tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804795844240916562024-03-06T08:30:15.772+00:00Scottish ClimbersNeil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-2179257684478881162024-01-03T10:18:00.011+00:002024-01-03T16:32:17.496+00:00 Sognando aurora, Tofana di Rozes: 5 year blogging hiatus - long live the blog! <p>If ever there was a route that embodied the spirit of Fairly Long, Moderately Hard and Mostly Free, well<span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "avenir next", avenir, "helvetica neue", helvetica, ubuntu, roboto, noto, "segoe ui", arial, sans-serif" style="color: #334466; font-size: 1.1em;">,</span> damn, this is it!</p><p>If you've ever been to the Dolomites, you'll know the feeling of looking up at the wild expanses of rock between the classic aretes and cracks, thinking "does anything go up there"? And then you'll recall the looseness, lack of protection, route finding and general seriousness of the situations and probably back away, browbeaten, thinking - "nah, those faces are for the real heroes".</p><p>Are you a real hero?</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicWSs2eL0rX65Smv-vjMvUF8-mtvNsyf3Uz5rU7a_wugNk9UgDKJZtgEvv5Agm-PM9_lgvO_uMPWbErOmpfGNtGy6DO3QNQBoxx6jaXa6X-X4dXElwaJL-m5Wjig6iuSLnqEPMB0TZzo4Sjh8hr_MdCaJvuL9hpmTzq5x4AeRBgEIajXcgpcNh_rXWOTQ" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="1500" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicWSs2eL0rX65Smv-vjMvUF8-mtvNsyf3Uz5rU7a_wugNk9UgDKJZtgEvv5Agm-PM9_lgvO_uMPWbErOmpfGNtGy6DO3QNQBoxx6jaXa6X-X4dXElwaJL-m5Wjig6iuSLnqEPMB0TZzo4Sjh8hr_MdCaJvuL9hpmTzq5x4AeRBgEIajXcgpcNh_rXWOTQ=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A real hero: a local in his 60s casually soloing the Comici on Cima Grande</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I am not. I've had moments of relative boldness, and been on some big faces, but in reality I'm a fairly middling climber who dreams of air beneath his feat, and unlocking the mysteries of the unknown above. And I'm not getting any younger...</p><p>This year's plan for foreign adventure was a single week in the Dolomites with my mate Simon, who trains harder than me and has a better six pack than me (i.e. actually has one) but sometimes needs his enthusiasm tempered to keep him on the straight and narrow (aka not wandering off route onto the nearest E7).</p><p>I had signed up for this one as "master belayer, follower, potential jumarar and heavy pack carrier". He's been sewing the seeds for years, trying to get one of us to relent to his lofty dreams of attempting something big and hard in the alps, but as yet, none of us have been mad enough to oblige his desires. This time I submitted fully, and basically said "so long as there are no psycho traverses, seracs and nothing on the Eiger, I'm in". In the end we settled o the Dolomites. We've both, separately, done the Brandler-Hasse, and I'd also done ISO2000, which, despite it's terrible name, is a very good sister route to the BH and quite well bolted. That route was the gateway drug for me, when it comes to the modern face routes out there - plumb vertical to mildly overhanging, edgey, technical and intricate climbing smattered with bolts...but still with some good old runouts. Magic.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpF0MDjc-QZVf30JG9z8hAe1lsfhYZ77RehJ__LPiDibuzpj1ss6RSZLjonJLP5Giw87fEQEJwL1PADuu6nve-0m3GMUOAMiUIgXgDcIJVn4DxIIrWrbiGk1Y_0egHh_ZRP83tvhoipsId3TNYGWYvJvnfuaxbonc774vt7H3bci_MtyAiGbNmkft1mO0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1125" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpF0MDjc-QZVf30JG9z8hAe1lsfhYZ77RehJ__LPiDibuzpj1ss6RSZLjonJLP5Giw87fEQEJwL1PADuu6nve-0m3GMUOAMiUIgXgDcIJVn4DxIIrWrbiGk1Y_0egHh_ZRP83tvhoipsId3TNYGWYvJvnfuaxbonc774vt7H3bci_MtyAiGbNmkft1mO0=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy Inglis somewhere on ISO2000 back in 2015</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>In the run-up, we discussed the Fish (<a href="https://www.gulliver.it/itinerari/marmolada-attraverso-il-pesce/">Il Pesce</a>) on the Marmolada, but heavy rain at the start of the trip stacked the odds against it being dry enough on the first of the better weather days, and going later meant putting all eggs in that basket. We wanted something that could potentially give us top class outing, but without monopolising all our good weather days, leaving the option to go up to the Tres Cime and swing about on Camilitto Pelissier, a 500m 8a on the Grande. (I would be firmly in the belay seat for that one!)</p><p>We settled on going up to the Tofana de Rozes for a look. The main face where Sognando L'Aurora is positioned was still dripping, so we spotted <a href="https://www.ukclimbing.com/logbook/crags/tofana_di_rozes-2633/il_vecchio_leone_e_la_giovane_fifona-336413">Il Vecchio Leone e la Giovane Fifona</a> which is a shorter, 8 pitch, sportingly bolted/semi trad 7a. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFOBivxcdgNjyhLxCAVebY99JC3S0bBKR0FKLs3QxA8WbjLL2JAaSFRC_ZL1uMiRnr10qK5nQ15GXywH5kCOjcJ27eZlx-fYL7XFobsNUjO79BhE2Dr5uj3j9gT9sCVBYf-cJDUUITa200WiNrpxneEmof7YlZF4FehUCzhDYoxLzlq2PgLRLnyNTV4nw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2074" data-original-width="4608" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFOBivxcdgNjyhLxCAVebY99JC3S0bBKR0FKLs3QxA8WbjLL2JAaSFRC_ZL1uMiRnr10qK5nQ15GXywH5kCOjcJ27eZlx-fYL7XFobsNUjO79BhE2Dr5uj3j9gT9sCVBYf-cJDUUITa200WiNrpxneEmof7YlZF4FehUCzhDYoxLzlq2PgLRLnyNTV4nw=w400-h180" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tofana de Rozes, with large wet streaks still visible just above the treeline.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3VLyNuA_zlN0uULBOpQfC9xnrTXZikEpLaysbD-7yIwJBa7mzgtaxkCGKQ4daDwbIocIzvs1MTBrjYI3pXobdnhmsjYfptZVRbBAgyKZysmEsMV8C-_1C0uc8BsNAMocxlh_-aBmVNA4r_9py2Rm0WbdUjJc8eRDuttRBqIhMbsU3Q7dBm9OjYzw6UyY" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2679" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3VLyNuA_zlN0uULBOpQfC9xnrTXZikEpLaysbD-7yIwJBa7mzgtaxkCGKQ4daDwbIocIzvs1MTBrjYI3pXobdnhmsjYfptZVRbBAgyKZysmEsMV8C-_1C0uc8BsNAMocxlh_-aBmVNA4r_9py2Rm0WbdUjJc8eRDuttRBqIhMbsU3Q7dBm9OjYzw6UyY=w429-h640" width="429" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simon leading somewhere on Il Vecchio Leone e la Giovane Fifona, an excellent F7a on the Tofana de Rozes<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><p>Back the next day we went for the big one. Sognando l'Aurora, a relatively new (2005/2006) addition from <a href="https://www.planetmountain.com/en/routes/sognando-aurora-tofana-di-rozes.html">Massimo Da Pozzo and Marcello Menardi</a>, that snakes its way up through stupendous roofs and steep to overhanging walls of grey, pale yellow and orange dolomite. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgVJGfPHahI1b5tkYLnNIKHbm1EBMpUiL0eFuz4qbqRW4Jl3b8q441iqpo2t-jo2WGkFSp43kEOhRpx1r2tp2YucFCYzgeUnAjsrbd-1DLQPkAyMPib4I1Mr3wSWjRcMUogELC4CGZ6Od_vqN2Qsyl8BIbXxlAkSH4siFPg-jhLnVwscg7-eaz_-fFyb-o" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgVJGfPHahI1b5tkYLnNIKHbm1EBMpUiL0eFuz4qbqRW4Jl3b8q441iqpo2t-jo2WGkFSp43kEOhRpx1r2tp2YucFCYzgeUnAjsrbd-1DLQPkAyMPib4I1Mr3wSWjRcMUogELC4CGZ6Od_vqN2Qsyl8BIbXxlAkSH4siFPg-jhLnVwscg7-eaz_-fFyb-o=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>The first four pitches are wandering, minimally bolted and surprisingly taxing. It took us a while to identify the start - no bolts in sight! At a maximum given grade of 6b, they should really fly by but we were a bit slower than we would have liked, and we overtaken by a speedy duo from Spain/Italy up a parallel, more classic but slightly harder line. No worries, they were off and away above.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZpL1vhp8_Zj_Mb_E_y7AmuAB1jEgQxVZPCNNTsG6_yWq1LV469JIqLoFH3YYDbRJAmVqOxgeh4orthYqA0HdifXET1W2WzE-OxQCLTvqLMPZvnlskCoGdkh5YziNbGqWfux3PpUTuiu8iu4b0hIZLYnmA7UONa6qKz7m9P3nfZ-571yMjJ8TAGUEy_G8" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZpL1vhp8_Zj_Mb_E_y7AmuAB1jEgQxVZPCNNTsG6_yWq1LV469JIqLoFH3YYDbRJAmVqOxgeh4orthYqA0HdifXET1W2WzE-OxQCLTvqLMPZvnlskCoGdkh5YziNbGqWfux3PpUTuiu8iu4b0hIZLYnmA7UONa6qKz7m9P3nfZ-571yMjJ8TAGUEy_G8=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3rd? Pitch of the lower slabs - long runouts with little chance of extra gear and unobvious route finding.<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYMz9a85VbbEBIdswdSYdJy4udK-7DROTP_i67sMw_pFjeKVuc9g4hg6GZuzAgpWC4_TexWhwuC8fPuB8SAz9X3dG8Sdbp0W1a7YebrdUTZ9GqZ5W8V9xkJxkV3x6xkSmA_KVCT3W918NmF3fDShcFL363XlReXVUwziYBv72ANo35X1RY-Ta32gFx5i4" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYMz9a85VbbEBIdswdSYdJy4udK-7DROTP_i67sMw_pFjeKVuc9g4hg6GZuzAgpWC4_TexWhwuC8fPuB8SAz9X3dG8Sdbp0W1a7YebrdUTZ9GqZ5W8V9xkJxkV3x6xkSmA_KVCT3W918NmF3fDShcFL363XlReXVUwziYBv72ANo35X1RY-Ta32gFx5i4=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simon leading the last of the lower slabs, with the upper yellow walls looming above.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>The first of the steeper pitches was quite long, rightward trending, and doesn't take the line direct above the belay bolts, but actually is 5m right on a second set (not marked on the Rushforth/Rockfax topo, which is plain misleading and clearly hadn't been adequately fact checked - the planetmountain topo is accurate). An enjoyable, little bit pumpy, but fairly mellow pitch and a great warm up for what's to come...</p><p>Simon led the 6c, which was more of the same, with a traverse left over the lip of the first massive roof - really starting to feel the air beneath you, and looming roofs above.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMYh4YbBHdqtYMrG1KbS9HWAvA_H9TmrYDUIEvR_5a4pok2wFw3SJ0cUviYkWtRaZFC8Eu6hr0fFi953oYBQDgROLsD4UiByiACpevMKpIC1zPUREPctdhynHKTGor2YUTEy-J8d-_jXZ380aUFlo6dgoD6RvtcW0nIvDYwfwJhwduaH3HWENWfwsVlME" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMYh4YbBHdqtYMrG1KbS9HWAvA_H9TmrYDUIEvR_5a4pok2wFw3SJ0cUviYkWtRaZFC8Eu6hr0fFi953oYBQDgROLsD4UiByiACpevMKpIC1zPUREPctdhynHKTGor2YUTEy-J8d-_jXZ380aUFlo6dgoD6RvtcW0nIvDYwfwJhwduaH3HWENWfwsVlME=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simon on P6, 6c, weaving through the roofs.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I took over for the first 7a pitch, which eased you in to a fairly forceful move, then some steady crimping above. I followed the chalk of the team ahead, which led you directly up to a loose ledge, requiring a little care and a bit of a runout. From the belay you could see the line we should have taken, which actually moves a little right from the last bolt, via another bolt and some more face climbing, oh well.</p><p>Next up was the first stern test - the first of two 7b+ pitches. The sun was warming the face nicely, and the slightly chilly start was long behind us. The team ahead had taken a couple of falls and pulled through, which was ominous given their speed and fluidity on the lower ground. Simon was clearly both nervous and motivated, sizing up the fingery and technical traverse, pull through a roof and fierce slab above. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5Lg_2uetD-hQ0gbGYYjl_wGlYy7ZJoz3E8V0swGE9bJUlCTDHQzm1UuYDIJhpdcO1PK2s2S5cz1szwupCEYbY8HzJJGAW8ezTsF2v1bwD1SprD53ap2IBuBAZAXCiJCetHkO52FO8OeJ5rn0_bHqgI5vi7VQd_2-dyx5Mem5FGUgRNjd21iwYbtA7_4g" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5Lg_2uetD-hQ0gbGYYjl_wGlYy7ZJoz3E8V0swGE9bJUlCTDHQzm1UuYDIJhpdcO1PK2s2S5cz1szwupCEYbY8HzJJGAW8ezTsF2v1bwD1SprD53ap2IBuBAZAXCiJCetHkO52FO8OeJ5rn0_bHqgI5vi7VQd_2-dyx5Mem5FGUgRNjd21iwYbtA7_4g=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">P8, first of two 7b+ pitches.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>Digging deep for the first time, he milked the kneebar rest and moved up towards the bolts above, but quickly reversed when he saw what lay ahead. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj96PwUiAfzTB5BUrzreLDHSI7Qw8TKdbqER1GmNKcAJZP9Dq9FVOkd877VpfiYVMtUrIRaK2zXBrnooexiAymNuwuYEzUd6WZI7cWzfq_EbjrV_OEkY10wEfmeZ7cPejzbkRyxE5fPqlfS_gSHJtxucktDCAhGeXoEbpY4Fi9CjQG0DyTDAjwqjWSxjIw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj96PwUiAfzTB5BUrzreLDHSI7Qw8TKdbqER1GmNKcAJZP9Dq9FVOkd877VpfiYVMtUrIRaK2zXBrnooexiAymNuwuYEzUd6WZI7cWzfq_EbjrV_OEkY10wEfmeZ7cPejzbkRyxE5fPqlfS_gSHJtxucktDCAhGeXoEbpY4Fi9CjQG0DyTDAjwqjWSxjIw=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simon hiding in the roof, kneebar rest between the two cruxes on P7.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>More milking of the kneebar and a couple of sorties further left gave him the information he needed - back to plan A, and engage some try hard!</p><p>I seconded most of it clean, but grabbed a QD in the traverse so save the chance of a swing into space - bit lame, but it was a big face and time is always ticking. When I got to the crux above, I decided with the benefit of the top rope to take the slightly more circuitous route out left, which was less savage, but would be a good bit more spicy for the leader, as I traversed back right, I recalled some words I had digested a few days prior, while researching the route: "if you go out left it's easier...but you can't reach the bolt".... oh dear, now with my rope going down and right to the bolt which I had no way of getting to I had to take a little swing to unclip. It's the only section of the route, except maybe the first 4 pitches, where the bolt position could maybe be improved - not bad for 500m, ground up bolted!</p><p>The next pitch was what I live for! Given 7a+, but in reality, on the ground, you'd be hard pushed to go above above 6c+. 45 meters of gently overhanging rock, mainly on good holds but with multiple intricacies, usually with a bolt to guide the way and protect the sterner sections - but only 9 or 10 bolts in the entire pitch, with sections runout sections up to 8 metres of continuous 6b+ and just miles, and miles of air beneath you. Brilliant.</p><p>Up next was the second 7b+ pitch (conveniently placed for Simon to lead). Starting off with steep and sustained 7a climbing to a moderate rest below the obvious crux. A large, chalky undercling below the bulging roofed section, and a bolt well out of reach with a long section of very weathered, core-shotted rope looped through the hanger. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNQsqAFAtazwK-QUQQ02VF2QFkaxZdGXovtn1cs2Iaw9c04oEeQl_Mw8mhSYHZIaXt94gg6RHcLDL0QI2LViOWe5hAaAUtDq_Hedbwgx3StfuiYi0nQot6wvSDhdwfZoPF34QoxXIPbHV2VyGUGLth1usq5mkCG0Ss9fDoqYfJu_h8UQajL4n6dudfNNk" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNQsqAFAtazwK-QUQQ02VF2QFkaxZdGXovtn1cs2Iaw9c04oEeQl_Mw8mhSYHZIaXt94gg6RHcLDL0QI2LViOWe5hAaAUtDq_Hedbwgx3StfuiYi0nQot6wvSDhdwfZoPF34QoxXIPbHV2VyGUGLth1usq5mkCG0Ss9fDoqYfJu_h8UQajL4n6dudfNNk=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">P10, 7b+, continues up into the widest section of roof just right of Simon.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>Simon knows what to do and gets established with both hands on the undercling, not overly concerning himself the with the usual profusion of cracks all around the block. In an instant I hear him shout, watch him explode backwards, fighting and juggling with the 20kg lump of aged and solidified sea creatures, both of whose trajectories are directly at me. Autopilot kicked in and I caught the fall while swinging into the small cave in front of me. Close.</p><p>The next sound to break the tension was the sweet female voice of some fellow climbers over on the classic South East Arete checking to see if we were alive. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJz9ejeeTyF1dWdLc4T0PuzHT_D_YOBi_GJDaRYQ2cdG9YNzKHfLj3wwWGRN_5SG4ffhfHgxCStCd6klY4IQnzDW0_FwYTf_mktjodSkE_RXYrUlA-C1Kv6JHT5X_1SoRtgfLhbPSPyW1Rp6xn40jIOsz-hMJ8QGIC77wS9eCe1VyigNq901d5BvSfX5U" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJz9ejeeTyF1dWdLc4T0PuzHT_D_YOBi_GJDaRYQ2cdG9YNzKHfLj3wwWGRN_5SG4ffhfHgxCStCd6klY4IQnzDW0_FwYTf_mktjodSkE_RXYrUlA-C1Kv6JHT5X_1SoRtgfLhbPSPyW1Rp6xn40jIOsz-hMJ8QGIC77wS9eCe1VyigNq901d5BvSfX5U=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbers on the classic Southeast Arete</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>Fortunately, our only damage was a fairly bloody chunk out of Simon's thumb. After he'd given himself a once over, he asked if I wanted a go. "Shit, hell no" I think "I'm here for a low-stress holiday belay session" but I can't say any of that. "Give it a few minutes and see how you feel, you've made so much ground - I'll send you up some finger tape for the thumb".</p><p>Phew...the blood stopped, and with it most of the adrenaline. Once rested, he made the, now significantly harder, pull through, clipped the bolt and....what the fuck...WHY ARE YOU GOING LEFT my head screamed, oh, wait, maybe he's seen something I haven't. Stay calm. Further left the goes and pulls over a small roof. </p><p>"I can't find any good gear, and there's a fair bit of loose rock"</p><p>No shit.</p><p>20 more metres of slightly loose, quite bold new ground got him to the anchors. After hauling (we'd being hauling a small pack on the steeper pitches with a microtraxion, and actually belaying the second on a lot of them with a 2nd trx too - very energy sparing!) I got up to the crux, pulled on the shitty rope but was really out of position and the single sport rope was sawing wildly over the sharp lip of the roof. At this point, just after Simon's fall, with time ticking on, it suddenly felt a lot more serious than the "fun multipitch sport" is had been to that point, I didn't fancy my chances of repeating the traverse left so called for Simon to throw down the second rope so I could double my chance of survival. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRQZRVEDSW4syo2TQsAKv7Q91J7o86qtsuYUuZk50IKuWZebO6GDJSfb3w9CCT2gaW1fsvkai_e2uLLgK9D2SgoM-AfiZ_nJtc7sMFMa8T9EuxE3Br9Dk9RCervfyW57XxwuLH5RJP9SraFrrKnLbFo43YEnjwR8NFLvHDK7ht6SMFJTzbG3efkZ2faxE" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRQZRVEDSW4syo2TQsAKv7Q91J7o86qtsuYUuZk50IKuWZebO6GDJSfb3w9CCT2gaW1fsvkai_e2uLLgK9D2SgoM-AfiZ_nJtc7sMFMa8T9EuxE3Br9Dk9RCervfyW57XxwuLH5RJP9SraFrrKnLbFo43YEnjwR8NFLvHDK7ht6SMFJTzbG3efkZ2faxE=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pack haulling on the last 7b+ pitch.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4qgoSqcCTSP2ivB4mpu6rQhzmKF4KvMZcMZTTWVr4NISRmfnXSImli2oaCqtZVsSLwHXzsQfS__IzzxMwuVfDqJ_GUQKvjwuUaJI1-fWAtU5aVaDi2EocgTdlqlY-39tjYt9KJseztNleMaSsv-8wEV_23COSxOjQnfTB8AbV8DAFKWAta_gzdB578x0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4qgoSqcCTSP2ivB4mpu6rQhzmKF4KvMZcMZTTWVr4NISRmfnXSImli2oaCqtZVsSLwHXzsQfS__IzzxMwuVfDqJ_GUQKvjwuUaJI1-fWAtU5aVaDi2EocgTdlqlY-39tjYt9KJseztNleMaSsv-8wEV_23COSxOjQnfTB8AbV8DAFKWAta_gzdB578x0=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monkeys need thumbs?</td></tr></tbody></table><p>After regrouping, re-taping his newly incapacitated thumb, I stretched out two big pitches of 6a and 5+, leaving him below the next 6c pitch - one of the lesser quality pitches and, again, very poorly described by the Rushforth topo. We were a bit confused about the belay location. The pitch goes up and left, then quite boldly back right a little up and, before a long traverse left to a sort of cave below a roof. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUTaIRVhMGAHBa-PkHXACckPBq3oSuUORxJ7EvqGiUdmLTVpPHyZWgrQjI5pTG-AEJEJFDCxMKZqhfhVKjJcP3aJ0Cj6Qn2IBFZB17y3GTUG-2i5UgwsPvsLfJm7RkOlm5dQTCq05MjiYrJsGm_SDI0vJaNs_gx7o0HpjluKdCsbywfjGUoLT18Y9koMA" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3201" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUTaIRVhMGAHBa-PkHXACckPBq3oSuUORxJ7EvqGiUdmLTVpPHyZWgrQjI5pTG-AEJEJFDCxMKZqhfhVKjJcP3aJ0Cj6Qn2IBFZB17y3GTUG-2i5UgwsPvsLfJm7RkOlm5dQTCq05MjiYrJsGm_SDI0vJaNs_gx7o0HpjluKdCsbywfjGUoLT18Y9koMA=w360-h640" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">P13, 6c. Wandery and a bit friable - don't stop in the cave!</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>I shouted that it looked like the belay positon, but the gear wasn't amazing. We took it anyway. This left an awkward and poorly protected stance, with a tricky and poorly protected move straight off the belay to kick off the last hard pitch at 7b, with a poor cam in the best pocket... The 7b that Simon was meant to climb, but now I found myself on the sharp end, with a bit more "Alpine Anxiety" and already 400 metres of climbing in my arms. </p><p>"That wasn't so bad for 7b"....oh, two bolts and a stance, the true belay. Lesson learned.</p><p>Continuing up into very steep and 3 dimensional climbing, with a few good jams to subdue of the pump - wild stuff! Some clouds had now rolled in, adding both to the ambience, and also the humidity. From an awkward rest, thinner and punchier moves led up and left and I was scraping the barrel of reserves, but still just staying on, improvising sequences and generally shaking my way up the pitch. Hoping the crux was behind me, I was relaxing a bit, but then another chalked short wall on the left, with a steep corner bounding the right side and a capping roof looked hard. Up and down, up and across, more pumped, greasing and getting sweaty, panting due to the thinner air at 3000m, I was maxing out and running out of ideas. I saw a potential lower sequence, which would cross the crux bolt at waist height, and if there was anything I'd learned by that point was that the bolts often hinted at the way. Thin feet, spanned out, pulling hard into crimps I got established on the face, reached through to clip the next bolt and then was stuck, slightly wrong handed with no chance of reversing or switching - airtime it was! From a hang, the move was fine with recovered fingers and bit of chalk, but there was still a steep pull to the easy ground and good ledge belay. Simon walked up it sans thumb.</p><p>From here on it's another 5+ and 6b, which Simon linked into a rope stretcher. Bit of looseness to manage but nothing too concerning.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwHpHgGKpiTUZEt1AVfgUtGAb_Zfx4VdeAGSxHEhnJ8f4jdJZ9QQtiOrmDxDWmtueic5RxsL7kfB2AyVm9HJl0c0SAmmHGfmEW8DrrUdZ2iNCUX7v5M7uciVCZ3krYQtnehnVz_bjNjDySr5n3cSYgMzNHr51GyKVnsaZ3bi2YLs-Dn24W35Hhgmz9hnc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiP3xhykHQti-T-XgujJnIvjHFyNLwLaJDNEmmPH387FB4t78QcTFYxhg6LBwzhuKTW8PxbAa5QMQV_uYroheey_nwGlmV_yLXYGXtFWg0Mvs8NAJcGkTUiJjlVmAgtui4qC0P3KnrnPq66K_HBi6W1A6eewuKxna2Ozjm8HQ03mrdHivp96nCF4hArmp8" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2074" data-original-width="4608" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiP3xhykHQti-T-XgujJnIvjHFyNLwLaJDNEmmPH387FB4t78QcTFYxhg6LBwzhuKTW8PxbAa5QMQV_uYroheey_nwGlmV_yLXYGXtFWg0Mvs8NAJcGkTUiJjlVmAgtui4qC0P3KnrnPq66K_HBi6W1A6eewuKxna2Ozjm8HQ03mrdHivp96nCF4hArmp8=w400-h180" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1.5 thumbs up for this route.</td></tr></tbody></table></div></a></div><p>The descent was fairly uneventful, but the described descent is now out of date as a section was swept away - you need to descend a bit then head to the north col (i.e. after descending/traversing to the wide gully, turn left and go back up hill).</p><p>We got back to the Rifugio just in time to grab a beer (bottled, not draft, as they had just cleaned the taps and nearly said they were shut for the night...) and after a few sips, a group of female climbers, sitting with Aperol spritzes said "hey, are you the two that took the fall with the rock?". "We're so glad you're ok". After a bit of chit chat, and some slightly more intense dialogue we toddled off back to the car to find a tent spot for the night. </p><p>"Simon, were those girls hitting on us?" "Aye, massively" "Oh, that's what that was - it's been a while...."</p>Fultoniushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07198044190933339494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-62321364987567464752018-04-04T20:54:00.005+01:002018-04-08T10:45:09.677+01:00Scrabble<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<u>Scrabble</u></div>
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<br /></div>
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Our eyes met. Neither moved.
Slowly the slender leg of the heron reached forward and delicately stepped
closer to the water. Still our eyes locked, and yet the heron was simply not
there….. an illusion of idealism in a world of silent beauty adjacent to the jetstream
of human activity. </div>
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<br /></div>
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But it is was there, it just took
me too long to see it. A chance connection, a fleeting moment like the light at
2 ends of a tunnel meeting, the alluring goddess stepping back into the
shadows. The frail form a ghost drifting away against the landscape. A fleeting moment
past, but a moment etched. A perfect symmetry with the previous day’s fateful encounter.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Our eyes met for a split second
as the fox glanced back. Nothing registered. On it trotted, head down, hood
covering a sly smile spreading across its face, eyes glinting in the morning
sun. The predator knowing another unsuspecting victim stood no chance. An easy
kill. Another satisfying meal. Some kills are easier than others, but this was
beyond belief. The slow patient approach, the distracted prey, the predator in
plain sight. If only I could see what was hidden in plain sight.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And then it registered. By but by
then it was too late, far too late. The simple equation of what was happening
hit me like a sucker punch in the gut. A wave of sickness, weak knees and anger enveloped
me. Forcing my legs straight, I had to stay upright. A forced smile for a good
man….. ‘Hi Tim, how’s it going?’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
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<br /></div>
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Content with having been well and
truly bent over, Ally and I played kiddies games and settled for a consolation
game of Scrabble, all the while eyeing up the big boys game with envy. A full
word score later we topped out and descended into the coire. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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‘Have you a number 6 cam Andy?’
The fox howled down with laugher.<span style="color: #0000ee;"> Bastard.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #0000ee;">Onward the heron drifted into the horizon.... </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzzCyQwPgTHlhQ9u3v3AQGjMi7viHS4PxgYpD6phwS9fG98Ugvz0tdYgSXgxKTFkuNC6dxt6tU4h9nt2ixqLnEaPCAQj4GcQdFiySl_qT6olpOhDleJZ4X5cQ180HOdUSIp0bHBUQI0gQ/s1600/DSC03634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzzCyQwPgTHlhQ9u3v3AQGjMi7viHS4PxgYpD6phwS9fG98Ugvz0tdYgSXgxKTFkuNC6dxt6tU4h9nt2ixqLnEaPCAQj4GcQdFiySl_qT6olpOhDleJZ4X5cQ180HOdUSIp0bHBUQI0gQ/s640/DSC03634.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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A glorious morning to get bent over</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY5SBDubJfJUKNi33oJziI0NkAVpFw-XYpmDQocvHEedVBBNEcQXWupKHuTW3GXxoX-CDupkR8f3Bo6x1JGPa41NqjyycDrPxTqTTACxwkJIMwjDSZWOEF5BfppxukuQJVRg7KdCW26dI/s1600/DSC03636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY5SBDubJfJUKNi33oJziI0NkAVpFw-XYpmDQocvHEedVBBNEcQXWupKHuTW3GXxoX-CDupkR8f3Bo6x1JGPa41NqjyycDrPxTqTTACxwkJIMwjDSZWOEF5BfppxukuQJVRg7KdCW26dI/s640/DSC03636.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Kiddies game pitch 1</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiji7K2RHAgS0f52UvP1I8_7iuO3ta1d5bzIdNSa-97BKvQXFkx6LKfPK3AJ8txK7xpco7yttUc2dL_dQLrTN6VOEb39zs1cM2kl7tEk1LhOPNXu5kzkYRieN-kOhL3YvhPSkdNpHtnJ3g/s1600/DSC03646-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1557" data-original-width="1600" height="622" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiji7K2RHAgS0f52UvP1I8_7iuO3ta1d5bzIdNSa-97BKvQXFkx6LKfPK3AJ8txK7xpco7yttUc2dL_dQLrTN6VOEb39zs1cM2kl7tEk1LhOPNXu5kzkYRieN-kOhL3YvhPSkdNpHtnJ3g/s640/DSC03646-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Ally on Kiddies game pitch 2</div>
Andy Inglishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08428598042294660775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-75774396695812223462015-11-29T18:08:00.000+00:002015-11-29T18:12:17.375+00:00The PeopleA recent article in a prominent climbing magazine on the important physical and psychological part a belayer plays in attempting, let alone succeeding, on a climbing pitch, got me thinking a lot about the friends that I've had the pleasure of sharing adventures with in the mountains, and the unforgettable memories. From the days when it all feels easy in the sun, to the days where the weather wont let you stand and the howling banshee tears at your face! And with large snow flakes falling outside the winter and the winter season now underway, it feels appropriate to doff my cap to the few! ..... oh and maybe a great opportunity to highlight the numerous emotions behind an expression..... excitment, apprehension, appreciation, fear, relief, pain, horror, luvin' it, I nearly died and get me the hell out of here! Some are easier than others to pick! Roll on another winter.... :-)<br />
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<br />Andy Inglishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08428598042294660775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-6697704816920239332015-09-26T16:45:00.003+01:002015-09-26T16:53:34.531+01:00The Clearences<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The wind whips the ropes
hanging beneath me, almost unhindered by protection for ten metres to the safe
hands of Iain at the belay. My hands are freezing, the rock is damp in places
and </span><span style="font-size: 12.6667px; line-height: 14.5667px;">I'm</span><span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> searching for better protection </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">below the steeping headwall on the
first pitch of The Clearances.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Originally given E3 by its first ascentionist Ed and Cynthia Grindley in 1976, it had progressed upwards
to E4 in the intervening years and remains rarely climbed. Since then a crucial peg has fallen
out at the bold crux – a five meter, plumb vertical shield of rock with only
fingertip edges and no obvious places to secure protection where the peg
once was.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I plug in a good no.3
camalot at the change in angle between the lower slab and the crux wall. I know
with this in place I can climb above with little chance of hitting the ground,
but the fall will still be an unpleasant smash into the lower slab. My hands
are freezing. Iain offers me some advice –</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why don’t you climb back
to that foot ledge and warm your hands”.</span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The winds tears at my
winter-weight soft shell, sucking the heat from me, but I feel some pressure
not to back off. I can deal with the cold. I'm used to climbing in the Alps,
this is Scotland, man up. I don’t often use reverse gear and this didn’t feel
like the place to start.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I clip a peg so old and
rusty it flexes wildly when I tug on the quickdraw. I back it up with a
microwire in a thin parallel crack, more suited to a peg than a nut. The guidebook mentions the possibility of a sling draped over an anvil
shaped rock further up. I look down and see Cubby setting up his tripod and in my mind we feel connected - it is his written words, his description that is guiding me upwards. I make
some technical moves up to the anvil. I silently curse
Dave </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.6667px; line-height: 14.5667px;">– </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">not because the camera is off-putting – he is yet to start capturing my frozen,
stiff climbing movements, but because I cannot see any way of securing a
sling round this block. Damn him and his words.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBIj7_GfUjZcFVsQgXNgBDUo2Nf4BcX_iWbQJGwjk4ItXdOv2A6LNTmFqbUvMvtOncX6jY4FS-IBJ-6GOTcsMk69pfLXnNwlSIFMH4dlXh2dHXi4Lq96XZtv4csXptNEO3K9AiCqQrp9Q/s1600/P1040492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBIj7_GfUjZcFVsQgXNgBDUo2Nf4BcX_iWbQJGwjk4ItXdOv2A6LNTmFqbUvMvtOncX6jY4FS-IBJ-6GOTcsMk69pfLXnNwlSIFMH4dlXh2dHXi4Lq96XZtv4csXptNEO3K9AiCqQrp9Q/s640/P1040492.JPG" width="360" /></a><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I push on, moving further
upwards, away from my protection, every move raising the stakes. I see a poor, flared slot and pull a yellow totem from my harness; anyone
who has climbed with me recently will know I’m a firm believer in these wonderful,
technical marvels. If I could write poetry I would have probably constructed an
ode to them. It goes in but it’s poor – two lobes are in a constriction but the
other too only prevent the cam from twisting. I hope this is enough. I work hard to get more blood into my hands, pressing them into the arch
of my neck only provides fleeting warmth. I am not yet overly concerned about
the boldness as the climbing is manageable. I spot another flared, vertical
crack – possibly where the peg used to be. Using the tips of my fingers I can
tell a blue totem will fit. I align it as best I can. I know from the Yosemite walls
that these cams can hold in flares like this, but only bodyweight – will it hold a
fall? I know for sure that if it fails the yellow cam below will not hold – I’m
too far above, too much momentum will be gained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Grasping the edge of the
crack in my right hand I work my feet up onto small nubbins, the next few moves
are not as clearly defined – I must search out the intricacies that show the
way. I reach high and right to a flat hold which I can match with both hands, a
hold I would normally consider “good”; now, however, my hands are numb, like
wooden toy versions of my normal hands. The wind whips. Iain is dancing around
on the ground trying to keep warm, wearing his winter belay jacket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I spend too long trying to
warm my hands, trying in vain to gain some feeling and confidence. When one hand gains feeling, the other is left perilously cold and pumped - a zero sum game. I am worried. I cannot
reverse those moves and there is no more protection. I try to work in a tiny
micro nut but all that I gain for my efforts is a deepening pump in my forearms
and yet colder hands. I see a better hold up and right – tooth shaped and
positive. I press and stretch until I can painfully bend my fingers round its
sharp form, my back and shoulders tensed to hold the position.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I am in real in trouble
now. I rearrange my feet and grasp a large, flat hold on the left. It’s
useless, I have no feeling and no strength – I’ve messed up and I’m in a
serious position. I dare to look downwards, to assess my options. It is more
than five meters to the last reliable piece of protection – if I fall now and
the marginal cams, rusty peg and poor micro wire don’t hold – it doesn’t bear
thinking about. The ground is fifteen meters below me but the slab will break
my bones before I even get close.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Upwards is just as
unthinkable. I cannot see any more protection, or any obvious holds. If I slip
making the moves I will fall uncontrollably. In this predicament I have no
choice but cut my losses and minimise the fall. I reverse as far as I can and
just let go, I relinquish myself to fate – I have no control of the future. I’m
finished.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The blue cam holds. I stop
with my feet on the sloping slab. Lady luck and some clever Spanish engineers
have been on my side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I return to my high point,
noting on the way that the microwire has pulled out and the yellow cam had rotated and inverted, but somehow stayed in. I glance at the blue cam and shake my head. I
look back down to Dave and see that he has yet to set up his camera so I am
saved the ignominy of having my worst moments captured on film. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">When my hands are warm I resume.
Once again on the tooth shaped hold I realise I should have rested longer while hanging on the rope; residual pump and surging adrenaline make me climb poorly. I find a hidden hold,
it annoys me as I now know the secret. I work over towards the hanging crack-line,
not strenuous but balancy and now very run-out. The crack offers the notion of protection.
I hope for an obvious constriction where I can slot a nut, or a bomber cam
slot. Instead I am faced with an awkward position, and small, damp and mossy cracks
in which I must fiddle some wires. Finally I tug one down and it holds tight, I
am safe, at long last I am safe. </span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The crack stretches for another twenty meters to the belay ledge. In
drier, warmer conditions I would have made light work of it but I am weakened
by what has gone before. Am slow, hesitant.
I place protection whenever it is available, too much, wasting my energy and
conscious that I am wasting Iain’s day – he has desires to climb a new route on
the mouth of Ossian’s cave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">A long time later I crawl
over the final bulge onto the midway ledge. I am exhausted. I build a belay and
lay down. Iain is chatting to Dave so I get some respite before I have to haul
our heavy pack. I feel light headed, nauseated and weak. For a brief moment I think
that my poor performance heralds the start of cold or some other ailment. I
quickly dismiss this, it is merely the after effects of the adrenalin
circulating my system.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I had planned to lead both
of these E4 pitches but I am not sure I can manage the second. Iain’s words
revitalise my inner momentum –</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> “ the crux is harder, but short. Plenty of easy
climbing”.</span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I have to reaffirm that I
can climb this route. I re-rack the gear and work my way up the steep wall to
the mossy bulging overhang that I have to work round. I place some good protection
under the bulge, walk my feet rightwards on smears, grasp a good side pull, and
extend up leftwards to a good hold. I feel good again, I step right and that is
it, the crux is done. Everything is possible once again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Fultoniushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07198044190933339494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-88713120558818058712014-03-02T16:38:00.000+00:002014-03-02T16:38:13.716+00:00Third Time LuckyAndy and I have got history with Unicorn. I did a lot of my early winter climbing in Stob Coire an Lochain and remember looking across to this big obvious corner, clearly the line of the crag, never thinking that I'd be good enough to have a crack at it. Several years later we went for our <a href="http://scottishclimbers.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/stob-coire-nan-lochain.html" target="_blank">first attempt</a>. We didn't get very far, but it only increased by desire to get on the route.<br />
<br />
We had another rematch at the end of last year. Andy took a couple of falls on P1 and backed off. I wasn't feeling in great form but set off up it anyway. My very ambitious goal was to get up to the fixed gear so I could lower off & get our gear back. Because of my low expectations, I headed up without any food or, crucially, a head torch. By some miracle I managed to climb the first pitch (taking something like 3.5 hours on lead!) but by the time Andy had led the second, it was dark and we were both frozen and exhausted so we abbed off.<br />
<br />
This unfinished business had been on my mind ever since. Thankfully Andy agreed to humour me one more time and come back for a rematch.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGwQne7U06mY3lJJta0Nv6OdS3LC6G_E36nbp2Cpdd_fHCjt019cGZyuZcrlTP71M68-I69iELh0AVZ7IOxik2joazJowuqUZaGFzeWcdtUIgU1uvRI-xVQxB6UFVv_nxoOGjvJgIZldL/s1600/Unicorn+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGwQne7U06mY3lJJta0Nv6OdS3LC6G_E36nbp2Cpdd_fHCjt019cGZyuZcrlTP71M68-I69iELh0AVZ7IOxik2joazJowuqUZaGFzeWcdtUIgU1uvRI-xVQxB6UFVv_nxoOGjvJgIZldL/s1600/Unicorn+002.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we go again</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
As we approached, I was feeling confident - The route looked in great condition, I'd led the first pitch before and had succeeded on some hard routes recently, so surely this time it would go.<br />
<br />
An hour later, I was about 10m up the route and struggling. The route was every bit as hard and awkward as I remembered. The gear was OK, although I wasn't sure I wanted to test it. I committed to the crux, one pick in the crack, one on a tiny thin hook and a leg bar across the flare. Then, disaster! The axe in the crack ripped and I came tumbling down just as I had a couple of years previously. This was not the plan!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQtFRzpTUJMZqRbmTF2tS0xuUKehAO4fylgDINHYdxzXJoFhg1aVu3JvaV0p2O58QK5n0r5QFnFmplQu9zVJbQGtmhWZGAYsYL9LVQQaB_dckZNw6db_q4N9_e1beXvdkBAvIvpVdohRX/s1600/Unicorn+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQtFRzpTUJMZqRbmTF2tS0xuUKehAO4fylgDINHYdxzXJoFhg1aVu3JvaV0p2O58QK5n0r5QFnFmplQu9zVJbQGtmhWZGAYsYL9LVQQaB_dckZNw6db_q4N9_e1beXvdkBAvIvpVdohRX/s1600/Unicorn+007.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy seconding the horrendous flare</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I lowered back to the ground to eat, drink and chill out for a minute. Suitably refreshed, I headed up again and this time, pulled through OK. However the section above proved to be a lot harder than I remembered. Where previously there was some useful ice, this time there was just crud. I teetered upwards, making slow but steady progress. My frozen hands and soaked gloves fumbled gear, dropping the small nuts, but I pressed on and made it to the stance. I eventually managed to contrive a belay with the remaining gear and brought Andy up.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdzWPvc2Efo2Fg0SZivrtbS1jfbcINlbiu9zBeC6q3wCSC68rACuZNv7igubRPxiLpZqvV-opS1IDR3K1O9e_yyqnpQtafDKHYzfqweV8Btkey1_dYG23quVL1uoEQSIDl1VZYO_ldZbV/s1600/Unicorn+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdzWPvc2Efo2Fg0SZivrtbS1jfbcINlbiu9zBeC6q3wCSC68rACuZNv7igubRPxiLpZqvV-opS1IDR3K1O9e_yyqnpQtafDKHYzfqweV8Btkey1_dYG23quVL1uoEQSIDl1VZYO_ldZbV/s1600/Unicorn+008.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't fall now!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdzWPvc2Efo2Fg0SZivrtbS1jfbcINlbiu9zBeC6q3wCSC68rACuZNv7igubRPxiLpZqvV-opS1IDR3K1O9e_yyqnpQtafDKHYzfqweV8Btkey1_dYG23quVL1uoEQSIDl1VZYO_ldZbV/s1600/Unicorn+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
Andy headed on up, linking P2 and P3 to bring us to the end of the main corner. From here, there are two options: head left into the final chimney of Tilt (as per the first winter ascent) or head right and up (as for the summer route). We chose the easier Tilt option and topped out with daylight to spare.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SsSw357m-3kIYSwZm3fC3YsyLwM_57NHZ9M2ytkrxuIyiIw64rs3N-WO7V7qIbpQiiWJg3a_CKGjxceM8FoVGQickPgETjVDl0aZ13z8WpkdLfiftpdem64HpnB2BoO7l3B2_P_Kkga0/s1600/Unicorn+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SsSw357m-3kIYSwZm3fC3YsyLwM_57NHZ9M2ytkrxuIyiIw64rs3N-WO7V7qIbpQiiWJg3a_CKGjxceM8FoVGQickPgETjVDl0aZ13z8WpkdLfiftpdem64HpnB2BoO7l3B2_P_Kkga0/s1600/Unicorn+009.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The end is in sight</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I'm delighted to get the route done at last. It felt harder than any of the other VIIIs we've done this year, and miles harder than <a href="http://scottishclimbers.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/centurion.html" target="_blank">Centurion</a> a couple of weeks before. I'm glad I don't need to do that first pitch again!Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-81930526858472845572014-03-02T15:06:00.001+00:002014-03-02T15:06:53.761+00:00CenturionJim Higgins has retired from winter climbing, or so we all thought. So you can imagine my surprise when I got a text saying he fancied getting out for one day only, and was I up for Centurion?<br />
<br />
I climbed this route in summer 5 or 6 years ago. Even back then, I remember thinking it would make an amazing winter climb. It was clearly out of my league at the time, but I've had the ambition to do it ever since. This was the first time that my abilities, climbing conditions, weather forecast and psyched partner had coincided so I jumped at the chance.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhya2F0KU7BIiwuKU4QR2Xgt9_5L3ty8Xl8O5vicFl6NjTNXPzjA5IpGO-Lpga9zDNlMSK7rbeSTy9dRNbjycBtJQ4xr-KisFNQBokh4yUV9NiYWJ8RoPOFmUgPe3gmTjFSreNZXnh28BBL/s1600/Centurion+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhya2F0KU7BIiwuKU4QR2Xgt9_5L3ty8Xl8O5vicFl6NjTNXPzjA5IpGO-Lpga9zDNlMSK7rbeSTy9dRNbjycBtJQ4xr-KisFNQBokh4yUV9NiYWJ8RoPOFmUgPe3gmTjFSreNZXnh28BBL/s1600/Centurion+007.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim on P1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And the didn't disappoint! Never desperate but constantly interesting, and what a line! Definitely one of the best winter routes I've ever done. If there was ever a route worth coming out of retirement for, it's this!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7X_nApINstC-V4BFmLSfC_-S6VmZ6YmVJD1gu7OEMyDJNz2PhupUxjmXiZkTmpQmi2-DMAjHOZ-Pug3ULUZtwARJmF2UeajmrfrFcaPgPy0OiTSkJEeDqiCvUdBV73Vtuq_XvaZEeScY/s1600/P1020621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7X_nApINstC-V4BFmLSfC_-S6VmZ6YmVJD1gu7OEMyDJNz2PhupUxjmXiZkTmpQmi2-DMAjHOZ-Pug3ULUZtwARJmF2UeajmrfrFcaPgPy0OiTSkJEeDqiCvUdBV73Vtuq_XvaZEeScY/s1600/P1020621.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me on the thin traverse on P3 (Photo - Jim Higgins)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-52550044167755231032014-02-27T08:16:00.001+00:002014-02-27T08:24:05.999+00:00BMC Winter MeetThe BMC meet was definitely the highlight of my winter so far. Held up at Glenmore Lodge a couple of weeks ago (yes, I know, I've been a bit slow in writing about it), it brought together about 45 visiting climbers from 26 countries and a similar number of local hosts to experience Scottish winter.<br />
<br />
Inevitably, the Scottish weather lived up to its reputation! The first day was particularly wild, and even Coire an t-Sneachda felt like quite an adventure! <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEcWU24epk9JuOIsh1IoV8RkJKnluu3T0HbnxqHVxi4RedxPxWDESWML_dWwleHgUKK_OjLAL0vy6cHQ7B6dDCtMdmwCkB9rAkwmdCrPbKxHb8QPRL0LMfEoq33i3tQwJK2suZL6azzU3u/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEcWU24epk9JuOIsh1IoV8RkJKnluu3T0HbnxqHVxi4RedxPxWDESWML_dWwleHgUKK_OjLAL0vy6cHQ7B6dDCtMdmwCkB9rAkwmdCrPbKxHb8QPRL0LMfEoq33i3tQwJK2suZL6azzU3u/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+004.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little different to Spanish climbing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center">
</div>
I teamed up with Felix from Spain. To avoid the loaded approach slopes, we went up the Fiacail ridge then abseiled in to Fiacail buttress. The wind was so wild, just we ran up Invernookie and headed back to Glenmore. <br />
<br />
The next day was forecast to be better in the west so Neyc Marcic and I hopped on the minibus to Glencoe. We did East Face Direct Direct ion Stob Coire nan Lochain. It's a deceptive route - it looks about grade IV from below, but very variable snow & ice conditions made it challenging and it warranted its VII,7 grade on the day. I led P1 & P2 in one long pitch and Neyc cruised the awkward top pitch in great style.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpugtc_a7y3QZ8s7kmkEkUbA8OluRdwxAT04Pyqcu6N0vA52J2xUc8t0JYXHcPcbdjXUHNOWt9vFZVyEXJfRJ9WStNOH-bPEISvkmrsjNY24AAHGh3oCbtgmgW1OmynG0IfxJqh1t4fz0X/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpugtc_a7y3QZ8s7kmkEkUbA8OluRdwxAT04Pyqcu6N0vA52J2xUc8t0JYXHcPcbdjXUHNOWt9vFZVyEXJfRJ9WStNOH-bPEISvkmrsjNY24AAHGh3oCbtgmgW1OmynG0IfxJqh1t4fz0X/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+011.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neyc seconding the long first pitch of East Faced Direct Direct</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnDQLTkxiEa1mOVw95b4ZCWhSlkkYPz-440tBl68-LB43iCJaGiElghLUHxCwIshF1dsHgNthCBxjlv4RQu213ata27SDtaOY2iXW_ZgS4dmlHPbWJQn5vDDlRVLLwAYQb4ZLx05SM9a29/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnDQLTkxiEa1mOVw95b4ZCWhSlkkYPz-440tBl68-LB43iCJaGiElghLUHxCwIshF1dsHgNthCBxjlv4RQu213ata27SDtaOY2iXW_ZgS4dmlHPbWJQn5vDDlRVLLwAYQb4ZLx05SM9a29/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+015.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good Scottish conditions on the top pitch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next day, Andy and I took our respective Slovenians to Beinn Eighe. This is one of my favourite mountains anywhere, and it didn't disappoint! Despite a strong wind on the walk-in, we were treated to shelter and great conditions in the coire - we even saw some sun! Neyc and I did The Sting on the Far East Wall, which is possibly the second ascent. After me enthusing about how positive and helpful quartzite is on the approach, the first two pitches turned out to be surprisingly bold and technical but after that, we were back to good, steep, positive hooking and torqueing up perfect rock.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsp6wQZpMLDpLKqoDxUIHnk7xrfHioHJn3RzDWFUoWh_BzNivbWcKM60kcEDCI78FOq7hAARLOLKI7IER3so6sOzDVuAXCQPgKu-Aj5tnmN-r77H_3IxWwShctosk_54_Y4A1HUX0-rPG6/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsp6wQZpMLDpLKqoDxUIHnk7xrfHioHJn3RzDWFUoWh_BzNivbWcKM60kcEDCI78FOq7hAARLOLKI7IER3so6sOzDVuAXCQPgKu-Aj5tnmN-r77H_3IxWwShctosk_54_Y4A1HUX0-rPG6/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+021.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neyc starting up P1 of The Sting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Si9yjzNsEpcqtenOQmIOofiG0mCmkaDjtvbesLxL6qkTRY0bvDVw0T3Kj7NUIYJeCeuXT2AUqmZuSf6zknoc9OO7n1eP00nmJnA6VoXDR38ZjLkSBTWwjKkP8RUgokrc-kjjeuSofaKi/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Si9yjzNsEpcqtenOQmIOofiG0mCmkaDjtvbesLxL6qkTRY0bvDVw0T3Kj7NUIYJeCeuXT2AUqmZuSf6zknoc9OO7n1eP00nmJnA6VoXDR38ZjLkSBTWwjKkP8RUgokrc-kjjeuSofaKi/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+032.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look - a view!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We switched partners that night and for the rest of the week, I was paired up with a very strong Japanese climber named Kenro. He had had a bit of an epic on West Buttress Directissima the day before, so I took pity on him and suggested a shorter day. Auricle was a bit of a swim / wade in places but a good route all the same.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAXA_42vUCPRxcrlYpqq6G68fx-i5cskApZmD2HR6IJEVCniXq7N34S3z9_fsvuBQC916QfXobE0cx_Sds1nlkQJ1-2sgRlWWT4wcvdUNulYXB6mH5E3QLvuhxVvhDUIQgL4KxJ78Fxqe/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAXA_42vUCPRxcrlYpqq6G68fx-i5cskApZmD2HR6IJEVCniXq7N34S3z9_fsvuBQC916QfXobE0cx_Sds1nlkQJ1-2sgRlWWT4wcvdUNulYXB6mH5E3QLvuhxVvhDUIQgL4KxJ78Fxqe/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+039.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kenro on the crux pitch of Auricle</td></tr>
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The weather was terrible the next day, which I was secretly delighted about as it meant I could have a rest! The next and final day was forecast to be better the further north and west you went, to Kenro and I headed up to An Teallach along with Susan Jensen and partner. The weather was glorious on the walk-in, and hopefully restored Kenro's faith that it is sunny in Scotland occasionally!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtO156e4r1P16HxrfYzvygxMKgxbEpCTZsYfgQmX5L0ouUFYYsg7_mIrTIyR5naFC6NCRl79mrK3G8m3GiL6W1hck7w9ti5q_Z3zArgOJW5T-97TEnv6am5UR3A1dZBL0PEyp6T2aE_ogq/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtO156e4r1P16HxrfYzvygxMKgxbEpCTZsYfgQmX5L0ouUFYYsg7_mIrTIyR5naFC6NCRl79mrK3G8m3GiL6W1hck7w9ti5q_Z3zArgOJW5T-97TEnv6am5UR3A1dZBL0PEyp6T2aE_ogq/s1600/BMC+Winter+Meet+050.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful morning and a beautiful mountain</td></tr>
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We'd been planning to do Hayfork (three-start VI,7) but spotted a great-looking, obvious line on the side of Major Rib which wasn't in the guide so decided to have a go at that instead. It turned out to be a great and varied route. P1 followed a bold icy corner, P2 up thinly iced slabs and flakes, P3 (crux) up a steep corner past a roof and P4 up a chimney onto the crest of Minor Rib. We called the route Last Orders (which we had been afraid of missing back at Glenmore!) and there's a route description <a href="http://www.ukclimbing.com/logbook/c.php?i=301865" target="_blank">here</a> for anyone who fancies repeating it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGC9KtCpyw7Rrwxoj01hgaLtWSDKHsnIZPU8vDXG6DH4Ocpvsz12QORc4xrrcso8ehBVCdhmzgG5DaK0SuB3eij_seOmPmPlvsh-PCEA2Em1YhdJytrpzj5OEZ3hVjKtJZswPcatp9UFf5/s1600/FromKenro+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGC9KtCpyw7Rrwxoj01hgaLtWSDKHsnIZPU8vDXG6DH4Ocpvsz12QORc4xrrcso8ehBVCdhmzgG5DaK0SuB3eij_seOmPmPlvsh-PCEA2Em1YhdJytrpzj5OEZ3hVjKtJZswPcatp9UFf5/s1600/FromKenro+(2).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me on pitch 1 of Last Orders - photo Kenro Nakajima</td></tr>
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Many thanks to Becky McGovern and Nick Colton the BMC for organising this fantastic event. I hope to see you all at the next one in two years' time!Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-29440593349015361552014-02-24T17:40:00.003+00:002014-02-24T17:41:37.214+00:00Emptiness: Saas Fee Ice Climbing World Cup and West Central GullyTwo recent new experiences, both on Friday holidays from the 9-5 of office work, separated by two weeks. They both provided interesting and unique experiences for me, near typifying the spectrum of experiences available to people who like to use ice axes, although neither were exactly fun at the time. Classic examples of Type 2 fun! ;-)<br />
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Emptiness: Saas Fee Ice Climbing World Cup and West Central Gully (Beinn Eighe)<br />
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Emptiness.... the mind accustomed to experiences, strong and painful, now just devoid of emotion, no wait, disappointment. The end swallows me up before my time. But why? Hollow congratulations and pained smiles stain the crowd and my team mates. The first bitter taste of experience, all the sweeter with company. A freezing car park in southern Switzerland set amid beautiful and alluring peaks and faces, so this is high level competitive ice climbing? Safe, exceptionally hard, timed, yes timed, designed to separate and measure ability in a single effort, identical conditions for each competitor, sanitised and scrutinised, separating the starlets from the also–ran’s.<br />
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Sweat clings to my neck. Heavy pumped arms hang limply from my axe handles. Terror subsides, but unquestionably I can’t belay here and relinquish the fear, I have to carry on. I heave air into my lungs and check the view back down into the void. The rope hangs unblemished by gear or protection back down out of sight into the abyss. A spacious foothold provides sanctuary amid the vertical and overhanging ice. Another roof looms above me guarded by hanging ice daggers reminiscent of castle gates and an unwise path. But above I know I can climb. Another 15 metres of vertical ice show the path to safety, a bold path, but a test of the mind. The ice will be good, and gear will appear. A test of the mind. Hell The Fowler climbed this with straight shafts and balls the size of watermelon’s decades ago! Modern tools and occasional training, this should be easy.<br />
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Craning my neck upwards I survey the route, analysing the moves I know I won’t have a chance to try. Fellow competitors jostle for space, arms fly skyward as the moves are rehearsed. I scribble down a few notes and peer through binoculars at the tiny holds scattered across the wooden boards. Sequences are conjured up, clipping positions evaluated, all with best endeavours to commit to memory, while knowing the pressure and stress will empty my mind and simple tasks will become near impossible. Where will I fall? The oppressive Thunderdome awaits, but first the nervous tension of the isolation room, like the minutes immediately prior to that crucial exam that you haven’t fully prepared for….. except drawn out for hours, and just like the exam you can walk away at any time, only knowing that all those hours of focus and dedication are for nothing. You must stay and suffer.<br />
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The nest of optimistic gear looks pleasing on the eye. A solid tiny nut off to the side provides confidence. The world is a better place. My solitary blunt stubby screw still hangs from my harness after a few desperate attempts at placing from the most strenuous of positions in the void below. I am glad as I’m sure I will be able to place it on the ice above. All in the mind the optimist comforts.<br />
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I seek solace in a beer. I came I saw I conquered, ha as if! The optimist inside me measures and analyses the plus points in my performance, while the realist savours the taste of the cold beer and banter with friends and team mates. Food, wine, shared anecdotes and stories, the mind at peace in a familiar and happy place. Thoughts of competing drift back into the ether to be replaced by the sense of being part of something more. An experience not to be forgotten.<br />
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The nest of gear is long gone, hidden nearly twenty metres below by another roof, and the ice is poor. My stubby still hangs limply, apologetically from my harness. My axe planted to the shaft pulls an inch as I swing again to try and find a half decent placement in the steep snow ice, the good water-ice a distant memory. I can almost reach out and touch the crack. Protection at last, so close. My nerves and reserves depleted, replaced only by tension and fear, the volume turned up loud. I check the fall zone and hope I don’t reach Duncan, who I visualise happily chilling out on the expansive snow ledge in the void, oblivious to my terrifying position. The axe lands with a more reassuring thud and my heart slows. A few more moves and a satisfactory belay appears. I am near empty. Ecstatic but too tired for elation. The beast is tamed, just. Ferocious, demanding, questioning, the gully will not be forgotten in a hurry. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pulling hard in Saas Fee (Credit Chris Prescott)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting up the crux pitch of WCG (Credit Duncan Hodgson)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fully engaged in the crux (Credit Duncan Hodgson)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duncan emerging from the void</td></tr>
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Andy Inglishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08428598042294660775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-55939411424439873302013-12-24T10:03:00.001+00:002013-12-24T10:56:22.547+00:00Season Opener! With Christmas cheer in the air, and storms ripping across Scotland again, it feels like a fitting time to get some words down from the comfort of indoors! The winter season has started and as usual has appeared for a few days here and there, with occasional spells of settled weather between the storms! Neil and I have managed a few routes thus far (Magic Crack, The Secret, Apache and Tracheotomy) and I will let the pics do the talking. I have also snuck in a few pictures of some impressive ascents, Pete MacPherson and French Eric on Avenging Angel Direct and Harry Holmes and Helen Renard on Sioux Wall (both on Ben Nevis). Have a ho ho ho merry Christmas! Hope Santa is good to you! ;-) And that might just be some settled weather on the horizon.....mmmmmmm <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neil on the top pitch of magic Crack</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking into Coire na Ciste on the Ben</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Secret, good line (the crack in the headwall)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neil on P1</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to get started (with difficulty)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neil getting stuck into Apache</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coire na Ciste - Wonderful playground</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neil and Eric below AAD</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric on P2(?)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harry on the crux pitch of Sioux Wall</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coire an Lochain looking wintry</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wade</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neil starting the groove of Tracheotomy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ubiquitous looking down shot to prove it was white(!) and in nick.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing to ab off, a massive cornice and avalanche prone slopes, oh well, simultaneous abseil it is then!</td></tr>
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Andy Inglishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08428598042294660775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-13040838086678681602013-11-07T18:15:00.000+00:002013-11-07T18:15:38.454+00:00Un-pisted Alpine: 3 Days of Steep Skiing<div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tap, tap, tap. I nervously tap my ski pole on the pavement. It is 7.55am and Ally should have been here ten minutes ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m sitting on the bench outside a café in the centre of Chamonix watching precious time slip by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tentative text message brings an explosive response, he is clearly not happy that he has slept in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Depression deepens as the cloudless sky opens above me and the day’s adventure drifts off on a lazy current. A planned ski descent of the north east face of Les Courtes, a magnificent 1,100m high face towering over the expanse of the Argentiere glacier, is something I have dreamed of for years. It would have been the highlight of a long and varied winter rapidly turning to summer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thoughts of what the day would have brought fill my brain…. The mind bending exposure, variable snow conditions, steepness of the face and the fall…. What if I fell? Would I go all the way? Would the gapping bergschrund catch my fall? Would I still be conscious to know? Only one way to find out. I smile as passers-by come and go from my consciousness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just one more adventure, just one more, the greedy fingers of ambition prod my jaded brain. Another one stop bed for the night, another night of waking to questions, each time taking longer to answer before broken sleep is regained. Why does it have to always be one more I wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Couldn’t I just be content for a while?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fifteen minutes later the green van comes to a shuddering halt outside the café. “Your driving” came the shout as Ally dashed past into the Patisserie. I looked down at my unbuckled ski boots, then up again at the van…. “Really?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, not this time!” Ally turned the van key repeatedly over and over again. Its 8.25am. The cable car opens in five minutes and we both know how quickly the queue would be filling up. A perfect blue ski forecast and a common knowledge in the valley that our chosen object was in good condition increased the tension another notch. Silently I thought back to the previous day. A great day of climbing and skiing the Col d’ Cristaux <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with friends had quenched my thirst for a steep ski this trip, today was only a bonus for me, or at least in those tense moments was what I tried to justify to myself. How seldom do those days of trying to fulfil a dream come round, the painful weight of having the chance taken away by something outwith your control being hard to bare. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘rrruurrrggghhh’ the van spluttered into life and all was not lost. Onward and fast. The cable car queue almost out of the door, but we are not giving up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Midday. Sweat runs unabated from my forehead and saturated hair onto my forearms as I prop myself up on the steep slope. My lungs burn again. Sweat stings my eyes. My boots feel like concrete shackles. I know the mystical key awaits at the top, freeing me of the doubly heavy psychological weight, if I can only get there. We have been climbing rapidly up the face for almost an hour and a much fitter and fresher Ally shouts encouragement from above. I think he has a camera in his hand but I can’t be sure, the sweat stained lens blurring my vision. Got to carry on before my sweat soaked t-shirt cools me to a shiver. I share a few words in passing with an un-acclimatised Spaniard, copying my exhaustion from minutes earlier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing Les Courtes</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are being tormented by the sun but at least we have overtaken a few parties and more importantly no one has started descending above us, our most acute fear, being avalanched on or being hit by falling ice from skiers above, or simply the skiers!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A short time later I heave myself onto a small stance at the col at the top of the face beside Ally who is now getting cold waiting for me in the chilling breeze at 3,800m. As we organise ourselves for the impending thrill of skiing the longest and steepest face either of us has been on, we watch others nervously slide down the very steep and hard packed top of the face. Their nerves and fears palpable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View down the 50deg top section of the NE face of Les Courtes</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are ready and our time has come. Ally makes a few turns then cuts past a snowboarder looking dangerously out of her depth on the fifty degree slope, across to a more easterly aspect in the sunshine, in the hope of finding the soft spring snow we crave. I follow Ally then continue down past him revelling in the exposure of the face and the delightfully soft uniform snow under ski. Our prayers have been answered, timing ideal…. Late enough in the day for the sun to soften the snow….. early enough before the snow turns to porridge…. game on! Our confidence builds and our turns change from short controlled jump turns to carving wide fast turns. A shared sense of ecstasy at the magic of the situation fills the air, a dream in progress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ally ripping it up on the descent of Les Courtes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtes rainbow descent</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hours later, miles from the face, but only a few neurological pathways away from the day’s high, we float into the bar on the crest of a once a season wave, hero beers in the Micro Brasserie Chamonix and a chance to re-live the experience, only better the second time round! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">An hour later we exchange goodbye’s before I head for the Swiss border and a pre-arranged ski date for the next day with an old friend. I know this trip will be worth it even if I don’t pull on a pair of ski boots. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My legs, body and mind wearily manage to negotiate the twisting mountain roads to Martigny and onwards by motorway to Bern, to be met with a BBQ, wine and good company. Only what I expected from a man who gives Senegalese fertility masks as wedding gifts! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Click. My dynafit bindings are locked in place. My boots will not release from my ski bindings. Should I have a big fall, my leg bones are more likely to break than my boots release from the bindings. A sobering thought but at this moment in time I am happy with my decision. I look up and survey the scene. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We hear the mechanical beast coming well before it cruises past, breaking the still air and billowing powdery snow off down the north face. The tourist helicopter circles us for a few minutes. Smiles and waves exchanged, eye contact made through two pairs of sunglasses and we pose for a few pictures, as if we could hide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I contemplate how this chance encounter has come about. Money, fuel and a trained pilot taking them from the grassy pastures to the snowy heights. A rapid and comfortable journey into a world of huge glaciers, sheer faces and history, so much history. In an instant the pilot wheels off down the south face towards the Konkordia hut and the air stills.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Monch and Jungfrau fill my view along with the vast Bernese Oberland vista, but all I can do is try and find the missing step in my pre-ski routine. Boots in ski mode – check. All buckles done up tight – check. Are they properly tight – check. I have eaten what food my churning stomach will allow, water bottle near emptied after 5 hours of climbing 1,800m to this spot <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– check. Rucksack on and clips done up, ice axe available at the side of the pack – check. Helmet and sunglasses on – check. There is nothing left and I have been through my list twice. Am I trying to delay the inevitable? I savour the incredible view, the feeling of nervous energy, and lungs sucking in enough oxygen, for now. I realise there is nothing more, all that is left is to start the descent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few more photos to preserve the moment a little longer. We exchange a few words and mirrored grins which transcend simple words, culture, history and body language. Simply we are skiers, about to indulge in a shared dream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dreams bring comfort and safety to the experiences we crave, bursting to escape the confines of the cranium, except without the consequences of reality. Consequences, consequences…… without consequences, the experiences we crave end hollow and empty, unfulfilling. Consequences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am standing on top of the Eiger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing the West face of the Eiger</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top of the Eiger<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Eiger. This is a ‘climbers’ mountain not a ‘skiers’ mountain surely. What am I doing here? Trying to fulfil a dream? Have I been sucked into this on a wave of massive enthusiasm of my Swiss friend Christian, who being Swiss is by default a far better skier than I, a mere Scot! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thoughts of childhood games of dodging and jumping rocks at Glenshee, skidding down icy moguls on the fearsome Tiger slope and grit-blasting’s in the teeth of a Glas Maol banshee. I know all these experiences have come in useful. I wonder at the old adage of ‘if you can ski in Scotland, you can ski anywhere’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One major difference between climbing and skiing, that had become abundantly clear to me in the preceding few days is that often, while climbing, you have a number of metres or pitches to get the blood flowing, to warm up, prior to attempting a crux section. Skiing on the other hand, the crux is often the first turn, often attacking the steepest most exposed slope, theoretically the most serious and difficult section, where you only have one chance to get it right. No second chance. No rope to catch the fall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The final concave summit slope we had cramponed up earlier shows us the way. Forty five degrees steep, icy, not much more than a ski length wide, with the appalling drop down the massive north face to the right and a rock face to the left, the way is crystal clear, the focus unerring, the implications of failure open and honest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Start of the Eiger descent</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The edges of my skis bite into the firm snow and ice as I control a sideslip between jump turns. Another turn and we can aim down the west face and away from the lour of the drop to our right. Aggressive but controlled turns down the steep couloir bring familiarity and rhythm, while sharks prowl the edge of the couloir waiting to ambush any naïve turns. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The face fans out below us, the snow no longer the hard compact surface we climbed in the morning shadows, but transform to soft spring snow glistening in the warm afternoon sun. Freed of the rocky confides of the snaking couloir, we open up and relax more and more into each turn, revelling in the acres of space and multitude of potential lines. Speed increases, blood courses’ through the veins, and we carve long turns down the face. Ecstasy reigns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best un-pisted run in the Alps?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few careful turns and controlled slide slips take’s us over blue ice and hidden danger, allowing us to negotiate the slope around and below the huge serac halfway down the face. Climbing up directly under the towering unstable face hours earlier had us on edge, but at least then it had been in the shade. A few nervous glances back up behind us as we hurriedly descended and traversed out of the crosshairs. The gods had spared us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They may have spared us a crushing end, but they were not finished with us just yet. A final obstacle lay ahead the like of which I had never seen, nor would wish on anyone. A veritable ploughed field of snow melt trenches and natural moguls, interspersed with microwave sized blocks of ice, evidence of the unstable wall hundreds of metres behind us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Below the Eiger serac</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The field eventually succumbed to a variety of ungainly techniques, embarrassing stuck tips and flailing poles, a far cry from earlier feelings of invincibility and limitless energy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cruising down to Eigerglescher</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One very happy swiss dude below the West Face</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forty five minutes of picking our way down the face ended where it started, at a train station, Eigergletscher. Onwards and downwards we cruise to Kleine Scheidegg, our numbers swell as we join up with a Grindelwald guide and his client for the day who have been for a relaxed morning walk up the Monch. A day at the office for the guide, a great day for the client, and the culmination of his long term dream, for now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Kleine Scheidegg beer slips down my throat in the warm sunshine. The noise and hussle an unwelcome destraction from the perfect relaxation. We share hero beers with our new Swiss friends and chat about steep ice lines and fearsome ski descents, all visible from our platform view.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My gaze drifts across from the west face to the expanse of north face, another day, another dream. My eyes link the features and history up the face….. The Rote Flue, the Ice Fields, the Ice Hose, the White Spider, Hinterstoisser, Corti, Heckmair, legends. My childhood fear and fascination of mountaineering literature stares me in the face, and I can’t look away. Friend’s stories and anecdotes of their Eigerwand experiences punctuate the features. The quintessential alpine experience, but I know that today is not that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eiger!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I contemplate the days ahead and the deteriorating weather forecast. Three days of special skiing, mountaineering and shared experiences with good friends, this feels like the right way to end the winter, on a high, a mountain of my dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You learned to ski in Scotland? But there are no ski resorts in Scotland!” The client’s teased remark drags me away. I grin, and encourage him to try it out sometime.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing to the Col d'Cristaux</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another view of the Col d Cristaux climbing and ski line</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More Eiger ski.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ally pre-ski..... maybe even pre-espresso!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdbXeaFiQAaHcarVrGcFcVzPH5znI233SHus9GBb9V_e2hEBbmg3N6TVsjhjK9sC3w5bHjKk4IDYcM5qBorbaZCz1mnLx0bkbA9Km8sjLpB6T7aKZSx_kfbLNlhA7DxPUeyysx7QfRiw/s1600/DSCN2812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdbXeaFiQAaHcarVrGcFcVzPH5znI233SHus9GBb9V_e2hEBbmg3N6TVsjhjK9sC3w5bHjKk4IDYcM5qBorbaZCz1mnLx0bkbA9Km8sjLpB6T7aKZSx_kfbLNlhA7DxPUeyysx7QfRiw/s320/DSCN2812.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ally above the Courtes bergshraund</td></tr>
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Andy Inglishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08428598042294660775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-57934552835056656182013-04-25T16:46:00.003+01:002013-04-25T16:54:34.283+01:00Go Skiing...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After a week of summer temperatures and rock climbing in t-shirts at 3000m...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...winter conditions returned to Chamonix with a 30-40cm dump of snow down to ~1500m. Andy had been down visiting Dave and Lara down in Gap but was due to return on Monday morning with an eye for skiing some of Chamonix's well known steeps. After a 05:30 start to drop Monica off at the airport and a nice drive through the sunny Aosta valley, he arrived in a decidedly damp and dank Chamonix. All skiing plans for the day were ditched in favour of bolt clipping in Aosta...so back through the Tunnel du Mont Blanc again!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was working at 03:45 the next day, so Andy went up to ski the Col du Cristeux with Sandy Simpson, Ross and Michele. Ross's details from the day: <a href="http://rosshewittblog.wordpress.com/2013/04/23/col-de-cristaux/">http://rosshewittblog.wordpress.com/2013/04/23/col-de-cristaux/</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Despite having 900m of ascent and 500m of 45<span style="background-color: white; color: #333366; text-align: -webkit-center;">°</span>+ descent in his legs, Andy was up for more! With word of good conditions on the North East Face of Les Courtes, the plan was set. Alarms set, dinner eaten, bags packed and off to bed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Braaaap...brraaaap... text arrives from Andy at 07:57 "on your way........?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Huh?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oh shit, I've set the alarm for 07:45 instead of 06:45. Hmmm....woops!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Finally got to the queue for Grands Montets around 08:30, not quite awake but fed and caffeinated. Up, across, up some more and we're at the start of the skin track leading its way up to the bergschrund and the start of the bootpack. 10 people in front of us, damn. Me to Andy - " apologies for the inevitable sluffing from the people ahead". Doing my best to make up for the late start we catch half of the people ahead on the bootpack and the rest are only just ahead when we make it to the col at around 12:15.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A short wait for the first few people to make their way tentatively down the top 50m of 50<span style="background-color: white; text-align: -webkit-center;">° bumpy, crusty snow and we get our chance to ski this intimidating face. I go first and just side slip and step down through the narrows until the face widens and snow improves, Andy comes behind daring to make a couple of jump turns. At this point the 5 or so people just ahead seem to be in no rush so we just continue past them before cutting left on the the more east facing side of the wide couloir, hoping for less tracks and maybe some sun softened snow?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-center;">Our luck is in and we get 600m of perfect spring snow, allowing us to let off the brakes and get some wider, more flowing turns in. I'll let the pictures do the rest of the talking:</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Andy on the Bootpack with the Argentiére Basin in the background.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The final few hundred metres of bootpacking in the midday heat.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Andy getting in the groove on the spring snow.</span><br />
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Fultoniushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07198044190933339494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-21273599649865643462013-04-08T22:36:00.001+01:002013-04-08T22:36:36.444+01:00Soloing on the BenAnyone who climbs with me regularly will know that (a) I'm a bit of a coward, and (b) I'm crap on ice. It will probably come as a surprise to hear that I went for a bit of an ice soloing trip at the weekend.<br />
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I've had the idea of soloing Zero Gully at the back of my mind for a couple of years. It famously has little gear and poor belays, so soloing it is almost safer than climbing it on a rope. Since none of my regular partners were around at the weekend, and this was probably my last chance to get out this winter, I decided now was the time to give it a try.<br />
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Despite a fairly early start from Glasgow and a quick march to the crag (the benefits of a light pack),<em> </em>I arrived at the base of Zero to find two teams ahead of me. I really didn't want to be following people up the route, pushing past people or waiting around, so a plan B was required. Soloing grade V is a scary enough prospect for me, so I'm not quite sure what inspired me to look up at Slav Route. But as I did, friends' stories of climbing it came back to me - "pretty straight-forward..." "it felt about grade IV..." "we just moved together most of the way...". I could also see that the crux was in good, fat condition and that it was low enough to effect a retreat with the minimal gear I'd brought (30m of rope, 2 screws, some tat and a threader). I half-joked to the party at the back of the Zero queue that I'd probably be down-climbing again in a minute, and set off up the route.<br />
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The first section up icy slabs was quite straight-forward, and I could feel my confidence building. My the time I reached the icicle, I was feeling good. I considered getting the rope out and rigging a back-rope to the in-situ pegs, but decided that I was better staying 100% focused on the climbing. I spent a minute or two psyching myself up, then started upwards. The route had seen some traffic so the steepest section had a few convenient hooks, and before I knew it, I was established on the slabs above. This was both a relief and a worry, as retreat from here would be interesting to say the least!<br />
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More easy ground followed above, and I made fairly rapid progress up the face. My regular partners will confirm that speed is not my forte, but soloing allows for much more constant and flowing movement. Clouds came and went, and in the clearer spells, I judged my progress by picking out the familiar features of Tower Ridge to my right. Reaching a point level with the Great Tower, I knew that the vast majority of the height gain was done, but was still nervous about the tricky-sounding exit pitch. When that section finally came into view, I knew I had been right to be nervous! 3 options presented themselves: a steep, snow-encrusted rib, an awkward-looking icy chimney and a similarly awkward-looking corner. None looked particularly appealing, but I was well and truly committed now so had a look at the least bad option, the left-hand corner. This had some good torques in rock to counteract the cruddier sections of ice, and after a bit of a gibber, I pulled over the top onto the crest of North-East Buttress, relieved and delighted.<br />
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After a celebratory bagel at the summit shelter, I looked at my watch. 11am - probably too early to just drive home again! But those two teams on Zero should be well up the route by now - maybe I could go and do Plan A as well? I set off down the Carn Mor Dearg arête in minimal visibility, dropped into the coire and traversed across towards the base of NE Buttress. Of course, in the poor visibility, I made the classic mistake of traversing too high and ending up above the highest rock band at the base of the buttress. However, I soon realised where I was, downclimbed, and coaxed reluctant legs to break trail back up towards Zero again.<br />
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The weather cleared a little at this point, and I could see a team seemingly in the distance near the top of the route. I stopped for another bite to eat whilst watching to check there wasn't a torrent of debris coming down the steeper section. Suitably refuelled, I set off. The route was so hooked out, I barely had to swing a tool! I've never seen ice like it in Scotland. However, this meant that again, I was moving quite quickly and, to my surprise, I was barely 150m up the route when I spotted another team not far in front. This was the same team of 3 that had been gearing up at the base of Zero when I'd arrived three hours earlier. They'd been held up waiting for the team in front to get up the first couple of pitches, then going through the inevitable faff of climbing as a 3, but I still felt a little sheepish as I passed them. Even more surprisingly, I then passed the pair in front about 100m short of the top. <br />
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I topped out around 1:30 into another pea-souper on the plateau and wandered back over towards the shelter, where I met a group of boys who'd just arrived on the summit. They asked me to take their photo, which I was happy to do, although I didn't realise at first that they were planning to strip to their boxers for the shoot! Fortunately, clothes were put back on before any serious frostbite could take hold...<br />
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I was pretty tired by this point, but thought I could probably manage one more route as long as it was shorter & easier than what had gone before. Green Gully seemed like a good option, so I descended No 4 and traversed across to the base. I couldn't see anyone above, but this turned out to be mainly due to the continuing clag, and I passed another team about 100m up it. Again, the crux was very hooked out, making for reassuringly secure climbing, and before long, I was on the plateau for a third time. By this time, I was out of food and water, and feeling mentally and physically pretty drained, so descended No 4 and walked out.<br />
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The feeling of confidence and comfort on ice is one I thought I'd never experience. Because of the clag, the camera didn't come out of my bag all day. But soloing 1000m of classic Scottish ice in a day will live long in my memory.Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-62336347902465967292013-04-06T14:04:00.000+01:002013-04-06T14:04:12.533+01:00Easter Sun in the NWMy wife Elizabeth and I had a great Easter weekend in the NW, the highlight of which was a traverse of Liathach in truly alpine conditions. Clear blue skies, good snow & ice, gorgeous views as far as the eye can see... Sometimes Scotland really is the best place on earth!<br />
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Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-778071830663507552013-03-23T10:08:00.001+00:002013-03-25T20:41:17.530+00:00New Route in Stob Coire nan LochainAndy and I headed to Glen Coe last week to attempt a long-standing mixed objective. Unfortunately, the crag had caught the sun and Plans A, B and C all featured far too much bare rock. We traversed across to the Twisting Gully area to have a look at Simon Yearsley and Malcolm Bass's new route <a href="http://www.scottishwinter.com/?p=3669" target="_blank">Twisted</a>. But higher up, we spotted a couple of obvious lines which weren't in the guidebook. Time for a bit of an adventure!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAU2Nq8Wx1EFjlQyJ6MpAojoMnSo3K7veXncRHKpECaF1ECOJWiy_0PrVS_b6JK-oiVybG3DVy31osS6auxiVHGl-Q5f6w2cjvRa8liDFH0VeN9KIVjVCJN6_FEHFfHQX23hAQFSP5s56/s1600/SCNL+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAU2Nq8Wx1EFjlQyJ6MpAojoMnSo3K7veXncRHKpECaF1ECOJWiy_0PrVS_b6JK-oiVybG3DVy31osS6auxiVHGl-Q5f6w2cjvRa8liDFH0VeN9KIVjVCJN6_FEHFfHQX23hAQFSP5s56/s320/SCNL+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gorgeous morning in Glen Coe</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt2R20P1uBTIIiNIo7Om55HOgvmnOvBJq8kmi2gHbsenEE1Cxmq4qCdmjrhM0DQ3Kmn-7rx7oUNUtVurtSpWMD3Co_Wecl5rwcKf8N3xed7ZnGB1l0RUFXLm-X-hA2FoAbb7W5IvieFATm/s1600/Me+on+the+crux+groove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>We opted for a steep corner rising from the ramp of Moonshadow. This gave about about 30m of good, steep, independent climbing, plus of course a pleasant start up Twisting Gully Right Hand and the start of the Moonshadow ramp. It was probably VI,7 - quite sustained Tech 7, but never quite touching Tech 8 and not long enough to justify more than VI overall. Asking around, it seems this is indeed a new route, so we decided to call it Moonshine. It's definitely worth a star or two, and would make a good option when the lower buttresses are stripped.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First route of the trip - Weeping Wall in glorious sunshine</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steep featured ice on P1 of curtain call</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More steep ice on curtain call - heading for the ice roof where the pillar has split & re-frozen</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exciting abseil back down again</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWYZ496tJkV6wNJUDEYYe1boIz3M4g9Qr1-S0-StNL0oeGmgwKsd6SYBxh1pV0cernfTrVRtl6GAJ3hAuc-7pTJ2io01Khdlb66rhUfXJeztfyrqPrOOB0H-RFd5EoHMRXyD1M-863H1I8/s1600/DSCN2305+-++Neil+on+1st+of+4+steep+pitches+at+top+of+polar+circus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWYZ496tJkV6wNJUDEYYe1boIz3M4g9Qr1-S0-StNL0oeGmgwKsd6SYBxh1pV0cernfTrVRtl6GAJ3hAuc-7pTJ2io01Khdlb66rhUfXJeztfyrqPrOOB0H-RFd5EoHMRXyD1M-863H1I8/s320/DSCN2305+-++Neil+on+1st+of+4+steep+pitches+at+top+of+polar+circus.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first of the steeper pitches on Polar Circus</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skiing across Lake Louise heading for Louise Falls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy on the mixed pitch on French Reality</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me starting up the steep ice pitch on French Reality</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still steep...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting up Whiteman Falls</td></tr>
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Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-42044507027157786872013-02-20T12:08:00.000+00:002013-02-20T12:13:29.905+00:00Euro Ice ClimbingIts been a while since I have had (made) time to update the blog, so with no work today (!) and still feeling sore from a training session and sufferfest (turbotrainer group suffering) yesterday, excuses are running low.<br />
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Having quit my job in January to persue a few months of climbing and skiing, it seems to have been quite productive so far..... trips to the NW and west coast to do routes and visit places I have longed to experience came to fruition.... Beinn Bhan, Beinn Eighe, Tilt, Shanghigh, Postern, Blood Sweat and Frozen Tears (maybe the best scottish winter route I have done). All brilliant, memorable days out in great company!<br />
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Since then 3 weeks of dotting round europe to Cogne, Chamonix, Kandersteg and Monaco (what you've never heard of the awesome ice climbing on the cote d'azur!) have maintained a feeling of transition and shifting objectives. The initial focus of trying to remember how to climb ice efficiently quickly drifting away to be replaced by the steeper, harder mindset..... well except for Monaco sport climbing which proved somewhat of a reminder that polished limestone and no finger strength is a horrible combination for me!!! <br />
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Anyway, with a crap camera that detests the cold, and an affinity for shaky pictures, I managed a couple of ok shots, so rather than another 2,000 words, here's a few pictures from the last few weeks with Ally Fulton, Ally Swinton and Alastair Robertson....<br />
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Lillaz Gully (Cogne) and the village of Lillaz </div>
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Alastair on Lau Bij (Cogne)</div>
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Sogno di Gnomo (Cogne), the right facing corner line that might have been slightly out of condition...! Avalanche stopped play after (on) the 3rd pitch!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xmc4tojElsHXVcL_TRHUs2dJw6KqXebh-9dOkCgxwuc6s2xU3TzQMG7N_mr2U715v3x2Q1ekQP_RKfhdqL6akY0pgz0gW1IDu0DTj5oE4Ti4MksnJ5N-efo2Pz6bJwgTUY3Kv3eiGkk/s1600/P2050053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xmc4tojElsHXVcL_TRHUs2dJw6KqXebh-9dOkCgxwuc6s2xU3TzQMG7N_mr2U715v3x2Q1ekQP_RKfhdqL6akY0pgz0gW1IDu0DTj5oE4Ti4MksnJ5N-efo2Pz6bJwgTUY3Kv3eiGkk/s320/P2050053.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOu8YTj7QDEpsS0_RdWoCZRpTCIk6_Utz1pnBdBXBfzxcdS8iu-EWX5UOx0UiSUJTR1oo3-X8_nyiNQwUCJC3PRiXZpVG_stVJPs3Rw6xRspb0ioSjKfk3am1ec4w00o7Ejk8F_yXAjvU/s1600/P2040046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOu8YTj7QDEpsS0_RdWoCZRpTCIk6_Utz1pnBdBXBfzxcdS8iu-EWX5UOx0UiSUJTR1oo3-X8_nyiNQwUCJC3PRiXZpVG_stVJPs3Rw6xRspb0ioSjKfk3am1ec4w00o7Ejk8F_yXAjvU/s320/P2040046.JPG" width="240" /></a> Tradimento Direct (Cogne) - No pictures of the crux pillar although in more sporting conditions: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E78XVqeT1g&feature=youtu.be">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E78XVqeT1g&feature=youtu.be</a></div>
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Flash Estivo (Colonne Centrale)</div>
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Foehn wind loading up the slopes above (and firing the temp up!)</div>
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Repentence Super (brilliant route!) on the left and Flash Estivo on the right</div>
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Stella Artice (not a bad fall back route for the day) - Cogne</div>
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Ally abseil into the classic Nuit Blanche (Argentiere)</div>
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Rattenpissoir (Kandersteg) - Polish and French teams creating a proper mess..... nice to see the euros can do it as well as the brits! ;-) Properly wet first pitch resulted in 4 hours of drying kit in the van in the afternoon.</div>
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Ally with Rattenpissoir in the background (the pillar)</div>
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Ally taking a shower on Grimm/Haizahne, backed off and did it the next day instead after doing another 4 pitch WI5+ which made for some tired arms!</div>
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All that remains now is to finalise a few things then get on a plane to the Rockies! Hello Canmore! <br />
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Having spent years flicking through Sean Isaac's book Mixed Climbs in the Canadian Rockies, its so exciting being able to get on a plane and go experience a few of the classic venues! Few other places have such inspiring/terrifying/intriguing route names..... nemesis, terminator, nightmare on wolfe street, sea of vapours, riptide, the list is endless. Should be a blast!<br />
<img height="96" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtG8CZ3txSM81jT9zsn4ibO3E_kdEJhfKoVGtP3ybXp1yIuBWdCA9hzkWJ-UyCXK3GQutH9Qsq2zzrKR2bgQyZ67z2NekA5uoX5AYeKoD8e_-NHo5pjQ_jGP3jb4pGL-A0rItRT0x054U/s320/P1310033.JPG" style="filter: alpha(opacity=30); left: 560px; opacity: 0.3; position: absolute; top: 2494px;" width="72" />Andy Inglishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08428598042294660775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-44114672387365006442013-02-10T10:03:00.002+00:002013-02-10T10:25:50.533+00:00Before and AfterThe Shelter Stone in winter is a beautiful, intimidating and fickle venue. After a few days of whispered plans and obsessive weather-watching, Jim and I found ourselves once again crossing the Cairngorm plateau in the dark, in the clag, on a bearing for this magical place. Approaching the top of Pinnacle Gully as dawn came, we dropped below the cloud and were greeted with exactly the sight we'd hoped for - gleaming white rime on the steep upper cliffs of the Shelter Stone and Carn Etchachan. It's in nick! We geared up excitedly and descended to the base of the crag ready to start up one of our dream routes - the Needle.<br />
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There was, however, one minor problem. It was warm. For the moment, we ignored this fact. The lower turfy grooves were well frozen and had plenty snow cover, the upper section was plastered with rime and the middle section held more than enough whiteness to justify an ascent. Why should a little thing like temperature get in the way? Anyway, were were probably just warm from the walk-in - it'll be fine once we get a bit higher.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim on the Terrace, approaching our high point</td></tr>
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At the start of the fourth summer pitch, we couldn't fool ourselves any longer. We were racing a major thaw up the crag, and the thaw was winning. We were both soaked and the crag's winter plumage was visibly receeding. The next pitch would have been close to dry-tooling (well, wet-tooling) and neither of us could justify going any further, particularly on such a classic route that meant so much to us both. <br />
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It was time to go down, but we'll be back...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and after</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before...</td></tr>
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Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-79607207396561192972013-02-03T14:27:00.002+00:002013-02-03T14:27:35.827+00:00Scottish Winter Climbing Meet & Avenging Angel DirectJim and I had a great weekend at the Scottish Winter Climbing meet in Fort William, organised by Richard Bentley (<a href="http://www.scottishwinterclimbing.co.uk/">http://www.scottishwinterclimbing.co.uk/</a>). It was an excellent opportunity to meet a load of other keen winter climbers, exchange stories & plans and (on Saturday at least) get some routes in in perfect weather.<br />
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Jim & I headed out together for a long-standing objective of Jim's - Avenging Angel Direct on Creag Coire na Ciste. This is a combination of two existing routes - the lower two pitches of Iain Small and Tony Stone's route Angels with Dirty Faces, and the upper two pitches of Nick Bullock's Avenging Angel. This combination makes for a great straight-up line, as Simon Richardson pointed out in his write-up of Iain and Tony's route (<a href="http://www.scottishwinter.com/?p=1762">http://www.scottishwinter.com/?p=1762</a>), but as far as we know, it hadn't been done this way before. <br />
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With so little prior knowledge of either route, we knew we were in for an adventure! But the weather was kind, with blue skies and hardly any wind. Coire na Ciste was well rimed but not utterly blootered, so we had no excuses.<br />
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The route takes the big central corner just left of the pillar in the lower section of the buttress, then steps left up the steep corners above. Jim won the toss for pitch one, which turned out to be really quite bold and technical. There was no obvious sign of panic from Jim when he was on lead, so it was a shock when seconding to find out how hard this pitch really was!<br />
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The second pitch took another steep corner, this time with an offwidth-cum-chimney in it. I grunted and scrabbled by way up this to the point where the right wall steepened and I found I could no longer just wedge myself in the crag and hope for the best! Committing out onto hooks and turf was strenuous and off-balance, but the climbing soon eased, leading across to the next steep corner which marked the junction with the original line of Avenging Angels.<br />
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Jim got this next pitch, which culminated in an unlikely-looking capping roof which fortunately held good hooks and gear (including some fixed gear from the first ascent). This led to a belay below the final short corner. The corner itself turned out to be completely blind, so I made a thin traverse left and went up cracks on the steep wall. I'm not very good at committing to steep moves above gear so this involved a lot of strenuous procrastination, over and above the handing around required to find & clear out the hooks & gear placements. Eventually, after much huffing and puffing, I managed to pull over. The cornice above was an unexpected bonus which I could have done without, but it only took a few minutes of digging to demolish a path through it, so I suppose I got off lightly.<br />
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This direct line gives four pitches of excellent climbing so is highly recommended for anyone looking for something challenging that's not on the standard tick-list of Ben Nevis mixed classics.<br />
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The day was topped off with continuing festivities of the Scottish Winter Climbing meet at the Ben Nevis Inn in Achintee. Stovies were served, pints were drunk and stories from the day were exchanged. Simon Richardson gave an excellent talk on some of his Scottish winter climbing experiences, and took great interest in what we'd all been up to too.<br />
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Simon Frost and I hatched an ambitious plan to get out again today, but after seeing the updated weather forecast he later texted me to call off. I supposed I should have been disappointed, but it was a relief to be able to switch the alarm off and go back to sleep to rest aching muscles. With wind, rain and warm temperatures today, I don't think we missed anything!<br />
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The meet seemed to be a great success, and I hope it continues to run in future years. Thanks to Richard for organising it, and thanks to everyone I met there for the good company and inspiration.Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-66554731667393853062013-01-21T19:59:00.000+00:002013-01-21T19:59:50.197+00:00The wind doth blow...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malcolm on the initial icy groove</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Three years ago I took my first leap of faith down Beinn Eighe's West Central Wall with Graham Briffett, intent on finding and climbing "Mistral", a summer E1 5b that saw its first winter ascent by the ubiquitous Davidson & Nisbet partnership in 1991. Our interest had been piqued by the relatively amenable grade proferred by the first ascentionists (VII 7) and that, to our knowledge, it remained unrepeated. A few weeks before our own sortee, another local team had drawn a blank under a large overhang, high on the third (crux) pitch. Graeme and I faired no better, following the same line but being unable to fit it to the guidebook description. I've thought about this route on and off over the proceeding seasons. After all, there are not too many routes that are of exceptionally high quality, are often in condition, but have not seen a second ascent after more than 20 years! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Malcolm Bass and I had this weekend marked in our diaries for some time. Like me, Malcolm doesn't have the flexibility of climbing mid-week and so, with everything crossed, we made plans. The preceeding week had been stellar but, typically, as our play-date drew nigh, the weather forecast provided reason to be concerned. Gale force south easterlies are not necessarily a winter climber's best friend! We opted for West Central Gully and, as anticipated, it offered full respite from the icy wind scouring the summit plateau. On a wall where route names have traditionally paid homage to wind, it seemed fitting that I was heading back to "Mistral". </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5JmEnYaiMGJ9DG0QIc7uL3pWwLyjMd0aWy6yuJ8eXw-FiDwcmifzQ_w_9ASNvNsfmvqcTfznWBW_z-ZP6SluqF2kZQs3rhoWeIcLkWbQI_jM5suOUFmH80S6W-p2W0qgejplYbIg_zw/s1600/Jim+approaching+belay+of+first+pitch+Mistral.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5JmEnYaiMGJ9DG0QIc7uL3pWwLyjMd0aWy6yuJ8eXw-FiDwcmifzQ_w_9ASNvNsfmvqcTfznWBW_z-ZP6SluqF2kZQs3rhoWeIcLkWbQI_jM5suOUFmH80S6W-p2W0qgejplYbIg_zw/s400/Jim+approaching+belay+of+first+pitch+Mistral.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim approaching the first belay</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hRKtPp5bAhqpJslPrYaaazxPO3OtslueWOvuV0A2JfuWc1fELvg5bTBfvilc_aqxVMA2tltQlhjFLTw_zf6vQ_W04EeKgBQkZe9i5YAwOWY7p2BtqR_KGiQT-iMtyhpc9lOKhB7zH0w/s1600/Malcolm+pulling+ontlo+the+belay+ledge+after+pitch+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hRKtPp5bAhqpJslPrYaaazxPO3OtslueWOvuV0A2JfuWc1fELvg5bTBfvilc_aqxVMA2tltQlhjFLTw_zf6vQ_W04EeKgBQkZe9i5YAwOWY7p2BtqR_KGiQT-iMtyhpc9lOKhB7zH0w/s400/Malcolm+pulling+ontlo+the+belay+ledge+after+pitch+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malcolm gaining the fabulous belay ledge after pitch 2</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Our ascent epitomized the dogged persistance often needed to claim the winter prize. A 5am start into an icy gale and a wayward ascent of Beinn Eighe's southern slope saw us reach the summit plateau almost opposite West Central Gully, with weary legs and a day lit sky which belied our early start. Inevitably our ropes then got stuck on the heart-in-mouth abseil down the dog-legged last pitch of Blood Sweat and Fozen Tears, requiring some jiggery-pokery to set them free. At last, by late morning, and having experienced highs and lows in equal measure, we were stood beneath the initial icy groove of Mistral. Following success or failure, this particular episode would have a moon-lit finale! </span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVfCxecjY_ggsHB34L9_VQUgzvCFmQNUG50947Kw7xC3hSkx4KlqK1OFEoLTOwaLCOQU0iJ8jZiDp0QvErQv8w7y-4CDBc4AGzUujhZtcVEW2RjKgUNKNNm0WlRpcbNx8bAQccrTu3us/s1600/Jim+Starting+Crux+Pitch+Mistral.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVfCxecjY_ggsHB34L9_VQUgzvCFmQNUG50947Kw7xC3hSkx4KlqK1OFEoLTOwaLCOQU0iJ8jZiDp0QvErQv8w7y-4CDBc4AGzUujhZtcVEW2RjKgUNKNNm0WlRpcbNx8bAQccrTu3us/s400/Jim+Starting+Crux+Pitch+Mistral.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim starting the crux pitch 3</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">An efficient couple of pitches brought us to the fabulous belay ledge beneath the crux 35m third pitch on which I had failed three years previous. This time I took a more direct line slightly further right, heading for the smaller of two capping roofs with the final V groove clearly visible beyond. This was it! </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim high on the crux pitch aiming for the small V notch in the sky-line</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The pitch was steep, often tenuous and hard won.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have to say it was the most sustained winter pitch I have ever climbed. What a belter! Pulling into the V groove belay was</span> <span style="font-family: Verdana;">a particularly joyous moment for me. I even let out a feable squeal in celebration which is particularly unusual for this quiet man! As darkness enveloped us Malcolm displayed steely determination in seconding the pitch, even climbing one of the crux sections twice having dropped, then retrieved, his head-torch. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqelELNId0HqeA0m8DnJMu_FDI5G7zSre5t9xj3o7__nY1CvKZDwXJjLHbvCBbpCysPYLiVLlX4jGyy3H9JVaipai4E-jk-QfDOZhG_m_yt59vWKCq5OitEDMa1jBPG-XB0NwwMavluU/s1600/The+happy+couple+at+9pm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqelELNId0HqeA0m8DnJMu_FDI5G7zSre5t9xj3o7__nY1CvKZDwXJjLHbvCBbpCysPYLiVLlX4jGyy3H9JVaipai4E-jk-QfDOZhG_m_yt59vWKCq5OitEDMa1jBPG-XB0NwwMavluU/s400/The+happy+couple+at+9pm.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The happy couple at 9pm</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">We topped out at 9pm having finished up the Wall of the Winds chimney as per the first ascent (note - the V groove of Mistral still awaits a winter ascent).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">As Malcolm later said, according to the new Yorkshire winter grading system the crux pitch was "reet 'ard" but, going with convention, we will suggest "very sustained VII 8" with the route definitely worthy of three stars. A memorable day! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Jim</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span>Earthwormjimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07577309696466593472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-72727154630345744882013-01-02T19:07:00.000+00:002013-01-02T19:07:11.709+00:00New Year in the Northern Corries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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I was up in Boat of Garten for a few days over New Year with a bunch of friends. We only got one day's climbing in, a quick raid into Coire an t-Sneachda on New Year's Day. The weather was a bit wild and most of the crags had been stripped by the thaw. </div>
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Fiachaill Buttress was still well and truly wintery though. Our choice of Belhaven was more like an ice route than a rocky mixed line! It was an ideal route for a short, low-stress day. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching Fiachaill Buttress</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy looking cold!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The icy groove on the upper pitch</td></tr>
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Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-35528778050626776902012-12-28T09:53:00.000+00:002012-12-28T09:54:16.184+00:00Rehab on the BenAfter a <a href="http://scottishclimbers.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/bad-start-to-season.html" target="_blank">nasty fall</a> at the start of November, my ribs had pretty much healed and I was desperate to get back out. The second half of December seemed to offer ideal conditions for those able to get out mid-week, but was thoroughly disappointing for us "weekend warriors". Cabin fever was beginning to set in.<br />
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All that was resolved yesterday with a great day out on the Ben with Jim. We discussed a few options - Jim was keen for something a little more adventurous but given my weakened state, I didn't fancy a complete epic, so we settled on Sidewinder on South Trident buttress. Although this was only climbed in winter for the first time in 2005, it has become a popular route and is generally considered to be low in its grade (although the grade is VII,8). This sounded hard enough to be challenging yet easy enough to retreat from if I was really struggling. I'd also been impressed by it when looking across from Strident Edge a couple of years ago, and wanted to do it ever since.<br />
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Since the route isn't in the SMC Ben Nevis guide, we were relying on word-of-mouth and others' blogs for info. I had the impression that there was an easy introductory pitch, a harder middle pitch and a crux on the top pitch. In my weakened state, I suggested Jim take the crux (I could claim it was generosity, but it was mainly cowardice!). He led off up the first pitch, taking no time to reach the foot of a steep corner 30-odd metres above.<br />
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Arriving at this belay, I realised that I might have made a mistake - this looked a lot harder than I'd been hoping for! The crack in the corner would have accommodated perfect hand-jams in summer but required careful and strenuous laybacking & torquing in winter. I made several forays up and down the initial section, placing high runners and finding excuses to procrastinate. I knew that I had to commit to reach the security of a chockstone above, but my head hadn't recovered from the fall, and convincing myself to go upwards rather than downclimb to the security of the belay was a real struggle. Jim showed admirable patience, and eventually I managed to commit, reaching from a strenuous bunched position up to a solid hook around the chockstone above. Surely that was the crux done? Apparently not - a couple of metres higher, the exit from the corner onto the powder-covered slab above proved every bit as hard and a lot sketchier. The gear was good but it was doing little to reassure me. Again, I eventually convinced myself to commit. "Watch me!". A thin hook slipped then caught again. My other axe struggled for purchase in the soft snow. Finally, I grovelled onto the slab and crawled up to the belay.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim seconding the tricky exit from the corner</td></tr>
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The pitch above was long and sustained, taking another corner then the continuation groove above. Jim put in an excellent lead to bring us to the ridge above. A tiring swim along this through deep powder brought us to the plateau.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim setting off up the top pitch</td></tr>
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This morning, I have the familiar ache of shoulders, back and calves that always follows a good winter day. I also have the relief of knowing that I can still climb this stuff. It'll take a little while for my head to settle down fully, but my doubts that I can still enter the exciting and adventurous world of winter climbing, or that I want to, have gone.Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-44827114146458566922012-12-05T07:34:00.000+00:002012-12-05T08:28:03.328+00:00Hung Drawn and Quartered!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Suddenly it was looking rather promising for the weekend ahead. The hallowed hills of north west Scotland were teasing, tantalising and, now, flaunting as first-hand accounts filtered through. I haven't yet secured a partner. It's the SMC dinner and other "regulars" are already committed or out of action.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'd met Ross a week earlier at Newtyle and, having exchanged numbers, it was with relief that his tentative response became certain. I had now secured a partner. Typically another offer came through shortly after which I had to decline. Sorry Roger, I'm sure you would have done the same!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Plan A was quickly shelved on learning of rain at 600m near Applecross. And, then, a text from Pete Macpherson suggested "Hung Drawn and Quartered". Rather than striking the fear of god into me I was inspired. Before now I had not had the opportunity to climb on Skye (summer or winter) and I vividly recalled Pete's photographs and tales from the second ascent of this fiercely overhanging crack-line, with Ian Parnell, in 2010. "The best Grade 8!" Pete enthused. He would be prospecting a new route on Am Basteir with Martin Moran and we could join the party. Incidentally (or should that be coincidentally) it was Martin who grabbed the first ascent of this plum line in 2008, so we would be in perfect company</span>. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Basteir Tooth (Photo - Pete Macpherson)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The walk in was a joy, if a bit icy underfoot, as the crisp dawn revealed the most stunning alpenglow over the Cuillin Ridge. The true extent of this spectacle was largely lost on me at the time as Ross and I geared-up close to King's Chimney, but Pete Macpherson's excellent photographs captured the moment. We couldn't have chosen a better day for my first route on Skye!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">But was I fit enough, strong enough, brave enough?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Rather than give a blow by blow account of the route itself I will simply say that it was st-e-e-p, hard, intimidating and utterly brilliant. My arms surrendered in the final few feet of the third pitch, resulting in an impromptu belay and Ross leading through to complete the pitch in style. With the hardest climbing now behind us, I led the way to the top.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The line is kind of obvious! (Photo Pete Macpherson)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Many will sit in their comfy chairs in front of their PC and say that my ascent was flawed (Ross's most certainly wasn't) and, yes, I cannot claim a clean ascent. Failure? No, I won't accept that. At least I had the balls to try. I gave it absolutely everything and in the process I had an amazing day. True failure would have been not trying at all.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBxaNWp3E82ekGjwrHUto-uNnRhICdpX-jhB2ubjaEC2wkDDlT02z0Rkpp7GLBvfaveaCjJfDLH3pvupW3LgUsLdfg0nEwLaNAbEx8HoB1zwlxdDIbiKWA3e6rpX1ctl9huX_0H3ip0Q/s1600/072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBxaNWp3E82ekGjwrHUto-uNnRhICdpX-jhB2ubjaEC2wkDDlT02z0Rkpp7GLBvfaveaCjJfDLH3pvupW3LgUsLdfg0nEwLaNAbEx8HoB1zwlxdDIbiKWA3e6rpX1ctl9huX_0H3ip0Q/s400/072.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did I say it was steep? (Photo - Pete Macpherson)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG9HOSnqPKF8gBJI8Y5T_gLI8XcHKdhMtdKqUfV7-NR75aks4NGbqmoBdBIva6vKXCm8wopM48CtZdNV3m8AmiZlB0fFStvNOG1LvV2w0W9WoF-jWlVjiYq85D_wj_TT3TEOytyIch3VI/s1600/079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG9HOSnqPKF8gBJI8Y5T_gLI8XcHKdhMtdKqUfV7-NR75aks4NGbqmoBdBIva6vKXCm8wopM48CtZdNV3m8AmiZlB0fFStvNOG1LvV2w0W9WoF-jWlVjiYq85D_wj_TT3TEOytyIch3VI/s400/079.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearing the end of Pitch 1 (Photo - Pete Macpherson)<br />
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Earthwormjimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07577309696466593472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-89364179349396321092012-11-05T09:02:00.001+00:002012-11-05T09:02:08.483+00:00Bad start to the seasonI had a bit of a fall yesterday off the top pitch of War and Peace. I don't want to go into details - it's too easy for people to jump to conclusions or apportion blame if they weren't there. But I do want to thank the guys on the route next to us for their kindness and their Ibuprofen, and thank Simon for helping me walk out. <br />
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I'm now nursing a couple of broken ribs which will keep me out of action for a little while, but fortunately nothing more serious.Neil Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504904081458287655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-85578464661535851632012-11-04T15:58:00.002+00:002012-11-05T06:22:01.185+00:00Contentment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When Neil calmly declared "this is unjustifiably dangerous" before lowering off an icy crux pitch on <a href="http://www.ukclimbing.com/logbook/c.php?i=128904" target="_blank">Nocando Crack</a> I understood completely. After several metres of protection-less, delicate and irreversible thin ice placements above an ankle (if not leg)-breaking ledge, Neil finally contrived a secure pick placement. With no immediate prospect of gear, his decision looked easy and pre-meditated. The rope was carefully clipped into a carabiner on the shaft of the axe and Neil was lowered to the safety of the belay. At least in the accessible Northern Coires gear retrieval is not a significant problem and on finishing up <a href="http://www.ukclimbing.com/logbook/c.php?i=2326" target="_blank">The Migrant</a>, Harry and I were able to abseil back down and return the crag-swag to its grateful owner.<br />
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Risk and the associated adrenaline high has always been fundamental to my climbing experiences but as I age, life priorities are changing. Accentuated by my newly married status I am not craving the fear factor and I am more conscious of "unjustifiable danger" than ever before.<br />
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The fire is not burning as fiercely as it did through the last three seasons but, two weeks and two moderately difficult but excellent routes into the current early winter, I am reassured that it is still smouldering. I am not ready to fade into retirement just yet as I slip into contentment.<br />
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Today is a beautifully peaceful Sunday. I am more than happy to be at home with Shona (my life and wife) scavenging for fire wood, reading the papers, drinking tea, writing this blog and preparing for our roast dinner. Changing life priorities are delivering happiness and contentment in abundance. But make no mistake, there is still room in my life for winter climbing sufferance. Albeit more dilute.<br />
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Earthwormjimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07577309696466593472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-280479584424091656.post-5063144832602932172012-09-05T23:04:00.001+01:002012-09-05T23:13:30.719+01:00After work warrior!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This year my climbing has been mainly midweek, fitting it in as best as I could around my busy schedule of work and regular visits to and from Amsterdam to see my lass.<br />
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Midweek trad sessions are tough. There's no two ways about it, limited time, drained brain and too much psyche often don't result in flying performances. That being said, I've had a pretty decent year with a few E3 onsights at the mighty Auchinstarry (Gold Bug), Limekilns (Through the Motions) and Loudoun (Lunge). I felt like I was going well after my trip to the Dolomites with Neil and had been keen to try Ivy League at Limekilns for a while.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someotherbloke on The Ivy League</td></tr>
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I've been eyeing this one up for a while as it looked technical, moderately protected and challenging! Tonight after a perfunctory warm up of re-leading The Dead Ringer and seconding James up Elgins Crack I got started. The first few moves went ok, got some thin gear in and committed to making moves towards the wider crack/pod with its lure of holds and gear. Unfortunately I misread the sequence and took a small fall. First fall onto an RP4 for a while...<br />
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Had a quick go after too little rest which resulted in a quick rest/retreat. Not really a proper go. I had a proper rest after this and got started up the fun lower sequence, this time getting it right and making it to the crack. Kicking myself slightly for fluffing it the first time I kept ploughing onwards until the top crux. After contriving a semi-rest I committed to the tricky sequence, a bit off balance I made a lunge for the break which took quite some effort to hold! </div>
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Pulling over the top I had that nagging feeling that I was more than capable of onsighting this route, but had just failed. Just.</div>
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The thing that is gnawing at me is that I wasn't scared, wasn't afraid of committing to the moves and didn't back down. I just got it wrong. Pure and simple. And annoying. Probably a case of being too rushed by fading light and midges. </div>
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Riglos write up coming soon...</div>
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Fultoniushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07198044190933339494noreply@blogger.com1