Letter to Organizers of ICE 2006, from a beginner

By Simon Chandler & Nick Willis – January 2006

This letter was sent to the organizers of the Ice Climbing Ecrins (ICE) festival on our
return from France in January 2006. You can read our article about
this here. We have decided to allow
other members of the IMC to read our letter as a warning of what to
expect and be aware of should they decide to go to future ICE
festivals. Please do not reproduce this letter elsewhere, or make
it available to non-members.

Nick and I spent the first two days of the festival in the
beginners area in the Freissinieres valley attending workshops.
Whilst we were there we commented that we should try to give the
ICE organizers some feedback about our negative experiences. In
normal circumstances that might have been as far as it went –
nothing but a good intention. However, after hearing about the fatal accident we
felt compelled to write …

Dear Gerard,

Here are the observations and comments that my climbing partner and
I wanted to give as ‘feedback’ to the organizers of the ICE
festival. It has taken me a long time to organize these thoughts
and choose the right words, so my apologies for the delay.
Originally I tried to write this as a short list of suggested
improvements. However, I decided that without the explanation of
what we saw and experienced in the beginners area on the 5th and
6th of January the ICE organizers may not understand why we make
these suggestions. So, please forgive this rather long anecdotal
email. I will summarize our suggestions at the end.

All my comments refer to the first fatality at the ICE 2006
festival [in which a beginner was killed by an icicle that fell
from overhanging rock].

Just by way of introduction, I think it’s worth saying that I’ve
been climbing on rock for 18 years, and that I also do some caving.
I understand that in doing this I’m taking some calculated risk to
my safety, and that I must know how to look after myself – I
certainly don’t expect someone else to do that for me. I now have
lots of experience of multi-pitch UK-style trad climbing in
adventurous situations (on a UK scale). I understood that there
would be even more risk involved when venturing onto ice for the
first time, so I did some reading in preparation for this (I read
Will Gadd’s book cover-to-cover). I am a complete beginner when it
comes to snow and ice.

I’ve consulted with the other three people with whom I shared a
gite during the festival. All of us were beginner ice climbers but
with a wide range of experience in other forms of climbing, so
these comments are an objective and honest summary of the ICE
festival from a beginner’s perspective. I also heard similar
comments from other beginners during the festival.

Three issues need to be covered: organization, preparation and
communication.

In summary, we all felt that organization of the beginners sector
was very poor. It was definitely overcrowded, with too many
beginners in too small an area with too few guides. On the morning
of Thursday 5th January I was in the beginners area. Fortunately I
was signed-up in a group of four beginners with one specifically
allocated Millet guide who we had met at the expo the previous
evening. We were lucky, since we knew who was in charge of us. Most
beginners in that area however were not with an allocated guide,
but had arrived via shuttle bus at 10:00 with the expectation of
being given “ice climbing introduction for adults run by guides
from Cie des guides Oissans-Ecrins and youth teams of FCAF and
FFME”, as described in the ICE program. For these beginners there
was a great deal of confusion. Who was a guide? Who was in charge?
Which group was which? Who should a beginner talk to to get some
advice or guidance? Which top-rope could they climb on? People who
hadn’t signed-up with Millet were trying to climb with ropes set up
by the Millet guides, and the guides weren’t happy about that. To
make matters worse a completely independent group of climbers from
Kings College London had arrived at that sector early that morning
(the area was deserted when they arrived, with no warning that it
would be used later in the day) and were busily climbing on it when
the first party of beginners from the ICE festival (i.e., us)
arrived at 9:30. There was an argument between the Millet guides
and the group from Kings, which ended with them both insisting on
using the same ice. It was very, very crowded. I consciously
thought to myself that the overcrowding and chaotic situation in
the beginners area was unnecessarily increasing the risk of there
being an accident, and that I should get in touch with the
organizers to make this comment and suggests improvements. This was
my feeling a few days before I heard that there had indeed been an
accident [in which a beginner from
Greece was killed by an icicle that fell on her from overhanging
rock]. The situation in the beginners area was acknowledged
in the ICE organization’s press statement about the accident
“The
overpopularity of the beginners area had pushed certain
glaciairists to venture into areas disadvised by the professionals
of the mountain”.

In the literature advertising the ICE festival there is what I
interpret as a carefully worded ‘disclaimer’ statement:

The object of this meeting is to help you discover our icefalls. We
will help you get to the sites by shuttle bus. After that, you are
in the winter mountain environment under your own responsibility.

Fair enough. But the festival was also advertised as “sought out by
the beginner”, with attractions such as “free safety workshops
(both on the ice and at the registration point)” and with guides
available for “teaching ice climbing”. Because this is attracting
people new to ice climbing to venture into something about which
they have little knowledge or experience there really has to be
some responsibility on the organizers to provide for those
beginners. Not just to provide a way to get up the learning curve –
which my partner and I did successfully – but to do so with as much
safety as possible. I recognize that this statement could be open
to debate.

As beginners we are very ignorant of what you far more experienced ice
climbers would consider to be obvious signs of danger in the ice
climbing environment. As an example, on Friday 6th January my partner
and I found ourselves back in the beginners area, but this time without
an allocated Millet guide. Again, it was very busy. Rather than stay in
the chaos we decided to find a small, unused section of ice on which to
practice placing ice screws and making Abalakov belays. I asked one of
the guides where I could find a suitable area, and was told that if I
went “that way” (pointing vaguely down the valley) I’d be bound to find
something. So we walked in the direction indicated to us, looking for
some ice to use. After only a few minutes we found what we thought was
a suitable ‘mound’ of water ice in a quiet area away from the main
path, dumped our sacks and started placing screws. Fortunately a
passing experienced climber saw us and warned us in a very agitated way
to “get out of there – it’s very dangerous”. We just hadn’t realized
that the icicles hanging from the rock above could cause us harm. We
have since learnt that it was a situation exactly like this that killed
the beginner on the previous day. We had seen the icicles, but had
figured that they weren’t directly overhead and that they were firmly
attached to the rock. I now feel really stupid – and lucky!

At this time we had not heard about the fatality on the previous
day, and we certainly hadn’t read the press statement (“The
overpopularity of the beginners area had pushed certain
glaciairists to venture into areas disadvised by the professionals
of the mountain”). If we had, then we may have been more cautious
in our search for some ‘quiet’ ice. I suspect that the guide who
said that we could find some suitable unused ice in “that
direction” hadn’t heard about the accident either (or they would
have been much more cautious with their advice). Alternatively, if
they knew about the accident then they were under-estimating our
ignorance of the dangers in the ice-fall environment. They
certainly weren’t ‘disadvising’ us of venturing away from the
beginners area. My climbing partner and I had attended the safety
briefing on the evening of Wednesday 4th January, and we did not
hear any specific warning about dangers in Freissinieres valley
(this has been confirmed by checking with our house-mate who also
attended that briefing and is a native French speaker). The
“disadvised” line of the press statement may be referring to text
in the guide (‘Glace et Mixte en Cascade’) or notices about
conditions of the ice in the expo hall (printed from the webpages
‘Conditions des cascades de glace’).
However, my partner and I
found the guide difficult to follow because I don’t completely
understand the text due to my very rusty schoolboy French. Our lack
of local knowledge about the Freissinieres valley and of experience
in reading ice topos make the guide’s maps difficult to understand;
We are still uncertain about exactly where on the guide’s maps the
beginners area is located! As a beginner at the festival there is a
lot of new information to try to understand and assimilate. We
certainly can’t be expected to read and remember all the advice on
the expo’s ‘Conditions des cascades de glace’ notice board.

The difficulty of having to take-in so much new information so
quickly is compounded by the fact that despite being advertised as
‘international’ almost all the written information at the festival
(weather reports, safety notices, etc.) is in French. We were
fortunate because I speak some French and we had a native French
speaker in our group. However, most non-French speakers could
understand some English. People I have spoken to think there should
be much more written communication in both French and English to
help international communication.

One further organizational problem was that we found it difficult
to identify anyone at the expo who we could talk to about
organization of the introductory courses. We wanted to find someone
from Cie des guides Oissans-Ecrins or an organizer of the ICE
festival so that we could discuss the problems we had witnessed in
the beginners area on Thursday 5th; we wanted to ask somebody how
this could be avoided on the following day but still get some
further introductory tuition from a guide. As novices and first
time attendees at the festival we cannot recognize the right people
to talk to, and although we asked the women from the Pays de Ecrins
tourist group (in the registration tent at the expo) they were
unable to help. Even our French speaker asked them, so it wasn’t
just a language problem. There wasn’t a clearly defined way for
anyone to get in contact with someone in charge.

So, I’ve outlined various difficulties we had. What about possible
solutions? Here goes …

Preparing beginners for Ice

Even before beginners attempt to get on the ice they need to be given
some information about the dangers in the ice climbing environment, of
which they are – by definition – ignorant. This could be done as a
slideshow presentation on the afternoon or evening of registration on
the first day. Remembering that we beginners are ignorant, an
expert needs to give us very clear information, specifically targeted
and delivered so that a beginner can understand and remember it. Don’t
be afraid to ‘state the obvious’, and don’t be worried about
patronizing us. Ideally the presentation would be delivered in both
French and English, and by using pre-prepared graphics & slides it
shouldn’t be difficult to overcome language difficulties. The
presentations topics could include:

1. How to identify and avoid danger (icicles, windslab, avalanche
   awareness, always check your watch before each pitch so you don’t
   miss the bus, signs of hypothermia in climbing partners, what to do
   to reduce the chance of facial injury from flying ice, what to do
   if there is a laceration …). Use lots of photos to illustrate
   these points.
2. A detailed verbal description of where beginners will be
   climbing, illustrated with photos and simplified maps. The maps
   would show the approach and clearly mark any nearby danger areas.
   These maps should be available for beginners to take away with them
   so they have them when they get to the valley. They should be
   available at the expo, and could be posted at the shuttle bus
   departure points.
3. An introduction to good places for beginners to go to try their
   first lead. Where are the short unpopular, and very simple sections
   of ice that non-beginners aren’t interested in? Again, photos and
   simplified maps, preferably with copies to take away.

In fact I was expecting that such a ‘Noddy introduction’ would be
available because the program mentions “free safety workshops which
will be open to all, both on the climbs and inside at the
registration point for the meet.” Since you had attracted beginners
to the festival I assumed that one of the safety workshops at the
registration point would be targeted at beginners.

Prevent overcrowding

My second main suggestion is that there needs to be more
preparation of the beginners areas, and more organization of who
you are sending to them. The objective is to prevent overcrowding
by dispersing the beginners amongst several well-controlled
sections of ice – organized individually by different groups of
guides, but overall managed by an individual named organizer of the
festival who has responsibility for managing the beginners areas by
coordinating with the guides. Before the festival several possible
areas suitable for teaching need to be identified. An estimate
should be made of the number of people who can safely use each
area, and the areas then need to be allocated to the different
groups of guides (only Petzl in section 1, only Millet in section
2, only Cie des guides Oissans-Ecrins in section 3, etc.). Of
course for this preparation to work it will be necessary to prevent
other groups of climbers from using the pre-selected beginners
areas. To achieve this the areas will need to be clearly marked and
signed (in French and English) from the evening before the first
introductory lesson and for the duration of the festival. You may
also wish to consider putting up warning notices (again, French and
English) on any danger areas that are very near to beginners areas
– although with adequate preparation of beginners at their special
safety briefing, close supervision by the allocated guides, and
better management of overcrowding, this may not be necessary.

All beginners must sign-up in advance with a guide who they meet
the evening before at a stand in the trade show. This policy is
already used by Petzl and Millet, and should be used by all guides
for beginners, including “Cie des guides Oissans-Ecrins and youth
teams of FCAF and FFME”. This last group of guides must, therefore,
have a stand at the expo. Before leaving the expo beginners will
know who to ask for advice, and the guides and organizer
responsible for managing beginners will know in advance how many
people will be in each of the beginners areas. They can also check
that the beginners have attended the beginners safety briefing, and
are aware of the special safety instructions for the area where
they are going (illustrated on the simplified maps described
before). When they are at the ice fall the beginners will know who
is in charge, and the guides will know who should be there trying
to climb on their ropes.

If someone has not signed-up with a guide then they will not be
able to just arrive at a beginner’s area and expect to climb. To
avoid disappointment this policy needs to be communicated clearly
in the ICE festival program and webpage so that prospective
beginners know the situation before they arrive (or decide to
attend). To further help manage the number of beginners you should
perhaps consider making it necessary for those who wish to use the
free guides to pre-register several weeks before they arrive at the
festival. You would then know well in advance if you have enough
guides and prepared beginners areas. We were very surprised that
registration was not necessary at ICE 2006.

The organizer responsible for beginners areas should be able to
give all the guides a daily update on any changes to the plan and
report on any incidents on the falls. There should also be an easy
way for people to contact that organizer if they have any questions
or comments.

The introduction of a special beginners safety briefing meeting
should not add any significant cost to the ICE festival. Once
you have prepared the material for that briefing it can
probably be reused on following years. The extra
administration needed for pre-registering beginners at the ICE
festivals could be alleviated by employing someone to help the
organizers do this. The costs could be covered by making a
small administrative charge to each beginner who attends. They
would certainly not mind doing this if they benefitted from
more organization during their introductory workshops.

We think our suggestions address all the problems previously described.
Please tell us what you think to them.

Regards,

Simon Chandler & Nick Willis

Addendum – January 2007

Our letter may, in some small way, have contributed to a change in the attitude
of the organisers. Here’s the official blurb for the following year’s ICE
festival.

In direct response to a number of ice climbing accidents in Europe last year the
focus of this year’s festival is on safety whist ice climbing, and so “ICE
ATTITUDE” is the theme for the whole event. Gérard Pailheiret, the festival’s
organiser, explains:

Even though in ice climbing we make the same movements as in rock climbing, we
find in ice climbing the same risks as in mountaineering. The ice climber has to
be aware of the environment in which the sport takes place, know how to read the
ground, and the conditions of the ice and the route. All these ideas will be
discussed during ICE 2007, and the findings and conclusions covered in a specially
written document at the end of the festival. The PGHM and CRS mountain rescue
services will be present at ICEXPO for the five days of the festival to offer
advice and provide information.”

ICE 2007 features ice clinics, ice workshops, a trade show, ice climbing
competitions, films, and pro’ demonstrations.

By Jester – April 2006

My left hand is squeezed in the crack. My right one is holding the
edge of it, pressing away from it. My feet are jammed in it so much
that I feel I almost can’t pull them out. The first ringbolt is
about two metres below my feet, the next one just out of reach
above me.

One more move. Oh no-the crack widens a little and it becomes
harder to jam. My hands start to slip though my feet still feel
solid.

“Josef, watch me!”

Another a few seconds of struggling, a terrible feeling in the pit
of my stomach.

“Look out! Coming off!”

A confused blur. I’m flying-but downwards. I hear the rope whizzing
through the air; something whips past me moving upwards and after
that – nothing.

I can’t figure out what’s happened. Everything is upside down. My
feet are above me; my head on a stone pillow and my chin is pressed
on my chest. I begin to feel my tensed muscles.

It is my lucky day: I had fallen, head first, about 8 metres, and I
had hit the ground but I don’t seem to have a scratch. Joseph is
hanging above me, about 2 metres from the ground – my fall had
pulled him up. It was him that I had seen going up as I was coming
down.

That had been about a year ago when I had decided to start learning
how to climb cracks. I had thought that Prachov’s Whip would be the
perfect choice – I guess it wasn’t. Over the next few months I
tried to persuade myself to have another go at it but I couldn’t.
But now, at the beginning of the new climbing season, I was ready.
I knew that the climbing would be painful on the day but when I
suggested that we go to ‘crack the Whip’ Joseph agreed, and David
enthusiastically joined us.

We are standing at the foot of the crack racking up. With
satisfaction I pull out from my rucksack the big ‘child’s head
knot’ that I had tied specially for this route. I know exactly
where I want to place it – just where I had fallen the last time.

Let’s go! Lay-backing to the first bolt-ring – cool. The beginning
of the crack –slightly wet inside but not too bad. I am closing in
on the spot where I was spat out last year. Now it is ‘big knot
time’. I know it won’t be easy: I have to get it into the crack,
and it has to be solid. Things don’t start well. The first couple
of goes I can’t even get the knot into the crack: each time the
‘child’s head’ flies out and hits mine. Finally I get it in but
even now it’s not solid – it’s not jamming enough. I spend a few
seconds trying to set it better but it’s useless, psychological
benefit only. I don’t feel good about moving on after what happened
to me last time, but I know I have to. After a few moments of
hesitation I make my mind up to continue. With my hands scratching
in the rock I go for it. And suddenly – the second ring! I grab it
thankfully, Czech Sandstone ethical rules forgotten for the moment.
Even if I’m not good enough to climb the next section of
the crack I don’t care – this far had been a personal triumph. I
had done the crux: the crux because of the difficulty of the
climbing but also because of my bloody fear.

I’m resting, sitting clipped in the ring. I guess that it took
about 10-15 minutes from the first ring to the second one. David is
telling me that this part was all right, but that the “best” is
still to come. I feel “much better” straight away. My belayer is
having a smoke: I am shaking my hands out and scanning the next
section, looking at what is to come. And then the cigarette is
finished and the show can go on.

A couple of moves higher (there is a beautiful fixed-knot here
which David reminds me “has been here since his father’s
time”) and I’m into the crack again. I scramble higher but very
slowly. It’s awkward. I’m getting stuck. My leg starts shaking. I
need a rest. I’m moving my weight from one foot to another one and
changing my hands. A moment later and it is gone but I’m not
rushing to continue. I’m hanging about. But come on, I want to do
it! I move my left hand up the crack, and with my right latch onto
a sloper. I’m just under the ring now but I’m not there yet. My
hand is slowly slipping out from the crack more and more. I let go
of the sloper and grab for the ring. I get it and then I’m
clipping in and sitting. What a fight.

The crack veers to the right above. My fear is fading because the
rings are closer to each other and though I am having to trust the
friction of my feet a lot more there is no longer a danger of
ground-fall. However I am so pumped from the earlier part of the
route that I have to sit at each ring now. After a couple of
minutes I am finally at the fifth ring. In fact this is the end of
The Whip. I make a hanging-belay and bring Joseph up first and
David after that. We finish our route by climbing through a chimney
system.

It is hard to describe our feelings as we sat on the top. Anyone
who has been through some similar battle, beaten first but coming
back and succeeding, they will know what I mean. We compare our
hands: David’s look all right, mine are in the standard
post-crack-climbing condition but Joseph’s . . . Joseph’s hands
look like he has been in a to-the-death bare-knuckle fight. But we
are happy. We relax; chatting and watching the sunset, and then
abseil down and go home.

By Peter Krug – April 2006

“The situation is dire,” announced the President somewhat gloomily
as he stomped up the high street in Newtonmore. “Here we are stuck
in Scotland on the wrong side of the Drumochter Pass and we can’t
even get pissed!”

How did this come about? Well unless you were on another planet you
would be aware that I was organizing another excursion to Scotland
and ten of you answered the call making up a crack, or possibly
even cracked, team of eleven that assembled in Newtonmore in early
March for some playing with the white stuff. This time we decided
on the driving option rather than the more traditional fly-drive
route taken in the past few years as we considered it cheaper and
more environmentally friendly and indeed possibly slightly quicker.

Early arrivals were Mike and Steve who drove up on Tuesday night
and spent Wednesday, whilst everyone else was either working or
driving, playing on Dorsal Arete in Glen Coe and had a long but
thoroughly good day before heading to Mrs Mac’s thoroughly
salubrious bunkhouse to be joined by six other IMCers with the
overspill ensconcing themselves in the Newtonmore Hostel.

The majority of the group were interested in doing gnarly winter
routes but there was a group of wimps who were intent on doing
something winter-hill-walkingish and bagging some Munros and
Corbetts!

As we woke up somewhat bleary-eyed on the Thursday morning Louise,
Fraser and I knew our objective. The target was Stob Ban in the
Grey Corries, which Louise and I had backed off the previous year
when we had felt we were there too late in the day for the whole
group to make the top and be down before night fell. Mike who had
been with us on that occasion was silently sniggering because he
knew what Fraser was about to let himself in for!

What Fraser was about to let himself in for was an eight to ten
kilometre route march along a track (with a sack on our back) up
the Lairig Leacach just to get to a bothy at the base of Stob Ban!
As we set off on the walk passing through some recently felled
forest land (“I could have sworn there were some trees here last
year” I muttered to Louise) it started to drizzle which was not
what I ordered when arranging the meet! According to the forecasts
this was supposed to be the best day of the trip!

Sgurr Innse and the Lair Leacac (click on any picture for larger image)

Good time was made in the murky conditions and less than two hours
later we were sheltering in the bothy having lunch before the
onslaught on the mountain was due to begin. We had failed to get
our first sight of Stob Ban which is only visible when you get to
the bothy because in was hidden in the clouds. Louise and I knew it
was there because we had seen it last year.

Soon we were on our way having safely negotiated the stream our
route took us in a southwesterly direction up a ridge that lead to
summit. Even we couldn’t get lost on it. It started with a mild
scramble and soon we were in the snow and once reasonably high on
the ridge were exposed to a brisk breeze. We made steady progress
in the murk but the last hundred metres or so proved hard work for
us all with Fraser, feeling the effects of a long walk in and the
sheer scale of Scottish mountains, getting cramp in his toe!
Obscure or what!

As it was blowing a hooley up there summit celebrations were
somewhat brief especially as we had a grey view, i.e. none, before
an uneventful trip down the mountain apart from Fraser’s left foot
finding every little stream that there was. I am considering taking
him on the “Marathon des Sables” as I could use the extra water
his divining foot could find! As we trudged our way down the track
we saw a herd/leash/parcel of deer (Red deer) on the hillside that
livened up proceedings somewhat.

Back at the bunkhouse we caught up with the gnarly climbers and
exchanged stories. Most of them had spent the day in the
Cairngorms. The main talking point concerned the two teams who were
climbing a route called “The Vent” and were discovering how it got
its name! Keith had just reached the crux of the route when a
cornice parted company with the terra firma and crashed down the
gully. Apparently Keith saw white before his eyes and felt
something warm and brown trickle down his leg but happily all
concerned were unharmed by the experience.

Day two dawned, an altogether grey affair, and as events turned out
it I think it was only the wimpy walkers that really managed to get
anything down. Keith and Nick drove all around Scotland taking in
the Cairngorms, Craig Meagaidh and Crowberry Buttress near Glen
Coe. Team wimp were eyeing up hills near the bunkhouse with ideas
of trying to bag a couple more Munros.

After a delay for a dash to Kingussie we found ourselves parked at
the foot of Allt a’ Chaorainn. We followed the track on the eastern
side of Allt a’ Chaorainn and missed the obvious three stone cairn
which marked the turn off to the hidden bridge which crossed the
river. A quick back track secured the bridge and soon we were
steadily stomping up the flanks of A’ Chailleach.

Bridge over troubled Waters, Allt a’ Chaorainn

Tussocky bog soon gave way to beautiful snow that firmed up as we
got higher. Soon we were walking amongst the hares which were
mooching around and we even managed to get within ten metres of
one. We figured he/she was either unwell or taking the piss!

Hare she is

Someone had kindly broken trail for us and although we had set the
compass bearing right for the summit I was getting the impression
that we were heading slightly to the left of the summit but as the
going was easier we stuck with it and ended up at the col between
Geal Charn and A’ Chailleach. By now there was a fair breeze and
surprise, surprise no views so we took a new compass bearing and
headed for the summit, which was not hard to find.

Is it lunchtime – Fraser and Lou at the Summit cairn of A’Chailleach

At the summit we met and thanked the guys who had broken trail for
us before whipping the bothy out and seeking its shelter to have
some lunch. There was some (mass)debate about what to do now. I was
all for testing our navigation skills and trying to find Carn
Sgulain but Fraser and Louise preferred to go down and the majority
won (in truth the weather did kind of look foreboding before it
disappeared!).

Needless to say that when we reached the col the clouds lifted
somewhat but we elected to continue on the way down. By now Fraser
was learning to read the ground better and was not finding every
buried puddle and we decided it was play-time and tried find the
deepest snow which I won by sinking to crotch level and we also
spent some time glissading before reaching the car mid-afternoon.

El Pres, as usual, up to his hip in %%%% !

As it was so early we decided to introduce Fraser to the delights
of gear-fondling in Aviemore, an experience that was spoilt by a
sneering public schoolboy type (Note: I am not implying that all
public schoolboys are like this but you get my drift) making known
his views on articles in the paper he was reading to his friend
(who was clearly doing his care in the community duty) and just
about everybody else in the tea-shop. Later Louise had the
opportunity to run the little twat over but forgot to press the go
pedal in the car!

We also heard the latest forecast which described the weather as
‘interesting’ and that usually translates as ‘dire’. Now I have a
theory that mountain weather forecasts for Scotland, which as you
know are found in gear shops, are always ‘going to be dire’ because
the less time you spend on the hill means the more time you spend
in shops hence the more money you spend in said shops (QED).
Scottish shopkeepers are a canny bunch!

Anyway, everybody spent that evening in the pub (after feeding on
Haggis, Neeps and Tatties) discussing plans, which for many
involved an alpine start, as we believed the weather would
deteriorate during the day. The walking wimps had a cunning plan
involving heading for Glenmore Lodge which would give us two
options; head for the Ryvoan Bothy and from there to go either for
Bynack Mor or alternatively climb Meall a’ Bhuachaille which was
the lower and much the shorter of the two routes.

Needless to say, my theory was proven correct: it was gloriously
sunny as we walked through the Glenmore Forest Park and onto the
moorland but it would be true to say that the wind was picking up
and behind us there was an air of brooding malevolence on the big
hills of the Cairngorms. We opted for Meall a’ Bhuachaille and were
jolly glad we had when we heard the stories from the climbing
parties; all had headed for Lurchers Crag (Creag an Leth-choin) and
all but Mike and Steve, who were in the throes of an epic (and did
not get down until well after dark), were turned back by poor
visibility and vicious winds.

After an early lunch at the bothy we headed up the flanks of Meall
a’ Bhuachaille and, for the first time that weekend, enjoyed
fantastic views with a panorama that extended further as we got
higher and higher. The views to the south of the Cairngorms were
particuIarly dramatic. I was getting trigger happy with my camera
until it decided to take the day off (it is still taking the day
off). As we got higher the snow got crisper and in some ways, as
Fraser commented, you got a real sense of mountaineering as you
were moving up the snowfields because you could see the angle of
the slopes you moved up rather than looking into murk.

It did not take too long to get to the summit and from there it was
a great ridge walk taking in the subsidiary peaks with ever-present
views all around. There were quite a few folk around including some
ski mountaineers who were finding the going tough. It was one of
the most pleasant walks I have had for some time. But end it must
and all too soon we were descending back into the Glenmore Forest
and back to the car.

Overnight the weather worsened and when I awoke early next morning
my first words were “Oh expletive deleted (by the author not the
editor)” as there was well over six inches of fresh snow on the
ground. My fears were founded when we turned on the television and
Ceefax said that the A9 was closed. We spent the day mincing around
Newtonmore waiting for the road to be opened. It seemed it never
would but suddenly just after four o’clock in the afternoon things
started to move and so did we. The first 20 miles or so to Blair
Atholl were very exciting as drove through blizzard conditions
praying that the car in front wouldn’t stop and there were
literally hundreds, if not thousands, of deer sheltering beside the
road. It must have been wild higher up! As dusk fell there were
slightly surreal views of a murky but alpine nature with trees and
houses laden with snow. And then there was the tedium of the A1 and
a very late return to Suffolk.

All in all a great trip and I would like to take this opportunity
to all of you that came and made it so enjoyable. Same time, same
place next year?

‘Below’ at The Vent … An IMC adventure in the Cairngorms

By Nick Green – April 2006

“I don’t believe it!” Victor Meldrew shouted in my head. As we had hoped, there were not many ropes in Coire An Lochain; in fact only 4, but 3 were headed for the same climb as Keith and me- “The Vent”, a grade II/III single star 100m gully climb to the summit of Cairn Lochan.

We had set off from Aviemore car park with Nick Willis and Phil Crouchman, planning to split up when we reached the Corrie. Visibility on the crags was non-existent from our central and sheltered vantage point. As mist and snow enveloped the upper crags the four of us struggled to identify the start of any of the guidebook climbs. It was Nick W who puzzled out ‘The Vent’. ‘The Vent’ it was then, and we agreed to regroup at the top.

Spotting another couple heading that way Keith and I headed after them, hoping to follow their trail. The snow was deep and hard going, we often sunk to our knees or even deeper. Other climbers’ foot placements were much easier. Nick W and Phil headed lower, also hoping for easier going.

The Vent – Before (click on picture to see image in Flickr)

I was not happy that they beat us to the start, as did the other
rope: as Keith’s second it meant I would go last, and therefore had
a long wait ahead. Settling down on freshly cut platforms the four
of us watched the first rope struggle up the two steep ice
sections. Cries of ‘below’ were regular as chunks of dislodged ice
tumbled down. Most missed our station where The Vent widened below
the crux. The steep sides of the gully protected us from the wind
and we were grateful for that as we drunk yet more hot liquids to
keep warm.

Nick W quickly set up a belay position as the other couple
disappeared over the crux onto what the guidebook described as
‘easier ground’. Keith agreed to re-use the belay to save time, as
there was not much protection around.

We could clearly see the exciting ice sections, but not what lay
above. A chockstone blocked the narrow part of a funnel-shaped
steep-sided gully. Steep ice to the right looked to be the key. It
appeared easy from below and both Keith and I got frustrated as
Nick also struggled at this first challenge. Plenty more ‘below’
and falling ice bouncing off our helmets. At last Nick was up and
moving efficiently, placing plenty of pro and looking cool. Phil,
seconding, was also delayed at first. ‘Come on’ echoed in my head.
In a blink Phil was also up, then disappeared over the remaining
ice sections into the mist and spindrift above. ‘I can’t wait any
more’ were Keith’s words. We had waited 12 months for this. We were
both raring to go!!

I couldn’t pay the rope out fast enough as Keith scrambled up the
steep snow slope to the chockstone. Then he stopped . . .. I
wondered . . . maybe it is quite hard after all! (Sorry chaps!)

Then Keith was up and over-heading towards the next steep ice
section, ‘PRO!!’ I shouted. He only had one piece in, just up from
my belay position. He would have a long way to fall! But Keith was
going for it. Up he went. Hanging from two axes, both feet looking
for a purchase in the steep ice, he moved on.

‘BEELOWWW!!!!!’ I dared to glance up, this sounded serious!! All I
could see was a white mass engulfing Keith. Ooooh SHIT! I held the
rope and ducked. Fully expecting to have to hold Keith’s fall I
braced myself. Snow, snow and more snow hurtled down The Vent. Most
missed me, but I still found myself up to my knees. All of it would
have hit Keith.

As silence followed the snow down the gully I lifted my head, not
knowing what I would see. My eyes followed the line of the rope …
having held on there was Keith, climbing again!!

Nick W bravely retraced his steps to check on Keith. Both he and
Phil were also caught by what we later learnt was a cornice
collapse. They were both safe, located to the side of the upper
section of The Vent; a widening funnel, also with steep rocky
sides.

Adrenaline pumping I reached Keith who was now belaying me. ‘Carry
on up!’ he shouted, visibly shaken. ‘Tell you later!’ As we went up
another two pitches of steep snow I was last again. ‘Someone’s in a
hurry’ I thought, as I was virtually pulled up the last pitch and
through the cornice……………. only to be met by a white out.

Nick W and Phil had waited for us in blizzard conditions. Pacing on
Nick’s compass bearing, and giving thanks to Louise for showing
Phil the way on a previous occasion, we made it back to the car.
Then hot shower, food and beer! What an adventure!!

With many thanks to Nick Willis and Phil Crouchman for their
support; and Peter for pulling the trip together.

Little did we know the journey home would be even more dangerous . . . .

See you there next year!!

By Simon Chandler & Nick Willis – March 2006

Fracastorus – a 5 pitch III/3+ 190 metre Glace en Cascade (click on any picture for larger image)

I was struggling to second pitch 4 of “Fracastorus”. Will Gadd’s
book had been right – alternating leads when climbing ice is not
such a good idea. Having finished a lead you then have to stand
still for a long time while your second climbs up, you swap over
gear, then they lead the next pitch. In our desire to climb at the
sharp end Nick and I had spurned this advice, and now I was paying
the price. The temperature was actually relatively mild, but water
trickling down over the surface of the ice had made my gloves wet,
and my hands senseless with cold. My damp gloves were literally
freezing – sticking to the ice whenever they touched it. The cold
had got to me and I felt exhausted. At least, as I approached the
belay, I was starting to move less like a stiff-limbed zombie.

Nick suggested we leave pitch 5, but I said something stupid like
“I’ve not come this far to give up now”. Handing over the gear we
discussed how to do this last pitch. It all looked very steep, and
the bit nearest us was dripping with water. As I traversed past
this to reach the drier ice, water splashed into my face and down
my neck. Hmmm – refreshing?! At least now on the lead I was warming
up again.

ICE 2006 was a festival held in the Ecrins
region of the French Alps. A premier destination for climbers, it
has hosted the ice climbing festival for the past 15 years. It
seemed a great opportunity for us to attempt this aspect of
climbing amongst the more ‘ice experienced’ Europeans. The festival
was advertised as having free workshops for novice climbers, free
loan of equipment from gear manufacturers, and a free film festival
and entertainment in the evenings. We’d also arranged to share a
gite in L’Argentiere la Bessee with other ice climbers that we had
met through the internet Rock forums, hence an affordable yet
cosmopolitan base was formed with Conor, Nikolaus and Elsa. Your
man Conor also introduced us to his Irish climbing partners and a
very sociable circle added to the fun and fear of the climbing.

As the magazine articles constantly tell us, European ice falls are
so readily accessible with the advent of sleazy jet and
competitors, so why do we want to dodge Scottish weather when we
can climb blue ice cascades after a croissant breakfast? Clearly,
the Scottish experience will always be very different from that
encountered in the Alps and a direct comparison is a little unfair.
Bolted belays, twenty minute approaches and consistent weather
ensure our Euro cousins get more action each winter, and glossy
photos of axe wielding grimpers had certainly caught our attention.
Mervyn’s article from the March 2004 newsletter had enticed me to try this aspect
of the climbing game, and Jerry Gore’s article in a recent Summit
magazine (#40, winter 2005) had made it sound safe and almost
sane.

I was getting very tired. Halfway up the continuously steep pitch
was a slight flattening off. When this was level with my face I
used the adze of one axe to cut two large steps in it, then a few
moves later I was able to stand on these with my toes pointing
down, giving my calves a rest. What a relief. Whilst resting on
this makeshift ledge I put in another ice screw. My last. The belay
was in sight however – a loop of rope around a tree. One more push
and I’d be there. “Make it count” I said to myself as I swung my
axes. I’d been getting so tired that my left hand had lost
coordination, and many of the swings resulted in just a glancing
blow off the ice. In contrast the swing technique of my dominant
hand had been getting better and better. Combined with the soft wet
ice my right pick was often sticking first time with a reassuring
‘twang’ sound. I only needed to try again when the initial
impact caused the ice to break up. Sometimes this happened in an
obvious way – with a great chunk of ice falling away from under the
axe’s blow. At other times the axe went in, but it just didn’t feel
right. Just four days ago I’d never even worn a pair of crampons,
so how I knew this I really don’t know.

Click image to go to Flickr to play the movie

We spent the first day of the festival having a free lesson in ice
climbing with a guide from Millet. A good tip is to make sure you
get to their stand at the expo as soon as possible on the opening
evening so that you can sign-up for the limited places. Our native
French gite-mate, Elsa, realized this and made sure that we were
all at the top of Millet’s list. The next morning we were bussed
out to Freissinieres valley for some top rope climbing on an ice
fall of varying steepness. It was the first time I’d even worn
crampons, so I started cautiously. The necessary technique was
practised and improved upon in this relatively safe environment,
and proved to be a perfect foundation for the rest of the week.
However, many people were crammed into this beginners sector and
problems arose due to the inviting nature of this ice fall. As a
consequence of our experiences in this sector and elsewhere during
the festival we sent a letter to the organisers via Jerry Gore, who agreed to help with translation. Our day with the Millet guides culminated in leading a single pitch on pre-placed protection. We were pleased with this rapid progress.

The Beginners Sector – as busy as Stanage on a Bank Holiday

The next day we found a very small quiet section of ice and learnt
how to place gear ourselves; handling ice screws with one hand
whilst hanging from an ice axe with your other can be tricky, and
it was only after half a dozen failed attempts that we succeeded in
making Abalakov anchors quickly and effectively. We started this
practice standing on the ground, and worked our way up to creating a
new ‘micro route’. It was only 3m high, but was good training. This
day had been a physical rest, but was good technical and mental
preparation for our first ever multi-pitch lead on ice the
following day.

Nick’s first ice lead – Paulo Folie

I heard Simon’s call signalling his safe arrival at the belay
point. My aim was to set off at speed, as a quick time check
revealed it was getting very late. We had avoided the cost of
hiring a car by using the free mini busses that were provided by
the festival for getting out to the frozen valleys. This had worked
well so far this week, but today the return connection now seemed
unlikely. I traversed through the dripping water to reach Simon’s
first ice screw, quickly spinning it out from the cascading ice.

We were both particularly cautious when placing and removing the
screws, always reminding ourselves this was mostly borrowed kit. A
clumsy drop could cost us forty quid! Fortunately, nothing was
dropped and even we stayed connected to the ice throughout. A fall
on the first day by one of our Irish gite-mates on lead had been a
shock, but it had proved the reliability of modern ice screws. It
held perfectly whilst Conor claimed a very early ice-lob – the
festival hadn’t yet officially started; we were mightily impressed
by the boldness of these honorary IMCers – The Irish
Mountaineering Council!

Starting the last pitch of Fracastorus

Back on pitch 5 of Fracastorus, I kicked and swung the line Simon
had led previously, noting that it was the steepest pitch and
clearly the crux of the route. Joining Simon at the sturdy looking
tree, I told him we’d be struggling to make the bus due to the
late time. However, Simon was already focused on arranging the
anchors and rope, organising the gear ready for the multi-pitch
abseil which was the descent method for this III/3+ 190 metre
route. We were physically and mentally drained and the temperature
was noticeably dropping on this North facing fall, yet we still had
to get down and the seriousness of the situation certainly made us
cautious with the rope work. We talked through everything that we
were doing in setting up the first abseil so that the other could
double check and no silly mistakes were made.

Simon set off first, manoeuvring the ice bulges in reverse whilst I
shivered into my belay jacket and swapped wet gloves for a semi-dry
pair. Several metres below me, he came to a stop and had to adjust
his backup French prussic; the ropes were freezing-up and the
clumping ice was jamming in the prussic which required Simon to
drop a turn. Meanwhile, I forced myself to relax and take in the
sights from the tree, the light was slowly ebbing away but
Fressinieres Valley was still in clear view as I stamped my plastic
clad feet and willed warm blood back into my fingers. In four days
we had experienced just a tiny section of this beautiful winter
scene, yet there was still the Valleys of Fournel and Celiac
playing on my mental wish-list, Glace et mixte en cascade.

By the time we reached our bags it was 6.10pm. We’d missed the last
bus home and it was dark, so it was on with our head-torches and
rucksacks, and – with our crampons still on – we set off down the
40 degree snow slope back to the bottom of the valley. The car park
was empty, but we managed to hitch a ride back the 5km to
L’Argentiere la Bessee with a kind French family. In fact, they
had initially said they had no room to give us a lift. A fair
point really – they were two adults, two kids and a dog! On
realising we had no other means of getting back, they took pity on
our exhausted faces and the minus 10 environment. After much
shuffling and rearranging we crammed ourselves into the car. I
left Simon to politely converse in French from the boot, whilst I
cursed my laziness with foreign languages. Next time I’d be more
prepared, maybe.

Overall we felt that the ICE festival was an efficient and fast way to get
up to speed in climbing on water ice. The festival has many advantages, including
free guiding, free gear loan, and free transport to and from the ice falls.
It also has excellent entertainment in the evenings – although we were
usually too tired to enjoy these. To take full advantage of the free guiding you have to
get signed-up with Millet (for beginners) or Petzl (more advanced)
as soon as the festival opens by going to their stands at the expo. If you don’t
then you’ll spend lots of time queuing in the cold waiting for a brief top rope
session with other less organised guides (from Cie des guides Oissans-Ecrins).
The falls will be busy so expect to wait your turn, and don’t be surprised if some rude
continental type overtakes you on route! The festival is organized in a typically Gallic
laid-back way, so with that expectation, go there and enjoy.

Thanks to all our kind IMCer friends who loaned us ice
gear and warm clothing that enabled us to make this trip. Special
thanks go to Mike Hams (for Simon’s mountain boots, crampons, ice
axes and ice screws!), Mervyn Lamacraft, Martin Hore, Matt C and Dave Tonks.
Thanks also to the many others who offered us gear and advice.

The gite we stayed in is highly recommended. Clean, comfortable,
and ideally situated for the ICE festival. In 2006 it was brand
new, cost €340 for a week and slept 5. The owner can be
contacted at Mr Moal, 55 Avenue Jean Compadieu 13012 Marseille (get
better contact details).

Addendum – January 2007

This article was used as the basis of a letter which
we sent to the organizers of the ICE festival. We hoped to prompt the organisers
to improve their organization, preparation and communication; particularly with
regard to the way in which beginners are introduced to the dangers of ice
climbing. In some small way pehaps we did. Here’s the official blurb for the
following year’s ICE festival.

In direct response to a number of ice climbing accidents in Europe last year the
focus of this year’s festival is on safety whist ice climbing, and so “ICE
ATTITUDE” is the theme for the whole event. Gérard Pailheiret, the festival’s
organiser, explains:

Even though in ice climbing we make the same movements as in rock climbing, we
find in ice climbing the same risks as in mountaineering. The ice climber has to
be aware of the environment in which the sport takes place, know how to read the
ground, and the conditions of the ice and the route. All these ideas will be
discussed during ICE 2007, and the findings and conclusions covered in a specially
written document at the end of the festival. The PGHM and CRS mountain rescue
services will be present at ICEXPO for the five days of the festival to offer
advice and provide information.”

ICE 2007 features ice clinics, ice workshops, a trade show, ice climbing
competitions, films, and pro’ demonstrations.

Saturday 20th August saw Martin & I heading for the Lake District to
collect some Classic Rock ticks and as many other routes as we can. We
left Ipswich mid afternoon and after an uneventful journey enjoyed
chips in Keswick before putting the tents up at a busy Hollows Farm in
the gathering gloom.

Sunday dawned bright and warm. After a leisurely start and gear
faff, we drive up to Seathwaite and walk up to Gable Crag, our
targets being Napes Needle & Needle Ridge. Unwisely we chose the
shorter but scrambly path and the walk in takes about 3 1/2 hours. At
Styhead we pick up the climbers path that contours around Great
Gable, passing under the impressive looking Kern Knotts and Tophet
Wall before arriving at Napes Needle.

I’m staggered that there’s nobody on the route. After some lunch
and a final check of the instructions for making ourselves secure
on the top and getting down again, Martin tackles the first pitch –
a polished offwidth crack. I join him at the belay, take the gear
and start the very short second pitch. There’s an obvious break
above the belay for gear and this takes a friend and a nut. A
couple of surprisingly easy moves later my feet are in the break
and I can traverse left into a more exposed position. The holds are
all obvious and fairly well used but some more gear would nice. A
couple of moves later I get a nut in just below the top and before
I know I’m on the top of the pinnacle, feeling rather insecure as
it’s far from flat and quite polished.

The view from Napes Needle (click on any picture to see the image in Flickr)

Right, time to see if I can recall the instructions. Drop a loop of
rope under the overhang and clove hitch into the harness. Drop
another two loops down to Martin and tie each one back into the
harness. Still not feeling that secure but it will have to do.
Martin comes up and we exchange the gear so that he can place more
pieces to protect my descent. Martin down-climbs and re-attaches
himself to the belay at the top of the first pitch before I too
down-climb and remove the gear from the top pitch.

We then change the gear over again and I down climb the first
pitch, placing more gear as I go before Martin comes down. What a
performance! It must have taken at least twice as long to get down
from the top as it took to get up there. The guidebook gives an
overall grade of HS; the ascent almost certainly isn’t that but the
descent probably is.

Needle Ridge starts right behind the needle and as we’re feeling
confident in our abilities, we decide to take coils and move
together. This proved to be a good move and we cover the ground
very quickly, progress only being limited by the two teams ahead of
us. By the time we get to the top, the weather is beginning to
change with the wind picking up and cloud lowering. We scramble
down and then lurch down some scree before picking the walker’s
path back to Styhead. We return along the better path to the valley
but it’s already started to rain and we’re quite wet by the time we
get back to the car at around 7.30. Good day out though, with two
routes ticked.

Back at the campsite a group of chavs are in residence in poorly
pitched tents and seem intent on making as much noise and being as
oiksome as possible.

We’re somewhat fatigued the following day; we decide an easier
valley day is in order. We start off by walking up to Black Crag
for the tick of Troutdale Pinnacle. The first three pitches are
despatched in short order. The fourth pitch starts with a downward
traverse across some slabs, which required some thought, and then a
steep step up onto the pinnacle. Easier ground follows to gain the
top of the pinnacle on which I sit, semi-astride, with plenty of
air on both sides. An airy step off the pinnacle follows and then a
groove with an awkward move near the top to finish. Another tick
ticked.

We then walk round to Shepherds Crag and Martin points me at Brown
Slabs Crack ‘So we can nail that mountain VS thing’. The main
feature of the route is a polished corner that can be either jammed
or laybacked. I go for the jamming option and although it’s quite
strenuous there’s enough gear to keep it safe. The corner is soon
ascended, as is the easier ground to the top. A visit to Shepherd’s
Crag wouldn’t be complete without going to the café, so that’s our
next port of call. Being late in the day, they’re keen to sell that
day’s cake so we get extra large portions. Result! Better still; we
get to bask outside in the warm sunshine.

Back on the campsite, we’re chilling out and nibbling when Martin’s
friends Dave and Chris appear. ‘Oh’ says Martin, ‘I wasn’t
expecting them until tomorrow!’ Tents are soon pitched, beers
exchanged, tea drunk and food prepared and eaten on a warm evening
only spoilt by uninvited midges and the chavs.

Tuesday starts grey and gloomy. Undeterred, we drive up to Honister
Hause; Martin, Dave & I walk into Gillercombe for the tick of
Gillercombe Buttress whilst Chris walks back to the campsite. On
the approach, the cloud base is dropping but we apply
mountaineering judgement and decide to go for the route anyway but
to climb with rucksacks so we can walk straight out from the top.
With the weather looking threatening, we elect to climb in
waterproofs. I also choose to wear waterproof trousers and was I
glad I did!

Martin takes the first pitch and it proves to be jolly exciting for
the grade, with an awkward struggle into and out of a square notch.
I led the second pitch but don’t recall much about it. I do,
however, recall leaving the belay and moving round into the full
force of the wind and rain now battering the buttress. Dave led the
fourth pitch in increasingly foul conditions and I led the fifth,
which wasn’t too difficult despite the conditions. And so it fell
to Martin to take the 6th and penultimate pitch. We thought the
difficulties were over and this was now a romp to the top but there
was a sting in the tail. We should perhaps have realised this
sooner, this being a Classic Rock route.

The technically difficult moves were very thin and reachy above a
big drop and would be interesting on a still, warm day. But in the
wind and streaming with water they were much more difficult. The
moves above were considerably easier but no less demanding due to
the runout. So demanding that Martin had to take a five minute
break mid pitch to gather thoughts and recover sufficient mental
energy to finish the pitch. Meantime, Dave and I were getting
progressively colder & wetter on the belay. Dave feels the cold
anyway and with soaking poly cotton trousers was suffering. I lead
the 7th and final pitch; by the time we’re all at the top it’s
about 5pm and time for some lunch. After a nibble we navigate
across the tops through cloud and eventually get back to Honister
Hause at about 6.30. With the food and movement, Martin & I have
warmed up a bit. Dave however was moving very slowly, feeling sick
and had gone very quiet.

The wind and rain kept up all night; if anything they got worse.
The weather forecast was for torrential rain and gale force winds
and we certainly got all of that. Despite the exertions of the
previous days I slept only fitfully but when I finally surfaced,
just as the rain was abating, there was tent carnage at Hollows
Farm. Our tents were undamaged but there was evidence of several
groups packing up and leaving during the night, with their trashed
tents and paraphernalia dumped by the bin. The chavs had left
sometime during the night, their weak erections evidently not man
enough to resist all the weather could throw at them.
Stereotypically, they left a trail of rubbish behind them for
others to clean up.

Flooded River Derwent

A little later we found that a swollen River Derwent had cut us off
from Keswick. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the rain stopped
completely, the sun came out and it turned into a good drying out
day. Our climbing gear and wet clothing from the previous day was
soon spread around the campsite and we salvaged some guy lines and
a tent pole from the bins to make a drying line.

Norman arrives mid-morning and with the flooding has to walk the
last mile or so to the campsite. Being made of stern stuff, he and
Dave team up for a day at Shepherds Crag. Meanwhile, Martin and I
loaf around the campsite until lunchtime then head into Keswick for
gear fondling and food shopping.

Drying out at Hollows Farm

Unsure of the weather for the coming days, a call was made to the
ever-reliable Culverhouse weather centre. Part of the plan for the
week is to walk over into Ennerdale and wild camp for a couple of
routes on Pillar but this is very much weather dependent. The
forecast isn’t too good so we cook up an alternative plan – an
early start the next day to do Tophet Wall on Great Gable and if
time permits walk into Ennerdale for a recce of Pillar and maybe a
route as well.

Wednesday evening saw the late return of Norman & Dave from
Shepherds Crag, and the arrival of Adrian and Kearton, the Chandler family
and Nick Willis.

It was about 8.30 the following morning that we parked up at
Seathwaite and started the walk up to Great Gable. This time we
chose the easier valley path and make good progress. With a bit of
prior knowledge it takes us around 3 hours to walk up to Tophet
Wall. As we gear up, a cold wind is blowing up the gully and we’re
out of the sun but at least it’s dry. I launch up the first pitch,
which is steep and thin, but there is enough protection that was
particularly appreciated through a technical section. Martin comes
up to the somewhat uncomfortable hanging belay at the end of the
pitch where we swap over and he leads through.

The second pitch starts in much the same way as the first, but
without the welcome gear! Fortunately there is gear a bit higher up
and we both make fairly light work of the pitch. From the guidebook
it looks as though the third pitch is the crux; the wording in the
guidebook is “Semi hand traverse right in a sensational position”.
It certainly is a good position but the holds and protection are
both generous. I’m left wondering what the fuss was all about! We
swap over again and Martin leads through for the fourth and final
pitch. It starts easily enough, climbing up to a pinnacle before
stepping round an arête and then easier ground to the top. What
neither of us had banked on was the exposure – huge! – from
stepping round the arête. At the top, both of us were giggling like
a couple of schoolgirls at the position.

By the time we’ve scrambled down and lunched it’s mid afternoon;
too late for another route but just right for a recce into
Ennerdale. We regain the climbers’ path and contour round Great
Gable in good time. We then head over Kirk Fell, steep but steady,
before dropping down to Black Sail Pass. Big black clouds have been
rolling in and as the descent steepens, rain starts to fall. As it
looks like it’s fairly well set in, we stop to don waterproofs.
Whilst faffing around we’re approached by a father and son team who
have been sitting nearby. ‘The boy doesn’t want to tackle the steep
descent; can we help them? Martin uses a couple of slings to make
sit and chest harnesses into which we tie a rope. With his father
in front and me providing a waist belay as required from behind,
his confidence soon returns and whilst maybe not skipping down like
a mountain goat the descent that had previously appeared very
daunting now posed little problem. We leave them at Black Sail Pass
but it’s taken us a couple of hours to get here so although our
destination is in sight we take the mountaineering decision to turn
round.

Our exit from Ennerdale is obvious – Windy Gap between Green Gable
and Great Gable. Rather than go back over Kirk Fell, we pick up a
path that contours round Kirk Fell. The path to Windy Gap is now
obvious but that doesn’t mean it’s easy! Well, the first part is
easy but, joy of joys, we’re soon onto steep and loose ground all
the way to the top. By and large it’s more of the same down the
other side although the path has been partially made up. From
leaving Black Sail Pass, it takes something like two hours to get
back to Styhead Tarn. By now we’re both pretty tired and Martin is
also suffering with a dodgy ankle. An emergency Genoa cake, saved
for just such an eventuality, lifts our spirits and provides an
energy boost. An hour or so later we’re back at the car, some 12
hours or so after starting out. A long day but what a day!

Back at the campsite it seems as though we had the best of the
weather and I believe the words “However good your day has been,
ours has been better” were uttered. Adrian and Kearton arrived back
even later having had a standard issue IMC adventure on the Corvus
that involved Kearton falling on the crux traverse.

An altogether easier day was called for on the Friday so Shepherds
Crag is in order. Martin points me at the first pitch of Donkey’s
Ears before he takes the second pitch. Then it’s back to me for the
3rd pitch, which I make a complete bollix of. The guidebook
description is vague so I first try a low line that is far too
hard for the grade. A quick retreat allows me to try a higher line
but that isn’t going to give in easily either. That leaves the easy
option to the right at more like diff than severe but given the
fatigue from yesterday I’m really not bothered. With the security
of a top rope, Martin tries the possible lines and finds an option
that largely fits the grade but would be very bold on the lead.

By now it’s gone lunchtime so we sort food out. Having done so, the
wind picks up and a rain shower rolls in so a massed retreat to the
café takes place. The rain continues for a while so we have an
early retreat to the campsite. Remarkably we’ve been here a week
but haven’t made it to the pub so that evening we endeavour to put
some more money into the local economy. The hotel in the village of
Grange is only open to residents so we wander up the road to The
Leathes Hotel, partway to Shepherds Crag. No problem with letting
us into their very warm lounge but at over £10 for four drinks we
only stay for one round.

That evening saw the arrival of Bob, Simon & Karen and Steve &
Caroline.

Saturday sees us heading for Raven Crag for the well trodden route
of Corvus, hopefully avoiding the falling off the crux traverse and
descending in the dark experiences of recent ascents by IMC teams.
Parking by the roadside isn’t an option and we have to use the NT
car park at Seatoller – I’m still reeling from having to pay £4.50
to use their patch of tarmac for a few hours. The walk up to the
crag is uphill but steady and somewhat surprisingly there’s no one
else around. I get the first pitch, just to one side of a gully.
It’s pretty wet and as a consequence a good deal harder than the
grade – diff. By accident rather than design, I run the first and
most of the second pitch together, not stopping until a dry belay
ledge arrives. Martin than leads through and so we continue to the
top. The crux pitch comes at about halfway; Martin leads it and I
second but fail to find any difficulty in it but then we have been
climbing routes a good deal harder earlier in the week. Almost
before we know it we’re at the top and making our way back down.
With the exertions of recent days, every step is hard on the legs.

A fine, sociable evening follows with previously hidden skills at
juggling and with a Diablo being demonstrated by Simon.

Sunday starts wet and after extended faffing we undertake a mass
exodus to The National Mountaineering Exhibition at Rheged near
Penrith. The exhibition is OK, mainly about British attempts on
Everest. One of the exhibits is preserved frostbitten toes. Hmm,
nice. We also took in an American film about one of the climbers
who lost their lives on Everest in 1986. It was so good I can’t
remember the name of the climber! Whilst it was dry at Rheged, it
certainly wasn’t in Borrowdale and another less than sociable
evening confined to our tents ensued. Nick, Simon & Karen and Steve
& Caroline all decide enough is enough and head for either home or
sunnier climbing venues.

But wouldn’t you know it, the following day, when we are due to
come home, was bright and sunny. We walk up to Shepherds Crag again
and launch up the three pitches of Ardus. Martin gets the first
pitch and after the rain of the previous day it is greasy and
slippery. I lead through for the second pitch, starting with some
awkward bridging off the stance before tackling the corner crack.
It’s a bit strenuous and technical but that’s fine with me. Martin
then leads through for the third and final pitch, an interesting
traverse across a slab before taking a crack to the top. Although
the line looked a bit greasy and polished, it proved to be all
there and with sufficient protection.

Time for one more route before departing. Keen to end on a high
note, we tackle the V diff route of Brown Slabs Direct in glorious
sunshine.

Meanwhile, Simon and Bob, taken by tales of grand adventures on
Tophet Wall, opt for the big walk in and by all accounts weren’t
disappointed. They also got to see Dave Macleod cleaning and
working the moves on Breathless, an E10 on the wall above Tophet
Wall.

By the time we’ve been to the café and pack up at the campsite,
it’s about 4pm. Keen to avoid the jams on the M6 of previous years,
we head across to Scotch Corner and then down the A1, arriving in
Ipswich at about 9.30 – a most satisfactory end to a great week.

By Louise Burness – April 2006

Before I start I would like to make it very clear that the New Year
weekend was really enjoyable and relaxing.

The drive to North Wales was no worse than normal on a Friday night.
Indeed the traffic was very light. However, the journey wasn’t fast as
spray and surface water left from the melting snow meant that speeds
needed to be curtailed. Every move to overtake a lorry was a precision
operation. Stage one; wait well back until you have a good clear run
for a safe distance past the lorry. Stage two; study the road layout.
Stage three; turn the wipers on full blast, charge and try to keep to
the line you memorised as all visibility is obliterated in the lorry’s
wake. There was a moment of total terror when I heard a loud bang and
then a hiss of escaping air. I gripped the steering wheel, slapped on
the hazards and started heading for the hard shoulder when Pete
informed me that his bike tyre had burst! There was another moment to
total terror when I noticed two men doing the highland fling – very
seasonal – but they were on the inside lane at the time. I realised
that they were directing traffic away from a car that had clearly spun
out of control.

Eventually, we arrived during a dry spell and whipped the tent up
extremely fast. We were camping at Nant Peris, whilst the rest of the
party were staying in the bunkhouse over the road. We popped into the
bunkhouse to say hello to the other partygoers, most of whom arrived a
few days earlier. Although it was not late, most were already in bed.
Despite two groups dropping out at the last moment because of
depressing weather forecasts, there were still eleven people including
us.

It was our first night in the new tent. And by about midnight we
regretted not adding extra guy lines as the wind gusted up the valley
and the rain lashed down. And we regretted it at 1am, 2am, 3am and so
on. Still, we emerged dry the next morning. Although we are hardy
campers, we felt that it was our duty to be sociable, to join the
others and cook in the bunkhouse. I am sure we would have done the same
had it not been lashing down. Actually “down” is hardly the right word,
as the strong wind meant that the rain came at you sideways. The
bunkhouse was very convenient as John had borrowed a large urn for us
to boil water in – the local reservoir had been polluted and the water
was then un-safe to drink.

Steve and Caroline had a plan to go on a bike ride, and since I also
had a new bike to try out, we decided to join them. While they did a
bit of shopping, Pete mended his tyre and I tried to remove the toe
clips that had come supplied with my bike. Steve and Caroline returned
half an hour later and five minutes after that Steve had actually
removed the toe clips, and we were almost on our way. Pete and I
arrived at the designated car park before Steve and Caroline who had a
bit more shopping to do. We were at the start of the Marin trail, just
outside of Betws-y-Coed, which was 25km of prepared hard and exciting
trail. Being a bit further from the mountains than Nant Peris, it was,
to my relief, actually a lot drier! We set off, but within 2km Caroline
had been sick. She took herself back to the car, and possibly a bit
more shopping. The three of us carried on. A few kilometres later
having just reached a bit where I felt that walking might be the better
part of valour I realised that Pete was also walking. Once off the
steep technical section, he explained that his back wheel had come off.
Half an hour later, we decided that Pete could have back brakes or a
rear wheel but not both. Time to retreat and go shopping.

That night was New Years Eve. We ate in the bunk house, exchanged the
days stories, admired the purchases, and it was still only 9 o clock.
For completeness, Martin and Adrian almost did a shopping directisimo
(shopping curtailed by cursory glance at conditions in the Tryfan
region before retreating to the sanctuary of a shop somewhere in North
Wales), whilst the others headed up a hill, and then abandoned the rest
of their route in favour of a shopping trip. In an effort to make the
time pass, the boys started trying to climb round the table. Width-ways
was achieved and then the length-ways challenge commenced. Steve C
managed a traverse, but his technique (feet first onto the supporting
strut) was then disqualified on the grounds that he had too much weight
on the strut and not enough hanging off the tabletop. All seemed lost,
until Adrian had a good idea. Although he failed, twice, to complete
the manoeuvre, landing, twice, hard on his back, it was well enough
demonstrated to enable Steve G to complete the feat. The New Year was
seen in style although most people got the lyrics of Auld Lang Syne
wrong for goodness sake.

The next day was wet again. Very wet. Adrian decided his sore bum
needed to be taken home for some TLC. John decided that he needed to
get home and prepare for work on Tuesday. A shopping trip was organised
for the rest – except for Pete and me who took ourselves walking.

I may need to propose a new definition of walking for the Oxford
English dictionary to cover paddling across waterlogged fields and
crawling near steep edges in strong, gusty winds. We saw no one else
out that day – although that might just have been the poor visibility.
Then again, it probably wasn’t. When we did have views they were very
confusing. We finally realised that many of the rivers we caught
glimpses of were actually roads through Beddgelert forest. Despite the
foul weather we actually extended our route by 3km – OK so we needed to
find a way around a minor stream that had turned into an impassable
raging white-water torrent.

After that we took ourselves to Pete’s Eats for a bite of dinner – we
had grabbed cake en-route but had not felt inclined to have a proper
picnic at the top of Y Garn! Since we had now caught up with the
shopping trip troop we joined in for a bit. The staff at V-12 did admit
it had been an excellent weekend for sales. Then back to Pete’s Eats
for another giant cup of tea. Dinner, beer and admiration of the
purchases followed again in the bunkhouse.

The final morning was much drier, at last! We packed up quickly and
headed off to the hills (two little tops on the east edge of the
Carneddau), and stayed out for as long as we could. The journey home
for us was easy and along the way we did pass Ian, Christina and Monty.
No, I am not bragging about how fast I can drive – they were on the
back of a tow truck at the time! Pete said it was a surreal experience
for him as he awoke from a brief slumber in the passenger-seat to see
Christina’s car floating above him! BTW, rumour has it that further
shopping mission were executed by the other team members before their
return home! I am sure that the shopkeepers in North Wales are now
missing the presence of the IMC!