For those not into mountain biking, Coed-y-Brenin is a few miles north
of Dolgellau and is something of a mountain biking mecca. Forest
Enterprise have gone to great lengths to build a series of man-made
trials of various lengths, ascent and difficulty. Good use is made of
the forest roads, interspersed with man-made singletrack. Amongst the
plus points are that it is all rideable, although some of it takes a
little nerve, there is little in the way of standing water and none of
the deep, gloopy mud found on natural trails. The downside is that
much of the riding is very intense, being either up, down and very
technical. And, sometimes, all at the same time! On top of that, the
start of every ride is an uphill slog from the carpark.

The general plan was for myself and Steve to travel up to Dolgellau on
the Friday evening, where we’d meet up with my friend Matthew and his
family. All three of us would ride on the Saturday before Matthew went
off to do family things on the Sunday.

Saturday morning saw Matthew on family duty so Steve and I headed for
the Karrimor trail, 23 miles long and a silly number of feet of
ascent. It all started well enough but a few miles in on a long
stretch of rocky, twisting and rooty singletrack, a moment’s
inattention saw the front wheel stop dead on a rock. The next thing I
know, I’m on the ground – the first thing I’m aware of is a pain from
my lower back, then my right knee where I seem to have landed on it.
Then I notice that I’m seeing stars. Hmm, must have been going faster
than I thought. After a few minutes contemplation, a bit of cursing
and getting my self together, I’m back on the bike and pedalling
furiously to try and catch Steve.

Fortunately there were no more comedy dismounts but much of the detail
of the rest of the route passed me by. However, I do recall lots of
technical singletrack and much forest road slogging, mainly uphill.
And did it rain! After perhaps 2 hours, the heavens opened.
Waterproofs were swiftly donned but we still got a good soaking,
despite heading for the cafe with all possible speed.

A couple of cups of tea and some cheese on toast later, the world is
looking rosier and I’m up for going out again, despite the incessant
rain. Well, there seems little point in travelling all that way to
spend too much time in the cafe. Steve had a slightly different
perspective. Without as much recent riding under his belt, he was all
for staying put.

This time, I’m out on the Red Bull trail. Can you guess who sponsors
it? The Red Bull is the shortest of all the routes but as I rode
round, some of my enthusiasm seemed to have left me. Thoughts along
the lines of ‘if I keep going here, I can avoid that particularly
nasty bit of singletrack’ entered my head a few times. Determination,
though, kept me going and I cleaned sections where I’d previously
fallen or walked. There’s still plenty of uphill slogging but I just
flowed through the final miles.

The best bit of the Red Bull, though, comes right at the end where it
takes in a dual descender course. What’s that, I hear you ask. As the
name suggest, dual descender involves two riders simultaneously on the
course. The corners are built up with berms (banks) so it’s possible
to carry plenty of speed through them. Between the corners are jumps
so the overall effect is belting round the corner on the berm before
hitting the jump then trying to get into position for the next berm.
It feels much faster than it really is but provides a great sensation
and I defy anyway not to be grinning like a Cheshire cat at the end of
it.

More tea and cake followed (I think it’s good to put money into the
local economy) before retuning to Dolgellau.

Sunday couldn’t have started more differently. Bright and sunny with
barely a hint of wind and certainly no rain in the air. We set off on
the MBR route, another fine combination of forest road and
singletrack. It doesn’t take too long for yours truly to fall off
again. Right at the end of a smooth and fast section of singletrack, I
take a corner too fast. The front wheel goes wide and washes out on
the loose gravel at the edge. Rapidly loosing speed, I drop the bike
landing on elbow and hip. Ouch!

The rest of the route is more of the same and in seemingly no time at
all we’re back at the cafe. Fed and watered again, Steve and Matthew
are up for another route and head off for the Red Bull. I decline the
opportunity to join them; after nearly fifty miles and a couple of
falls, my legs are hollow and my back very stiff.

The overall verdict? No doubt I’ll go again but I won’t be bothered if
it isn’t for a few years. Steve’s view was a bit different – been
there, seen it, done it, don’t need to do it again. Was it worth the
effort? Now that the cuts and bruises have disappeared and with a
couple of weeks reflection the answer is yes but in the days
immediately afterwards I was all for giving up mountain biking because
it’s just too damn hard! Watch this space for news of a full
suspension bike ……

Having managed to link up with snow in the Lakes on only one of six attempts, this year Andy and myself decided that perhaps we should give Scotland a go. Unfortunately we could only fit in a long weekend. However, all was not lost as we remembered the regular circulars from
Mountain Innovations advertising accommodation and car hire for very reasonable prices. This coupled with EasyJet’s ridiculously cheap flights (35 pounds return with 20 pounds going toward airport tax) meant that the Cairngorms it was. A few phone conversations later and we were booked. A few more phone calls ensued and Ant was added to the party.

We’d chosen an early flight from Stansted and arrived in Edinburgh at 9am. As we were bussed to the car hire people we joked that we would probably be travelling in a SMART car. Shouldn’t joke, we had a Daewoo Matiz, my rucksack alone filled the boot but with seats folded and some 3D puzzle solving we were on our way to the Cairngorms. Provided we didn’t try to overtake going up hill, the tin can served its purpose and two and a half hours later we pulled up at the accommodation. Unfortunately no snow, well not down in Boat of Garten. Following a quick cuppa, we donned boots and headed off to Abernethy Forest to stretch the legs. 10kms later we arrived back, busily discussing the possibilities for a full day on the hill tomorrow. The evening meal was good home cooking with a twist; have you ever tried Chocolate and Chilli cookies?

Well it had to be Cairngorm, so after wheezing up hill in the Matiz we disembarked in the car park. Blinking, we did a double take; Plas Y Brenin minibuses get everywhere. Ant and Andy blasted away up the hill with me puffing in their wake. It was bright and very breezy but clouds were on the way. Soon we were amongst the skiers heading toward the restaurant. The wind had been increasing in intensity to the extent that when you let your walking pole dangle loose, the wind took it almost to the horizontal. Interesting! Eventually we arrived amongst the skiers and located the path from the restaurant toward the summit. The cloud level had dropped and we disappeared into the cloud and it started to snow, wonderful. A few minutes later we located the weather station at the summit, it looked very impressive covered in rime ice. Eventually we managed to brew ourselves a hot chocolate and retreated to the comfort of a bivi tent to have some lunch. After a quick discussion we decided that our navigation skills were lacking and so we reversed our route, our footprints from the trek up total obscured by the fresh snow. After playing dodgems with the skiers and snowboarders we wound our back to Aviemore and a quick gear fondle.

After more excellent food from Rebecca, we headed to a local hotel for a few bevies. Of course I had to sample a Scottish brew, …IronBru. At least the others had the decency to try a few whiskies, although Ant couldn’t see the appeal in Laphroaig.

The following morning we awoke to a winter wonderland; snow, sun and blue skies…perfect. We planned a ridge walk Meal a Bhuachaille, and outlier to the Cairngorm plateaux, so headed of the park close to Glenmore. After Ant parked the car with a hand brake turn we once again donned the four season boots. Well Ant and I did, someone else had forgotten to put their boots in the car! (Gratuitous Mickey taking is acceptable for 6 months or more.) Never mind, it gave Ant a chance to practice his rally driving skills on a short cut back to collect the offending (or should that be offended) items.

Now, all with boots we head of for the Ryvoan Bothy. It soon became apparent we had had a fair dump of snow, 7 or 8 inches (that’s 18 to 20 cm for the youngsters). Much to our surprise we soon bumped into a few cross-country skiers, making the most of the opportunity. The
views were wonderful, and as we chatted away we were soon at the bothy. After a quick brew we headed for the first summit of the day, passing some youngsters who had been using their survival bags to sledge down part of the hillside. As we approached the summit the cloud drew in, but we soon located the summit shelter and stopped for another brew and debated the unusual fillings in the sandwiches. The visibility dropped to 20 metres, but just as we started getting ready to move on the cloud cleared and we could now see for 50 miles. What a contrast. We followed the ridge to its conclusion and headed back toward the valley, soaking in the views as the sun and the clouds brought the landscape to life.

The evening meal with some folks about to go snow holing with Andy (the other half of Mountain Innovations), was full of friendly banter with our Andy the unfortunate brunt of the jokes, diverting flak from one of the other guys that had found himself out on the winter hills
with no hat or gloves (perhaps it’s something in the water?!) After an amble around a nearby lake the following morning we headed back to the airport, bristling with heavily armed policemen and women. It was a wonderful break. As usual the company was great, and Rebecca
and Andy “did us proud” with a warm welcome, good food and lots of helpful advice. I’m certainly looking forward to a return trip next winter, but perhaps I’d better not book the trip to coincide with my wedding anniversary…oops.

Peter Krug – April 2003

Did that get you going? I couldn’t think of anything else so I got all biblical with an oblique reference to the first book of the Bible and NOT a prog-band of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s!

Anyway let’s get back to the point of the article, which is after all an article on winter mountaineering in North Wales! Friday evening saw the usual IMC dash along Britain’s highways to some mountainous spot to blow out the cobwebs of yet another week’s grind at work! This week it was North Wales and the venue was the bunkhouse at Gwern Gof Uchaf although one hardy soul preferred the camping option!

I woke up early on Saturday morning and opened the flap (of the tent!) to a beautiful crisp winter morning (have you guessed who the camper was yet?). As I cooked me porridge in me vestibule I took in the magnificent mountain vistas all around me. The campsite was surrounded by the rugged mountains of the Glyders and the Carnedds and completely dominated by Tryfan. It is indeed a fine location and is only missing one important facility – a pub!

We split up into various groups each doing their own thing and ours (myself, Mervyn, Mike, Christina and Ian) was planned to be a scramble up Tryfan, down the other side then a scramble up Bristly Ridge to Glyder Fach and then on to Glyder Fawr and a descent down
to Llyn Ogwen via the Devil’s Kitchen although it did not work out that way.

Off we set just after 9.00 am and the first job was to find the route up Tryfan itself which took some finding as we were not approaching the mountain from the usual place. In fact, it proved
to be a bit of a scramble to find the scramble itself although we eventually succeeded thanks to Mike’s navigation skills! Then it was onwards and upwards picking whatever line you preferred as you made your way up to the summit’.. what fun. There were a lot of laughs to be had on the way and who could forget Christina’s immortal comment “It’s a good thing I’m loose” in front of the entire IMC tone lowerers group (we were wetting ourselves!).

Having got to the summit Mervyn soon clambered onto Adam (or was it Eve?) and did the leap and then leapt back in the prescribed manner and duly got the freedom of the mountain. We had lunch whilst I plucked up the courage to follow in Mervyn’s footsteps and had my moment of glory before loping off down the other side of Tryfan into the Bwlch Tryfan.

Before us lay the intimidating buttress of Bristly Ridge. Mervyn assured us that it was no worse than what we had already done. Naturally I threatened him with the promise to throw him off if he was lying! Fortunately, Mervyn was right although there were some interesting moments especially the ones where one had to descend the ridge! However, within an hour we were gallivanting along the top of Glyder Fach and posing for photographs on the “Cantilever.”

However, it was getting a bit late in the day now so we decided to curtail our expedition by descending Y Gribin to Llyn Bochlwyd and then around the base of Tryfan to the bunkhouse. This sounded easy on paper but ignores the fact a combination of Mervyn and
Christina attempted to assassinate the President of the IMC (if you want the job you can have it!) by kicking a big boulder down the path only for it to be parried by a quick-thinking Mike “Nigel Martin” Hams.

Having gotten back to the campsite it was time to cook dinner before rejoining the others in the bunkhouse to catch up on the days events although two of our company (Jeff and Nigel) were
still on the hill and did not arrive until about 9.00 p.m. having tramped all over North Wales!

It was not particularly late when I wandered off to my cosy little tent due to the effects of a good day on the hill and a few beers. Woke up early the next day to have breakfast and pack my gear
thinking that the others would actually wake up early but they overslept. Nonetheless the same party of five gathered together and today’s destination was Pen-y-Pass and the Snowdon Horseshoe.

Owing to the slightly late start in the day (10.00 a.m.) and the fact that we were supposed to meet up in Capel Curig between 3.00 and 4.00 p.m. we were belting up the Pyg Track and made it to the base of the scramble up to Crib Goch in no time at all. It was at this point that Mike decided that his knee after the exertions of the previous day was not up to more scrambling so he returned to the Pyg Track and climbed Snowdon this way. The scramble up to Crib Goch was fine but the scramble along the ridge itself I found quite scary but it was not too bad. I was more than aware of the drops on either side! However, when I learnt of the defeat of the Welsh Rugby team at the hands of the Italian team jumping off the side of Crib Goch suddenly had its attractions!

Having gotten the ridge over with we scrambled up Garnedd Ugain and then joined the hordes heading for the summit of Snowdon. We looked down from the col to the Pyg Track that was a sheet of ice, which people were negotiating extremely gingerly! We soon reached an extremely crowded summit and found Mike waiting there for us.

After a quick conference we decided to get away from the summit before having lunch and we persuaded Mike to join us. So we went down the steep and awkward path down the back of Snowdon heading for Y Lliwedd before finding a nice spot for lunch. Soon we were off on the final leg of the Snowdon Horseshoe, which was the uneventful ascent of Y Lliwedd, and then naturally the descent to the miners track and a sprint down the Miners’ Track back to Pen-y-Pass. What a great way to end a great weekend!

This first part of an occasional series is aimed at those IMC members who, for
whatever reason, don’t get away or down to the wall that often and is intended
to tell you something about the committee and high profile members. It’s best
not taken too seriously, though!

Peter Krug — President

Looks like: An elf

Most likely to say: ‘Women don’t find me attractive’

Least likely to say: ‘Just a half this time’

Mervyn Lamacraft — Secretary

Looks like: Mervyn Lamacraft (or perhaps Richard Feynman ?)

Most likely to say: ‘I’ll be staying on for an extra day’

Least likely to say: ‘I fancy a quiet retirement’

Dave Scott — Treasurer

Looks like: Alex McIntyre

Most likely to say: ‘Well done Oscar’

Least likely to say: ‘Bouldering, it’s the new leading’

Mike Bayley — Newsletter Editor

Looks like: Ivan Lendl (others have suggested Will Self)

Most likely to say: ‘My back’s a bit stiff’

Least likely to say: ‘I’ve had too much to eat’

Simon Chandler — Communications Officer & Webmaster

Jean Reno

Looks like: Leon the hitman (i.e., Jean Reno)

Most likely to say: ‘Gis a job’

Least likely to say: ‘Why would anyone want to go to Lundy?’

It seemed such a good idea on that Saturday night in the Stackpole pub. Every
IMCer who had turned up for the May Day meet in Pembroke was there (i.e Sheila
and me) and relaxing after a reasonable day at blustery Saddle Head. We fell
into conversation with a group from the Cambridge Climbing
& Caving Club who had managed to turn up in sufficient numbers to fill a
large table. Talk inevitably came round to plans for the next day and someone
mentioned “Having a look at Preposterous Tales”. “Wow” enthuses I, remembering
listening gape-mouthed to the account given by Martin, Steve, Rupert and John of
their adventure on PT some three years ago. And then “You can come along if you
like”. Well, by then Dutch courage was running high and HVS 4c, 5a, 4c
(according to my book) didn’t seem that hard, so the deal was struck.

It’s 10.30ish on a cold and grey (but dry) Sunday morning and three of
us (Sheila having opted to go walking) are peering down at the
streaming wet rocks forming the top of the blow hole which is the
final pitch of PT. We listen to the roar of the heavy sea as it sends
wave after wave smashing against the cave wall far, far below. I’m
wondering what on earth am I doing here. Graham has done the route
before so is the de facto team leader and is first to abseil down the
face of Bosherston Head to the starting ledge. I go next because I’m
leading the first pitch.

Graham waves a hand toward a vague arch, way off across the cliff
face, which he says is the apex of the cave entrance and the belay is
around the corner, just a few metres inside the cave. Off I go making
a rising diagonal traverse. I get to the ‘arch’ but see no sign of a
cave entrance so I look back to Graham (now joined by Rob the third
member of the team) who’s now pointing vigorously downward (aural
communication being impossible due to the roar of the sea) and then
beckoning me back. So I reverse climb, removing gear as I go, until I
reach the starting ledge. It transpires we’ve started from the wrong
ledge, about 20′ above the actual start.

We reckon it should be possible to traverse horizontally and arrive at
the cave entrance in the right place. So off I go again, but not very
far before the wall blanks out. So I climb down (getting a bit pumped
now!) to try and pick up the rising diagonal from the (proper)
starting ledge. I get to within 20′ of the cave entrance and, hey,
this isn’t 4c or 5a. The combination of hard moves and pumped arms
result in a pendulum lob. But no damage done, I’m still in contact
with the rock and able to climb back to have another go. No good
though, it’s too hard for me so back I go to the ‘starting ledge’.

Rob takes over the lead and manages to make the traverse into the
cave. Eventually my rope is pulled in and I set off noticing with some
anxiety that the only protection visible on my rope is a nut runner
before the hard move and nothing else until the corner leading into
the cave. Well, the move I failed on hadn’t got any easier and ended
with the same result, yet another pendulum lob, only this time its
spectacular. The swing takes me out over the sea and I come to rest
dangling above the sea in front of the cave entrance, at least 10′
from the nearest bit of rock (which was wet and overhanging anyway)
and with about 20′ of very taut rope above me.

Rob’s disembodied voice from the cave asks if I’m alright and if
there’s anything he can do to help. I think “Say a little prayer,
maybe” but realise there’s nothing either of them can do to rescue me.
So, out come the prussiks- very careful not to drop them in the sea –
and then a slow and tiring climb up the rope until I can grab the gear
from which I’m hanging. From here, its a squirm up through a narrow
slot into a tunnel that runs between the apex of the cave entrance and
the main cave chamber, and then a back and foot bridge across the slot
to the belay. Phew, am I glad to see Rob’s smiling face! We now wait a
long, long time for Graham to join us; but given the cock-up I’d made
I didn’t like to ask what had kept him!

And now for the REALLY scary pitch into the cave. The rock is
streaming wet; it’s almost dark, the only light being that reflected
off the sea some 100′ below. The deafening noise of the sea crashing
against the back of the cave is sending plumes of spray high into the
cave and periodically the cave goes completely dark as giant waves
fill the mouth of the cave cutting off even the reflected light. Very
atmospheric! This is definitely not the place for another dangle. But
we needn’t have worried, Graham does a brilliant lead choosing a good
line and protecting it well for both himself and the seconds. From the
belay the pitch goes along the tunnel for a few metres by bridging
across the open slot, until it gives way to the massive domed main
cave chamber. A tricky and committing move from the tunnel across the
slot to the right wall of the main chamber is followed by an about
turn and move back to the left wall. A horribly exposed traverse
around the roof of the cave to the bottom of the blow hole before the
welcome sight of daylight filtering through from high above.
Unforgettable!!

The tide is rising fast now and the spray is reaching us occasionally
at the top of the cave. Rob leads the final pitch up the blow-hole
which, although wet and slippery, has the virtue of being vertical.
Graham next, then me. As I near the top of the blow-hole I see a
massive jug and gratefully reach for it. “No! Not that one” shout
Graham and Rob. Taking their advice and exiting from the blow-hole I
notice the jug is covered in crap. We presume, with sympathy and
understanding, that some earlier climber had been unable to contain
his relief. Then straight to the Bosherston pub for some much needed
nerve settling beer.

A memorable day on an amazing route, which I will NOT be doing again.

Footnote: I have since been told the latest Pembroke supplement grades
Preposterous Tales as E2 for its exposure, and the first pitch as 5b.

North Wales, February 14th to 16th

By Mike Hams – February 2003

Another rapid and remarkably traffic-free trip along the M6 on
Friday saw us in North Wales in 5 hours and looking for the
bunkhouse under Tryfan. The first farmyard we turned up in wasn’t
it but the name was remarkably similar (apologies to the Welsh
amongst us). The second farmyard had Rupert’s car in it and we
noticed there was still some snow about on the upper slopes of the
surrounding mountains.

The bunkhouse was clean, tidy, warm and well equipped; I didn’t
really need to pack the wok. This year’s bargain (so far) at £6 a
night. We had a quick drink and settled down for the night.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, which was unfortunate
for those who wanted to ice climb. They had to search quite hard
on the North-facing slopes to find anything remotely climbable.
Those of us who were walking looked forward to clear views from
the mountaintops. We packed ice axes and crampons just in case
they were needed and set off up Tryfan but a short walk away.

A great deal of first class dithering was required to find the
start of the scramble, mainly by those holding a map, then it was
up and away. After a good mornings work we arrived at the summit
and both the secretary and president of the club did the
obligatory leap from Adam to Eve and back again, ensuring they had
“droite de seigneur” with any and all passing sheep! We had a
short break for lunch at the summit and set off again when the
smaller members of the party complained of being cold.

The afternoon was taken up with the scramble off Tryfan to Bristli
ridge (can’t find the correct spelling on the map) and the ascent
of the Glyders (Fawr and Fach). Some interesting positions and
moves were required on the way up, notably the standing aside for
a chap with his two collies going up past us! One of the dogs did
not appear too keen and had to be coaxed into every difficult
move, I knew exactly how it felt! We stopped for a photo or two on
the cantilevered boulder on top of the Glyders and decided that
there was not time before the light went to get to and through the
Devils kitchen area (some mention of carrot eating and seeing in
the dark). We made our way down Y Cribin and returned around
Tryfan to the bunkhouse. A very good 8-hour day out.

We settled down to dinner and a drink or two and swapped tales of
the day. Those who wanted them had hot showers in the washhouse
and sweaty clothing was hung in the drying room to make them
usable the next day. Jeff and Nigel arrived back just before we
considered alerting mountain rescue. Apparently they had wanted to
be out after dark to make the most of night navigation (I hope I
remember that aright chaps). Plans for the next day were made to
take account of the great weather.

On Sunday our party set of for Pen Y Pass for an attempt on the
Snowdon Horseshoe starting at Crib Goch. On the hike into the
hills my knee let me know it was not happy with life, and could we
take it easier today please. At the foot of the scramble I waved
goodbye to my companions and set off for the Pyg Track. I was to
meet the others on Snowdon and complete the last half of the
horseshoe with them. We had discarded ice axes, as they were an
unnecessary burden the previous day most of us had left the
crampons behind also to reduce weight in the packs.

It was another very sunny day and half way up the track I removed
my jacket and completed the climb in base layer and Paramo
trousers (all vents open and struggling manfully to keep me cool).
I tagged on with a chap from Liverpool who was good company on the
climb. We eventually parted company on the top section of the
track when we had to stop for people coming down and I got caught
up on the hard snow without my crampons. It’s not often just a
base layer can be worn as a top when using crampons. The snow was
about 10 inches deep and very hard packed across two thirds of the
track width.

On the top of the hill and out of the valley shelter I had to put
my jacket on sharpish, as it was very chilly. There were the usual
day-trippers in unsuitable clothing on top of the mountain and in
summertime I guess it must be very, very busy. I had some lunch
and waited for the rest of the intrepid party to arrive, which
they did after 25 minutes or so. We moved off the mountain summit
to find somewhere quieter for the others to eat, descending a very
nasty scree slope to a quiet grassy hollow for a congenial lunch.

The President of the club did his best at this point to frighten
all the local wildlife and not a few walkers with an extraordinary
belch. Birds crossed the sky in terror and the gentleman walking
around us staggered off pale-faced and trembling. The rest of us
hoped the earth would open and hide us now (not, well maybe
Christina as she is a delicate thing really). We’ll go back later
to apologise if asked.

The slog around the last part of the horseshoe went well and we
arrived back in the car park shortly after 4pm. It was time for a
quick change and off to the Pinnacle cafe at Capel Curig for a
well earned bacon roll and a cuppa. Here we learned that Steve
Culverhouse had nearly come a cropper on easy ground above a
1000-foot slide at Idwal Slabs. Rupert had managed to arrest the
slide before it got out of hand and avoided burying any part of
the ice axes he was holding in Steve. The only bad part of the
return trip was the discovery that the good chip shop in
Llangollen had closed and we had Chinese instead in Oswestry.

More pictures can be found at Tryfan Scramble (password Climb8)

By Peter Krug – December 2002

Where does one start? Another trip to Nepal (my third) and
another adventure of a lifetime! In previous years I have trekked
into Annapurna Sanctuary and the Everest region both of which
proved to be very beautiful but were incredibly busy and I
fancied going somewhere quieter and I wanted to bag a peak if at
all possible.

In the end I chose to trek in the Rolwaling Valley which lies
just west of the Solu-Khumbu region (i.e. Everest National Park)
and the trip I chose offered the opportunity to bag two trekking
peaks – Ramdang and Parchemo. As this area could only be
accessed on a mountaineering permit we did not expect to meet too
many other trekking groups.

Having landed in Kathmandu and met the rest of our group,
which totalled seven plus our western trek leader and spent a day
sightseeing we were driven to the small town of Biriabesi where
we meet up with our crew. As we arrived the loads were being
shared out amongst the porters (some thirty or so). In addition
to the porters we had a sirdar, two or three climbing sherpas and
the cook crew. Our sirdar, Kunga had climbed Everest, Cho Oyu and
Annapurna and one of the climbing sherpas had climbed Lhotse. Our
cook had cooked for Chris Bonnington so we were in illustrious
company!

The first few days of the trek were generally fairly
easy-going as we walked the paths through the terraced fields of
the middle Himalaya. It was very pleasant passing through the
many villages such as Delangse, Bigu, Chilanka, Bulung, Jagat,
Simigaon, Douan and Beding. The terraced fields were very
impressive in their extent and the pictures that I took do not
reflect the steepness of the slopes being farmed. The crops were
mainly rice and millet. Wherever we were in between villages we
were encompassed by fairly thick-forested jungle, which provided
some relief from the heat of the day.

The villages were initially Buddhist as we approached the
Rolwaling area, then there was an area that was mainly Hindu and
then as we reached the upper Rolwaling valley we were back into
Buddhist territory.

On top of that we were treated to waterfalls, water powered
grain milling, wild monkeys, a new-born goat (like one minute
old), school visits, visited Bigu Gompa and a Nepalese “cultural
evening” when we were entertaining by the villagers doing their
traditional dances which we joined in and we reciprocated (if
that is the correct word!) by doing the “Okey Cokey.” We had to
climb the Tinsang La, which was 3,319 metres high but provided us
our first views of the Rolwaling area and a stunning first
sighting of Gauri Shankar.

One interesting event which reflects on the current political
situation Nepal (decidedly dodgy) was the fact that we were
“taxed” by Maoists but they did give us a receipt! As we were
walking we were stopped by a couple of guys wearing army fatigues
but fortunately not armed. Our sirdar and leader told us to keep
on going whilst they negotiated. In the end we were taxed some
500 rupees per head. Incidentally, the receipt did help because
we were later stopped at another Maoist checkpoint and they let
us through without further charge once we waved our receipt.

However, all this provided the build up to the main event, which
were the bagging of some peaks and more importantly the crossing
of the Tesi Lapcha (5,750 m). It was the latter which was
effectively the crux of the trip because we had to get over this
pass into Solu-Khumbu otherwise we would have had to return from
whence we came. The peaks were optional.

By the time we reached Na some eight days into the trek we
were at over 4,000 metres and left the fields and forest of the
lower regions behind and the vegetation, which was scrubland. We
had also left the warmth behind and the nights were now decidedly
chilly!

We had a rest day in Na and the whole party took the
opportunity to visit the Tsho Rolpa, which provided a good
opportunity to acclimatise. This was a lake near the head of the
Rolwaling Valley, which was held back by moraine and is being
continuously monitored. The fear is that it would break through
this natural dam and wipe out the entire valley. Once again the
views were stupendous as we surrounded by Himalayan giants such
as Melungste, Tsoboje and Chukyima Go whilst before us lay our
route toward the Tesi Lapcha.

However, before all that we had an appointment with Ramdang
Peak and the next day we left Na, hung a right turn and climbed
up into a hanging valley where our base camp was situated. We had
another “rest-day” and again and naturally we were given another
opportunity to errr ‘acclimatise’ by doing exactly
the opposite! The “opportunity” was to climb the Yalung Ri, which
at 5,650 metres was going to provide a bit of a challenge.

It actually was not that bad. We left camp, walked up a ridge
to the foot of a glacier then donned plastic boots and crampons.
Then we roped up and off we went moving steadily up the glacier
weaving around a couple of crevasses. The final section to the
summit ridge was very steep and strenuous but the views from the
top, which included a sighting of Cho Oyu, were magnificent. We
were stopped about 40 metres short of the summit as the final
section involved rock-climbing in plastic boots which was not on
the agenda but all in all a good morning’s work!

The next day we moved up to high camp, which situated in a
stunning position on a glacier for our attempt on Ramdang Peak.
We had an unbelievably cold night (minus 30 Celsius) and set off
at about 6.00 a.m. and within an hour of setting off two of the
group had given leaving just three of us clients (two others had
decided not to go for the peak and were at base camp) to carry
the flag. The initial climb up from camp was pretty steep and
then we reached a plateau. However, we still had to climb a wall
of ice about 30 metres high, which had been fixed by the guides
the previous day, which involved jumaring.

Once we had reached the top of this ridge we were onto a col,
which was at about 5,750 metres, and we could see the snow-capped
dome, which was the summit of Ramdang about three kilometres
away. Now we had a two and a half hour trudge over the glacier,
which was energy sapping before we reached the top to much joy!

The rewards that were provided by our endeavours were incredible
mountain vistas and we could see Everest to the east and the
Annapurna massif to the west and countless other mountains. Then
there was the long march back to base camp which proved to be
exceedingly arduous.

The next couple of days were spent moving back down from
Ramdang, then up the valley, past the Tsho Rolpa and then weaving
in and out of the moraine of the Trakarding Glacier until we were
camped at the bottom of the Drolumbau Glacier. It is safe to say
that this was not the most pleasant campsite that I have stayed
at in view of the fact we were sleeping on mounds of rock! On our
walk-in we had to cope with fairly heavy snow, which prompted,
fortunately unfounded, worries about our attempt on the Tesi
Lapcha and sadly we passed a body right next to the path.

The next day was our big day as we were due to climb the Tesi
Lapcha and it proved to be quite a worrying day. Even from the
start I noticed that the group was struggling and this fact was
not unnoticed by our porters. It seemed to be a combination of
tiredness in some cases and a lack of acclimatisation in others.
Our route involved a scramble up a rocky gully, which for us
western tourists was “fixed” (but not for our nimble porters with
their 35-40 kilogram loads). Then next for a few hours we were on
mixed ground (sometimes rocky moraine and sometimes snow and ice)
as we progressed exceedingly slowly up the Drolumbau Glacier
passing below Parchemo until we reached the foot of the Tesi
Lapcha.

Incidentally, the group had decided not to climb Parchemo
because we felt that after the previous couple of days getting to
and over the Tesi Lapcha we would not have the energy left to
take this on.

After a short break we set off up the snow and then some rocky
ground until we reached another glacier. It was now mid-afternoon
and there was no sight of the top of the col. Our guides were
worried I could see it (probably because I was the only one that
was on top form) and I was trying to will the others to get a
move on. We weren’t roped up so in the end I just decided
to go for it and see if my pace would elicit some response from
my fellow trekkers. I use the term “pace” somewhat loosely
because I was not exactly sprinting up the mountain!

View from the Tesi Lapcha

Anyway after several false summits I reached the top at 3.57
p.m just as the sun started to disappear behind the flanks of
Parchemo and as it did the temperature plummeted. I had plenty of
time to take in the views and to take some photographs whilst the
rest of the party started to arrive. Then in the gathering gloom
we dashed down the other side to our campsite a few hundred
meters below for yet another cold night.

Fortunately, now we could relax as we now made our way down
the Thame valley and towards warmth and sucked in the oxygen rich
air. We had had over a week of nighttime temperatures of well
below minus 15 Celsius and this had taken its toll on all of us.
Having spent the previous fortnight trekking in remote areas we
found ourselves in much more crowded surroundings and we met
loads of people both trekkers and locals as we approached first
Namche Bazaar and then Lukla which made me realise why I chose
the Rolwaling in the first instance! Mind you in spite of the
number of people the area is still very beautiful as we now in
the area, which included magnificent mountains such as Ama
Dablam, Thamserku and Kusum Kangguru.

In no time at all we were back to the relative comforts of
Kathmandu (a bath and a shave) and then it was time to go home
and to reflect on the events of the past month and also admire
the qualities of the magnificent sherpa people we had passed the
time with. The physical strength, fortitude and cheerfulness of
these people never fails to amaze me. Thanks guys!