rjukan, day 5 (avalanche)

Today was a bit of a nightmare, I don’t know what to blog, so I’ll just re-produce what I wrote in an email to a friend of mine (apologies for the typos and lack of care):

“Not sure what to blog really. I'm ok, just a few bruises. First time I've ever been avalanched, thank goodness Tom and I were both on the belay stance and the belay was good, it was quite an impact and a genuinely terrifying thing to look up and see a wall of snow heading straight down toward you! It was also the first time Dave's ever had to shout such a desperate warning! One of the first things  he said when he saw us this eve (he was in front with Ant, I bailed from the route with Tom so we just walked back to the hut), was "I'm glad you survived". Apparently it was quite spectacular - Kate watched from the bottom and Dave and Ant saw from above - Dave said they'd both prayed that we hadn't been hit (it missed them), and Kate was scared when we 'disappeared' under it as it hit us.

Anyway, all is good really, and in a twisted sort of way I'm quite pleased - we bailed, failed on the route completely yet somehow I'm just glad!

Incidentally, before the avalanche I actually got stuck...that was also a first. Genuinely, completely and utterly stuck. I'd been forced to take a different line to the others (we were climbing simultaneously) and ended up away from the main ice fall trapped on a snow field - 3 feet of loose powder over unfeatured rock slab. I managed to reach a sapling (no thicker than my thumb) that I could stand on with one foot, and had to shout over to Dave for rescue. I couldn't move up as the snow was too bad and I'd hit a blank rock band, I couldn't go back down because the climbing had been too hard and insecure to reverse, I couldn't traverse for the same reason I couldn't continue upwards, I had no gear at all, was 40m up on shitty snow that could barely hold my bodyweight and was ideally conditioned to avalanche...I genuinely thought I'd had it. For a good few minutes I thought I was going to die (and I'm not exaggerating - I was in tears in panic). Mercifully my last ditch option of abseiling off said miniscule sapling (half abseiling, half downclimbing and praying it didn’t flex far enough for the sling to come off) wasn't necessary as Dave and Ant managed to get a rope over to me so I could traverse safely back onto the ice...bloody hell was it scary, the snow was unbelievably bad, absolutely nothing solid anywhere, it was genuinely more like a swim than anything else...”

rjukan, day 3

Too tired to type today, sorry! Have some nice piccys instead:

Tjonstadbergfossen (WI4, 4 pitches)

 

 

Vemorkbrufoss Vest (WI5, 2 pitches)

 

I should say a big thanks to Ben, the new third member of our party and a far better climber than myself – so cheers Ben, let’s hope we get some more good stuff done in the next few days!

rjukan, day 2

“Grading ice climbs has become simple for me. They are: Easy, Hard, I Can’t Climb It, or I Won’t Climb It.” – Joe Josephson

Today I’d half hoped to head for one of the routes above Rjukan Center, but an extremely poor night’s sleep led to not waking up particularly early and hence a bit of a lay in and thus a lazy breakfast before making the decision to head out to Krokan for an ‘easy’ day and a bit of conditions scoping.

Ice formations are a little different to those of the last time I was here (February 2010), and it would seem that a fair few of the routes at Krokan have not formed as well as they had on my previous visit, so unfortunately we were a little disappointed by what we found. We did however decide to have a go at a route called Gaustaspokelse, a 3 star WI4 I had previously seconded…this time I took the lead.

Thin. The route was far thinner than I’d seen it before, and despite looking pretty friendly and innocent from below, it turned out to be far steeper in the top section than I’d anticipated. In fact, the top 4 or 5 metres were actually slightly overhung…

 Looks innocent doesn’t it? (Top couple of metres out of shot)

I made a mistake.

I underestimated the route, I went into it feeling cocky – I didn’t expect the ice to be as steep as it was at the top. I expected a simple ‘hook-fest’. I expected it to be easy…this was my mistake.

I did not expect to have climbed myself into the danger zone, and yet, suddenly, there I was – back in a place I had once vowed NEVER to push myself to again. There I was, hanging on, my arms steadily weakening as the pump clock kept ticking, with no gear to safeguard me if I fell, and no strength left with which to place any...

A flash of realisation that you're going to end up in the hospital if you blow it, knowing that you ARE about to blow it...

My legs were shaking. I was bridged out between ice and rock, an island of salvation in the sea of my rising panic, but my legs were starting to shake. I was losing it.

Fear is an amazing catalyst – looking down between your legs at an ice screw placed from a ledge that now eagerly awaits the inevitable impact once you blow it, you’re picturing the fall, hearing the crunch as your body meets itself, tasting the blood in your mouth… and then suddenly you’re simply gritting your teeth and fighting. Onwards, upwards, you’re hitting hard and true, using the rush of adrenaline to push beyond the danger zone, climbing back to safety, to solace in the trees above…

Yes, it’s all a bit melodramatic, but in all honesty I did scare myself and I did come very close to blowing it on this route. It took me a good few minutes to calm down after I reached the trees and belayed Dave up to me. Being able to walk back down rather than abseil was a merciful relief as my nerves were shot and I just wanted to sit down and enjoy a nice civilised cup of tea!

Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

rjukan, day 1

Good news! I’ve been climbing at last. Four routes to be precise…

So, Dave and I arrived in Rjukan, Norway, yesterday after an epic day of travelling (it’s a long way from Mid-Wales when you’re avoiding RyanAir…). Today was always going to have to be primarily a ‘logistics’ mission, hence this morning was spent nearly having multiple heart failures because of the sheer expense of supermarket provisions…with the exchange rate so poor, and Norway being renowned for being costly, feeding ourselves out here is proving to be a rather financially painful business. Anyway, enough of the moaning…

After our epic supermarket foray, we had a super healthy brunch of brioche and biscuits and proceeded to pack and head out to the mini-venue of Ozzimosis, just to the east of Rjukan. This place is fab when you’re used to the laborious nature of winter climbing in the UK – a 5 minute walk-in and you have several 30-35m high pure ice lines varying from simple (WI2*), to entertaining (WI3-4*), to downright scary (WI5*).

Dave started off on one of the WI3s* making it look smooth and easy, whereas my efforts in following him made it look horrendously clumsy and painful…my calfs were burning like crazy and I was swinging my axes like a rabid chimpanzee, although mercifully I did settle in to things somewhat when I led the adjacent WI3.

Dave enjoying himself

Of course, anyone that knows me will know that I’m slightly wonky in the brain department, and today I displayed this endearing trait by deciding that I was in fact going to lead a WI5 as my second ice route of the year…now I should point out that I have in fact not ever led WI5 before (knowingly) and spent most of my trip last year chickening out of doing so, hence when I wandered over to the base of this thing and started gearing up, Dave looked a touch ‘surprised’ shall we say…

They do say the colour of Adrenaline is brown: me on something steep and scary

Of course, photographs never make ice routes look anywhere near as steep as they actually are, and obviously they always feel steeper than they really are too when you’re a mere mortal…

I may have had a couple of ‘moments’ during my epic lead, you know, those ‘moments’ where you think you’re losing it, get scared, lose it a little more, think you’re going to fall off and then…

…decide that you’re not going to fall off because falling on ice is likely to hurt (bad thing), and actually, if you just gather yourself together you can force yourself to breathe and remember that actually, you are more than capable of climbing this stuff.

I did it. Dave followed me up. We abseiled off. I’m an awesome story-teller…

So, there we were, my whole body slowly dissipating adrenaline, my calfs solid with cramp (front pointing is hard going), my forearms leaden, and Dave decides to do one last route before it got dark – something verging on WI3-4 so not exactly trivial. I was utterly delighted (obviously)…especially when the hot aches robbed me of my dignity as I topped out. Serves me right for being too lazy to dig out my dry gloves I suppose.

Dave choosing an ‘awkward bastard’ of a line to finish

Today was brilliant, I love Rjukan, I love ice climbing. Let’s hope the rest of the trip is as good as today.

*Please take my gradings with a pinch of salt, the difficulty of ice routes is highly variable and so not all of the grades I’m going to give are the same as are written in the guidebook. The grades I will quote all this week and the grades myself and Dave felt the routes warranted in the condition in which we found them.

moving on…

Another dull posting, my apologies, but next week I should hopefully be posting up some nice Rjukan Ice climbing reports and pictures. YAY!

So yeah, Dave and I are flying out on Monday for nearly 2 weeks of waterfall ice action, meeting up with others along the way, should be fun! And my Nomics and new ropes should get some decent use at last (thanks to Adam at EMS for these).

In other news, my week-long Ofcom induction was fantastic, I’m thrilled to have been given the chance to get involved at the Olympics with these guys, the experience will be immense, and the people I’m to be working with are a fantastic bunch, great engineers and a great laugh to boot. Plus, I’m being paid (always a bonus!).

In other, other news, Phil and I have found somewhere else to live. Once the paperwork has all gone through we will be shifting our few possessions over to a remote ‘Crofter’s Cottage’ (or whatever it once was), with stunning views and a water supply that comes directly from a spring on the hillside above…bizarre and ramshackle, living there is definitely going to be an experience, and a challenging one at that. I will now be embarking upon a quest to find a decent, cheap 125cc trail bike to be my ‘winter hack’ at Phil’s suggestion as the car will likely not make it to the house in the snow! Hell, if he thinks I should buy a second motorbike then who am I to argue!!

Life is improving.