1. Antarctic Climber
2. Caingorms weekend
3. Welcome to the asylum
4. Climbs Hard
5. Mountain Boarding
Antarctic Climber
Jean and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary last year and decided to mark the achievement by going on the holiday of a lifetime.
I had climbed on six of the seven continents and had been wondering how I could get onto the seventh to complete the set. Apart from Kilimanjaro, Jean had missed out on all of these trips so I was anxiously looking for something we could do together when Jagged Globe came up with their new 'Antarctic Climber' expedition. This is a ship based expedition catering for climbers, divers, kayakers, photographers and Jean! Ideal.
So early December we left a dark and gloomy England and 36 hours later arrived in Tierra del Fuego at Ushia, the most southerly town in the world. Ushia started life as a penal colony when there were still the Yamani natives living there as they had done for centuries. Amazingly in that cold climate (it was mid-summer when we were there and the snow line on the surrounding mountains was only 2000 ft.) they lived naked, keeping warm with perpetual fires wherever they went, including in their dugout canoes. Hence 'Land of Fire'.
There is a delightful national park just outside Ushia bordering with Chile and we spent an interesting day walking, about recovering from the long journey, looking at the scenery, the surrounding mountains, the wildlife, the beaver dams and just revelling in being there. A particular delight (and we're Thomas the Tank Engine fans) was a trip on the most southerly train in the world - a steamer.
Our ship was an ex-Russian spy trawler refitted to take 55 passengers plus the Russian crew and the tour support personnel - which included two climbing guides (International Guide Dave Walsh and Greg Mortimer, the first Australian to climb K2), a diving master, a kayak leader, a professional photographer and a biologist - along with Kiwi cooks and a British barman.
The most important feature for Jean however was that the ship was only 75m long and we were about to face the worst sea passage in the world and to round the most notorious cape of all - Cape Horn in little more than an outsize rowing boat (at least in her mind).
We set sail in the evening down a calm Beagle Channel and entered Drake's Passage for the two day crossing. Soon the wind picked up and a force 8 gale was tossing the little ship around (the roll indicator on the bridge regularly reached 30 degrees). Jean still hasn't forgiven me - while she was suffering in her bunk, I was revelling on the bridge watching albatrosses and cape petrels playing among the huge waves!
And all the less so when I rushed down excitedly to tell her of the rare sight she had missed. A bottlenosed dolphin had been basking on the surface with its retinue of sea birds when a black triangle appeared way off cutting rapidly through the waves. Suddenly the well known black and white shape of a killer whale sliced momentarily out of a wave, moving with deadly purposefulness. Then, just beneath us, it erupted out of the sea and smashed into the dolphin's side leaving a sea filling with spurting blood. As the ship left the scene we saw several other black fins moving in to feed. Awesome!
To escape the gale we called in at the South Shetlands, a group of islands that are a breakwater for the Antarctic Peninsular. We landed in a number of places to see the amazingly plentiful wild life. The most interesting was Deception Island, a semi-active volcano forming a C shaped caldera where you can bathe in the 'warm' water and see the desolation and ghastly mess of an abandoned whaling station, complete with an air field, hangar and spare aircraft engines!
Everywhere we saw seals and penguins and birds nesting. Penguins are delightful and I spent hours simply watching them waddling purposefully along their highways, playing in the surf, greeting each other on their nests and - yes - watching them mate. The position assumed was one I had never dared suggest to Jean and certainly was one I had never seen proposed in those handy manuals you (possibly) read as a teenager. What I really liked was, after it was all over, the pair stood up, faced each other, stretched up as high as they could, shook their heads and then, and this is the bit that is really great, solemnly bowed deeply in appreciation to each other. If you want romance, make love to a penguin!
"Hey" I hear you say, "what about the climbing?" Well we donned crampons, girded (?) our ice axes and set off for the shore in Zodiacs to climb four times. A multitude of mountains line the sea shore of the Peninsular, most of them are unclimbed and range roughly from 200 to 6000 ft. In a way it is like Scottish winter climbing with a lot more snow plus crevasses.
The first two peaks we attempted turned us away, defeated on the summit ridge by howling gales which made it foolhardy to stand on top. The third mountain was a sheer delight. The weather was variable and so was the terrain making for an interesting and, at times, quite steep ascent to the summit ridge. With only a moderate wind we worked our way along this long winding, narrow and undulating ridge to reach the summit of an unclimbed peak at just over 3000 ft.
Back on board we cracked open the champagne and toasted our mountain. The trouble is, I can't remember what we named it !
The fourth mountain was summited in beautiful sunshine with no wind at all. Delightful.
The Antarctic weather can change rapidly. One day we woke up to find the ship deep in snow and an icy wind blowing. Regardless, we set off to find an iceberg for some ice climbing. We found one that had turned turtle and was grounded with a 'U' shape giving a nursery slope on one side of the U and a tricky overhang on the other. As the morning progressed and we improved so did the weather until, on returning to the ship, we found lunch laid outside on the foredeck in bright sunshine.
After lunch we set off in the zodiacs to visit an old English base, now preserved as a museum. Fascinating. They even had old copies of Men Only. As a callow youth I used to sneak guilty peeks at the pictures of the almost naked girls inside. Nowadays you see more on page three - but boyo there isn't the same thrill.
Afterwards we dropped into the nearby Ukranian base which discovered the hole in the ozone layer. This was a British base which we sold to the Ukraine for £1 (cheaper than dismantling and removing it). It still has its pub and bar, but with home brewed vodka at $1 a massive shot plus a piece of dark chocolate. Yummy and moorish The ship put double the Russian crewmen on duty to help us off the zodiacs on our return!
Our last night in the Antarctic was spent ashore camping. A pure fun event with sofas, armchairs and a TV made out of snow. For one courageous couple it was their first ever camp (and, from what I overheard her say, it was also the last!). A diver swam over from the ship, dug a snow hole and settled for the night in just his dry suit. I asked him if he would be warm enough (it was around -15C). No problem was his reply - if I get cold I'll just jump into the iceberg strewn sea to warm up, its only -2C in there!
The sea was kinder to us on the return from the Antarctic, it started at Force 6 which, to Jean's relief, moderated as we approached Cape Horn to become dead calm. Astoundingly we were able to heave-to for half an hour under the towering rock of this most notorious and feared of all Capes. A wonderful ending to magic journey made particularly enjoyable by the superb staff and delightful fellow passengers.
Reg Clarke
CAIRNGORMS WEEKEND
So, a trip to Scotland requires at least a week to make it worthwhile, once you have taken into account the travel time there and back right? Wrong - not if your name's Stuart (or indeed Mick Fowler) - you leave mid Friday evening, drive through the night, arrive Saturday at about 7 in the morning, start climbing and continue virtually non-stop until it gets dark on Sunday, whereupon you leave, drive back through the night and arrive bright and fresh (not!) for work on Monday morning. Of course for the remainder of us mortals this can't quite work so an additional Friday and Monday had be added to the trip so that at least we could get some sleep in over the weekend.
Actually with four of us, Jo, Stuart, myself and Dave, all crammed into the luxury of Stuarts Volvo (well at least it's big) the overnight drive didn't seem too bad, and whilst I didn't actually sleep I did manage to doze most of the night - even through my driving stint I think.
We arrived at the gates to the Cairngorms Ski centre bright and early at around 6 in the morning, only to find that the Scots aren't as early risers as us, and we had to wait until about 8.30 before the road was cleared and opened so we could get to the Ski lodge car park to park up and head towards the crags. Stuarts comment of it's virtually roadside cragging was soon stretched to the limit as the walk in toward Coire nan Lochan stretched to an hour and then two struggling though snow varying in depth from a couple of centimeters to chest deep - Actually mostly the latter toward the end of the approach end as we made our way through the boulder field in the valley
At the base of the apron up to the crag itself we stopped again, and geared up properly. At this point I made the mistake of putting my sack on and then, realising I hadn't attached the rope to the sack asking Stuart to do so … We set off up the apron towards the base of the crag proper, which provided enjoyable scrambling up about grade II-ish ice, changing to scary loose steep powdery snow near the base of the crag. Don't fancy doing that again was my thought. Moving across to the belay at the base of the climb, disaster; my rope slipped out from its bindings on the outside of my pack we could only watch in horror as it slipped, slid and bounced all the way back down the slope we had just fought our way up. So we'll be back climbing unroped down that loose powdery soft avalanche prone snow then. Stuart and Jo carried on up the climb whilst Dave and I beat a retreat to retrieve the rope.
By the time we had picked the rope back up it was too late to consider starting back up again, so we decided to return to the nice warm ski lodge and sit drinking coffee until Stuart and Jo returned. Wrong again! Firstly as we started back a bitter wind started, blowing spindrift straight into our faces, plus the path we had followed in to the crag seemed to have completely disappeared, so the journey back out was a fight. Dave disappeared and got lost - one minute he was staggering along behind me, the next I looked around and there was no one in sight. I arrived back at the lodge just in time to have a coffee, Dave, getting in about three quarters of an hour after me arrived just in time to miss out as the café, and indeed the entire ski centre shut down leaving us to wait out in the cold wind in wet clothes for about an hour before Stuart and Jo reappeared.
Never mind the youth hostel was friendly and warm and the food, wine and company good.
Early next morning we set back out to the Ski lodge, this time intending to go for Coire nan t'Sneachda. Again we were among the first to arrive at the lodge, but very quickly there was a queue of people setting out to the crags. The walk in this time was somewhat easier and quicker, but still not exactly what some people would describe as roadside - a mere hour and a bit today. On arrival an icy wind picked up, and Jo deciding she was cold, and Dave nursing an injury incurred amongst the hidden boulders the day before elected to turn back, leaving Stuart and myself to climb. We set of up the apron, passing crowds of slower moving climbers on the way to claim a place at the base of 'The Runnel'.
The first couple of pitches in lower part of the gulley were reasonably straightforward - run out a full rope length up icy snow and frozen (ish) turf with maybe a couple of somewhat dodgy points of protection, then jam the axes into the snow for a psychological belay point to bring up the second kind of stuff. However the third and final pitch looked somewhat more intimidating - a chimney which the pair in front of us were having a real struggle with - in addition, once they had cleared the chimney they ran out of rope - theirs was a 55m, ours was one of Stuarts old hairy 50m hand me downs. Stuart was leading the pitch and soon disappeared into the depths of the chimney and out of site. I stood kind of balanced on the points of one crampon and half another, calves burning like mad until finally the rope came tight. No choice but to set off, hoping that neither of us would fall off too drastically before a suitable belay was found. The chimney itself was somewhat interesting - usually full of ice, it consisted of more of the loose powdery snow on rock, so an interesting mix of torquing, hooking and other mixed methods, not normally associated with grade II gulleys were required to get up it. Clearing out of the top of the chimney the top 15-20m of the climb was an enjoyable piece of icy snow. Beautiful clear blue skies greeted me as I got to the top.
We de-geared, and amused ourselves at the 'intelligent' comments from a scout leader trying to show off in front of his troop -"Those snow stakes must have been useless" um, no, they were just about the only / best bits of gear we placed. Then made our way back down the ski runs to the cafe - this time managing to arrive back in time to have a warming cup of tea before returning to the hostel
Overnight there was a dump of about 6" of snow, which, combined with high winds on the mountain prevented us from getting back to the crags, so we spent the day walking around a local lake, and amusing ourselves and local kids (both large and small) on a small snow slope with large plastic spoons and bivvy bags. Overnight again there was another foot or so of powdery snow - good for skiing - not so good for climbing so we went for a short walk just to stretch our legs and set off back south into the constant blizzard wondering if we'd ever make it - the radio was giving constant reports blocked roads and schools going home early due to heavy snowfall, however the Scottish highways people did a cracking job, and the only snow we saw on the roads was back across the border on the M6 in England.
Jim
Welcome to the Asylum
The Scottish winter climbing lottery again: just Eddie and me again this time, off to Fort William at the end of February. First off, an easy day on Aonach Mor to preserve some leg strength for the rest of the weekend. Everyone piled off the gondola, and yours truly was not pleased to find the 4-chair lift not working. Never mind - off we trudge. Cough! Hack! Wheeze! Clearly my cold is not yet better, but onwards and upwards. We go in a different direction to everyone else and get there first and so have the choice of routes. Our hearts' desire was White Shark (IV, 4 supposedly), which climbed a fine icefall up a big corner. Sadly the fine icefall was nothing more than an adolescent teenager of an icicle, lounging moodily under a roof.
Still, there looked to be a way across the left wall of the corner. Up a bit of ice to start, and in with a nice big nut, encouraged a little to stay in place with a few smart blows from the hammer. Now then - oh heck, this is steep! Up a bit on ice, then down a bit and start to hook across the left wall. Pull off a block, fortunately leaving another edge behind. Carefully, carefully moving feet. Stop and think, very precariously balanced. What can I move next and where will it get me? Keep on going. Falling off would definitely hurt now. Stop again. What next? There! Way out on the outside edge of the corner - a small foot sized ledge! Stretch and stretch - and on goes a foot. A bit of ice in reach! If it's rubbish I'm in deep trouble. Hope and swing an axe - 'Thunk!' - sounds and feels all right. Deep breath: take the other axe off the rock and smack that into the ice, and pull over onto the foot ledge. Move up a bit and relax! Eddie comes up into the corner and fights with the hammered in gear. Then all of a sudden one axe appears far higher up than the line I took, followed swiftly by a swinging body and another flashing axe (in that order). 'My legs aren't as long as yours,' he grins. Then Eddie's pitch, a narrowing groove that eventually forces him out right onto committing thin ice and a nasty step up, again on thin ice, until things become more reasonable to the top.
Saturday was Creagh Meaghaidh. We started walking at 7:15, which was almost four hours after the first party. 'Crowded' doesn't really do it justice. Our route, South Pipe Direct, had eight people on it, which was reasonable, plus the three on Staghorn Gully at the point where the routes crossed. Conditions were a little bizarre. The right side of the first icefall was running with water. The left side was hard and brittle. The next big pitch was perfect. The one after that was running with water, and the last was perfect. Beats me. Eddie found the best runner of the weekend by threading an icicle that was about three feet in diameter with his Sandstoner's Sling. I watched a spindrift avalanche howl down the gully past me, then meet the wind coming up, stop and roar back off up the gully. The weather was patchy and we finished in cloud, which then lifted to reveal the most magnificent views over miles and miles of unpopulated wilderness.
The weather was forecast to get worse and we elected to go to the Cairngorms next and by about 8:30 on Sunday found ourselves walking into a furious wind. At least our packs were lighter than the day before, but hell's teeth this was rough. Then it started to snow, and by the time we got to Coire an't Sneachda it was clearly not a place to be. We took cover behind a boulder to consider our plight and debate how much worse things would be on the crag. Are you mice or men? Eeek, eeek! Pass the cheese, again!
Monday was our last day and we had a flight to catch, which meant Aonach Mor again. The weather was gorgeous: blue skies and views for miles, but anything in the sun was streaming with water and bits were dropping off everywhere. Jet Stream was our target, but it was a pale, soggy shadow of its former self. Lurking in the shadows just to its left was Solar Wind, which looked do-able. Eddie agreed to do the first pitch, the main feature of which was a prominent chimney high up. I took a stance hiding behind a small rock buttress and Eddie moved round the corner and briefly out of sight. There was a pause while he placed some gear. In due course he reappeared at the top of some steep ice and moved into the chimney. The rope now hung free from him to wherever the gear was. He back-and-footed up the chimney until he could go no further. On the left wall, in front of him, was smear of ice that curled out over the top of the chimney. Eddie's front points went into a shallow horizontal crack, one axe and then the other into the ice: he committed to the left wall, contorted up a bit further, and got a foot behind him on the opposite wall. Then he moved the axes up further and stepped back onto the ice. At this point, both his feet went: the rope hung free for 40 feet before it went out of sight. A quick scrabble and the feet were back on, a few more moves and he was over onto easier snow. I began to breathe again.
As I moved round the corner, it became apparent that Eddie was a danger to the other patients. The gear that he had placed consisted off two ice screws in wet ice. Completely barking. Anyway, my turn. A bit of a non-event after Eddie's drama, save that the piece of ice I was relying on to aid my ascent fell off when I kicked it. Fabulous position, and cracking good fun on a top rope. At least V,5. Then my pitch - think 'slush puppy poured over rock'. So, as much dubious gear as possible, scrape the slush off and climb without axes, until a decent-looking bit of turf came in sight.
All in all then, a cracking weekend, during which Eddie passed his ice-climbing apprenticeship in style and became a fully-fledged member of the asylum!
Adrian
Climbs Hard
Climbs hard, now what the hell does that mean, I’ve heard that said from various people in the club such and such climbs hard, does it mean that a particular climber makes climbing harder than it needs to be I don’t think so, or does it mean a climber climbs only the hardest of routes so for instance if I climb E1 am I climbing hard? If I approached John Dunne and said "Hi John I climbed Flying Buttress Direct (E1) at Stanage at the weekend am I now climbing hard?" the big man would probably look at me and piss himself, so climbs hard does not mean that you climb in the E-grade. So what does it mean. Well I will tell you what I think it means and this is only one mans opinion, TO CLIMB HARD you must be climbing at the peak of your grade regardless of what it is, you would be trying to improve your technique, stamina, and knowledge of climbing, you will be looking to improve on the grade you are at, if your climbing 4a on sandstone and that’s climbing at the peak of your grade then you are my friend CLIMBING HARD, however you would not be climbing hard if 4a was your peak but you only really climb 3c. Some people don’t want to climb hard, some people are very content with the standard that they climb, I myself would also have to say that climbing hard does sometime mean climbing with the bottom of your Prana pants tied up to catch the odd bowel movement. But whatever you do try and enjoy it is after all only a leisure activity.
Wear you helmet, check your knots and ban the bomb
Gareth
MOUNTAIN BOARDING TAKING OFF IN SCOTLAND
Munro-bagging may never be the same again once the thrill of strapping an over-sized skateboard to your feet and hurtling down a hill at up to 50mph is discovered.
However, mountain boarding, the latest high-speed board sport to hit Scotland, may not appeal to everyone. The sport requires lots of coordination, and riding on a hard surface can have painful consequences when you fall.
Cracked ribs are common injuries though protective gear ought to shield the body from the hardest knocks. Despite this, 80,000 boards were sold in the UK last year and the sport is growing rapidly.
Most notably, rock climbers have adapted the sport to liven up dull descent paths after completing a climb. One enthusiast, Eddie Church of EGCC, “It’s sometimes a pain climbing an overhang with your board strapped to your back but it gives you a good adrenalin rush on the way down. The descent from the Dinas Cromlech was the best yet. I’d fitted the latest 40-spoke wheels with all-terrain Vertical-Pro 2.5” knobbly tyres, set a pressure of 2 bar to get the best grip possible on the scree, suspension travel was set to the max and I’d removed the board stiffers just in case. I was doing OK until I got near the road and noticed a bus coming down the hill. Wow man I pooped me pants, flipped a grind on the first boulder and cleared the road, dry stone wall and the river in one go. Unfortunately I landed in a bog the other side and it took Adrian 20 minutes to dig me out—cor what a smell. Yeah, a rush man!!!”