scottish winter mush swimming

Well yesterday I got back home after another wee trip north of the border, this time to the west – Fort William being home base.

Friday was spent travelling up whilst going slowly mad listening to Abba. Yes, that’s right – Abba. I actually now can’t quite remember what it was exactly that started the initial Abba conversation, but that doesn’t really matter – what does matter is that we ended up listening to ‘Abba Gold’ for a good portion of the journey once we were north of Glasgow. This was fine for a while, until our minds began to wander away into the mist, eventually becoming lost in a white out of ridiculous new ad-libbed lyrics, all on a porno theme, all sung at full volume in order to overpower the originals. Lots of giggling ensued, especially after my rendition of ‘Dogging Queen’…

Ok back on topic: Saturday we had originally planned to head up to the Ben to do Tower Ridge, but after arriving at some stupid time in the evening on Friday (and then having to eat etc etc), neither of us could quite face setting the alarm for 5am. Hence the slightly daft (given the conditions and forecasts) idea to head up to Aonach Mor.

Now, I’d never climbed on Aonach Mor before, and was [mistakenly] under the impression that it was a short easy walk-in after you got off the Gondola. I wasn’t completely expecting a chair-lift ride (which, actually was in a sad way rather exciting for me, having never ridden a proper chair lift before), followed by a 40min hack up hill to get to the top of the East Face. Still, in hindsight it was actually quite a short, easy walk-in in Scottish terms, just not in my weedy little anglo-welsh terms. Hmm.

So once at the top (with only 3 other teams present…surprising for a weekend), we headed to the top of Easy Gulley where I was to be presented with a couple more things I’d never really done before – abseiling over a cornice (free hanging for a brief moment!), off of a snow bollard. Now, I’ve played with snow bollards before, and I’ve seen and avoided cornices, but this was something new and not a little unnerving, but thankfully uneventful.

Once at the bottom we headed round to find our route. We had originally thought of having a look at doing the classic grade IV, ‘White Shark’, but when we couldn’t even spot it, we ended up round at the foot of ‘Left Twin’, another crag classic where one of the other parties we’d met at the top were engaged in battle. By this point Patrick had realised he’d dropped an axe somewhere and after a brief moment of swearing, headed off to find it whilst I sat and amused myself at the base of the route.

From below it looked fine – straight forward grade III. No problemo, or at least it wouldn’t have been had the snow been even vaguely consolidated and the ice partially hard. Sadly both snow and ice were mushy. Patrick nobly led the first pitch to a good belay, but unfortunately for me, whilst I was seconding up the near vertical mush section, the guys above dislodged a load of snow which slide merrily down the gulley and funnelled straight onto me with the force of a medium sized waterfall. Another first – being hit by a spindrift avalanche. Yummy.

So once I had finally swum my way up to the belay I found myself feeling tired, shaky and less than happy – so I assumed the position of ‘weedy girl partner’ and let Patrick lead the next pitch too. All I will say about that pitch is the gear was shite (ice screws in mush that would probably have pulled out by hand), the snow/ice was shite (axes slicing nicely through like knives in butter – not really what you want), and a couple of moves at the top were on vertical rime. You can imagine how fun it wasn’t. Once at the top of this pitch I ran up the final one and over the cornice to the top and safety.

The guidebook does say that Left Twin gets Grade IV in poor condition, and I would completely agree with this – it was in a serious and not a completely straight forward condition when we did it. Nice. But still, all winter experience is useful – climbing crud definitely gives you a good grounding of skills and knowledge.

climbing tales of woe

"What about that path over there?"
"I don't think so - look, it goes the other side of the river."
"It looks like it goes round to the right."
"Well we could try it, but it would be a very brave move - we could end up walking quite a way along it and then having to walk all the way back again."
"So you think we should go up here, in these footprints?"
"Yeah, they're going the right way."
"Ok, fine. I do think that wide, well trodden path looks like the one though. But, you have been here before so I trust you."

This discussion heralded the beginning of an epic journey, an adventure into the unknown. We were following the forlorn footsteps of a past stranger, choosing a course that would require us to overcome many hurdles - but not one of them would prove great enough to destroy our resolve and our mental fortitude.

"Are you sure this is the right way?"
"I can see a set of tracks cutting across to the base of the route just up ahead."
"Hmm."

Flailing and desperate, fighting to keep our heads above the fluid powder, we battled on, each step slowly draining the energy from our bodies as we dug deep and marched onwards. Gritty and determined, our eyes found focus on where our minds were carrying us.

"Umm, Lauren. You're not going to like this..."
"...What?"

Instinctively I knew the tremble in my partner's voice could only mean one thing...

"Umm well...you remember that path you saw earlier...?"



Patrick and I had set out to climb a route called 'E Tutto Relativo'. The line was undeniably beautiful - we had seen it from the road. I was also told that the walk in would be easy and
wouldn't take long - a pre-requisite as we had set out late (due to my own tiredness). This route was one that Patrick had been on before, but hadn't completed - a case of 'unfinished business' I guess you could say. And it did look beautiful.

Sadly though, things were not to go to plan that day. The first inkling I'd had of things not being
quite right, occurred when we decided to follow a set of footprints through deep powder, rather than the 'motorway' of a path we had been on initially.

45 minutes of slogging through waist deep powder only served to reveal that I had been right all along when we re-joined the main path! As you can probably imagine, I wasn't too happy.

Things hadn't been all bad though - I'd spent 45 minutes in absolute hysterics watching my beloved partner falling over repeatedly.

The next stage of the plan's collapse occurred when we finally got a good view of the route and both decided we didn't really fancy it after all (I do think we made the correct decision though - neither of us felt confident and the conditions on the line were somewhat questionable and it is, after all, better to be safe than sorry...)

So the plan evolved, and we walked back round the way we had come (on the path this time), to another nice looking route.

It became obvious that climbing simply wasn't going to happen when: a French guide with his student, who had been sat around at the base of the climb chatting the whole time we were walking up, decided to deliberately cut in front of us and take over the route. By the time he was finishing the route was in the sun and running with water - we walked away, peeved and frustrated, but still happy to have been in the mountains.

snow and ice

Well I've just got back from a week spent in the snows of bonnie Scotland and I have to admit the trip was a bit mixed in many ways (and I don't just mean the routes!)

Conditions could have been a touch better, in that we had too much snow! That's right, we had too much. The powder was deep deep deep and a real pain to walk through, in one case lengthening our walk-in from the usual hour up to three hours! Ok so part of that was because we picked the wrong set of footprints to follow and had to cut our own trail back across the corrie but nevermind...

The first weekend I spent climbing with a jolly nice chap called Patrick, a guy with whom I spent more time laughing than actually climbing (which was nice).
We headed up onto 'The Ben' on the Saturday, a legendary venue in which I had never previously climbed. What a place. Shame the walk-in took so long and we then wasted another couple of hours procrastinating over the likelihood of avalanches (we were scrambling up through fresh debris in places) and discussing how horrendous wading through waist deep snow was...
We eventually bailed on our initial route ideas because of the conditions and time etc. and ended up climbing the 'back-up' route, a classic Grade II called Ledge Route on Carn Dearg.
It was a nice enough route with some spectacular situations, but being a Grade II wasn't exactly the most interesting climb in the world (we basically solo'd it actually, it was so simple).

Sadly I made a couple of mistakes on the descent, the most notable being not putting away my walking poles on a rather steep snow slope (imagine the picture - ice axe in one hand, to self arrest with if I slipped, and walking poles in the other: clearly not the best idea huh?).
I slipped. I discovered that self arresting, for real, with only one hand on your axe really doesn't work...

Hurtling down this slope, the axe flies out of my hand when I try to dig it into the slope (did I think to let go of the poles at this point? Oh no...), the poles promptly got dropped and along came mistake number two...

So I have nothing in my hands, am sliding down a steep slope accelerating faster and faster - I need to stop myself somehow...so obviously I dig my feet in.

Idiot.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The next thing I know I've flipped head over heels, landed HARD on my backside and am still hurtling down the slope, this time head first and on my back and can now see the rather large and less than pillow-like boulders at the bottom of the gully getting rapidly bigger...

Long story short - I was ok, the depth of the powder at the bottom of the gully meant that I didn't hit the large boulders I saw heading quickly towards my head, I just stopped, snow everywhere along with a whole multitude of bruises. Patrick very kindly recovered my scattered possessions on his way down to dig me out of my crater. Oh how we laughed (later).

The rest of the week I spent over in the Cairngorms with Chris. We stayed at one of the MCofS huts which was actually really rather nice, even if the kitchen could be warmed by leaving the fridge doors open...

Conditions were no better than they had been on the West Coast, in fact they were arguably worse as there was more snow. We solo'd another Grade II called Fiacaill Ridge up the side of Coire an t'Sneachda as the corries themselves were simply too dangerous.
Most of the rest of the week was spent doing not much at all - I had a go at learning to ski on Wednesday but decided I hated it. Absolutely not a sport I want to get involved in. Nasty and painful (landing mostly on the huge bruise I had gained on my right buttock during Saturday's descent epic).


We decided that on Friday we were going to get into the Corrie, and we were going to climb something... so we did...

Chris and I had decided that we were going to try to do a Grade III of some description and the one that I settled on (bearing in mind that it was going to be my lead) was a route called the Haston Line on the Mess of Pottage.
That plan didn't last long, however, when I got to the base of it and faced a very steep drifted snowslope that had a Category 4 avalanche forecast on it (the scale only goes up to 5). I deemed climbing that route to be verging on suicidal even though it looked technically quite straight forward.
So after backing off Chris convinced me to try a nice but hard looking mixed line that some other climbers had just gone up...

I have never felt so sick on a route in my life. That sickness you feel when you can taste the metalicky twang of adrenaline in the back of your throat, that fear you feel once you have committed yourself to something harder than anything you have ever even thought of trying, that feeling when your whole body starts to shake as the lactic acid builds up in your muscles as you try to pull on an axe balanced on a tiny nubbin with your crampons solidly embedded in a 1mm thick layer of ice...

...that tangible wave of relief and emotion as you thump axes into deep, solid neve and step up to the safest, most comfortable belay stance you think you have ever seen.
The wave of warmth that envelops you as you lay back in the snow and shut your eyes, listening to the adrenaline burbling away deep in your veins...

The grin that takes over your whole body when your partner joins you, takes out the guidebook and points out that you've just led a Grade IV,5 onsight with complete coolness and composure, even though you've never even attempted anything anywhere near that level of difficulty before.

The sense deep inside as you realise that actually, maybe you are a climber after all...

balls

Life is not good at the moment.
My knee is still gipping me a little but to be honest it's not bad enough for me to really worry, it's good enough to let me train at the wall and for this I am grateful. Unfortunately, right now this seems to be the one small thing I have to be happy about.

Work. Again. It's rubbish.
This week I spent Monday and Tuesday on an absolute horror job in Vienna. I'm genuinely not sure how we managed to walk away from that one without the customer skinning us alive...at least I wasn't alone for once (I usually take these beatings solo, so having another colleague there did make it much more bearable, even hilarious at times - if you didn't laugh about it you'd end up in tearful hysterics and in the local hospital...)
Wednesday Scott and I were going to go to the Peak District for some well needed therapy but the weather was sh*te. Bum.
Thursday and Friday I spent in Stockholm with some other colleagues - this time I wasn't seeing a customer but on a training course to enable me to work on the Stockholm Metro system. Slightly surreal having to take exams in Swedish when you haven't a clue how to even pronounce half the words...
Actually the Stockholm trip was quite nice, no pressure and we managed to get into the Old City for dinner in the evening (Elk Fillet steak is probably the nicest thing I have ever eaten).
Tomorrow I fly out to Larnaca (Cyprus), not to return until Tuesday. Yet another crappy job to be carried out solo. Great. Right now, I am feeling desperately nervous and panicky and just don't want to go - all this travelling and working alone really stresses me out, I hate it.

So this week - Austria, Sweden and Cyprus. No time for myself at all. It may sound glamorous, all this jet-setting, but believe me it's not. I would gladly swap it for a job cleaning out the crud from the gutters in Luton right now.

Oh, and just to top it all off, the selfish chav whose car I ran into last August has decided to raise a personal injuries claim against me.
So now I have a claim against me for damages of £1500 - £3000, because the precious little poppet apparently got whiplash. Compete bullsh*t. The list of my 'Negligences' has seriously wound me up, the lying beyatch.

So yeah, I'm loving life right now.

ugh

This morning I wrote off my car. Brilliant.
No-one was hurt (my neck aches a little but nothing major) and that's the main thing. Irritatingly I now need to find another car. Money I could really do with keeping and spending on more important things - like flying.

Tomorrow I have a couple of lessons booked. At the moment the forecast looks good - dry and not much wind. My instructor messed me around yesterday (long story short - he went flying with someone else during my lesson slot, and didn't tell me - mucho annoying) and has promised to make tomorrow a good one and *hopefully* send me solo at last. I just need to not mess up like last time. To that end, I have drawn myself a nice little diagram of the circuit with all the things I need to remember (see below).

is it wrong...

...to maim someone for extreme technical incompetance?

Not having a good afternoon...

Ok, to elaborate somewhat - is it wrong to hurt somebody for failing to do their job properly, potentially jeopardising a £1.3m project, attending meetings drunk and pissing off one of our favourite customers/partners and creating a sh*tload of work for me to try to fix the mess before any real damage is done?

Ok so yes, it would be wrong to actually hurt them but even so, right now it would make me feel so much better...

my neck hurts

Whiplash isn't fun. Even sleeping is hard work - everytime I move/fidget in my sleep the pain wakes me up. I've spent the whole day trying to avoid moving my head.

I spent the day working from home. This included having lunch at the Cafe in the Woods with Phil and going shopping for a mini DV camera - it is awesome. I just need something to film now - I kept wishing I'd had one in Font so now I do! Yes I know it's too late, but the next bouldering/climbing trips will now be possible with video :)

I'm not looking forward to work tomorrow - I've got to present a training course somehow without moving my head...

font day 9: going home

Today we had a quick visit back to 95.2 so I could have yet another go at La Mur de la Fosse aux Ours, my 7a project. Needless to say I still didn't finish it. I did get to watch a rather nice young German chap try it and also not get any further than I did, although he did seem to be somewhat stronger than me so that was nice.
I blame the fact that I'm just not a very good climber, and I'm weak. But also - I think I have whiplash. Stupid stupid woman. NEVER get wrapped in a bouldering mat, not for any reason, ever.

The journey back was fairly straightforward, although we did see some kind of weirdness going on at one of the motorway services - it was closed and ALOT of fire brigade vehicles were turing up, including the chemical unit and the big vehicle lifting airbag thing. Not quite sure what was going on but it did spawn some interesting conversations in the car.
I also had a really nice panini for lunch - chicken curry in a toasted ciabatta! Amazing! French motorway services clearly aren't all bad.

We had dinner at Cite Europe even though all the shops were shut. I only mention this because I had a huge bowl of mussels and they were lovely!

font day 8: stupidity

Cleared out of the Gite then back to 91.1 for a chilled out day bouldering. I swear the grades there are harder than at other areas. Or maybe the climbing's just a different style that really doesn't suit me, I don't know. Anyway I think Dave enjoyed himself - he certainly managed to get into some interesting positions at times.

Anyway the main point of this post is to emphasize just how immensely stupid it is to be wrapped up inside a bouldering mat and then participate in your friends challenges. Ok so the wrestling (see above) wasn't so bad - I only ended up with a face full of sand. And the race round the boulder was tame enough. The falling over backwards thing however, was a REALLY REALLY crap idea. I cracked my head really hard on the ground and very nearly passed out. Stupid woman.

Ok so after the day's antics we went to the restaurant near Elephant - I had the Kangaroo steak - it was lovely :)
Then we made our way over to the Formule 1 hotel at Moret for the night. Cheap but, umm, well, kinda crappy - but hey, for around 10 euros each it was a bargain!