Blowing the Xmas cobwebs out (before the build up of Hogmanay cobwebs) - 27-12-12

The window of opportunity seemed to be swinging shut with a significant thaw and similarly significant gales on the way so it was fortunate that Donald was free to nip up to the Northern Corries to see what we could find.  It had been a perfect day on Boxing day so now I was itching to get out even with a 7:00 meeting time in Inverness (1 hour away).  So with little sleep I crept down the slippery roads, snow having dusted my path overnight.  A quick stop off to pick up Donalds boots and then up to the Cairngorm Mountain car park and that slight nagging feeling of doubt - conditions, ability and a questioning of if the misery which goes hand in hand with winter climbing was actually going to be worth it.

Patey's Route, with its two tricky steps, providing a funnel for the spindrift

Patey's Route had been on my mind for some time, cutting a striking line up Aladdin's Buttress, and how hard could it be if the man himself had soloed the first ascent in 1959 shod in nails and armed with only a single axe.

Hints of ice at the crucial steps confirmed our choice and we tramped up to a perfect wind-scoop in which we could prepare.  Donald led out the first pitch with the reassuring words that he had not really led ice before.  However, stopping just short of the first step this would not be a problem.  My attention was momentarily taken by an avalanche pouring out from Aladdin's Mirror.....quite a dark looking avalanche......with dark shapes in it?  When it came to rest a couple of hundred meters downslope, the two dark shapes stood up and dusted themselves down, lucky not to have hit any of the protruding rocks.  Not the greatest inspiration to confidence.  My pause for thought was not long though and soon I followed Donald up some icy steps and some well packed snow in the base of the runnel to where he stood, out of the spindrift beside an intimidating jumble of overhanging lightly iced blocks.

Climbers picking their way up to Fiacaill Buttress

A brief pause for pleasantries and then upwards to try to solve what looked like a tricky problem.  Gear was not a consideration as there wasn't any so it was just trying to find the faith to commit to the moves.  Pausing for consideration, a wave of spindrift caused me to duck in only to late to remember my hood was not up.  Now with my neck and back filled with a liberal pack of snow I focused back in.   Careful footwork and some wide bridging allowed the strength of the axe placements not to be questioned and then a long run out up the steepening bed of the cleft reached a peg and some relaxation.  But now the enclosing walls held a steepening line towards an icicle fringed overhang.  Luckily as the angle steepened ice lined the back of the chimney.  Moving up to the overhang calves and arms were starting to burn, placing a poor ice-screw only adding to the tired feeling.  The angle was highlighted by the ropes hanging free for 15 meters below me.  So instead of confronting the crux straight away I took up residence below the overhang in my ice cave, like some arctic troglodyte.  Eventually it was time to leave my well appointed abode with a runner attached to some old cord disappearing in to the ice, presumably attached to something, providing my only security.

A ramp out left was tricky to reach with feet, or anything else for that matter, and the steep slab above it offered no help.  A blind swing above found what felt like a solid placement over the lip of the overhang and allowed tentative movement out left.  Sneaking upwards a second axe over the overhang added security but balance was precarious and arms tiring.  At last I could get my feet back below me with the ice now offering the relative rest of near verticality.  Now I could see the easing and a wave of euphoria came with it.  A few more moves and I was over the lip and having a quick rest before seeking out a belay.

A well earned drink after a quick ascent of Patey's Route, starting Hogmanay very early

The ground now became easier and a couple of pitches led past the impressive Aladdin's Seat and round to the lip of the corrie.  After what had turned out to be a quick ascent in comparison to recent efforts (2.5 hours) a brief consideration was given to a second route but a walk down in the light was eventually thought the better option and it was good to make it back to my parents for haggis.

Introducing WINTER - 6 days in the Cairngorms - 29/11/12 to 4/12/12

Approaching winter - Lochnagar

With perfect timing winter seemed to appear as I had two weeks off between jobs and a place to stay on the edge of the Cairngorms.  A quick exploratory buzz up Miekle Pap on Lochnagar proved positive with the bulging granite plastered in snow and hoar and the exposed turf well exposed.  The next evening Harry arrived from the Lakes and we set to sorting out a rack, interrogating the guidebooks and packing our bags.  A relatively short sharp route proved most attractive, Magic Pillar on the Cathedral, an 80m IV5 holding to the Law of Kane that your going to be scared winter climbing so may as well get it out of the way early in the season and challenge your limits (this is at the upper end of what I have climbed before and Harry reassured me with his note that he had not really done much mixed climbing before). 

Magic Pillar takes the grooved arete to the right of the black cleft just left of centre

Outflanking the roof at the start of the second pitch

A ramble up the lower broken ground added a 60m pitch before Harry took on the attractive groove pitch which seemed to rise ever more steeply above us as we approached, leaving me to outflank the capping roof and finish up the arete.  After a lot of cleaning and some awkward moves to gain the niche Harry arrived at the belay.  I first had to traverse out right on steep ground but with fantastic turf.  It was then up left across a series of off balance shelves with marginal protection to gain the upper groove.  Although an initial sick type II fun feeling had come over me, as the pitch went on the climbing became engrossing and the frost bound scenery ebbed in to my consciousness.  All too quickly the plateau was there, but to take in the setting sun we made our way to the summit and took in the changing shades of the snow clad Cairngorms.  Catching glimpses of our route as we descended a black snails track picked out what had been a very steep climb.

Our slug trail up the Cathedral on Lochnagar

Back down to Ballater we were joined by Rich who had headed up from Edinburgh for a trip out to the Hutchinson Memorial Hut and a tramp out in to the Cairngorms.  An early start the next day and some pauses to pick up some logs to weigh us down for the walk in and we were in the Linn of Dee car park and starting to worry there may not be room in what is a very small hut.  The walk seemed to go on forever but as did the Cairngorm scenery which is so difficult to explain in its beauty.   

Approaching Derry Lodge

The Hutchison Memorial Hut

This was a new area of the Cairngorms for me and the mountain hut feel of our bothy was not to disappoint with Creagan a' Choire Etchachan rearing behind it and a refurbishment which was to allow a cosy night......as would the other 4 occupants (luckily the other two had a tent!).  A return in summer or winter to take on some of the challenges that this stunning crag presents is now a must.  After some intermittent sleep following a fine nights whiskey and chat we gathered together some motivation and headed out in to the white and up towards Beinn Mheadhoin.  From Loch Etchachan it was out with the compasses and using the torrs, which intermittently emerged from the blizzards, as waypoints to take us to the summit.  Reversing the procedure, breaks in the cloud started to form and the wild of the Cairgorms really showed itself.  If not for the heat stripping wind and blasting spindrift I could have stood watching the changing scene forever.

Wild on the summit of Beinn Mheadhoin

Derry Cairngorm emerging out of the blizzards

Back to the bothy for tea and then the long walk out, but at least this time without a bag full of logs, and to an interesting night in Kincardine O'Neil with some great rock 'n' roll.

View down to Glenmore on the walk in to Coire an t-Sneachda

To continue the punishment to our bodies it was up to the Northern Corries for a wander and some more climbing.  Sunday brought blue skies and a glut of climbers and ski-tourers out in to the northern Cairngorms so a mountaineering round of Coire an t-Sneachda taking in the Fiacaill Ridge seemed a good choice, not least due to the level of digging required on most of the routes.  This gave a great chance to assess our challenge for the following days and take in the hulking Cairngorms and their deep troughs in all their splendour.

The striking lines of Savage Slit and Fallout Corner in Coire an Lochain

Walking down, as pastels shaded the snow clad hills, it was a night in the Aviemore SYHA to rest up for the walk in to Coire an t-Sneachda and the challenges it was to hold for us the next day.

The torrs of Ben Avon and Beinn Mheadhion

Fresh snow sapped at the legs and was driven in to our faces but as we entered the depths of the coire conditions seemed to ease and we waded our way up to the base of Fluted Buttress to take on its direct ascent, a widening chimney line.  This was to be easier with ice but, as we were to find out this would be in short supply.  Harry took us across the powder clad slabs to the base of the initial, steep, v-groove chimney.  I then took the lead.

Person on the plateau surveying the fingers and a climber forming a slug trail towards the top of the lower chimney pitch on Fluted Buttress Direct

The route had been cleaned off the previous day and the lack of ice was immediately evident but blebs of turf offered encouragement.  Progress was slow and the climbing felt a bit thin but protection came along when needed.  As the chimney narrowed and steepened in to a v-groove of more limited options a smear of ice lining the back of the crack in which the groove terminated forced some delicate work but eventually allowed the beckoning turfy ledge above to be gained with a breath of relief that the reassuring thud of axe in turf provides.

Getting established in the initial chimney of Fluted Buttress Direct

Here the chimney widened and contained a number of snowy steps before I could 'relax' at the belay where the chimney branched.  Harry came up and led through a series of steep, right slanting corners before cutting back left over a number of tricky steps.  It then fell to me to move up to the left in a lovely gritstone style corner which lead to the crest of the buttress and then on to the top and a fine belay.  A great route and a challenge in the conditions presented.  The plateau was less hospitable than the previous day and we struggled back down in intermittent whiteout to the shelter of the car.  Legs were now truly tiring from the deep soft snow but one more day beckoned.

In the upper grooves heading for the crest of Fluted Buttress

A cunning plan not to end up breaking trail in to the coire again saw a later start and following the tracks to whichever buttress they led.  As it happened we caught up the trail breakers in the mouth of the coire and offered to share the work up to the Mess of Pottage and for us, Yukon Jack, now getting a taste for ice routes with no ice.  This route had seen no recent ascents and I offered Harry the meaty first pitch and with it cleaning duties.  From below the corner line looked attractive but I was only to appreciate its difficulties when I seconded up behind an exhausted Harry, having taken a decent fall off the last corner, below which he had taken a belay.  The route so far had relied on thin hooks, some blind, and horrifically sloping 'footholds'.  I was mildly shaken just seconding the climbing.  Now, I was below where Harry had taken his fall and contemplating how not to give him an impromptu acupuncture session.  First prospecting an escape on to The Hason Line, I realised that wasn't an option and so started a tentative investigation of the hooks, for what they were, in the corner which loomed above.  One good hook allowed me to reach up and prospect further.  No protection didn't inspire confidence and the old adage that the leader doesn't fall was ringing in my mind.  A few strands of grass seemed to break the snows surface above.  Pulling up on the one good hook and at full reach with my free arm I swung my right axe only to have it bounce with a spark off the bare granite hidden below the snow.  Now, more tentatively, I swung my axe into the area just above where the angle eased and was thankful to find some thin turf.  Now it was time for contemplation.  Were my placements solid?  What would I find above?  What in the hell are my feet to do?  With that I muscled my way up, scraping my left foot on the wall in front of me and swinging my right foot high to a reasonable ledge.  Pushing away and up from my axes, in a semi-mantleshelf move, and rocking over on to my right foot I reached balance and started looking above for safety.  No protection presented itself but cleaning off the snow revealed a line of turf following the continuation corner and negating the worry of the slabby granite which had to suffice for my crampons.  Joining The Haston Line and a convincing turf peg allowed a break in concentration and some relief at having made it up the line as a team.  Taking a belay on The Slant Harry and I decided we had had enough climbing for the day and took advantage of this fun way off the crag which always gives something of a mountaineering feel despite its position on a fairly diminutive crag.

The team

So, once more, round the coire rim and down to the ski car park again with some discussion of what grade we had actually climbed.  This time though it was across the Lecht and back to Dinnet for me and back to the Lakes for Harry.  Definitely time for a rest but hopefully for not to long before out in the hills again.

 

Goodbye Grit - 10 & 11/11/12

So, at last it was time for me to leave Cambridge and migrate back to the north....well, Aberdeen anyway.  And to say goodbye to the grit a full weekend was required.  Of course the grit is not sentimental and so rightly so The Peapod of Curbar unceremoniously spat me out once again but only after draining all the energy I had in my possession.  This meant that a more typical weekend ensued with many climbs well within my grade and a fair few pints in the Three Stags Heads.  The standout climb of the Saturday was a return to the fun slab and steep arete of The Brain in the disputed ground of Frogbar and Curbatt.

Laurence leading up the fine arete of The Brain at Frogbar

Hangovers in check it was time to head for Stanage and help out Vincent who was glad to see us with his many new climbers to the club and too few leaders or racks.  As always Stanage proved full of classics not climbed before yet Vincent managed to find anything but a classic of which the name fails me but a picture can speak a thousand words............

Follow the rope........

So that was my last trip from Cambridge to the Peak with the club and now my local crags will be in the Cairngorms and yet I will miss it.  Hopefully a few of the CUMC

Myths, Legends and Grit - 25-8-12

Anyone who knows Goldie will have heard of a multitude of his friends, the names of which mean nothing to the uninitiated.  Some may even have started to believe that they did not exist and in fact only occur in myths and legends.  This was a weekend when I at last met Greggor, Hauke, et al. and it turned out that yes these people were as friendly as Goldie had always made out.  It started, as all great trips to the Peak should, in the Three Stags Heads and with one or two too many pints of Black Lurcher (possibly one of the mistakes that Dave MacLeod suggests 9 out of 10 climbers make).


So, with hangovers charged and in a swarm of midges the like of which you might expect in the NW Highlands of Scotland we trundled down to Burbage.  After as much faff as I could manage......in part in tribute to the imminent departure of Goldie and in part as an effort to allow the hangover to subside it was time to take the plunge and try to add to my summer of E1's (ok, well, this would be my second).  And so it was I was stood a the bottom of a seeping Long Tall Sally. 

 After slipping off the first few moves which were still wet I managed on the second attempt to get established.  So well established in fact that I made little progress! But eventually with consternation over every move, checking of gear, cursing that I had placed the gear in the holds, and when all else failed just manning TF up I made progress.  After what seemed like an age and a lot of sweating I rolled exhausted on to the top after an intense 12m of climbing with faint memories of a cry of 'long tall sissy' drifting up from below.

Zeb then dutifully made me feel better about my climbing by struggling his way up behind me.  This set a bit of a trend for the day and put me in mind of a suitable subtitle for Zebulon 'top roper' Levine.  After a few more routes at Burbage the call went out that only means one thing - find those reserve cans of MTFU, open them up and head across to Higgar Tor.  For me this meant seconding one route (my MTFU was all used up) but those more talented among us ticked the Rasp, the File and a few more classics.

Goldie saying farewell to Grit and a fair amount of skin on the File

A bit more Arctic - Lofoten 14 to 22/8/12

Approaching Moskenes

The previous evening the ragged skyline, raised across the sea and framed by silhouetted islands and skerries which guard the coastline around Bodo, had been glowing in the late night sun as it dipped below the horizon.  Now the ferry was approaching Moskeness in the south of the Lofoten Islands and the mountains were sweeping up from the sea in vast slabs of granite which cut deep in to the crisp blue arctic sky.  This was where we were to be climbing for  the coming week and yet I was intimidated already by the sublime beauty of these apparently uncompromising mountains.

On the way back down from Bare Blabaer with climbers still on the well defined groove and crack line of Bare Blabaer

The road snaked north from Moskeness, rising over inlets and dipping down through tunnels.  We were aiming for Hennigsvaer which was going to be our base for the week.  Lofoten is known for it's rain, but this was not what we were to be treated too.  Five days of continuous climbing saw us climb from classic to classic whether it was seaside crags or day long mountaineering routes.  The list went on: Bare Blabaer, Pianohandler Lund's Rute, two forays to Paradisset (with Butter Fingers and Dashboard Light providing the highlights), Gandalf, Golum and the Nordryggen of Vagakallen.  Now I just need to head back with a few more grades in hand as I think that E2 would be the grade to start oppening up even more of the classics and it would be worth a return visit if just for Vestpillaren on Presten.

 Bare Blabaer and Gandalf

  Paradise at Paradisset

 Pyramidal Saxifraige

 Storepillaren and Butter Fingers at Paradisset

 On the way up Vagekallen's Nord Ryggen

 Within Vagakallen's granite architecture

The final obstacle before a scramble to the summit of Vagekallen

Summer so far (yep, we have actually been climbing)

So it was off to Greenland which saw the end of Scottish winter but certainly not the end of winter for me with a brisk -43 (well, off the scale).  A few more peaks also with Parnas, Gulehorn, Kathedralen and the north top of the Pothorst Bjerge in Jameson Land and a foray in to the Stauning Alper on Snekuppel (1480m).

Another fine day in East Greenland (view west from point 850, above Permdal)

Back to summer and back to rock and a fine list of crags:

Bamford; and the strenuous Gunpowder Crack, with its tricky 5b start, and the classics of Gargoyle Buttress and Brown’s Crack gave a great day or Howie, Vidya and myself,

On the final photogenic moves of Gargoyle Flake

Froggatt esoterica; starting, after a bit of a search, at Tegness Pinnacle which gave a great start to the day before moving through some great routes on the more isolated and secluded cracks and buttresses which eventually led us to a few of the more classic lines with Howie making a fine lead of Motorcade,

Atop the Tegness Pinnacle

The Lakes; with Tophet Wall and Eagles Nest Ridge Direct offering the introduction with Zeb and Drew, a brief adventure in to a sport(ish) quarry in the evening to meet up with Harry and a run up the Troutdale Pinnacle Superdirect to beat the weather before beating a retreat back south to Cambridge after a great weekend,

Zeb starting up Tophet Wall

Stanage; with Cold Turkey and Cave Arete suggesting I might be ready to push my grade,

Dovestones Tor; saw a good turn out from the CUMC on a baking hot day with Ursula, Drew, Zeb, Goldie, Ramsay, et al. and a chance to make that leap to E1 with the ‘easiest E1 on grit’, Lancaster Flyby.  Dutifully dispatched it led on to some amazing climbs including Great Buttress, Thread Flintstone and Route 1 by the Shylock Finish.

Harborough Rocks; yes, I like grit and this was not going to change my mind but nice to catch up with Vincent once more and then carry on for some classics at Birchen in a midge infested evening.

Birchen; a midge infested evening still better than limestone and ticking a few I have previously missed (Hammock, Captain’s Perogative) and providing a nice introduction to grit for a very keen Dutchman – more keen to get to the pub after he discovered the Black Lurcher at the Three Stags Heads,

Almscliff

Almscliff; why have I never been there before! Fluted Columns, Square Chimney & Whisky Crack, The Traditional Climb, Demon Wall and to finish, the stunning Overhanging Groove which I just managed to hold on to……unlike Demon Wall.

Overhanging Grove at Almscliff

Stanage; again to round off the gritstone training for Arjan with The Flange providing the highlight for me and a good lead of Central Trinity from Arjan,

Stanage

Pass of Ballater; provided another great day of climbing in the north with Medium Cool challenging the nerve and leading to some intense ‘savouring’ in a slightly damp state and Lucky Strike and Little Cenotaph showing just how much quality there is in the pass and much more to come back to.  A midsummer blizzard on Lochnagar and it was off to,

After 'savouring' the slab of Maximum Cool, Pass of Ballater

Sandwood Bay; could be the best climbing location in the world and a lazy climb up Marram made the finale to an amazing weekend camped in the dunes.

Best view from any climb in the UK?

On the second pitch of Marram

Then I was to miss the annual meet to Cornwall with another trip to Greenland.  Oh well.

Alpine Hawkweed

A winter finale - Tower Ridge 19-2-12

Of course climbing Tower Ridge, one of the longest winter climbs in Scotland, was a great idea for the Sunday weather window before having to be back south for work at 9:00 on Monday morning in Cambridge!  Well, at least it would allow a fun evening in Aberdeen and a re-familiarisation with Beanachie before the approaching blizzards took hold and sent me south to Edinburgh to pick up Rich and make our plans for the trip west to Ben Nevis.

Opening skies as we approached the base of Tower Ridge

The guidebook recommendation of 6-10 hours was a little off-putting but with an early start and the good weather forecast we were feeling confident.  So to make the 6:30 alarm call a little more palatable we decided to head across for a park up in the north face car park.  I was looking a little doubtful that we would make it as the car park as the A9 grew narrower with fresh snow encroaching on the tarmac.  Blizzards continued to threaten our progress as we wound our way through from Dalwhinnie to Laggan but after what seemed like far longer than was reasonable we drew in to the car park and quickly crawled in to our sleeping bags, excited with what the next day was going to offer.  We weren’t to hear our alarm, being woken by the early starters sorting their climbing kit, which must have consisted entirely of hexes (cow bells) by the noise that was being made.

Our early start was no longer dependant on an alarm and we soon found ourselves striding up the steep path, in the faint light of what passed for morning, through the forested slopes towards the Allt a’Mhuilinn.  In fact, pretty soon Rich found himself striding on boldly alone as I found my hill legs somewhat lacking.  I think I covered up for this well though with the suggestion that I was just warming up and trying to avoid injury! 

The North Face appearing from behind the swirling cloud

As the north face reared in to view to our right the assembled ramparts, ridges and corries appeared and then were again shrouded in the swirling clouds.  Behind us patches of blue were allowing a blush of pink on to the snow topped hills to the north.  The weather that we had been hoping for was on it’s way.  Unfortunately so to were what now seemed like every climber in Scotland so we quickly made our way past the CIC Hut and round the imposing Douglas Boulder to the shallow gully leading up to the Douglas Gap where a short chimney leads up on to Tower Ridge.  One pair were already there but we were happy to let them carry on while we lost ourselves in the views out in to Coire na Ciste with ant like dots crawling across its floor and fluted cornices draping the coire rim.

Coire na Ciste

Climbers on Smith's Route

With the team ahead out of sight and a gaggle of French, light and fast climbers past we drew our attention back in and I took the lead up the steep chimney which led to the ridge crest.  Furnished with deep, secure holds in summer it was now time to trust these with axes in hand.  In fact wool clad hands were often a better option until near the top after some awkward moves the axes bit in to some re-assuring nevé.  To speed our ascent and to try to be nearer the 6 than 10 hours predicted by the guidebook I was just going to run out the rope once up the chimney, but time had to be taken once on the ridge proper which was now bathed in bright sunshine.  The huge gouged corries dropped away to the left and right, the walls of which hold classic climb after classic climb defined by the ribbons of blue, with occasional ragged edges of icicles hanging from shadowy overhangs.  Zero, Hadrian’s Wall, Point Five, Smith’s all with black specks clinging to their blue tiers.  The occasional shout and rattle of gear giving away their positions in the still clarity of the winter air.

Hadrian's Wall

Running out the rope on the easy ground along the ridge crest I decided Rich might want a firm belay for the initial step chimney and took a stance when the rope cam tight.  Rich made short work of the chimney despite finding it pretty tricky.  We carried on along the beautifully sinuous snow ridge which led to the second steepening and with a traverse right, then leftward trending climbing up steep, blocky but secure ground led us to the next easing in the ridge which ran up to the base of the little tower.  The climbing had offered little in the way of technical difficulty so far but the variety, building exposure and lack of secure runners made me welcome a break.  Taking a seat I happily took in the ropes and waited for Rich to appear back on the ridge crest.  Another great excuse to take in the ever opening panorama.

Rich following up the ridge to below the little tower

After a chocolate bar and a swig of water I was off upwards once more.  We were making good time but I did not want to relax with much of the difficulties forecast for the upper reaches of the ridge.  The left side of the little tower looked most attractive with a series of rocky steps and intervening snowy ledges.  First though was an awkward flake which would cause a few problems for Rich, especially with just one crampon.  I would be oblivious to the problems unravelling below until our next meeting when my nerve found the solace of a large block just below the summit of the little tower a welcome break.  The snow on the ledges had a disappointing inconsistency but added interest to the climbing, especially when combined with iced an unreceptive cracks and the increasing drag of the ropes.  Some awkward steps led up to a low angled left facing corner which thankfully held an ice smear, which unfortunately prohibited gear placements.  A step out right on to steep snow slopes and I could edge my way to the beckoning block belay out to the right.  After some time Rich arrived, shaking his head and telling of his ordeal at the difficult flake, crampon flailing loosely from his foot.  He had managed to retrieve and skilfully re-attach it, but unfortunately left my hex and sling which admittedly, I had placed high and hammered in.  Perhaps this skill with crampons was the benefit of having, so many times, donned crampons and gear far too late after the approach up the ever steepening slopes which tend to lead to winter climbs.

Trying to find protection on the Eastern Traverse

A couple of short steps and we were on the next easing with the Great Tower now rising above us.  An added air of impregnability had drifted in with the cloud which now shrouded the summit.  However, the airy Eastern Traverse provides the path past this bastion.  Moving up to the base of the tower I found a runner at the start of the traverse and took Rich up so as he would have a grandstand view of the worrying moves that lay ahead.  Once engaged on the traverse the absorbing nature of winter climbing soon allowed the exposure to drift from my mind but in the initial steps down the short snow slope which ends abruptly, hiding the sheer drops below, it takes all my effort to push the dizzying drops from my mind.  The enjoyment increased with a couple of solid runners which sent the rope looping back to Rich.  Soon I was round the corner and making my way up the secure snow slope beneath which lay the summer through route behind a huge chock-stone which was just visible through the snow.  A further short traverse and an old peg signalled time for a direct climb.  The steep, and in places undercut, blocky steps that led upwards required some technical climbing but here the snow was consistent and good ice could dribbled over the lip of each step.   The traverse and steep climbing which followed were the highlight of the climb so far, offering such contrast on secure axe placements.  Finding a good belay was a different matter and eventually I found a reasonable pair of nuts and after resolving a few rope problems Rich joined me.  Now there was just Tower Gap to go.

The ridge narrows to about two feet with Tower Gap forming a 3m deep slot separating the ridge from the final rocky steps and sweeping snow slope which leads to the summit plateau.  Cliffs and snow slopes plunge away to either side, so after some careful steps I was glad to reach the large blocks which mark the start of the 3m down-climb in to the gap itself.  A sling round the large block gave some added confidence but luckily in this section of leading the rope is above and it is the second who, as Rich was to find out, will have to suffer if a slip occurs.  Axes placed in solid nevé at the lip of the gap, I leaned out, smearing my right foot on a snow dusted wrinkle.  Ah, there was the foothold for the left foot.  Now there was enough security to reach out right and get a balancing axe placement before lowering down on to the square cut blocks which floor the gap.  Happy with my avoidance of the congregation of old slings and cord which is often used to ease the down-climb I made the tricky moved to exit the gap directly and took up a belay below the final rocky step.

Rich approaching Tower Gap

Now it was Rich’s turn and he made his way along the narrowing ridge and tentatively peered in to the gap.  Reaching a good position with axes placed and feet on holds on the walls of the gap, with a sudden jerk, he was gone.  An axe had ripped out and he was now swinging above Glover’s Chimney.  Luckily no harm had been done but it transpired that his axe had not ripped but rather his hand had slipped out of his glove, and in turn the wrist loop of the axe, which had been thrown upwards and with lightening reactions Rich had then caught the axe as it fell past him.  Not a graceful decent, but effective.  Brushing himself down Rich quickly and with a hint of anger at the misfortune made his way up to the belay to take a rest. 

‘Well, at least you caught your axe’, consoling ourselves that things could have been worse. Placed his luckily retained axes below the belay Rich highlighted their presence and reminded me to not kick them off down in to the abyss.  A miscalculated movement and Rich set one of his own axes dancing off down the slopes.  Bugger.  Not ideal but all we had left was a small rocky step and then a final continuation of the ridge before the steepening snow slopes led to the summit.  The steepening final slopes added a final excitement to the route, on perfect and receptive snow, but I thought Rich might quite appreciate one of my axes and so sent one down on the rope, asking that he tried not to lose this one (OK, I didn’t ask this as I thought it would be far to mean – remarkable self restraint!).

Both lying on the plateau the exhaustion of our seven hours of climbing required a moments rest but was tempered by the elation of another day spent as I wish I could spend every day – among the ever changing beauty of the mountains.  The earlier blue skies and sparkling sunlight which had thrown the earlier mountain scene in to breathtaking focus, with every shimmering ice crystal perfectly sharp, had now succumbed to lowering cloud.  Looking across the plateau all that greeted us was white.  Rich took over navigation allowing me to rest a little after leading the climbing.  Soon and with fantastic skill we were following the line of cairns towards the zig-zag tourist track.  Luckily our reliance on a single torch was not tested on the climb itself as with the orange glow of Fort William casting upwards on to the darkening sky I decided it was time to excavate our single torch from my bag and set it to work in helping find the ‘path’ across the morass towards Allt a’Mhuilinn.  A brief flicker, then nothing!  However, we were soon over the river and back to the van and on the way south to Edinburgh before an all to brief sleep and a futile attempt to make it back to Cambridge for work at 9:00.  Oh well, some weekends are well worth it and this had been one of them for sure!