By Fraser Hale – October 2006

Being members of the lowest lying Mountaineering Club in Britain most of us, in search
of crags or peaks, journey in the direction of “away” most weekends. East Anglia is
largely bereft of any vertical scenery and can be seen as less than dramatic; the lack of
contours also contributes little in the way of physical challenges or testing weather
conditions. Nevertheless Suffolk holds charms of its own if you search them out.

I recently spent a weekend leading a National Trust Working Holiday based on Orford
Ness. The Ness is the largest vegetated shingle spit in Europe and is an extremely
important habitat, boasting several rare plant, bird and insect species. By contrast to
the more usual recreational haunts of club members, the Ness is the very antithesis of
‘mountainous’; the highest point barely above sea level and as flat as yesterday’s lager
it is nonetheless a beautiful and engaging place.

The spit did not exist 800 years ago, being deposited over that time by the constant
erosion and subsequent deposition of the headland to the North. Orford was once a large
and thriving port town, as evidenced by its relatively large castle complex, but as the
shingle encroached and narrowed the passage to the North Sea, so the town’s fortunes
declined.

In order to reach the Ness you take a short boat ride across from Orford Quay. This
highlights the feeling of remoteness that pervades the place and this is further augmented
as you start to unearth the history of the place.

Orford Ness has a long and intriguing military history. First used as a base for a defence against Napoleonic invasion, it was also used as a WWI airstrip where early aerial photography was developed. During the Second World War a top secret radar system was built and tested on the island and, finally, during the Cold War, atomic weapons systems were tested in weirdly shaped buildings part buried in the shingle.

The only person permanently based on the Ness is the National Trust Warden. There are very few roads and even fewer vehicles. The wind from the North Sea moans softly across the open expanses of shingle and you can quickly feel deliciously isolated and alone.

Not surprisingly the Ness has more than its fair share of ghost stories and a plethora of myths relating to its involvement in various top secret projects. Although the area is now owned and managed by the National Trust the MoD is still very tight lipped about what went on there right up until 1986, and every winter a storm unearths at least one chunk of ordnance from under the shingle.

There are a number of walks around the Ness taking in the lighthouse, the military buildings, dunes, lagoons, shingle banks and big skies. There isn’t so much as a hillock in sight but the place has an atmosphere all its own, lots of interesting flora and fauna and an awesome back-story. The castle on the mainland isn’t a bad visit either and there is a pub near the quay that does a decent line in grub. One weekend, when you don’t fancy the drive to steeper parts, check it out, it is a unique and slightly spooky place.

NB Check access details on the NT website first. www.nationaltrust.org.uk

By Mike Hams – October 2006

Beginners weekend was the scene for my best ever day out in the Peak district.
Saturday dawned a tad damp and some hearing the forecast on Radio 4 went off to
Sheffield for a hard outing on plastic holds. My son Matthew and I along with
Judy, Beryl, Ian and Christina headed for the obligatory Lawrencefield trip. We
reasoned it would be sheltered, out of the cloud and may possibly dry given some
let up in the rain.

We weren’t disappointed in our guess and being a moderately concerned parent I
asked if Matthew could tag on the rope that went up Nailbane on the Gingerbread
slab. Last time out Matt had struggled and sworn at me (under his breath) all the
way up Snailcrack and I had put him off! So working on the basis that climbing
near to me but not with me would help confidence off he went. Being a foot or so
taller helped with the climb and he made a really good stylish ascent to the slab
while his dad looked on proudly. As the conquering hero returned to lunch on fine
food the heavens opened and thoughts of a trip up Pulpit Groove went out the
window.

Matt and I went and practiced some belay set-ups alongside the climbing area as he
hoped to lead something easy at sometime weather permitting. Several belay
arrangements were tried and clove hitches became second nature. It was all going
well and rock was drying from the shower. The other teams decided that a trip to
the Frustration area would be a good idea, as we weren’t inspired by the other
offerings in the Pool area. We arrived to find a top rope on every easy route and
an abseil on the hard ones. After some muttering we crossed the road to Millstone
and the Hells Bells area.

Here I finally climbed something Giants Steps. It was green and the holds were a
touch slippery. Thankfully under the watchful gaze of my 13 year-old I managed to
climb the horror without looking too bad! Minor complaints about rope drag were
due to my belayer doing his job properly as Ian informed me. (Performance anxiety,
what performance anxiety?) Matt had a nightmare on it, as he was just too short
for the move off the block in the corner of the ledge. I had to winch him up a
couple of inches at a time.

Time had marched on and it was dinner o’clock according to MMT (Matthew Meal
Time!) A return to camp and cooking followed. Some ale was consumed (his mother
will read this gentle reader) and a reasonable bedtime followed.

Sunday dawned reasonably wetly, team wuss headed for the café and the full
Hardhurst breakfast. I was reasonably concerned that we wouldn’t be getting off
the ground after the big feed. Froggatt was to be the venue, decided between the
second and third cups of tea.

Steve Culverhouse joined us for the trip, as he was part of the lift share. The
weather cleared to a moderately good day (by Peak standards) and Matt declared he
was ready for the challenge of the first lead. What to put him on? Well it could
only be Nursery Slab (M) in the Downhill Racer area. Steve kindly agreed to solo
alongside Matt giving advice on gear placements and Matt had climbed the route
before. Success should be a reasonably sure thing. (I wasn’t going home to explain
why the son and heir was dented to domestic management!)

Steve was calmness personified as he followed the putative leader up the climb.
Gear placements were tried and rejected, the belayer (me) had to work hard at
maintaining concentration. The man at the sharp end was fully aware of the
potentially exciting time that would be his if it all went wrong (I was working
out how to drop Steve off and flee the country before word got back home). An hour
or so later the call came “climb when ready”.

I set off in big boots to see how it had all gone. The gear placements were all
top notch (well done Steve and Matt). A very proud father topped out to shake his
son by the hand in best stiff-upper lip British Mountaineering tradition (Mallory
would have been proud of our control). I then hugged the hero and let my top lip
quiver a bit in a 90’s new-man fashion (those that are too young can ask their
parents about new-man).

Time was getting on so we left after one route (in line with my Mike one-route
Hams reputation) and headed home. It was without doubt my best ever days climbing
and will unlikely to be topped even if Matt drags me up E3 in the future. My
heartfelt thanks to Steve Culverhouse for making it all possible and Pete Tonks
for superb organisation of the whole weekend. (Can we have better weather next
time please?)

By Fraser Hale – June 2006

A few weeks ago I spent the weekend at The National Mountain Centre,
Plas Y Brenin, Taking part in the inaugural running of a new course.
Apparently, the trend in recent times has been towards the technical in
training programmes for Mountain Leader etc. and it was felt that something
to redress the balance was in order.

The Mountain Environment Workshop focuses on the physical environment
in which we walk and climb rather than the skills and techniques that we
employ once we’re there. The aim of the course is to improve awareness and
appreciation of all aspects of the mountain environment, its geology and
geography, its flora and fauna, its evolution and history.

Blue Flower (click on image to view in Flickr)

So, where to start? Well, breakfast, naturally. After a huge repast we
were introduced to our tutors; Mike Rouse is a Mountain Leader and
ex-geography teacher. Dr Janet Sumner is an earth scientist with a penchant
for volcanoes. Both these individuals, it quickly became clear, are touched
by the special kind of madness that allows their interest in and passion
for their subject matter to infect everyone in close proximity. Trust me
geography and geology were never like this at school. After a swift master
class in rock formation and the underlying geology of Snowdonia, we were
off out to witness it for real.

As well as knowing a thing or two about how the ground under our feet
came to be there, Mike and Janet identified a lot of the stuff growing up
out of it. Saturday’s walk took us to Idwal, past the Slabs and up to the
Devil’s Kitchen, in glorious warm sunshine. Along the way we discovered the
delights of Sundew, a tiny, carnivorous plant that frequents marshy ground.
Next time you’re out in the hills look out for this spiny red plant and get
up close, it’s bloody amazing! Further wonders were revealed as we climbed
above the tree line – orchids, ferns and lichens, all identified and
explained by our encyclopaedic guides.

From the head of the valley the unimaginable forces that created the
landscape were apparent through the dramatic shapes in the rock around us.
The folding and buckling of layers of rock, dozens of metres thick, the
grinding and gouging of millions of tons of glacial ice and, against this,
the relatively puny impact of man with his mines, quarries and farming.

Sunday found us on the slopes of Snowdon, with further plant life to
discover but with the emphasis on the impact of the search for natural
resources on the land. Copper mining and slate quarrying were important
industries in Wales for hundreds of years and the legacy of these
activities is to be seen in abandoned workings and buildings all over
Snowdonia.

The living environment and the historical elements of its formation are
brought together in the stories and legends that are attached to various
places, plants and people of the area, Mike had a wealth of these tales
which served to highlight the ways in which we strive to interpret and
rationalise much of the natural world around us.

Yellow Flower

The biggest impact of the course, I think, is that I realised that all
this stuff was always there. I’d been taught a lot over the weekend but
nothing so important as how to look. I have stood on hillsides in the past
and gazed around in contented wonder at my surroundings. Now I realise that
I wasn’t really getting it at all!

Mike and Janet would like to make the Workshop a regular course, watch
out for it in the brochures and on the web site. Training at PYB is always
first rate but this is something special!

By Caroline Goldsworthy – June 2006

“I will be at North Burbage car park at ten on Friday, c u there!” That was the penultimate text I received from Adrian Berry, a top climber and climbing coach who I hoped was going to have an impact on my climbing grade, get me off this plateau and start moving me towards the magic Es.

Of course, it didn’t start there… it started Bank Holiday weekend in Derbyshire where a number of us collected to celebrate the coming of (middle) age of a certain Mr Bayley. The margaritas of the previous night had proved somewhat potent and Sunday found the team too hung over to do a great deal at all. Beryl and I took the hound for a much-needed walk and the ‘boys’ decided to stroll from Hardhurst to Hathersage as concerns were expressed over not being fit to drive! Super fit Ian took in a sub 2-hour mountainous Buxton half marathon showing us all up in good style. Nice one Ian!! J

Later in the day we all convened in the Outside café and whilst chomping through the excellent coffee cake I noticed a poster advertising a climbing coach who could help improve your grade. I was tempted… He didn’t look too ropey either which helped in the decision making process. Details were duly taken and later fuelled by food and alcohol I sent the man a text and he responded the following day detailing costs etc. I was more than tempted… Exchanges of e-mails the following week left me burrowing into guidebooks in a desperate attempt to come up with the perfect tick list. I sought the opinions of fellow climbers on ukclimbing.com as to what I should consider for a first E1 lead. Opinions didn’t differ greatly from my own and so finally – I had my list…

I mailed it to the man who said that it wasn’t what he was looking for and could I please tell him what sort of routes inspired me. I felt about 12 again having had homework returned covered in red pen!!

I replied telling him of my desires to climb a millstone crack and my fear of roofs and he responded with “fine, cracks and roofs it is”!!

So here I sit in the George Hotel in Hathersage, fed and watered (well that’ll be water post Divine intervention), and worry about what awaits me the next day. I had watched part II of the Neil Gresham Master class and am terrified that the first part of the day will focus on leader falls and how to cope with them. I know it’s something I need to work on; but all in
good time please??

As is expected of one’s friends I had received a fair amount of teasing about this course of action. My non-climbing girlfriends came up with comments from “does he do extras” to “do people know you’re meeting a strange man in a car park? Is he kosher?” The boys restricted themselves to requests that I text them to let them know which ward of the Royal Hallam I
was in.

Friday morning dawned clear and bright however, evidently a good day was in store. Adrian drew up and once introductions were taken care of, we walked to the crag. I was talked through a warm up routine and filmed doing some gentle bouldering and then we moved to a slab with a few dimples. Adrian taught me to squeak my boots and then he bouldered with tennis balls in his hands. Then it was my turn. Hummm… After a couple of half-hearted attempts I was excused tennis balls and attempted the route again. This time I was more successful but was unable to let go and jump down to the bouldering mat. This was overcome by donning the approach shoes, getting to the top of the boulder, hanging over the edge and then letting go and dropping. Ugh!! But I did it three times to make sure that I could cope with it. Adrian assured me that the first day of the course I am due to attend in Kalymnos would be dedicated to falling. Something to look forward to then, I thought. J

We next went to a trad route and I led a steep overhanging brute of a route called Mutiny Crack. It’s graded HS in the current RockFax but it is tough at that grade. It is VS in the BMC guide. The pro is good, but there are three overlaps to subdue and it is as pumpy as a very pumpy thing. Much whimpering and thugging finally led to success and afterwards Adrian spoke to me about the merits of taping the hands for crack climbs and of loose chalk.

A trip to Outside was agreed upon and we trooped off back to the car park. On our way we were approached by a lady walker asking if we could help rescue a lamb from a ditch where it had become trapped. Upon arrival at the scene Adrian simply stripped his shirt off, stood astride the ditch, plunged his arms either side of the lamb and hauled it out. The very grateful lady walker helped him clean his arms and we went shopping.

The next venue was Froggatt and we arrived at the foot of Three Pebble Slab, a route I love and have wanted to lead for many years.

Three Pebble Slab (click on image to view in Flickr)

Adrian took me through the process of building up for a big lead. I checked the route, thought about what gear I would need, calmed myself with the breathing mechanisms we’d discussed in the morning, I squeaked my boots and was eventually ready to set off. I muffed getting to the first horizontal break but did it again and was soon at the second one; I placed a small cam and moved up to the pocket. I had thought it was a #6 nut but it’s a 4 and thankfully I had put a 4 and a 5 on my harness. When I did this before for some reason I put the cam in first and then had problems placing the nut; so wised up this time, I placed the nut first then the cam, clipped each to a separate rope and once the gear was placed I concentrated on the move. Gingerly, and with heart in mouth, I put my toe in the pocket and reached up for the break. Now I was standing above the gear and this next move was the one I had failed on before. I put my right
foot up for the rock over and could not get my weight over. I tried again, still couldn’t do it. I looked down at Adrian. “Try not putting your foot so far over.” he said “I know it’s a big ledge but just put your toe at the edge of it and try again.” I did as I was told and miraculously the rock
over worked, I got my weight over and my right hand crept onto the hold that had been for so long, tantalisingly out of reach. I stood on the ledge and faced the final black slab above. Gretel-like the route was clearly marked for me in the chalk of previous ascensionists. Again the
breathing and calming, and then I went for it. With success so nearly in my grasp I knew I was going to get to the top and practically yodel, but on arriving at the summit of my route nothing was further from my mind. I just stood there, shocked and looked down at Adrian. I wanted to shout for joy but the shock of actually achieving what I had wanted for so long had left me speechless. It was like I was in a dream and to a certain extent it still has not sunk in.

I was navel lint for what remained of the day. I could not get myself on to the block at Tody’s Wall – just didn’t trust my gear. So I need to go back and get that done. Adrian showed me how to tape my hands for crack climbing and I struggled on an evil crack climb, trying to learn crack
climbing techniques (a project methinks!) and finally he soloed Long John’s Slab to put a top rope up for me, but I think the old bod had had it for the day. I spent what seemed like ages dangling on the end of the rope but I’m blowed if I could reach the next crimp. I was very disappointed with myself.

However, despite being disappointed with my efforts later in the day, I have to say the day as a whole was well worth it. I learnt so much, much more in that day than I have in the past 5 years, and I achieved my goal.  Adrian is a really good coach, explains things well, is pretty patient and
makes you believe in yourself. He gave me some things to work on and I will definitely be going back for another session.

Adrian can be contacted via his website at www.positiveclimbing.com

Thanks, Adrian for a fabulous day out, I could never have done 3PS without your guidance and making me believe in myself.

Adrian Berry soloing Long John Slab E3 5c

An account of an attempt at Great Gully, Craig yr Ysfa, Carneddau.

By design, team BS found themselves in North Wales at Easter. Keen for
grand adventures of the type described in The Good Book, edited by a
certain K. Wilson, Easter Saturday saw them plodding up the service road en
route to Craig yr Ysfa to tackle Great Gully. For this particular
adventure, they were joined by mystery guest F who, it turned out, has a
peculiar penchant for this kind of climbing.

Some steep descending and scree scrambling deposited the intrepid party
at the base of the gully. It was soon evident that this was going to be a
very wet grand adventure – there was considerable evidence of flattened
vegetation in the gully and water flowing from its base.

Team member B took the ropes for the first pitch but the protection was
such that all 3 team members were moving together on the whole rope length
before the first piece of gear was placed. Eventually, a solid nut was
placed shortly before a spike belay.

Mystery guest F then took the ropes and made short work of a rocky step
and some gully scrambling before belaying under a dripping chockstone. Team
member S was rather less taken with the step and there was much swearing
and cursing as an alternative line was taken up the smooth gully wall. By
contrast, team member B made the step easily, padded up the gully bed and
wondered what all the fuss was about.

The ropes were once again swapped over, this time to team member S, for
the pitch up to the ‘Door Jamb’ and an iffy belay. So iffy, the call was
‘Climb but don’t fall off’. The door jamb itself is a deep cave with water
dripping from the edge and smooth, moss covered, walls on either side. The
entire team wondered what to do next – the guide book mentions a human
pyramid or a snow bank to surmount this obstacle, neither of which were
options. An alternative option up a steep groove on the right was also
mentioned.

The ropes were swapped back to team member B who tackled the groove,
which was certainly steep and wet too. Quite a challenge in big boots. At
the top of the gully, the way was less obvious. Going left looked to be too
hard so right it had to be. This option had evidently seen the passage of
feet before and some more protection was possible until a nervous shuffle
across a wet and sloping grassy bank led to another belay of the ‘Climb but
don’t fall off’ type.

The belay was outside the gully and probably off route. Eventually, the
entire team were gathered on the small ledge and, again, wondered what to
do next. From our position, the next moves were far from clear but despite
this uncertainty mystery guest F took the ropes again and stepped out to
lead the pitch. The first few moves were easy but unprotected but then it
was onto wet rock again. After some deliberation, mystery guest F took a
rocky chimney option and did much of it before declaring ‘This is too hard
for me’. At much the same point, team member S asked ‘What is the time?’ It
turned out to be about 4PM and a quick sum confirmed that it had taken
something like 3.5 hours to get to a stop point on the 5th pitch with
another 4 pitches and the crux still to come. Time for a mountaineering
decision.

Whilst we were all equipped for a finish in the dark, it wasn’t an
appealing prospect. So, mystery guest F lowered off and made himself secure
to a handy spike. Much rope faffing followed as mystery guest F secured the
ropes around the same spike. Team members B put himself on the rope,
teetered back into the gully until below the spike before rappelling into
the void below the door jamb, casually forgetting the dripping roof and
moss covered walls, thus getting a good soaking. Team member S and mystery
guest F followed. Further application of the same technique returned the
entire team to the mouth of the gully but it had taken something like 2
hours to get there.

At the time of writing, team BS had still to return to Great Gully for
another attempt. Mid-summer after a period of hot, dry weather currently
looks favourite.

By Caroline Goldsworthy – June 2006

Arrghh!!

I tried to bite back a scream as yet another lump of chalk responded to my weight by hurling itself into the abyss.

“Take in.” I yelled at my climbing partner high above me. Nothing.

“Take in!” More insistent this time. Still nothing.

This time I screamed. A screech from the depths of my now terrified being.

“Taaaake innnnnn!!” He took in. The green rope was now pulling me off of the cliff face and I had ample amounts of the blue rope, sufficient in fact to make a jumper!

“Take in on blue.” The green rope became tighter still – the blue sagged at my crampon-shod feet. An interesting combination of razor sharp metal and my lifeline – the rope!

“Take in on bluuuuuuue!!” The blue rope moved a little, at least now I wouldn’t tread on it. I moved up the grey and white face of the cliff. My progress marked by yet more rocks and boulders scattering as I passed and flinging themselves onto the beach and surprised onlookers below.

I reached the next point of protection. A warthog hammered into the chalky rock. I inserted the pick end of my ice axe into the head of the warthog and tried to twist it so that I could remove it. Not a hope. “F***, f***, f***” I imagined how proud he was of how well placed the equipment was. I imagined how good he had felt whilst hammering it in with his new lump hammer. I then imagined how good that lump hammer was going to look carefully placed in his skull!

Extracting Gear (click on image to view in Flickr)

I tried twisting the warthog again. I couldn’t quite get the leverage on it due to the proximity of a piece of flint. I leaned my face against the cool chalk, and swore and cursed him. I cursed his strength for getting the warthog in so deeply, I cursed him roundly for how gripped he must have felt when he placed it and I cursed myself for being such a girlie prat and not getting a grip on my own fear. “Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death. I shall face my fear. I shall let it wash over me and through me…”

I took a deep breath and focused the anger on removing the warthog. Finally it came loose and I clipped it to a loop on my harness. I reflected on fear and motivation and asked myself what so many people have asked me in the past; “Why do you climb?”

Caroline on Saltdean Slab Grade II

I have never found a clear-cut answer to this question. All I can say is that it makes me feel alive and, let’s face it, there’s nothing like staring death in the face to make you feel alive. It feels good to sit in the pub later on and to relive the tense moments of the day with a cold pint of beer in front of you. I used to know someone who said it made them feel proud to have done something exciting during the day. Of course, these are not the only motivations; there are so many other things too. Feeling the early morning sun on your face; enjoying a fantastic view from the top of the crag or cliff; spending time with good friends in silly and often quite dangerous situations. It’s not being in danger that drives you so much as the feelings afterwards when it’s all over and “it wasn’t quite so bad” and having friends with whom to share those feelings.

A few months after our last chalk climbing trip Craig was killed in an accident on Mount Shasta, and I had to face the fact that my sport, what I love most, what I really live for, is dangerous and can be, in the wrong circumstances, terminal. However, I was also able to take comfort in knowing that my friend died doing what he loved and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I continue miss him as do many others, but ultimately his death did not stop me from climbing, because if it hadn’t been for climbing I would never have met him or shared the good times we’d had.I reached the top of the cliff with grit in my eyes and a mouth full of chalk and saw him there, smiling at me, cigarette on lip (he’d perfected this in recent weeks) and in that Californian drawl I shall miss he said, “Now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” And no, it wasn’t; not after it was all over and we packed the ropes up and walked to the pub. It wasn’t so bad after all.Dedicated to the memory of Craig Hiemstra; loved, missed but never, ever forgotten.

Craig on Saltdean Slab

By Alex Purser – June 2006

The annual Sudbury fun-run: a gruelling 5 mile jolly around handsome
housing estates, un-remarkable country lanes and shop filled streets;
through brick-filled alleys, moraines of broken glass and over precipitous
curbs throughout.

This is the story of Alex Purser’s balmy journey from armchair to glory…

Plan:
Afflicted as I am, with chronic lethargy and a lack of fitness, simply
entering a running event (however small) came as a shock to me. Perhaps it
was the missus (already entered) who convinced me; perhaps it was a
deep-rooted sense of activity; or maybe I’d been hitting the brasso too
hard the fateful evening I signed up.

Development:
Contemplating my decision a few days later I decided I needed a way to make
things more interesting (well why not…). Ideas came from all sides until
eventually the mountaineering garb was suggested. Being of sound mind and
after not that much beer, I undertook to do the race in mountain gear:

• Waterproof trousers
• Waterproof jacket
• Gaiters
• Boots
• Rope coils around chest
• Harness
• Rucksack
• Helmet
• Gloves
• Ice-axes

Preparation:
No time like the night before.
00:36 – Perfect.
Having semi-forgotten about the event until I was reminded at a party the
night before, I underwent my standard ‘just in time’ preparation process –
It was after returning home from said party that I donned my race gear for
the first time. At first it was purely with the intention of admiring my
adventurous looking self in the bathroom mirror, but popping downstairs for
a drink I noticed the full moon illuminating the garden and was drawn
outside for a quick test. Well I suppose I better test it on the road as
well… so off I trotted. A lap round the field in front of my house seemed
like a plan, but took rather longer than expected when I popped into a
mate’s house. And of course, no training could possibly be complete without
just a little Don Whillans influence.

Greene King proudly sponsors the Armchair Mountaineering Association of Great Britain (click on image to view in Flickr)

I feel prepared.

Race day:
I feel tired. A quick run to said mate’s house to drag other mate
protesting out of bed soon livens me up. I now have a fan club.

I got to the start line ½ hour before the race began, just in
time to see the sponsored walk kick-off. It was here that most of the
fancy-dressed people were strutting their collective stuff, and when I saw
the runners begin to assemble I suddenly worried about looking a bit silly.
The wiry and muscle-bound fit young things limbering up around me seemed to
be taking this a lot more seriously than I was, but at least those
examining me in disbelief enjoyed the spectacle.

The race began at 10:00, and were it not for the threatening-looking
pointed-at-three-ends axes I had in each hand, I suspect many more of the
runners would have barged past my sluggish start. Being no match for most
of the other runners, I continued to be overtaken ‘til only a few remained
behind me, which I suppose was to be expected. As the race went on I
marinated well and gave many a marshal/spectator a laugh, cheerily waving
an ice axe as I passed. There was no real high/low point of the run, just
a pretty solid pace throughout. How boring of me.

The Perfect Crime: Ice axe – 8 flat tyres – Quick getaway – Gain 4 places

It was after 59 sweaty minutes and 4 clammy seconds that I crossed the
finish line – Not a great time, but (just) within the hour I’d reckoned on
taking.

The author alongside a more typically attired runner

I quite enjoyed it actually. ‘Sweaty’ has never been one of my favourite
sensations, but on this occasion it brought with it a certain feeling of
achievement.

So how about it ladies and gents? Next time you’re in a race of some
kind, don the gore-tex and boots, grab an axe or two, and give people a
show.

Alex Purser

P.S.

By Mike Hams – June 2006

Thanks to the Presidents’ organising abilities we had found ourselves in
Scotland with too much snow (previous visits had more wet than white) and
some interesting conditions to deal with. Steve Culverhouse and I had been
in Scotland since midnight on March 8th.

We had started our trip with a climb up Dorsal Arête in Coire nan
Lochain in Glencoe. Despite leaving the car at 8am we arrived at the climb
as the third or fourth group! Probably not helped by my lack of a good
breakfast we had been slow into the Coire. The route was my first in
Glencoe and also a first lead at grade II a good route to start on and very
enjoyable despite the sugary snow in places. We had so much fun we thought
another route would finish the day so we down-climbed Broad Gully! At 6pm
we got back to the car and thought we’d had a good long day (we would be
disabused of this later in the week).

Day two had Steve grumbling at the 7am start. Coire an t-Sneachda was
the scene of a return to the Slant and memories of John Buchan being
“pulled-off” by El Pres. Jacobs ladder was banked out with snow and the
scene of the fun last year was a very amenable climb. The weather closed in
slightly as we climbed and the spindrift showered down on all the belay
ledges. (These appear to have been chosen with maximum discomfort for the
second in mind.) Steve led with great style for the length of the route and
we topped out into partial whiteout conditions. A quick snack after we had
packed up and I confidently set off for the cornice! Always ensure the ice
axe is away from the compass when navigating, the party alongside shouted
just as I saw the edge and disaster was averted. The walk across the
plateau was unusually pleasant as the normal terrain had a thick covering
of snow.

Day three Friday saw us keen to try something on Craeg Meagaidh and we
were at the car park by 8:30. Conditions were not looking good as it was
hissing down at the car park and loading the avalanche slopes above with
vast quantities of fresh snow. A faff was instituted in best IMC tradition
and we retreated in good order to Newtonmore for a Cairngorms guidebook. By
11:30 we were under some very snowy gullies in Sneachda and assessing our
chances of getting anything done in all that snow. The Glenmore guides were
walking parties up and then retreating and what was being climbed had
queues forming at their bases. A little snack and a drink was undertaken to
assess the situation and we then attempted Café Direct in Aviemore.

Friday night in the pub and a plan was hatched to find some ice to
climb. Lurchers crag was looking good for it as the guidebook suggested
that there were several grade III climbs there that iced up. Saturday
morning we set off in high spirits. The avalanche forecast looked good, the
weather was due to get worse after we finished (ha!) but we felt the day
was going to be a success. Parking at the Sugar Bowl car park was a test of
skill in Steve’s car but it was all stowed safely inside 20 minutes on the
snowy space. A long walk through the Chalamain Gap followed to reach our
objective.

After lunch we were on the first pitch and the wind speed was rising as we climbed. Lovely plastic ice on the first two pitches which Steve led placing ice screws like a master (his first in Scotland I believe). I arrived at the top of the pitch with severely cold hands and unable to grip
the axes properly. Steve led again while my hands warmed up (new gloves on
the Christmas list then) and I got the snow pitch. A full rope length on 5
bits of gear through thigh deep snow, quite a bit of thrashing around and
swearing followed. A short ice pitch and we were finished and it was 5pm
what could possibly go wrong? (© Johnboy)The walk off involved crossing the top of Lurchers crag through a saddle and then down into the Corries area, followed by a walk down to the ski car park. A doddle in fair weather, but with 60-70mph gusts and driving snow in
the dark a much more exciting proposition. Navigating was easy to start
with as it was uphill on a bearing and there was the saddle. There was also
no shelter from the wind and the drifts were starting to cause problems.
The route was changed slightly as we discovered the stream at the base of
Lurchers had huge snow banks either side. (Steve and I both thought at
about this point it could be a snow holing night out as we had brought a
shovel and some bivvy gear along for the walk)By careful navigation and some luck we struck the Coire an-Lochain approach path and followed it down to the base of the ski-tows. Numerous pratfalls later we were in a corner of the ski centre building trying to
get some shelter and re-arrange gear for the walk to the car. At this point
Steve lost his hat in a particularly sharp gust and as luck would have it a
very nice man gave us a lift down the road to the Sugar Bowl. Some minor
fun with the car ensued as we extricated it from the car park and set off
into Aviemore. It was well past beer-o-clock and food was needed. Aviemore
has a chip shop that serves The Best Fish and Chips in the World… Ever™
under theses conditions. Then with extra beer supplies we set off to Newtonmore to yarn with Pete and Louise and drink said beer. Stamina levels were low and only a couple were drunk before exhaustion overwhelmed us.The following day was going home time and the infamous dry trip to the pub by the IMC.