, even tucked away in the gullies but the lower tiers of the crag had good build-ups of ice - certainly some good sport to be had here.
Having geared up, Derek led off up a great looking line, easy angled but with steeper sections to keep things interesting, all for about 80ft or so. The ice screw protection occasionally decked out on the rock below but the warthogs in the frozen turf were the business. I lead through and chomped up to an overhanging section with large free standing icicles - alas too thin to climb as they ?donged? ominously when I kicked them. Nevermind, off around the side, then an airy traverse above the lip of the overhang and at the same time under a bulge, traversing sideways on front points whilst squatting down and ducking under rock is quite interesting !!
At the top of this we spotted an obvious gully line with a good amount of ice hidden away, Vanishing Gulley as it turned out to be, looked to be a good exit to the top of the crag some 600 feet above us. We descended to the lower tier once again but the bottom of Vanishing Gulley was not in condition so we took the bottom of Play School, more II/III and then traversed over into the main gulley
This gave us a good section of grade IV ice which was pretty steep. I made the classic mistake of stepping too high, then had both feet skid out from under me at the same time to leave me momentarily hanging from two axes - slightly frightening you will agree. Several more easier pitches followed and we topped out at dusk on the Carnedd Dafyd.
The next day there was nothing else for it but to return to Black Ladders as conversations in the pub had not brought any other winter climbing conditions to light anywhere else in North Wales. This time we walked in from Bethesda, a longer approach with less height gain although taking the same time. This time we climbed a gulley line that we had seen the previous day on the opposite side of the crag. Again sections of easy ground and the odd grade IV kept us thoughly entertained.
A good weekends sport even if the concept of climbing water ice with no snow or other form of winter garb around you is slightly odd.
Trevor.
No, we didn't believe it either when the Snowdon Ranger said that there was definite ice in the area. Still, Trevor and I decided to make the mad dash down to Llanberis again last weekend, and there was the consolation that we had wimped out and booked a bunkhouse. Hardy souls were camping opposite the Vaynol Arms when we crept into the bunkhouse, downed a couple of beers and crawled into our nice warm down bags. The apparent lack of ice was a disappointment, but we did have the room to ourselves. Morning now, and its cold - and there IS ice. We can see the frozen fingers even from the bunkhouse door. So, Black Ladders it is then we both agreed. Some while later and a long walk from Ogwen and we were at the foot of the left hand side of the cwm, spoilt for choice. Desperate to climb we chose the nearest fall, probably Eastern Gully (200m, Grade III *) and nearly all there! Great stuff, and Trevor clearly looked pleased. A quick scramble back down and Pyramid Gully (200m, Grade IV **) was next on the list. Moreover, we had seen an extension taking us to the summit ridge of Carnedd Dafydd. Pitch after pitch of good ice, mostly in the grade III/IV category - this was going to be a classic day out. More and more excellent pitches with the odd bit of rough in between, but we were going well - in fact we should reach the top by nightfall! In fact we did - just. Crawling over the summit arete the mist (and dark) was building up and we just started the descent before visibility became a problem. Fortunately Trevor appeared to have memorised every rock on the way up (even though I was convinced we were on a different course) and it wasn't too long before we located the reservoir road and began the long descent back to the valley. So we had a late meal, but that didn't stop us drinking a whole bottle of wine and the odd pint or two in the pub. We even planned another day at the Black ladders! This time, however, we decided on the alternative way in from Bethesda. This brought us to the right hand cwm and the prospect of climbing Icefall Gully (360m, Grade III/IV *), Urged on by another pair following behind we ploughed up the left hand route with Trevor trying hard to clear the ice down to bedrock on his lead. I think it was really intended to slow the party behind, and it seemed to have the right effect. But another superb route, pitches of III and IV with a combination of warthog and ice screw protection. It was rather a pity really when we exited into a steep choss filled gully (frozen fortunately), but at least we would be well down by nightfall! This time we traversed Carnedd Dafydd and even had to get the compass out to find the way home.
So maybe there wasn't any snow, and maybe the top and bottom pitches were really frozen turf, but so what, we had a great weekend.
Derek 5th February 1998
Has anyone been to, heard of or climbed at Brimham Rocks in Yorkshire ?. Graham and I ventured up to Windy Yorkshire for a few days holiday in February and came across what can only be described as the nearest thing to Fontainbleau we've seen this side of the channel. Brimham Rocks is a National Trust area near Pately Bridge in Yorkshire (probably about an hours drive from Malham Cove). It has plenty of parking, a café and loos and appears too good to be true. Having immediately purchased a climbing guide to the area (Yorkshire Gritstone) it became apparent that this is one spot the Thompsons will be returning to. There are a wide variety of graded climbs , from E grades for the roughy toughy's to a diffs, v diffs, severes etc for the rest of us. The area also lends itself to bouldering as much of the climbing available is on boulders, some of which are larger than others. All this and in very pleasant surroundings. I would like to suggest the club look into the possibility of having a meet up there. I know its five hours drive but it may be worth it. If anyone is interested we took a few pictures of the area and have the guide book.
Danielle
There was a sunny day in February which coincided with an impromptu club meet at Harrisons for a little of the sandy stuff. Routes where conquered in questionable style whilst Gary's "climber of the future" found varied and interesting places to put used tea-bags. Being super fit and keen we all retired to the pub at lunch time along with the entire population of Kent. In amongst the social chit chat a mantra of "Under Rockes" emerged which forced the followers to form a convoy to the crag that climbers forgot. The overland safari and trail blazing through overgrown jungle lead the intrepid few to a rare delight, a "new" sandstone crag. Like children at Christmas this gift was unwrapped at speed, the best routes toyed with and cast to one side with cries of delight or despair. Happy days.
Well, what has happened during 1997? Firstly, the world has been travelled by various Club members - Africa, the USA, South America, Spain, the Alps and the Himalayas, not to mention the many UK based locations. Records have been broken - as well as people (two wrists at the last count) - and new adventures had. Richard, for example, has been initiated into ski-mountaineering and has caught a heavy dose of the highly infectious ice-climbing bug. Trevor is back on the climbing scene after sampling the soft touch of newly married life, braving Wales and Scotland, as well as places less far afield. John is still challenging the heights in every continent imaginable (although he's not been to South America or Antarctica yet!). Ian has shamefully taken to climbing nothing higher than bar stools. Pete and Angie have been to every climbing venue in the UK where dog has been before - and, more importantly, is still prepared to go again. Sandy has completed both the S-N and E-W Cuillin traverse - surely not the first to do so? and invested in his own personal climbing wall (well almost, he has got the bits!). Don continues to delight with his swimming exploits (but I thought that he was a climber?) and Rupert seems to have established a tick list of toilet seats - eh?? Both Steve and Gary are hoping for entries in the Guinness Book of Records; when they eventually find a way to get back from the Severn Bridge in 15 minutes, although Colin is trying for his own individual entry of vomit-lobbing, assisted only by the prior imbibing of Robinson's bitter. Martin (of Pierre fame) has found `true grit' and joined the chewed-up-hands anonymous group. Mr Keen (haven't heard that term for a long time) has done everything, but is still on the lookout for new opportunities - purportedly with the active support of his wife, so she must have a good insurance policy! Lynn has taken to the new sport of rock dodging (not recommended), but then perhaps Harvey has taken out a lucrative insurance policy? There is even rumour that one member has forsaken camping for the decadence of a camper van, although it would be unfair to name the individual concerned. But what else I hear you all ask? Well, maybe we can make this into a serial, or is it series?
Anonymous