Our hot rocks trip to the Costa Blanca started off a few weeks earlier with a meal and planning
faff at Caroline’s house. We met the night before the flight at Karen’s house for dinner. We arrived at the designated hour and were greeted by the sound of Simon crushing ice for Margaritas. In no time at all the Margaritas were drunk and this set the tone for the evening with much beer and wine quaffed.

Somehow we all arrived at Stansted at the designated hour of 8am, each of us suffering from a hangover to a greater or lesser extent. For some reason, Steve was very quiet….

Our first day, Sunday, saw us climbing at Toix West, a popular venue just a short walk from the car. Karen, Simon and I teamed up and started on a couple of 3’s (Severe ish), moving up to 5+ (HVS ish) by the end of the day. Amazing what you can do on warm rock with big, shiny bolts! We finished the day feeling well chuffed and confident in our abilities. On only her second day out on rock and her first day sport climbing, Karen finished the day leading an HVS slab consisting of a good deal of delicate, balancy moves.

Monday was Caroline’s birthday and the day started with cake, cards and presents. The overall temperature of the villa was raised by a few degrees with all the candles! The day also started wet on the coast so we headed inland to the Echo Valley with multi-pitch routes on leader placed gear and bolt belays. It didn’t look too encouraging on the drive over with more rain and wet roads but things improved after lunch.

Karen, Simon and I teamed up for Scorpion (4+/HS) with Steve and Caroline sharing the leads on the adjacent line of Wasp (4+/VS) with Caroline sporting the birthday tiara (a present from Karen and Simon) which looked very attractive attached to her helmet with bright yellow gaffer tape! I led the first 3 pitches of Scorpion steadily enough before handing over to Simon for the fourth and final pitch. After a good look round at the holds and the alternative finish of Wasp, Simon was unable to make the moves. We knew that Steve was already on the top and called furiously for a top rope but to no avail. The only thing to do was for Simon to climb down and for all of us to abseil off.

No problem for Simon or me, but Karen hadn’t abseiled before. But it’s amazing what you can do if you have to and we were back on the ground in two abseils although I will acknowledge some anxiety with all three of us and the ropes being tied off to a single bolt.

That evening we drove up the coast to Moraira, intending to eat in a restaurant Caroline knew from previous visits. But wouldn’t you know it – it was closed that evening! A suitable alternative was quickly found and we had a very pleasant evening.

Tuesday started slowly due to hangovers (again) but eventually we start climbing at Toix East, a scruffy roadside crag. I try a route supposedly graded 4+ but back off before the first bolt, finding it steep and awkward. I just didn’t feel comfortable on it. Simon was similarly struggling on an adjacent 4+ and it fell to Steve to lead and get a top rope up for the rest of us to have a
go on.

Seeking a confidence boost rather than continue the beasting, the afternoon saw us back at Toix West. Steve and I team up for Ana, a two-pitch route of 4+ described in the guidebook as ‘very pleasant’. And it was. Meanwhile, Caroline’s hangover has diminished and she’s found some beta on a 6a route which is very amenable. Steve led the way very smoothly before Caroline and I followed. It would probably be fair to describe the route as 5+ with just one 6a move and it’s another confidence booster.

The following day, Wednesday, we head inland again to Sella, described in the guidebook as the most important, extensive and popular area in the Costa Blanca. We start in a bay close to the parking area. Things don’t start that well with Caroline and I wobbling on a 4 route that should be well within our capabilities. Then Steve backs off a 5+ route. What’s going on? Simon & Karen
opted for an easy start on the 3’s & 4’s.

Sella – Divino Face (click on any picture for image in Flickr)

After lunch, we head for another bay. I volunteer to belay Steve on a tricky 5+ route and get well cooked standing in the scorching afternoon sun for what seems like an age. Eventually Steve finds a high sequence for the crux moves and is soon at the chain to lower off. Not soon enough as far as I am concerned. Almost before his feet are back on the ground he’s off belay and I’m retreating to the shade of a nearby bush. Whilst I’m recovering, Caroline top ropes the
route and finds a low sequence for the crux, which looks so much more straightforward. So straightforward in fact she opts to do it again on the sharp end. Confidence returns!

Simon & Karen concentrated on the next bay, taking on some fantastic, long & sustained 5’s & 5+’s. While climbing, a local pointed out a 6a+ climb next to them and with a little encouragement, Simon proceeded to make the tricky start then lead the sustained climb to the top of the route. This was then lead again by Steve, after putting on his extra small shoes (size 11 can you believe it?).

Simon concentrating hard at Sella

Driving back, the boundaries of automotive engineering are explored in an experiment to see if the Ford Ka hire car can be wound up to 100MPH on the motorway. The answer is yes it can.

Thursday was a big day out on the Penon D’Ifach, the big plug of rock that sits in the bay. Steve, Caroline and I team up for Polvos Magicos 6a+. I lead the first pitch and then Steve takes over for the 6a+ (E2 5b ish) crux pitch. Steve had tried this pitch previously and found the top to be slippery and strenuous; this time was little different. The difficulties accumulate in the last few metres and various combined tactics, including vigorous swearing, were brought into play to overcome the difficulties. Caroline went next and got to the final moves with much undignified grunting and with a little assistance from the top bolt she was at the top. Then it was my turn. I found the pitch to be fairly straightforward, if strenuous, until the top bolt. I ended up standing on the bolt to make the move and I’m not sure if there was any assistance from the rope but I was pleased to have got as far as I did. It was, after all, the first time I’d been on an E2!

The following pitch, graded 5+ (HVS 5a ish), is used by many of the routes on the face and there was a bit of a jam with two teams ahead of us. Fortunately there was a capacious ledge where we could anchor and have lunch. To kill time, we then play I-Spy with Sarah and Linda, two Yorkshire women of a certain age. Sarah took the prize for most obscure clue with AS for azure shimmer. Well, at the time it was bright and sunny with the sea, err, shimmering.

Eventually, the teams ahead of us were clear of the pitch and Caroline takes the sharp end. Caroline makes it to the jammed, in-situ gear and clips it but is unable to make the next move and has to back off, despite successfully having led the pitch on a previous ascent.

I take over the lead and with the benefit of not having to stop to clip/place gear and using that greater reach again, make the next move and clip the in-situ tat. From there it’s a tenuous, slippery and thrutchy struggle and I’m very pleased to get to the sanctuary of the belay bolt. Steve and Caroline then follow, both finding the pitch very awkward. We had all done the pitch
previously but none of us recall it being that difficult.

Steve dispenses the next pitch and then it’s my turn again on a 30m of 5. I climb it without a problem although some of the placements are a bit spaced out. I also provided some entertainment to Sarah and Linda who were on an adjacent pitch. Some of the gear was leader placed and I was using some of the biggest Rocks going. So big I was unable to use the usual method of selecting the nut I wanted with my mouth. In extremis, this led me to shout “Caroline, I can’t get your f***ing nuts in my mouth!”

At the top of the pitch we reckon the trad grade would be VS 4c so I’m well chuffed. The pitch took us up to a ridge from where we were able to look out over Calpe; the extent of development since my previous visit in 1993 was quite staggering. Once again we had to wait to get onto the next pitch and undertook a controlled experiment to establish just how big a nut could be selected using the time proven mouth method. For the record, #12 for Caroline and #13 for me but for some reason Steve declined to participate.

The final pitches are fairly straightforward and I no time at all we’re at the top, some 8 hours after starting up the route. What a relief it is to take our rock shoes off! We scramble over some very polished rocks to the summit before tackling the very rocky and polished descent path. An hour later we’re back at the car and there’s another collective sigh of relief as we take out
harnesses off. Then it was time for a quick paddle, beer and tapas. It wasn’t until we sat down that we realised just how tired we were but what a great day out.

Meanwhile, Simon and Karen had spent all day back at Toix West, playing on the multi-pitch routes Steve and Caroline enjoyed on the first day. After a long day multi-pitching, a great deal of beer disappeared with little effort!

Friday started grey and overcast with rain in the air. After much do we/don’t we climb faff, we decide not. With the intention of climbing later in the day, Simon and Karen head off for Moirira for present buying whilst Steve, Caroline and I head for the Mascarat Gorge to look at the scene of some mad bridge swinging and take in the general atmosphere. We also checked out the, ahem, uniquely shaped starting holds to Lubricante Vaginal en Uno!

Bridges in Mascarat Gorge

Then we too head off for Moraira and the weekly market where our purchases include a particularly fetching straw hat for me; a bargain at just €15. We then meet Simon & Karen in a very smart waterfront bar for lunch.

A drive along the twisty coast road brought us back to Calpe but earlier plans for an evening climb were thwarted by a thunderstorm. Instead, we had to stay in the villa and make a valiant attempts to consume all the remaining food and drink; we very nearly succeeded, despite Caroline buying another couple of bottles of wine!

Saturday started remarkably promptly and not having climbed the previous day there was much frantic clearing up activity to get a couple of routes in before heading for the airport. Well, everybody except me was frantic; still feeling trashed from the day out on the Penon, sitting in the car and reading a book seemed like a much better option. We drove to Toix West but it soon became apparent that climbing wasn’t going to happen as it was just far too windy so the plan quickly changed to visit the Alicante gear shops.

Simon leads the way under the guidance of the stern lady in his GPS. In no time at all after leaving the motorway we’re driving through what seems like a residential area and pulling up outside the first shop, only to find it closed. So, onto the second gear shop; again under the guidance of the stern lady.

This takes us into the depths of the city centre and its busy Saturday morning traffic but very soon we’re pulling into a narrow side street then lo and behold there’s the gear shop. Parking in the street clearly wasn’t going to happen and we have to go round the block again to find a car park. Parked up, we make our way back to the shop. I’m able to resist the temptations of the shop and make do with a few fondles but apparently Steve has to have a new chalk bag
and Caroline can’t resist yet more clothes.

With gear shopping out of the way it’s time to find our way out of the city and to the airport where we have a quick juggling lesson (thanks Steve) and a bit of a picnic lunch in the departure lounge, including a couple of litres of San Miguel that we’d failed to drink the previous evening. In seemingly no time at all, we’re back at Stansted and it’s all over ’til the next time.

By Mick Enwright

Hi Folks

Before any of the scurrilous rumours or downright untruths assail your
collective delicate ears, what follows is the plain unvarnished truth……Pay
no heed to any other reports of the incident!!!!

Martin S and I set off at some unearthly hour on Thursday 24th heading for
the Great Beyond … well Hathersage for starters, where we planned to meet up
with Norman at Outside…I have to admit that leaving early does have it’s
merits, for we arrived after a trouble free…speed observed (Hmmm) journey,
arriving at 09.55 outside Outside, and after the usual round of gear fondling,
tea drinking, and generally lusting after kit we didn’t really want, couldn’t
really afford, etc. (recognise yourselves, anyone)??? set off for “popular end” of
Stanage, and spent a nice productive day soloing V Diffs, climbing, leading,
seconding and generally enjoying the scenery, before setting off for Castleton
YHA.

There seemed to be a mite of confusion on the part of the reception staff on
our arrival, as to who was bunking with whom and where, which was eventually
sorted out. So then it was off to the “self catering kitchen” to prepare our
respective tucker, which in all cases was accompanied by various beverages,
having seen off some small Stellas, a couple of very nice bottles of red, and
taking up later, Tony’s offer to help lower the contents of his wine box, ’twas
all in all, a merry evening.

Now being of a less robust constitution that in earlier days, I decided to
leave the others to their wines, jokes and general frivolity and went off to
bed, to some of the most wonderful sleep I’d had in a while, until summoned in
the early hours by Martin practising his own particular “Coughing for Britain”
routine, which after a while he’d perfected, and we all finally settled until
some unearthly hour, when aroused again by Tony, bearing gifts of hot
tea (Sorry, that should be roused, but then, who knows what other effects tea
can have).

After a hearty breakfast, and the most minimal faffing (largely by me)
leaving just on 9.a.m. we set off for The Roaches, parked up, met Caroline G,
geared up and set off for Upper Tier, where we off-loaded the rucksacks, and
strolled in a leisurely fashion along the face, checking out potential routes,
and waiting for the rock to dry. Norman and I set off to do Maud’s Garden for
starters, which although still wet and somewhat green was a “pussycat” of a
climb, which we enjoyed immensely. The others, going off to do their
thing. Ask Martin S sometime about Jeffcoat’s Chimney; he does have a
descriptive turn of phrase.

Other climbs came and went and then I mentioned to Norman that there were 3
or so climbs just across the wall left of “Right Route” which seemed to be worth
a look, which for me was all they were, I just lost any bottle, retreating in
ignominious fashion, and apologising to Norman who happily was quite relaxed
about the whole sorry business…

Then it was time for lunch. Which came and went, With Mike B and Caroline setting up to do “Pedestal
Route”, Tony R and Martin setting up to do “Right Route” and Norman and myself
looking lovingly at a climb which I could not put a label to, just to the right
of “Right Route” which had my name on it. I went up had a look at it, perching
on a fine thin ledge without too much difficulty, comfortable and satisfied that
it was do-able, came down re-checked the gear, tied in and set off once again,
don’t know at this stage why it didn’t seem quite the same, and tried to alter
my stance, but suddenly I was plummeting all of 3 feet to the ground, where
rather unfortunately somebody had left this flat rock upon which the front half
of my right foot landed (ouch)!

Apparently on landing one footed I was heard to yelp rather loudly, and
mutter in unseemly fashion. “Oh dear” I said “I think I have hurt my foot” (or something similar), all
the time fighting off the sudden feeling of faintness and nausea. Willing hands
helped me down, somebody finding a bivi-bag to lay me on, and folks on hand to
generally render such help as might be needed. Including a guy from the local
mountain rescue team offering to turn out his group if needed be. Could I ever
live that down?

Opinion was however that in fact it might have just been a bad sprain, with
Kearton applying bandages and Ibuprofen, and generally making me comfy.
Apparently there are ‘photos …

Everybody was able to finish his or her climbs (Tony R leading an absolutely
stonking good “Right Route” which I could watch from my resting place)

Some years ago I was more than a little derisory of walking poles, but had, as I
got that little bit older, come to appreciate their merits and none more so than
this day! Martin set out the plan of action to get me off the hill, fashioning
for starters a carry seat from my walking poles and some tat. Sending Kearton
off to recce the best way down, avoiding those wonderful stairs!!!…. They then
took all of the gear back to the cars, while Caroline stayed to mop my fevered
brow and keep me amused ’til the lads returned.

The next bit was something of a tour de force, with various methods of carrying
and lifting a body across some pretty rough ground (again, photos exist) to get
me back to the road.

Norman then ferried me off to Buxton minor injuries dept, where after checking
and X-raying, they found I had indeed broken a bone, provided me with a soft
cast and picks to take to the fracture clinic.

I know why it is that I joined the IMC. What a swell group of guys and gals you
all are! Special thanks to Martin, Tony R, Norman, Mike B, Caroline, Adrian and
Kearton for all of their combined efforts to get me safely off the hill. It
was no picnic!

Prognosis. Likely to be in plaster 4 to 6 weeks, will I dance again? I doubt
it – couldn’t dance before. Will I climb? You bet I damn well will !!!! And
I can’t complain, having climbed for about 12 years without mishap. So take
care out there folks, and thanks once again to all those mentioned above.

Working Title “I’m The Only Gay In The Village”

By Peter Krug

A late arrival at the Dolgam campsite near Capel Curig (tent up 12.55) meant
a slightly tardy departure but nonetheless on the hill by about 10.45 to climb
‘er Henry or “Yr Elen” as it is known in these parts which I think was possibly
the only Welsh 3000r which I definitely have not done. Actually 10.45 was an
early start for me and Louise after the long drive the previous evening.

Headed off the Bethesda and headed off into the hills. We must have been
particularly unlucky because it was a cloudy morning in Snowdonia as we headed
up the valley. We spent a bit of time trying to get across a river because Lou
made several refusals owing to lack of a (walking) pole and previous dunking
experiences until we eventually we found a suitable spot! Crossed the river and
made our way up the shoulder and onto the ridge that approached Yr Elen from the
North West and were soon immersed in the mist as we found the summit with
unerring navigation.

We carried on along the tops noting steep drops to our left as we headed in
the mist to Carnedd Llewelyn and onto the next summit Foel Grach and then
descended to a col and headed left (North-west) for some time. After this good
navigation we lost the plot somewhat on the descent and ended up on the wrong
side of the hill and descending into the wrong valley. Doh! Lou made the
correction and soon we were back on track and reached the car as dusk set in!
Lesson of the day being that it is always good to keep concentrating even when
you think that the hard work has been done and never assume that the cloud level
was going to remain at the same level (even in North Wales). We could see our
route off the hill when we were walking up the valley during the morning but by
the time we were on our way down visibility had dropped a hundred or so metres.
Evening meal in campsite and then the call of the pub was answered!

Shockingly, Saturday morning in North Wales came up rather damp and dreary.
Another tardy start – “why bother” we thought. Nevertheless we kept to the plan
to climb Snowdon from the sarf! By the time we found our parking place not far
from Beddgelert, we realised we were too late to go for the summit. It was also
drizzling heavily as we left the car but we thought we might as well take a
stroll. We were glad we did because it was, in spite of the unusual wet weather,
a beautiful area (much nicer than Pen-y-Pass). The Autumnal colours of the
forests on the lower slopes were glorious. The rivers were in spate and the
waterfalls were mighty impressive as we made of way up the well maintained
track.

We stepped off the Watkin Path and carried on up the right hand side of the
Afon Cwm Llan. This area was dominated by the mass of Y Lliwedd to the
north-east which occasionally showed its summit through the cloud. It would also
have been dominated by Yr Wyddfa to the north-west except that that was
completely shrouded in the mist! How could that be – Yr Wyddfa in the cloud –
there must be some mistake! At least we couldn’t see the restaurant!

We made it up to a col (Bwlch Cwm Llan) and decided to head back down because
whilst we were enjoying ourselves you can have too much of a good thing (rain!).
Incidentally, there is much in the way of quarrying in this neck of the woods
and there were many derelict buildings and a particularly impressive incline
where the quarried rock was carted down off the mountain.

Next up was some mild gear-fondling in Llanberis where the weather was much
worse and a pint (of tea/coffee) in Pete’s Eats and went to Plas-y-Brenin and
then back to camp – cooked dinner and then the pub beckoned (again) and
naturally we relented especially as there were clothes to dry! The smell of my
socks melting on the heater was particularly noxious but we won’t go there! I
was shocked when the barlady advised me that Capel Curig was the wettest place
in England and Wales and needed several pints to recover.

Sunday morning was nicer so we could eat “al fresco” on the patio of my tent
and then we decamped and went to Llyn Ogwen. Here weather was again shockingly,
shite and cloud level was low (just above the Lake). We must have been really
unlucky with the weather. Nonetheless we went for a short walk up to Llyn
Bochlwyd and across to Llyn Idwal. Mindful of our navigational cock up two days
previously we used the rare opportunity of navigating in poor visibility in
North Wales to good effect! Having arrived safely at Llyn Idwal I introduced
Louise to the “Slabs” where believe it or not there was a group being taught to
climb on Ordinary Route. If they weren’t being put off by the, albeit unlikely,
inclement weather in Wales (in early November) then they must be keen!

We then headed off back to the car and home. Despite the surprisingly wet
weather we both enjoyed ourselves and I have just managed to dry my boots out.

By Fraser Hale

• Q: How do make the Greater Crested Rock Climber (usually tough & sinewy) more tender?
• A: Hang in a harness for two days and dress with screwgates and slings.

The result is a very tender climber that can get itself and its mates out of any
kind of trouble that doesn’t involve impregnation or the duty solicitor.

Christina starts the Spring Cleaning; These damned cobwebs

Next time you’re at the wall or the crag you may spot an IMCer or two who
appears to be, well, hidden. Camouflaged under the largest collection of
karabiners, slings and Prusik loops to be seen anywhere outside of Action
Outdoors (Dave, make the cheque out to…..).

Far from needing your sympathy, or the number of a good counsellor, these
bedecked individuals are worthy of your respect and admiration (well, you should
at least refrain from taking the p**s too much) for they have completed the
Advanced Ropework for Climbers course at PYB!

Subtitled “101 Things to do with 18 inches of String” the course covers
belaying, abseiling and self rescue techniques for climbers of all grades (even
me) and is a glorification of the humble Prusik Loop! Seriously, there is no
situation, however bad, that cannot be made at least a little better with a
Prusik. Never leave home without one. If Custer had had a Prusik in his pocket
he would probably have stood again somewhere. Had Edward Smith not left home
without a Loop the Titanic would probably have steamed safely in to New York
harbour. Sadly for both these individuals, Dr. Karl Prusik didn’t invent the
thing until 1931, until which time the world had to make do with repeating
rifles and Morse keys to deal with emergencies – what chance did they have?

Huss Hangs Tough (ish)

Anyway, in the hands of a trained expert the combination of a climbing rope,
Prusik loops, and a handful of slings and krabs can produce safety and rescue
systems that are not only practical but things of modest beauty. In the hands of
your humble author, however, these same ingredients quickly took on the
appearance of a nursery school macramé project! Saint-like patience on the part
of our excellent instructors, and perseverance from the participants soon
yielded results, though, and by the end of the weekend we were all far more
knowledgeable and confident about what to do if something were to go a bit pear-shaped
out on the crag.

Despite the slightly grim weather the course was very well organised and the
facilities at Plas Y Brenin meant that we were able to spend every available
minute doing something constructive and interesting. Sunday afternoon finally
blessed us with sunshine and we got to try out our new found skills on some
“weel wock”. The weekend was further enhanced by having to camp in the shadow of
Snowdon, being forced to subsist on Castle Eden and Welsh Lamb and to spend long
hours in the company of The Illustrious Order of Tone Lowerers. Still; no pain,
no gain.

We all agree that we need to practice what we’ve learnt, to turn the new
techniques into habits before we pretend that we’re experts, but as a grounding
in the art of getting out of the s**t, I can only recommend the course as a
weekend very well spent.

So, when El Pres strolls past you on his way to Right Unconquerable, looking
like a sandwich board for “Slings R Us”, and offers to belay you up that bold E1
you’ve been considering – run like hell!

The Slant or “Pulled Off By El Pres”

More tales of derring-do on gnarly Scottish Grade Is from the IMC winter assault team

And he’s off! With axes uselessly dangling from my wrists I’m off down a
50°-snow slope with a hundred feet drop off the end. Oh dear. Two voices in my
head: one screaming “Keep your bloody crampons up!”, one calm: “I wonder what’s
gonna happen here then…”

It’s great to be back out on the hills. The feeling, snow laden wind
blasting the cobwebs away, and the combination of “winter” packs and a good
paced 2 hour stomp up the snow into Coire ant’Sneachda gets the blood pumping.
And the vista in the corrie – semi-surrounded by ice and snow-cloaked black,
black rock, the cliffs towering over us 100 metres or so, coming into view in
patches as the clouds are pushed and shoved about by an angry gusting wind. They
look dark, brooding, menacing and intimidating and I can’t wait to get on them.

There was no shortage of snow this time (in fact, there was a level three
avalanche warning) and below several of the gullies a large fan of avalanche
debris was evident. Best we stay out of the gullies, then…

After a luxurious brunch in the shelter of the IMC bothy we decided on “The
Slant” – a rising face traverse, hopefully free of avalanche danger. As it was
flippin’ freezing and blowing a hoolie we agreed that moving together, alpine
style, would be quicker (hence warmer) than pitching the route in two parties. I
mean, it’s only a grade one climb. How hard can that be? And what could possibly
go wrong? Read on, dear reader, read on….

Stomping up the start of Jacob’s ladder I was already starting to warm up
and after about 20 metres I found the start of the “slant” heading off to the
left. A little grunt and pull had me scrambling upwards on straight forward
moves but I would have been a bit happier with some more gear placements as
without belays we needed to keep at least one piece of gear between each person
at all times. Scraping the ice out of a crack revealed a good nut placement and
a couple of gentle doinks from my hammer made sure. Move along to another group
of rocks, clear the snow off, no cracks. Damn! But it feels like turf. Swing my
pick in and yup, that feels frozen. This could be a warthog moment. Bash the
hell out of the warthog and get it in about 2/3 of its length. Is that enough?
Never having placed one before I don’t know! Tie a sling off as low as possible
to cut down on leverage (I do remember that bit from the theory books) and then
head across a very dubious snow ledge that I don’t trust at all. Kicking my
points through loose snow into the frozen stuff beneath I have to grin to
myself: I’m on a ledge that I don’t trust, protected by gear that I don’t trust,
but hey, I’m having a good time! What really makes me grin though is the nice
big spiky boulder that appears out of the gloom and that I can get a big ol’
bomber sling round. That’s made me a happy soul. An awkward traverse under and
round the boulder, with hands needed to grab the rock and place the picks, led
to a small, steep snow slope. Instead of continuing to traverse I climb up this
in the hope of finding some kind of gear placement. The now familiar sweep, chip
and scrape routine yields a fine crack. Kick both feet into solid footholds,
balance, let the axes hang from their leashes while I struggle a nut off my
harness. Is that a No. 6 or 7 crack? Huh? Rope’s tight, he’s under starters
orders and he’s off! With axes uselessly dangling from my wrists I’m off down a
50°-snow slope with a hundred feet drop off the end. Oh dear. Two voices in my
head: one screaming “Keep your bloody crampons up!”, one calm: “I wonder what’s
gonna happen here then…”

I fall/slide until the rope goes tight again, kick those front points right
in, swing the picks in as far as they’ll go. Safe. But something’s still not
quite right… Oh yeah, breathe, of course. That’s better.

Gingerly move up a step to take some pressure off my, ah, harness and shout
to Pete to make sure he’s ok. I haven’t a clue what’s happened. Obviously Pete’s
off but what about the others? Are we all dangling off the mountain? I can’t see
Pete (I haven’t seen or heard him or the others since leaving the gully), so I
yell to find out if he’s ok. That’s a waste of time ‘cos the wind just whips the
sound away.

I cautiously climb back up to the big boulder with the sling round it, climb
up on top and sit astride it. Yell into the murk again: “Pete! Are you ok?”
“Ah, Johnboy, could you take some of this slack in, please?”

Oh shit! Pete’s probably hanging off his points and picks and as I climbed
up I’ve given him a heap of slack. Bad form there, Buchan!

For speed I pull the slack in with a shoulder belay (and not at all ‘cos I
was scared of being pulled off my airy perch and wanted the most dynamic belay
going). Pete climbed back up, stuffed in a cam, a hex, three nuts and a sling to
back up the nut I’d placed earlier and we belayed each other back into the gully
and safely (if you ignore the avalanche risk) off Jacob’s ladder.

After a quick regroup, we decided that perhaps alpine style was not the way
ahead for the slant. But Jacob’s ladder should go ok, I mean, Phil and I soloed
it last year without (much) drama. What could possibly go wrong, etc.? And as we
were, oh, a good fifth the way up, (only another 80 something metres to go…)
it seemed pointless to retreat and have a nice, safe exit from the corrie.

The climbing was straightforward snow plodding but steep and loose enough to
make it quite entertaining. Add in the exposure and strong, gusting wind and it
was very interesting at times.

Now some readers, sitting in the comfort of their sitting rooms, may wonder
about the wisdom of climbing a 100-metre climb, effectively in one pitch with a
stripped-down (i.e. minimal) gear rack. “Surely, you’ll run out of gear?” you
ask. And you’d be right – almost.

About 25 feet from the top or about 300 feet up you will have one hex left.
You know the funny-sized one, the one never fits anything? That’s the one!

Directly above me, where last year was the fearsome cornice that pushed Phil
and me into a wicked ice and rock scramble, was this year a big, fat, sexy ice
bulge. Time for a no nonsense proper belay, I feel.

Luckily Pete had a selection of gear that he expertly stuffed into a
convenient crack, put me on belay, and I was away.

For a novice ice climber such as myself hanging off 20mm of pick and front
point with 300 feet drop below is pretty gripping stuff. Absolutely cracking! I
looked down and saw the snow and ice that I’d dislodged being blown up and past
me onto the plateau. Topping out, I felt the full force of the wind and cold so
immediately started hunting for something to tie into. Zilch! Think of a snowy
version of Millstone without the fence posts. So I bashed my axe right the way
into the snow, clip a Munter hitch into a crab on the head of the axe and stand
on the axe head for good measure. Hopefully that should do it. Pete predictably
made short work of the ice bulge, took over the stance and started bringing
Louise up. About then it occurred to me that the ice bulge was part of a cornice
that at that moment had one person hanging off it and two more standing on top.
Not an ideal situation, but much improved, at least for me, if I made myself
safe. So, moving away from the edge a few metres, I scooped out a sort of bucket
seat and, repeating the Munter hitch/ shoulder belay affair, Louise and then
Mike quickly gained the top. As the weather had deteriorated to absolutely
bloody horrid and very, very cold, we didn’t hang around long but followed
Louise’s spot-on navigation to the Fiacaill á Choire Chais ridge and then down
the ridge past the ski lifts and back to the car.

One of the useful techniques that Louise uses in navigation is the “keeping
the map and compass well away from Johnboy at all costs” technique. This
employed leads to fast, straightforward, trouble-free route finding, albeit
without any of my “interesting” detours.

I’d like to thank my partners-in-climb for a top-weekend: Louise for getting
us all safely off the plateau in a white out, Mike for lugging the rack all the
way in and out of the climb and of course El Pres for pulling me off when I
least expected it. It’s a man thing…

“Fancy a walk” said Jeff “I know of this ‘interesting’ little route in
southern Snowdonia”

So that’s how it started – our big day out on the Rhinog Ridge.

Friday 18 Feb 2005 saw the Rhinog posse – Jeff Farr, Nigel Walker, Sheila
Norman, Christina and me – arrive, almost simultaneously (and nearly at the same
time!) at Llys Ednowain Heritage Centre and Hostel in the village of
Trawsfynydd. This was a plum find by Jeff. Not only is it only about 1 mile or
so from the start of the walk proper, but also it was only opened April 2005 so
is clean, warm and very well equipped – definitely not for the rufty-tufty
camp-at-all-times contingent (El Pres!).

Although arrival time was only 8.30 pm (the latter part being through
sideways sleet wondering what on earth we’re doing here!), fortunately we had
actually thought the logistics through and made sure we allowed time to get one
of the cars down to Barmouth – the other end of the ridge – and return to
Trawsfynydd at a reasonable hour. Sleep was important as an early start was
scheduled for what we now call ‘Ridge Day’. Anyway, Jeff and I scuttled off to
Barmouth, deposited Jeff’s car and headed back up the road.

On the way back we decided to recce the roadside parking possibilities at
the start of the path (see previous mention of early start – this would save us
about 20 minutes which it would turn out we were extremely thankful for!).
Having located the start point, I found a suitable space and reversed the car in
to see how it would fit. Looks good, plenty of space for traffic to pass by.
OK time to go – whoops, wheels are spinning but we’re not going anywhere! I’d
only gone and got the car stuck!! Jeff leaps out of the car and starts pushing
‘n’ shoving and eventually we’re free. On the way back I decide a better place
to park in the morning would be a few minutes down the road beside the Mountain
Rescue Mobile Unit!

Safely back in the hostel it was time for a nice cuppa, pack sacks and
generally prepare for the morning. To bed at midnight.

Who’s idea was it to set the b****y alarm for 05.30 hrs!?! Christina was up
and at ’em first making sure the rest of us didn’t roll over and go back to
sleep. Cups of tea and assorted breakfasts were consumed, accompanied by a deal
of jolly banter surrounding Nigel’s flaps zip – and, to preserve Nigel’s
reputation, I shall make no further reference to this particular piece of
sartorial practicality (unlike on the day itself!) – and, with flasks of hot
drinks packed, we were off up the road with a hiss and a roar at 06:35. ‘How
come it took over an hour to get out?’ I hear you cry. Well, the official line
is that, due to the walk’s reputation, we didn’t want to start it until
daylight. Unofficially, Sheila’s debilitating fits of giggles over the position
of Nigel’s zip could be cited as a delay!

06:45 sees us togged-up and marching. The weather was ideal being dry with
a light wind and, importantly, good visibility. We had all agreed beforehand
that Jeff and Nigel would be map-readers and navigators because the walk is
notoriously difficult to navigate and they are both experienced and competent in
such matters. The other three of us were just along for the ride! Anyway, no
problems bagging the first ‘peak’ – Moel y Gyrafolen at 535m; and Diffwys, at
577m, was dispatched soon after. So far, so good. Along to Foel Penolau at
614m followed by the first trig point on Moel Ysgyfarnogod at 623m.

Trawsfynydd from Moel Y Gyrafolen (click on any picture for image in Flickr)

Diffwys

Descend in to the col and back up the other side – some thing that will
become an all too familiar scenario by the end of the day! – and then a few more
times. Some of it was almost a scramble being rather on the steep side!

Some of it’s flat …

and some of it ain’t!

Time for the first group discussion – do we take in the ‘minor’ peak of Clip
(circa 590m) or turn left (roughly SE at this point) to continue past Twr Glas
and Craig Wion (566m). The democratic vote was for the latter which, in
hindsight, was a good call!

More down and up with a bit of flat-top (interesting boulder arrangement up
here) thrown in just to ease the pressure on the knees, down into the col,
across The Roman Steps and it was 1 o’clock, time for a lunch stop – but not
before an ‘interesting’ traverse across a slippery slab and broken ground to the
other side of Llyn Du! Too chilly to stop for long though – 15 minutes and it’s
time to get moving again.

Towards Llyn Du

A short, sharp burst fuelled by lunch and we’re atop the first Rhinog –
Rhinog Fawr at 720m. Huzzah – one third of the way!

Down again – blimey, it’s a bit (understatement!) steeper this time – and
straight back up the other side on to Rhinog Fach at 690m. It was the ‘short &
direct but steep’ route versus ‘easier angle but quite a lot longer’ debate –
short & direct won! Hold on boy, not so fast this is a false summit, got some
more up to do yet before the true summit at 712m – fortunately not quite as
steep though.

Rhinog Fawr from Rhinog Fach

Oh, forgot to mention that the possible bale out route was in between the
two Rhinogs – so no going back (or sideways come to that) now!

The descent from Rhinog Fach is another steep little number, but the worst
is now over and it’s a gentle – a relative terminology – rise up to Y Llethr at
756m from where we can see the final peak – and consequently last bit of uphill!
– of the walk. A quick stop for more photos and we’re off along Crib y Rhiw to
the top of Diffwys (not the same Diffwys as earlier however!) and the final trig
point at 750m.

Diffwys

It’s still daylight – though only just! – so time for yet another snack stop
before the long walk off. The wind has re-surfaced blowing snow at us from over
the right shoulder so it’s a case of button up and plod on, and on, and on (you
get the picture!). A couple of hours later though, the cloud clears and it’s a
beautiful moonlit night with a light covering of snow to assist with visibility.

Time for group decision number 2. It’s nearly 8 pm and everyone is
absolutely cream-crackered! So, do we follow the path straight along which
involves another slight uphill bit to Bwlch y Rhigwr or contour along the hill
at a more gentle angle. After deliberation – and a share of the last drops of
Nigel’s warm, sweet coffee! – not surprisingly, the gentle option was voted in
and at 21.15 hrs we reached the road – only 2km to Jeff’s car! At this point
Jeff’s Duracells kicked in and he sped off down the road to collect said car and
drive back up to pick up the rest of us – top man! By 21.30 hrs we were on the
way back up the road – 30 minute drive remember! – to Trawsfynydd having been on
the hoof for a mere 14.75 hours!

The day had been free of serious injury, but admiration has to be given to
Sheila whose knees had been giving her ‘jip’ (is that the right spelling?) from
about half way along and Nigel who got cramp between Y Llethr and Diffwys – but
made a speedy recovery after consuming a snack size packet of mini-cheddars!

Ian, Christina, Sheila and Nigel

Now, here’s the science bit –
Walk length (in 2D only!) – approx 27-30km
Up and down stuff –
Grade – a tough little (?) number; definitely harder walking than the Yorkshire 3 Peaks which were ‘bagged’ February 2004.

Fortunately, Jeff had had the inspired idea of taking a pre-cooked meal with
us – “just in case we didn’t feel like eating out” – as we wouldn’t have found
any of the local hostelries serving food at that time of night! So, after quick
showers all round, we were sitting in the positively luxurious kitchen at Llys
Ednowain tucking into vegetable korai, rice and naan bread – and it was only
half ten at night!

First job in the morning – after breakfast, of course – was to drive back
out to collect my car from where we’d parked it early on ‘Ridge Day’. But, no
lie-in as we need to be out of the room by 10 am. I’m sure the hostel warden
put us in a first floor room deliberately! OUCH, my legs hurt!

Christina and I couldn’t face another hill walk so opted for breakfast in
Bodwyn café – well spotted by Christina – followed by gear fondling in Betws y
Coed (a size 2 DMM 4CU for only £25!) before heading home. The other 3 being
made of sterner stuff, wandered up Arenig Fawr for a few hours before departing
back to the flat lands of Suffolk – how do they do it!?!

All in all a fantastic achievement and great walk, but not to be undertaken
lightly. The paths were tricky enough and the terrain strenuous enough with the
weather being kind to us, so any sort of poor visibility conditions could make
it rather treacherous in many places.

Many thanks to Jeff for suggesting and organising, and to all the party for
being such brilliant company. I think we’re all in agreement when we say “glad
to have done it, got the tick, NOT DOING IT AGAIN!”

Addendum:
It’s worth pointing out that Llys Ednowain Heritage Centre is
ideally situated for the classic MTB routes of Coed-Y-Brenin and is obviously
geared up (excuse the pun!) for such with a secure metal cage for bike storage.

By Guy Reid, Simon Chandler & Martin Hore – June 2005

The weather in Pembroke over this year’s May Day Bank Holiday weekend meant that
the IMC had a slightly later than usual start each day as we waited for the
overnight inclemency to be burnt back by the hoped-for sun before making any
rash decisions. However despite all precautions, and with some previous
knowledge, a rash decision was still made. Martin Hore has long felt that the
current guidebook does not paint an adequate picture of the route so within
hours of returning from our jaunt he wrote a new description (see below) that he
will be submitting; what follows that are two slightly more personal
reminiscences of . . .

More Preposterous tales

By Simon Chandler

Seven us were camping at St Petrox over the May Day bank holiday weekend
for the annual IMC climbing trip to Pembrokeshire. Saturday morning started
grey and damp from the previous night’s rain, but as always Guy and I were
keen to get to the cliffs. We’d shared the journey to Wales with Martin
Hore, and had agreed to climb in a group of three with him on this first
day. We made a hurried plan to meet the others at St Govan’s, and then hustled
Martin into Guy’s car. Just as we started to pull away I was struck with a
crazy idea – Martin’s done the route before, so lets get him to show us the
way through … drum roll please … Preposterous Tales!

Two years ago Mervyn had organized the May Day trip and had travelled to
Pembrokeshire several days early. A forecast of bad weather caused the rest
of the IMC to go to the Peak District, abandoning poor Mervyn. Fortunately he
managed to team up with the Cambridge Climbing and Caving Club (the 4C’s)
and joined them for a trip through Preposterous Tales. The tale of his
adventure, involving a fall from the overhanging first pitch and the
subsequent prussiking above a raging sea, was recounted in the June 2003 IMC
Newsletter. Somehow this story had inspired me, and I was about to find out
for myself what an amazingly unique and surreal experience this route could be.

Preposterous Tales starts on a ledge at sea level, traverses rightwards
above the undercut base of the cliff into a cave. It then winds maze-like
inwards before exiting through a blowhole at the top of the cliff about 30
ft back from the edge. Arriving at the cliff top the blowhole was easy to
find. From a vantage point some 40ft to the left of this it was even
possible to peer over the cliff top to see the starting ledge. So far so
good. At least we knew where to throw down the abseil rope. We geared up
and did rock-paper-scissors to decide who’d lead the first pitch – at 5b
the most technical of the three, and the scene of many prussiking
adventures. I ‘won’ so abseiled down first. I almost made the same mistake
as Mervyn two years previously and stopped at the first ledge I reached.
Just in time I realized this was too high, and scrambled down to the lower
ledge just above sea level. While setting up the first stance Guy and
Martin joined me on the ledge.

From the booming sound of the sea you could tell that around the corner to
my right was a large sea cave. A slow rising traverse, I was told, would
take me to the very apex of the hidden cave mouth, which I should enter then
set up a belay. Once around the corner we wouldn’t be able to hear each
other so we agreed on a code of tugs on the rope: one for take in, two for
slack, three for climb when ready. I also took Martin’s advice and kept the
abseil rope clipped to my harness – this would prevent a fall into the sea
if I fell at the crux. I set off on the traverse, aiming for a prominent
flat hold out on the arete, silhouetted against the sky.

At first the
traverse was easy, then I reached a blank section. I either had to go under
this, or over it. Unfortunately Martin couldn’t remember which was the
right way. I first tried going under the blank rock, but dropping lower
makes your legs go under the overhang so putting lots of weight on your
arms. I didn’t like that, so backed up and tried going over the blank
section. Nope. No gear. So it was back to plan A. A committing side-pull
move took me under the blank section, but the weight was still on my arms
and I was tiring fast. I reached the arete with its big flat hold. It was
certainly a jug, but my legs were still under the overhang so weren’t
supporting my weight. Starting to panic I managed get a nut into a vertical
crack to the right of the jug just as my arms gave out. I was dangling, but
at least I was right by the gear and didn’t have to prussik back up to the
rock.

I could now see the cave 12ft to my right. A sequence of moves on big
jugs – but with little help from the feet – would take me to an obvious
rest at the cave mouth. I started the sequence and was almost there – my
hand inches from a massive thread hole – when the abseil rope that was
still clipped to my harness went tight. It was holding me back, preventing me from getting any closer to the
rest. Again my strength was fading fast and I started to panic. Fortunately I managed
to place a solid large friend and clipped my harness straight into it. OK,
so this was aid climbing, but I needed help and in this position nobody
could see my antics. I hauled up on the friend, unclipped the abseil rope
and managed to throw a long tape loop through the thread hole. I clipped into this,
so any fear of swinging out below the overhand was
gone. Detaching myself from the friend I made a couple of moves before
jamming my head and shoulders into the cave mouth. At last the weight was
back on my feet. I turned on my headtorch. Now all I had to do was
back-and-foot my way across 15ft of wet rock above a void, with no
handholds or gear placements. Somehow this didn’t seem so bad – either because of my experience caving, or because I was so thankful to have survived the overhang.
Safe at last, I placed several belay anchors then
tugged three times on the rope …

‘IMC 2 – Preposterous Tales 1’ or ‘When is the next rope-work course?’

By Guy Reid

This is my kind of climb, I thought, as I started after Simon on the
first pitch; the day was now bright, the rock dry, and seconding I only had to
worry about ensuring Martin was protected when he followed me. I was in my
element, the sun above and the sea below, as I moved up to the long tape loop hanging from the thread hole.

Passing underneath and into the mouth of the cave I started to get a sense
that this was no ordinary climb as I performed a not-to-be-recommended ‘head
jam’, though at the time it was all that I felt was possible. Extricating myself
from that dilemma I was then presented with a route that had a vaguely
anatomical feel to it. Now I have never climbed up someone’s colon but dark,
wet, slimy and very slippery is what I would expect, and that is exactly what I
was confronted with …

Simon says ‘Back and Foot’. I say ‘You can not be serious’.

Simon says ‘Put a foot there then your hand over there then your shoulder
then your back’. I say ‘You can not be serious’.

Simon says ‘Then shuffle along, that’s back and footing’. I say ‘You can not
be serious’.

He was serious, so I put my faith in his directions and set off. It worked a
treat and though I was bloomin’ glad to be on a rope the consequences of a slip,
just like on a traverse, did not look like fun.

Joining Simon on the belay was like taking my place in a spider’s web, and
after making myself safe I sat back and watched with admiration as Simon alerted
Martin and began taking in, as the latter began his climb to join us.

I think Martin ‘enjoyed’ the same qualms as I had as he made the final moves
to join us on the belay and then he was racking up ready to set off on Pitch 2.

Simon followed on from Martin and then it was my turn.

I had heard Martin and Simon discussing the way across what had looked like,
from the belay stance, a relatively innocuous small step, but I was soon to
discover the reality.

After a few failed attempts I called up to Martin for some advice.

‘Have you found some nice undercuts?’

‘Yes,’ I reply, pleased with myself.

‘You’ve gone too high.’

Back down, back across and I have to start again. And again. And again. And
again. And aaaagggghhhhh.

And all of a sudden I’m swinging in mid-air in the middle of a huge cave;
thundering sea way below my feet, the rope above me and the sloping ledge I was
trying to get to just at the tip of my outstretched fingers.

‘Don’t panic Mr Mainwairing, don’t panic.’

Martin and Simon were out of sight and communication was very difficult. In
such a situation it is imperative to shout loudly and clearly; concise
information, each word separate.

‘MartinSimoncanyouhearmeI’
mdanglingbtucanseewhereIneedtobegivemeslackIthinkIcanrestonaprojectingfinandmove
fromthereoopsnothatisn’tworkingtakeinImaytrytoprussicoopsaaaghslippedgosh.’

I always carry prussic loops and have read the books; but it was dangling
100ft above the crashing waves below that I felt that a little previous indoor
practice would probably been a good idea.

Suffice to say that I’m glad I couldn’t hear Martin as I expect he was
thoroughly cursing me as I flailed around on the end of the ropes pretending I
had any idea of what I was meant to be doing; but with a mixture of prussiking
and brute strength I managed to pull myself onto the small sloping ledge just
before Simon, having climbed down a short way from the belay, leaned round and
asked if I was all right.

‘Yes, fine thanks.’ I replied, ‘I’ll be with you in a mo.’

I can’t really remember the next stretch to the belay but the guidebook
assures me that there are big holds on a steep wall.

The second belay was a bit cramped; Martin and I were on a small ledge with
Simon hanging slightly below us. Though it was my turn to lead I declined. On
this day this kind of climbing was not my metier, and it proved a good decision
as even following Martin I went off route and had to weight the rope as I made a
precarious traverse across a wet blank face.

Later that evening I was asked what my favourite part of the route was.

‘The exit.’ I answered in a flash. But that does not to tell the whole
story; it was great day out on an extraordinary route, and I would not have
missed it for the world. One day I may even consider another go.

By Mike Hams – March 2005

Saturday we arrived mid-afternoon to glorious clear sky and a lot of white stuff
covering the tops from about 400m upwards. Much excitement from the assembled
throng (six stalwarts from East Anglia), muttering of if this holds out we’ll
get a grade III done by the end of the trip! Cars were collected and after a
minor faff in the car park it was off to Aviemore for shopping, essential beer
and food supplies only. The decision of us all was that we would cook communally
and all vegetarian to make things easy. The snow continued to fall well into the
evening it was looking good.

Sunday the crack(ed)-team was in position for the avalanche course by 8:40am! A
miracle of communal cooking and minimal gear faffing (walking gear only).
Unfortunately the snow that fell the previous evening was thawing quickly and
the hills were more brown than white. A slight disadvantage when you want to
learn about avalanche behaviour of snow. There were a lot of different snow
types to learn about. It also behaves in strange ways once it’s on the ground
depending on air temperature and wind speed. A morning of theory passed quickly
and then we had a play with the avalanche transceivers. Hide and seek in the
snow with the instruction to make sure the hidden box was set to transmit before
we hid it! .

After a quick bite to eat we were off up to Coire Cas for some practice in snow
spotting. We bimbled (instructors technical term) up to just below the
Firchaille where there was a healthy deposit of wind blown snow (2m+ of depth!)
to look at the layering effects and to conduct some walking rutsche block tests
etc. We pretty much trashed the top surface of the snow bank with our pits and
block testing. As we set off back to the car park it was beginning to get
breezy. (This mountaineer, a notably lightweight fellow, was being blown along
in the gusts). Lower down the rain was also present and our great winter weather
was changing to storm.

It was during the evening that a terrible accident befell the author. The cheap
tin-opener/bottle opener slipped whilst opening a bottle of Timothy Taylor’s
finest and an index finger sustained a deep cut to the second knuckle. Blood and
lots of it flowed, plaster 1 soaked through instantly, plaster 2 stopped the
bleeding by dint of being waterproof. This was at 7pm. After dinner and
washing-up we adjourned for some gear packing and fettling expecting to find
some boney gullies to go at in the morning. At this time the blood started to
flow again (10pm) so a trip to casualty was in order for patching. The Raigmore
is a very nice hospital but it is in Inverness! Jim volunteered to drive in the
driving rain and howling gale and after a quick clean and patch with
steri-strips and tubi-grip I was back in bed by 2am. The lovely nurses
instructions were to keep it dry for 2 days and then remove the dressing.
B*gger, that’s floundering in snow out then and I’ll need some mittens.

Monday: Team A went for a walk around the Ryovan Bothy and back to Glenmore via
the 800m hill behind the bothy. A sound choice as Team B went up to Coire an
Sneach’tda and got nothing done, prevented by the wind. Monday evening with the
weather worsening we decided on Kinlochleven because we’re weather forecast
suggested 90mph winds on the tops and no freezing below 5000 feet. With a
Dachstein Mitt on the bad finger I managed a couple of climbs before the
constant knuckle impacts sent me back to the camera to stop the wound opening
again. Jim went for a walk back to Fort William along the West Highland way,
where we collected him at 4pm (22km+ in a shade over 5 hours).

Wednesday we went back to the Ice Factor admiring all the fine work that nature
had carried out since the previous day. The path along the loch outside Fort
William had been washed out and there was beach all over the road in low-lying
spots! We hadn’t booked for Wednesday and this was a mistake as Plas y Brenin
had got the first 4 hours of the day sewn up. We had to wait for another party
to finish after them so some weary people left Kinlochleven at 7pm that evening.
Jim and John climbed themselves silly on an extremely well thought out climbing
wall. We had dropped Phil off at the bottom of Ben Nevis where he was going for
a walk up with the summit an outside chance given the weather. He summitted in
31/2 hours and was back down in a further 2 hours with pictorial proof. I
picked him up from the youth hostel in Glen Nevis at 5pm and we then collected
the climbers from the Ice Factor. Dinner was in the Grog and Gruel in Fort
William and then a drive home through the driving snow!!

Thursday dawned with the conditions perfect! We weren’t unhappy (say it often
enough it will be believed). Toys and dummies were thrown from prams at the
capricious nature of the weather. Flying from Inverness it is not possible to do
anything before catching the plane despite our best planning attempts. Start
times of 3am and later were all explored but there was not enough light to do
anything before we had to set off from Aviemore. A fine experience and worth it
just for the avalanche knowledge alone.

By John Penny – March 2005

In the Summer of 2004 I decided to take a trip to Peru with `High Places` for
three weeks of mountaineering in the Cordillera Blanca followed by a week’s
extension to do the Inca Trail and a visit to Machu Picchu. The targets were 5
5,000+ metre peaks.

After the long and tiring flight via Amsterdam and Bonaire in the Dutch Antilles
we reached Lima 18 hours after leaving Heathrow. The initial scramble at the
airport was not as bad as I had been led to believe; and Nesta, the local guide,
and his team met us efficiently. Initial impressions were difficult in the
dark but the usual teeming urban sprawl of large South American cities was much
in evidence.

After a surprisingly good night’s sleep we were away early the following
morning. The vaguely threatening aura in Lima of the previous night had
changed to early morning bustle. I can’t say Lima looked like a place I’d like
to spend much time in. The drive to Huaraz in the Cordillera Blanca took about
8 hours. At first following the coast north and then turning inland for a
spectacular 4,000 metre climb with many zig-zags over the Cordillera Negra and
then down to Huaraz at 3,050m in the valley between the Cordilleras Negra and
Blanca. The altitude clearly had kicked in by this stage; our hotel, the
Alpino (Swiss run) was excellent, but was out of the centre, so the re-ascent
after visiting the centre was quite taxing the first couple of times.

After a couple of acclimatisation walks to lakes we established our first base
camp in the floor of Quebrada (valley) Quilcayhuanca. The first target, after
further acclimatisation was Huapi (5420m). The itinerary suggested this was a
straightforward ridge. However, this turned out not quite to be the case! By
the time we reached the glacier edge, most of the party were feeling the
altitude quite badly. Three of the clients (including myself) decided we would
carry on. The snow conditions turned out to be very bad – thigh deep soft snow
that made the going very slow for the Peruvian guides who were leading. The
original route was completely out of the question so we had to take a much
longer route traversing round the mountain and over the main ridge to continue
up on the other side. After one rather exposed ice bridge over an enormous
crevasse, I sensed unease creeping in as it was getting very late. Eventually
Giles, on my rope, succumbed to the altitude and (not feeling brilliant myself)
we wisely aborted about 150m from the summit. Garry (the English leader) and
Alex made it just about to the summit, which was not quite achievable due to
another large crevasse. We eventually returned to camp just over 12 hours
after starting out.

The following day we walked round into another Quebrada (the main one bifurcates
at the head) to establish camp for an attempt on Maparaju (5326m). After the
usual early morning departure at 4.00 a.m. we made good time after a certain
amount of thrashing around in the undergrowth having lost the path. We had all
just reached the glacier and were resting prior to putting on harnesses,
crampons etc., when I happened to look up. It was a brilliantly clear morning
but this large white cloud appeared to be moving quite quickly, only when Garry
yelled for everyone to run, did I realise that a large serac way above us was
collapsing! I think even Linford Christie would have had trouble keeping up
with me in the high altitude 100m sprint. Fortunately we were close to a large
rock band and no one was hurt seriously except for a cut hand on the rocks.
The spray from the ice debris hissed over us but that was all. Later when the
guides went back to fetch the rucksacks and gear, they said everything was
covered in small shards of ice and that a couple of larger blocks had clearly
gone past where we had been. The main fall had occurred about 100 yards away.
Inevitably most people were pretty shaken up at this. It was very odd that I
felt quite serene after the initial panic was over. I was still up for
climbing Maparaju as the route did not need to go near these seracs and looked
relatively straightforward. In fact a party of Germans who were ahead of us
carried on as if nothing had happened. I was, however, very much in the
minority and in the end we aborted and descended.

The following day we returned down the valley and eventually to Huaraz. I was
feeling slightly disappointed at this stage not to have summitted either of the
first two peaks and was determined, after a rest day, to give the last three my
best shot.

After quite a long drive we headed off up the Ishinca valley – much more wooded
than the previous one. At the head of the valley there is an alpine style hut,
one of only three in Peru. Further huts have been banned due to their effects
on the local porters and muleteers economy. A good thing I feel to support the
local way of life. The following morning we headed up Urus Este. This turned
out to be a long steep climb up moraine, with a smallish snowfield near the
summit, followed by a clamber up the summit rocks. The views were sensational
of Huascaran, Hualcan and Tocllaraju. All but one of the party made the summit
on a glorious day. The descent was absolutely knee-jarring all the way down
but a feeling of satisfaction was clearly present.

At this point it was becoming clear that all the mountains were suffering from
the glaciers receding, due to decreased snow falling in the wet season. This
was making mountains often harder than previously. Also another thing that had
become clear was that Pyramid Adventures (the local Peruvian company High Places
were using, run by the five Morales brothers) had been the company used in the
making of Joe Simpson’s film of Touching the Void. This meant that all the
camp equipment was pretty new. We even had seats in the mess tent that had backs
to lean on – a real luxury!

The evening after the ascent of Urus Este it became clear that only Neil and I
were up for the ascent of Ishinca the following day and its usual 4.00 a.m.
departure. Nesta was, I think, relieved he could remain in camp and allow the
younger guides to take the two of us plus Garry up Ishinca. I’m really glad I
made the effort, despite having to push myself to keep going early on. The path
was nowhere near as brutal as on Urus Este, and the glacier ascent was easy.
Another great panorama awaited us on the summit although the lowering bulk of
Ranrapalca was quite close. We decided to traverse the mountain despite the
presence of crevasses on our descent route and this made the whole day extremely
satisfying with superb ice scenery on the descent. It was, from my point of
view, the most enjoyable of all the ascents.

From Ishinca valley we drove further up the main valley past Yungay where the
terrible tragedy of 1970 took place. This was where a small earthquake
triggered rockfall into a moraine lake on Huascaran. This in turn meant the
moraine gave way, releasing a tidal wave of water, rocks and mud onto the town
below. The cemetery, which is situated on a hill, was the only thing not
destroyed – it has now become a shrine to the thousands who died. Quite a
sobering thought on the power of nature.

We reached the head of the Llanganuco valley late in the day and the next day
walked up to the base camp. We know there was a party from Jagged Globe also
there, but at this stage didn’t make contact. The next day four of us ascended
with full packs to high camp on Pisco, through the jumbled chaos of the moraine.
I retreated to my tent but as the sun started to set decided to take some
pictures of Chopicalqui in the Alpen glow. To my surprise a voice boomed
across the camp site “Bloody hell! John Penny!” It turned out to be Nigel
Kettle, who I had met when in the Himalayas in 2000. More amazingly still my
tent companion on that trip, Duncan, was also with the Jagged Globe trip. To
cap it all Pete Krug emerged from a tent as well! You go all the way to Peru
and you meet a bloke from the IMC…………. After much banter it appeared
they were tackling Pisco the same day as us, as acclimatisation to greater
things – Huascaran.

Garry was determined to get away really early on Pisco and we were away from
camp just before 2.00 a.m. The initial ascent up to the col was
straightforward but it became very windy and cold and I began to regret taking a
layer off earlier on. After starting to ascent the main ridge we reached what,
in the dark, appeared to be an ice wall. I began to have serious doubts as to
the sense of carrying on. Three years ago Alex told me he had just walked up
this peak! After what seemed like ages the Peruvians ascended the ice and put
up ropes. Garry exhorted me to have a go, free climbing it next to me. It
seemed to go on for ages and my calf muscles were screaming for a lot of the
way, but I eventually made it up this steep section. The ascent from then was
not difficult but there were a lot of very large crevasses around and it seemed
as if the whole of the summit glacier was just falling apart. The weather was
cold but clear and we did not linger on the summit as we all felt vaguely
uneasy. I had made a meal of jumping a crevasse near the top and wanted to get
that over with as quickly as possible (as it turned out it was easy on the way
down). As we descended we met many others on the way up including the Jagged
Globe party who were going well. On the lower down the ice section Neil and I
made a bit of a meal of it and I managed to spike Neil with my crampon (Sorry
Neil – incompetence I’m afraid!). Looking back up what we had descended I
reckon that had I been able to see it before, I wouldn’t have attempted it.
Later Garry said he reckoned it was about 70 metres of Scottish Grade 3 winter
climb – (pace Pete who said Grade 1/2 – apparently there is no hard ice on Grade
1/2 and this was definitely hard ice!).

I was pretty chuffed I’d made it to the summit as I do not reckon myself to be a
technical climber, just a hill-walker who wants to push himself a bit. In the
end three out of five summits with one near miss was a pretty good tally.

The final section of the trip was relatively gentle. I was with a group of
Spanish lawyers (not very fit ones!) on the Inca trail, so I spent a good deal
of time on the side of the trail reading my book until they caught up. The
third day is particularly fascinating with all the various Inca sites, but by
this time I was getting fed up with so many people being around. We managed to
get to Machu Picchu very early the following morning before the crowds arrived.
Being there when the first rays of the warming sun struck from over the
surrounding mountains was quite special. You could really understand the
Incas’ veneration of the sun and its life-renewing powers. By 10 am, though,
the place was crawling with people and any magic had long gone.

After a somewhat surreal return journey to Cusco, the trip ended somewhat
unfortunately as the plane from Cusco to Lima was cancelled through high winds,
meaning missed flights back to Europe. After three extra, unplanned, days in
Cusco and Lima and a lot of money to get another flight, I was very glad to get
back to Blighty after a month away. I’m still trying to get the insurance
people to pay up.

If you fancy a challenging trip to Peru I can certainly recommend the High
Places trip, though I expect they will have to consider carefully the mountain
itinerary, given the changing state of the glaciers. It will be interesting to
see what appears in next year’s brochure.