Extracts from Newsletter 24
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Well, after a 6.00 a.m. start we slid up the black ice to the M25 and M1 to reach the 'North' at 10.00 a.m (picking up the terrorist at Toddington services on route). We ended up going to Burbage North, Absolutely stunning, snow on the ground, a low sun warming the rock...
Warmed up on the boulders near the car park ...mmmm nnnice. Soloed some diffs including one on an arete with lovely two handed jugs that I had to do several times, it was that good, damn good.
OK time to lead something now... knowing that grit has a reputation for being 'sick 'ard' and under graded and having only ever lead one other HVS, I thought "that's where I'll start".
Knights Move was chosen and off I tottered. Wow, this grit is so 'grippy', so unlike sandstone. Up to the first crack now, silly RP placement, up a bit. More gear, less room for fingers.. up to the crux now. "You'll probably deck it from there Waghorn!" shouts my helpfull belayer. "FUCK OFF!" comes the terse reply. Thwack, in goes a friend, clip. Udge..foot up a bit... slopey hold, slopey hold... good hold. And there we are...my first grit HVS. We then find the climb in the old guide book where it's graded VS 4c which I'd say is about right (says the experienced HVS climber). Finished with a second up Long, tall Sally. Grrreat. A good lead by the long,tall Pete.
More bouldering, the most dangerous activity of the day being walking on snow in rock boots, much bruising of arses and egos. Tea and shopping followed, bought one of them kiddie carrier things with the full weather options kit.
Ian Waghorn
All thoughts of cold and wet are dispelled! This weekend is the first that I’ve not had my life preordained for me ... so I went climbing. I first went to the best climbing wall and asked where there would be people climbing on the real stuff. After a brief conflab they decided on BARREN JOEY. So I went there. 30 mins drive from Sydney centre, the walk in along a white sand beach and climbing on brilliant rock, just like Derbyshire gritstone (grippy as hell, horizontal breaks, ripples to smear on). Met a couple of English guys and had a brilliant days climbing. Lead Liquid Insanity and nearly fell off Pan-Pacific Wall (good pro? Bollocks) and ended the day, of course, swimming in the surf.
Enthuse, enthuse, enthuse. There is climbing everywhere! There are several major crags within Sydney City limits - within ½ hours drive with enough climbing to keep you going for a year. And if you go to the Blue Mountains (1 hours drive) there’s BIG climbing, 10 pitch classics, just loads of it. I could climb there for 2 to 3 years and not travel out of the State. People are still putting up new routes at V. Diff level! There is so much unclimbed rock!
There’s another thing I’ve got to get into - “canyoning”. It’s like caving but without going underground. Loads of it in the Blue Mountains.
Oh yer! Got a brilliant job, bought a car, got a flat, ordered a new Harley, all the usual day to day shit.
Barney
P.S There’s also loads of really good, cheap vino!
Plan it : Due to small children waking up every few hours at home, a weekend camping with Steve Harris and Rob Hook (an ex-member) seemed appealing, a good night’s sleep if nothing else.
Sadly sleep was not on the agenda in the Lake district either. We pitched our tent in complete calm only to wake in wind and Steve's tent had metamorphosed into a flag. Had he used a Tesco carrier bag instead of a fly sheet? No, but he hadn’t put in enough guy ropes.
Do It: Steve had wanted to reduce his “peaks over 600 metres list” left to climb, and so a trip to the Newlands Valley to gain the ridge for Robinson, Hindscarth and Dale head seemed pretty straight forward until we hit the high wind, rain and low cloud at the summit of Robinson. That and our complete inability to keep to the path meant that we where soon lost and wandering. Eventually we remembered the compass confirmed the aspect of the slope and contoured the ridge and descended while we were confident it was the right valley. We stayed low level for the rest of the day, enjoying the view from Cat Bells.
Review it: Back at the campsite it was obvious that another night in Steve's tent was out of the question, two of the four poles where split, so down it came and down the pub we went to drink beer.
Steve opted for the discomfort of his car and I moved into Robs “Hyperspace” for the second night, which on the face of it looked comfortable, until the winds started again. It was a different type of wind this time and I remembered why I had opted for Steve's tent in the first place.
The next day the rain was permanent and a vote showed a dramatic swing from keen hill walker to Lounge Lizard, so home we went but as always ready to do it again, because it was fun.
Alastair Cochran
Suzanne and myself spent a week in Saas Fee in the Swiss Alps in August last year, after I had managed to persuade her that stomping up a 4000m peak would be good training for her Kilimanjaro trip the following month.
With the weather forecast good for the next few days we caught the cable car from Saas Fee village up to the Plattjen and then plodded to the Britannia Hutte at 10,000ft in a couple of hours with rucksacks that felt far heavier than I remember from previous alpine trips. Damn should have done some training after all !
Having packed the sacks that evening (and rigorously done the “will we need it ?”, “probably... well maybe not”, “leave it behind then” test) we cunningly set the alarm clock for 4:00am; 30 minutes or so before the rest of the hut was due to rise. Thus breakfasted and geared up first we had that special feeling of isolation as we headed down the path to the glacier leaving those foreigner types to blunder around in the hut. The night sky was lit by a million stars, the silence only broken by boots on the ice and steady breathing, faintly looming mountains and sweeping glaciers in the twilight - awesome.
Alpine climbing is about tactics. It’s always best to stay in front of the rabble so they don’t kick things on your head. That said, do you gear up early and let them catch up or keep ahead and maintain the initiative; Suzanne’s inexperience meant we had no choice. However this worked to our advantage - the rabble lead the way through the crevasses of the first glacier and we duly followed, only to be back in front when they had to stop for crampons when the going got too steep. Nice one ! A cunning route through the bergshrund (if a little scary) and we topped out on a rock ridge.
We descended onto another glacier and walked, jumped crevasses , walked loads more, watched the sun rise, walked more and finally reached the Alderjoch, the col between the Strahlhorn and the Rimpfischorn. The snow arete forming the North ridge of the Stralhorn looked beautiful with graceful interlacing ice slopes and snow bulges - amazing, although grossly foreshortened. At 13,000ft we were really feeling the altitude - having had no acclimatisation what-so-ever, walking was seriously hard work.
Plod - is the name of the game. Forty paces at a time, two breaths per pigeon step and then stop for a rest. Totally knackering but spurred on by some of the foreign rabble that had caught and passed us and a few peanuts and sips of water to revive the spirits we finally reached the summit - no more up after six hours hard graft !!
A sharp rocky ridge with steep ice faces on either side - classic stuff and no rabble to spoil it. Stunning panoramas with views 70 miles to the Mont Blanc massif and beyond, cloud in the Italian valley’s - seemingly the world at your feet - nothing beats being on top of a 14,000ft peak.
Just do it !
Trevor
This trip was organised at the last minuet in panic fashion by trawling through teletext and phoning holiday cowboys. After ages we actually came up with a company who was willing to sell us a holiday. Lincoln where magic and organised a hire car for us as well (but watch out for the holiday insurance - The BMC is cheaper).
Eddie and I met at Heathrow to find that our aeroplane was broken. Not only that but the replacement plane was bust as well. 4 hours later we managed to become airborne. Meanwhile at Plama airport Egan just had to wait and wait. Finally we arrived, found out we where staying in Santa Ponca, picked up the hire car, broke the mirror, hid Egon (the holiday company didn’t know about him), checked into our apartment and checked out the accommodation and hit the town to sample the delights of the “Brit. in Blue Rinse” authentic English pub, fill ourselves with San Miguells and to eat Chinese food. Tomorrow we climb!
We had two guidebooks - the old rock fax guide and the Chris Craggs “Rock Climbs in Majorca”. One turned out to be reasonably accurate and the other a little strange on the grading. After a substantial guidebook consultation we headed for the village of Calvai to start our Spanish rock extravaganza. The first route, unnamed in the guidebooks, had lots of bolts close together, just the way I like it and as we all had a go at leading, the way that Eddie and Egon like it too! Next came “Extrafina” (6a+) which Eddie lead and left my fingers aching. The next couple of routes (Tu Polla me Enrolla (6a), Jota Jota (6b)) were of a similar character and allowed Eddie & Egan to lead them with grace and style. The Limestone here is similar to the stuff at Pembroke only sharper. After the first days climbing my boots where trashed. Later that night I realised my spare boots where still in England.
In my opinion the best climbing on the island is at Su Gubia. The area is divided into various sector and we started at Silicona which is characterised by pumpy, short and slabby routes. We started on the nice, easy but polished Haway (4+) to prepare ourselves for Lulu (6a+), Proteina Vegital (6a) and Totom Fa el que (6a+). Egan’s off route climbing tactics on these routes kept us giggling for hours. After all this excitement we moved to the Excalibur sector to climb Excalibur (5+, 5+), and what an adventure that was! Egan lead the first pitch which was definitely under graded for the short. Eddie lead the second pitch, an easy chimney followed by a series of bulges and then a vertical crack which induced some trouser filling exposure. This is a magnificent climb, a “must” for anybody visiting the area.
Tuesday was rock-god day. The ‘Roof Climbs ‘r’ Us’ team headed to Valdemassa, a road side crag with a huge roof. Like true sport climbers we “warmed up” on Sulpi (5+) before E&E braved the huge roof of Sostre den Burot (6c+) and alarming lower off into the oncoming traffic and I took photos like a true belay bunny. Whilst we basked in our reflected glory and congratulated ourselves on such a fine effort some German climber sauntered along and made the whole thing look so easy.
The next day we returned to Su Gubia, this time to the Princessa sector so that I could lead a few routes before trotting across the valley to the Paret dels Coloms sector to Climb Comechoros. The first pitch is a 4+ up to the base of an oval shaped cave. The route then takes the left hand side of the cave at about 6a or 6b+ if you have short legs. It was at this point that I decided that Eddie and Egan could do the rock god stuff. For the finial route of the day I played rock Buddha whilst E&E ascended Alfo Savage (6b) to have a look at its “interesting” sit down rest possibility on a tufa!
It had to rain on one day but why did it have to wait until we arrived at the sea cliffs at Santanyi before tipping down. There was nothing for it, we had to be tourists for the day!
On our last day we wanted to go LARGE!! We picked a four pitch monster in the Polla Boba Sector at Su Gubia. La Ley del Deso (5,5,4+,5) did not disappoint. Brilliant climbing in beautiful sunshine and fantastic views. It was slightly marred when we met a group of descending Germans, needless to say better practice may prolong their lives! Our final route was the 1st pitch of Isla Bonita (6b+) which I eventually managed to second. The start was very fingery with not a lot for your feet, an interesting climb and I’m sure we will be back to finish it off.
We rounded off the day in Santa Panca for Beer, Food and Sangria and started to plan our next visit. You coming?
Martin Upfold
Christmas Day
The day started with Trevor and myself still big fish little fish & cardboard boxing in the Nevis Sport Bar at 2 o'clock in the morning. We arrived back at the Alex Macintyre hut at around 02-30 Hrs so that we could get an early night ready for Trevor "ALARM" Clarke's bloody alarm clock to wake us at 06-30 Hrs. One protest, one cup of tea & one bowl of porridge later and we were jumping into the motor and heading for Achintree, all the gear having been packed the previous night to save time. The first hour was a bit of a blur as I hadn't quite woken up fully at this point. The new pair of leather climbing boots were doing great, no soreness or discomfort (these could be the ones). The walk in was via the tourist route until we reached the track leading to the CIC hut to where we could see which routes were in condition or not. Unfortunately there had been a lot of avalanche activity in the area so Prudence and Trevor decided that we should make our way to the summit via the Carn Mor Dearg Arete. Much easier said than done, the snow fields were very thick and heavy with snow which made progress very slow and tiring.
Visibility kept closing in and the wind kept picking up distributing spindrift in all directions which made the climb up rather interesting. Reaching the brow of the Carn Mor Dearg Arete left us very exposed so we didn't hang around for long but made tracks once again for the summit. Reaching the summit on Christmas Day was such a great experience especially when we reached the relative comfort of the shelter and could indulge in a quick bite to eat and drink. After a short break and obligatory photo shoot we headed back down towards the car. The walk down was rather relaxed after the climb up, and we reached the car just as it started to get dark (perfect timing). On arrival back at the hut we discovered that we had been joined by one lone walker and half a dozen members of the Hertfordshire Climbing Club who invited us to join them for Christmas dinner. Could life get any better?
It only remains for me to Thank Trevor for a most enjoyable and informative Christmas break.
As for the boots they went back to the shop the following week.
Dave Tilley / Trevor Clarke.
Spurning Christmas excesses, Steve, Jenny, Phil and myself sped up the M6 on 26th December to begin the annual winter pilgrimage to Scotland. Trevor, suffering a bad case of ice-climbing fever, was already there on arrival (and was still there on leaving!), despite only just back from an earlier trip. Fortified by tea and toast, and the debrief over, we agreed on Stob Coire nan Lochan in Glen Coe the next day. Steve and I decided on Dorsal Arete (120m, normally Grade II but more like Grade III on this occasion) and led off, with Jenny and Phil following behind. Protection was poor and the ice scant (lots of hardish snow), but armed with warthogs and the occasional peg we gradually got to the top of the climb and descended in high winds via the north ridge. Our other pair aborted as daylight faded and descended via Broad Gully, but still a good effort since it was Jenny’s first time with ice axe and crampons.
The next day we decided on Aonach Mor and took advantage of the Gondola to gain most of the height. Using feminine charms Jenny got even higher by hitching a lift on a piste groomer, while the rest of us walked to the eastern corrie. The guide book warns of large cornices later in the season, but the ones that we saw in December looked remarkably impressive to me, so heaven knows what they are like later on! Moreover, the snow slopes leading down to the climbs looked a bit suspect after the recent snow falls (in fact, the scene of several deaths the following day). Taking a high line Steve and I crossed to the north-east ridge and dropped down to the foot of the cliffs. Jet Stream (100m Grade IV+) looked the obvious line, and just had to be climbed. Leading up the starting gully the first ice-screw was placed, followed a little later by a confidence quiver, hasty retreat and rethink (at this point we did not know either the route or the grade!). Another attempt, one more ice-screw and all was well. Belaying from an ice stake and two axes Steve was brought up for pitch two. A difficult ice pitch this one (even the indomitable Steve quailed), but after an hour clearing most of the ice from the climb (onto you know who) he eventually scoured out a hollow and bashed in a warthog. At this point we could see Trevor and Dave on the adjacent climb and it became obvious that they were about to join our route. On reaching Steve several options existed, but none looked easy and Steve was somewhat unhappy about the belay. Climbing to the left provided a bomber thread runner, but subsequent progress involved bridging across a bare vertical wall while trying to pull up on a single axe hooked over a capping stone. Desperate stuff this, but it was eventually surmounted and it was a relief to drive home a solid ice-stake runner. Of course we both thought that this would be the top, but an ominous looking cornice loomed 5m above the ice slope with at least a 2m overhang! Traversing left reduced this to a 3m cornice with 1m overhang, but its consistency was similar to icing sugar and there was no gear with which to protect it. Seeing Phil on the north-east ridge (where he was bringing up a none-too-happy Jenny) suggested the possibility of a top rope, rather than a very lengthy tunnelling operation, so hauling was the eventual way off. Steve followed in similar fashion, followed by Trevor, and eventually Dave. An ignominious finish, but a superb route; the hardest that I have done in fact.
The next day we visited the Hidden Valley in Glen Coe and had another fine day climbing the 230m Grade I/II Gully B on Gear Aonach. After keeping out of the gully proper lower down the snow gradually firmed up to provide excellent climbing to the summit ridge. The short crux pitch at half height providing just enough ice to enliven the day’s entertainment.
Derek
11 January 1999
Everyone knows it rains in the winter. Everyone knows it rains in Wales. So why, when we arrived at our carefully selected, bottom of valley, campsite, were we surprised to find a big flowing river instead of the a field? In such circumstances the pub is the only option and here we happily met the others. I stress ‘happily’ as not only had they met the warden of the Gwydyr Hut but had him assuring that a dry roof and bed would be provided for the twelve of us. Top Man!
Saturday morning and more good news - SNOW!! All that rain had
been good for something. We packed our sacks and raced over to
Snowdon. We walked, as a group, along the Miners Track, snow
underfoot, sun up above. What a result! As the path steepened we
separated into two groups; Martin, Catherine and Phillipa
continuing up to the summit with a planned descent via Lliwedd
and the rest of us traversing over to the base of the Trinity
Face ready for some winter routes. Dave and Lucy took the Left
Hand route topping out by the summit cairn. Derek, Harvey and
Newell took the right hand route and Trevor and I took the
Central Route (descriptive if not imaginative route names),
ascending up the centre of the face and traversing across on the
last pitch to also finish at the cairn. Vague intentions of
regrouping with the others at the top were soon
abandoned in the face of howling winds and we decided to descend
via Crib Goch but more of that elsewhere…
We reached the car park as it became truly dark (as opposed to practically dark), fully expecting to be the last down. We were surprised to meet Graham and Danielle and discover that in fact we were first. 'Where are the others?' we asked ourselves. The answers to that one are diverse and many, some of which include the use of head torches and some not - but I'm not telling. Eventually we all returned to the hut - STARVING! 'Dave's moving his car' was all it took for eleven people to grab their coats and jump into it. Two short but cramped minutes later beer was in my hand. Eleven in a Discovery - that's quite impressive but not as good as twelve. The return journey saw the addition of Martin cunningly slid in across the laps of those on the back seat, feet in Derek's face and purring with the delight of beating our current record (I think)! And my personal congratulations to Land Rover on the installation of the most comfy glovebox seat imaginable.
The following day saw - MORE SNOW!! This was too good to be true - the sensible among us raced back to Snowdon and back up to Trinity, swapping routes. This time we did all regroup but, in a horizontal hail storm, this was not exactly a social occasion! The descent was quickly made, goodbyes said and plans proposed. 'Trevor's Hard Man January Wales thing?' - what do you say to February, chaps and chappesses?
Sarah
Crampons on and axe at the ready I negotiated my way to the base of our route - Trinity Central. Uncertain of what was to follow I watched Trevor climb up the gully to a large boulder and disappear out of view. 'Face Outwards' I heard him shout and, assuming he was pointing out the magnificent view, I followed his path. What I found when I reached the boulder was a hole up the back containing the rope and rather a lot of dripping snow. Remembering someone telling me Trevor had done some caving, I suddenly deduced the true meaning of 'Face Outwards' and proceeded to feed myself upwards and backwards through this slot. After some thrashing around with the axe and some rather indelicate footwork, I ejected myself onto the next slope and continued up. By the time I had reached the first belay point, the process of clambering through and over the snow had hooked me and by the time we reached the top I had decided that although this may be hard work , it was a hell of a lot of fun.
With this in mind, the only realistic descent had to be via Crib Goch. To the uninitiated crampon user this is a baptism of fire but what I didn't know at the beginning I certainly did at the end. The whole procedure of scrambling along, combining feet and hands and axes with rock and ice and gusting winds should put any person into complete misery but it actually had the opposite effect and the concentration and careful negotiation required just added to the pleasure of being there.
All this only served to wet my appetite and the following day obliged, in the form of Right Hand Trinity. The first pitch (in fact much of the route) followed a 'spindrift waterfall' of varying intensity. This required a combination of ice axe skills with rockclimbing techniques and the weirdness of making moves
whilst balanced on crampon points has to be experienced to be believed. Pitch two gave more opportunity to put these new skills to the test and by this point I was getting really quite comfortable with using the axes - it's sort of like being able to choose where your hold will be and then deciding how you'll use it. Weird but Good. The route continued, giving a mix of snow slopes and more rocky sections and I eventually thrashed my way to the top, knackered, cold but having enjoyed myself immensely.
Sarah
Patch of hardcore, find your
space
between the minibus, van, espace
over the flytipped rubbish tread
abanded TV, sofa and bed.
Reaching 'rock' now, enjoy the view
of sailors doing the things they do.
More rubbish here, you'll even find
the smouldering remains of the BMC sign.
Now feel the rock, worn and smooth
friction dependant on deftness of move
familiar routes who like an old friend
are getting older and weaker and nearer their end.
Stroke the rock and hug the trees
witches are found in places like these
and kids who carve their names and get pissed
and horses are ridden and lovers are kissed.
but make no mistake and learn this well
it's climbers who've made this an eroded hell.
Never take rock as your god given right
this sandstone didn't appear overnight.
Millions of years it took to form
water, wind and fire torn.
Then climbers came and in the last breath
chipping, grooving, erosion, death.