More Snow!

I didn't think we could be so lucky as to have two decent-weather-days on consecutive weekends, but then it seems it is possible to get lucky after all! On Sunday we opted for a 12 mile trek through the snow which wouldn't (we hoped!) require the use of ironmongery. The hills on the south side of Loch Tay don't seem particularly appealing for most of the year, but in the low wintry sunshine and lots of snow they looked ethereal. The wind was biting (something we hadn't missed the previous weekend!) and hands were frozen solid within seconds of removing gloves. As a result, I felt better about not trying to go climbing. I would have been just too cold. Even the sheep looked cold here!

Cruach Ardrain

These pictures are for Caroline. While she's been shooting things in California, we were crashing through deep powder near Crianlarich. We didn't get to the top, running out of time and daylight (never mind energy) but we had a fabulous day. It's rare that we get to enjoy days like this in the hills when we're at work Monday to Friday. Yesterday was a delight, absolutely delicious. Wading back through the corrie was exhausting; every three steps one leg would disappear entirely into the snowy depths, usually to be eaten by the hidden but unfrozen bog beneath. Today I feel like I have been swimming in treacle. Everything hurts.

We found some potential bouldering spots just above the col between Cruach Ardrain and Stob Garbh. I'm not sure I'd want to haul my big mat all the way up there (except that it would be good training....er, for what?) but if I had my shoes and a wee brush it would definitely be worth a potter.

Team 2010

Tyndrum and Bridge of Orchy hills in the sunset

Cruach Ardrain in the background

Big Brothers: Ben More and Stob Binnein

Good bouldering in the summer? High enough to be cool and windy so maybe midge-free? Needs cleaning....

Guy in his element

Icicles. Amazing how much colder it was out of the sunshine

I don't usually make New Year resolutions, but this year I might make an exception and make a few (to make up for those years I haven't made any, maybe). One of these is to climb more. It's started well with a couple of trips to the wall already. I need to lose half an inch around my waist (which is more difficult for me than for many) and regain some self-respect with my climbing. There has been too much work and not enough play recently. That has to change. Might as well start now! Happy New Year.....

Christmas Snow

Here is my excuse for not getting out nearly as much as I should have done over the Christmas hols.

First day of hols and what happens? I wake up early to THIS and my lie-in is well and truly busted. Way too excited.

Solar hats...?

Safety-conscious Frosty

Font Revisited

It has taken us 6 months to return to where we started out Great Expedition last September: Fontainbleau. So much has happened in between, it was a strange feeling being back there, this time with Caroline's car rather than mine, and staying indoors rather than in a tent. So many things were different and yet so many things seemed the same. We only spent three and a half weeks here last September, but everything seemed very familiar, as though we'd been there much longer and had never really gone away.

In spite of the frustrations we had of our last trip to Fontainbleau, we realised that we both have some very happy and very funny memories of our novice attempts at various problems here. Font is an unusual place in terms of climbing style and technique. It took us the full duration of our previous stay to get to grips with it, and I think it wasn't until our last few days here in mid-October that things finally started to click. This time, however, having spent a day getting used to both new shoes and old rock, things came together much more quickly. I managed to finish a few things that defeated me last time and try some new harder things with a degree of success I hadn't anticipated. But then the weather started to interfere....

Finishing the blue no. 9 - supposed 3c - at Apremont. It might be 5c instead...certainly the colder conditions this time helped in holding the top sloper.

While Rob, Sarah, Iain and Caroline had spent a week in the forest with some fairly reasonable weather, I had been talking my way through 4 days' training in Liverpool. Exhausting. With a 12-hour turnaround in returning home from Liverpool and heading off to France, I was almost (but only almost) glad of a rainy excuse not to climb on the Sunday. I was shattered, and probably couldn't have climbed anything anyway. So we wandered around the forest in Apremont and returned to some of the problems we did last year. I was quite astounded by how much I managed to remember, particularly in finding my way between the boulders. We paid a quick visit to Bas Cuvier too, and Caroline demonstrated her frustration at not being able to climb in the rain by hugging this huge blob.

Monday was thankfully bright and sunny, although still remarkably cold. We trotted off to Cul de Chien, since I was desperate to see that inland beach again. Although we had been to Cul de Chien a number of times, we had climbed very little there. As good practice for me in new shoes, we opted for the blue circuit, starting at problem number 1. By the time we reached problem 17 and had done all the variations in between, we quit. A good day, with plenty of skin left, and a timely Font reminder of one's humility. The guys who developed these circuits deserve respect for their stamina alone!

Caroline on Blue 8b at Cul de Chien - probably responsible for her now (apparently) busted intercostal muscle

It went from 20 degrees the previous Friday, to 4.5 degrees on the Tuesday. And it snowed. I got up at silly o'clock, saw everything white and went back to bed. But as apparently is the wont of Font weather, the sun came out, the snow melted and all the rocks dried out in time for us to do some climbing! Now why isn't Scotland like that?

I don't know why we decided to head to Franchard Cuisinere on possibly the coldest day of our trip, but we did. I remembered a slightly overhanging traverse that I had wanted to try, but we didn't have mats with us at the time. We spent a couple of hours trying to find the right sequence for this brutal traverse, with no real guide as to which way it went, which holds were in or out, what grade it was. Most of our trouble came from trying to stay warm. It was bitterly cold, especially in the wind. Cuisinere is on the top of a hill and so, I suppose, catches any wind there is to catch. We only managed to get half way on the traverse, before giving up and practising our x-wing flying between the boulders. Well, it was a good way to keep warm, and we only felt stupid if there were other people around, which there weren't. So we actually had a lot of silly fun!!

Caroline on the Cuisinere traverse. It's boulder 37 if you have the purple Fontainbleau Climbs book by Montchausse and Godoffe. I have since found this problem on the Bleau.info site here. We were attempting the red route , marked 7a+, from right to left.

Finding the traverse reachy and very powerful, I wasn't sure I was ever going to get any further than this..... My leg just wasn't long enough to reach the foothold at the bottom, and I just couldn't hold on any longer. Amazing how easy it looks in the video, but all I remember when I watch this is just how hard it was!! So we trekked over to Isatis in the afternoon and just in an attempt to keep warm rather than try lots of hard stuff, we made up some epic traverses. They kept us moving, kept us warm, and kept us entertained. Eventually, pumped and hungry, we headed home.

Bad weather led to much silliness. We don't remember ever being bored when we were last here. But this time, boredom appeared to breed some very irrational behaviour. We drank a lot of tea. Makes you strong ;-) We fed the chickens. We went shopping. The label off my new shoes reads: "You should be satisfied with these shoes and we hope you will make good use of them." Lost in translation..... And don't even ask about the sporks.

We also went back to Gorge aux Chats and Bas Cuvier. An attempt to squeeze in a shot on la marie rose was futile, given the crowd of young British hooligans who were clearly there for the duration. Numerous attempts on it led to a volley of abuse being hurled in all directions and some childish kicking of rocks by said Brits. We watched, less than impressed, whereupon a very nice Bleausard whom we had watched effortlessly padding up a 7a slab, tapped me on the shoulder and beckoned us over. He led us to another higher, blanker slab, and said "Zees is much more beautiful than la marie rose. You try. I show you." So we watched, again, agog, as this (almost) elderly gentleman balanced his way to the top of the blankness. Caroline and I both had a shot, and were making good progress until Caroline's fingers gave up. First one, then the other, forefinger split.

I have never seen her little face look so disappointed. Our friendly Bleausard suggested that this slab, known as La Forge, was 6a/b. Caroline looked it up when we got home, and it's listed on the Bleau.info website as 6c or 7a for the more direct finish (which we didn't do). The tiny edges were indeed very sharp, and I think that this is what really took the skin off my fingers too. They didn't split, but were very sore for the rest of the week.

Tiny crimps on La Forge

At Gorge aux Chats we tried something completely different; another slightly overhanging traverse with some long reaches in it. Again, we couldn't finish it. I got as far as slapping wildly for the final hold, but couldn't hold it as well as keep my heel on. Ah well, obviously not one for short weak people like me! Caroline found it hard to keep her toe on. It seems that the wonderful Anasazis are not good for toe-hooking. Shame, since this one was ok for split fingertips...just.

All the while, Rob, Sarah and Iain were chasing 7's and 8's all around the forest. Rob came home one evening saying he'd done 9 7a's that day. Iain was dead chuffed with his hat trick of 7's at Gorge aux Chats, having valiantly fought the lurgey for much of the holiday. Sarah did so much all week I couldn't follow it all, but judging by how exhausted she looked by Friday night, she hadn't given up on anything in a hurry!

The final triumph was Caroline's steady and solid ascent of Science Friction, the infamous sandbag slab at Apremont. Having packed the car and prepared mentally for a long drive home, she decided that her fingers were just about healed enough to attempt a slab. Maybe 4 or 5 attempts later there was a tentative reach and slap for the top edge and a whoop of delight. I wish I'd had my camera out at the time. She looked so solid on it. Officially it's graded a 5 something, on the premis that the holds have been chipped at some point. Maybe they have, maybe they haven't. Either way they are impossibly small. They are also polished after 50 years of scrabbling feet, and are on a crazily steep gradient. I have heard it's more like 6b than 5a. Anyone any views to offer on this one?

Impossibly small holds on Science Friction, Apremont

January Blues

My long anxiety to escape from the routine of office life has returned with a vengeance. Yes, I am suffering from post climbing trip blues. It seems almost inevitable that a high is followed by a low; by definition, once you reach the top, the only way is down! But I hadn't imagined that returning from a long trip would be quite as deadening as it has bee. I don't feel inclined to do very much, least of all concentrate on matters which sometimes seem trivial and unimportant. Another interesting twist to the process of adjusting to being home is driving on the left-hand side of the road. It was relatively easy to adapt to driving on the right, but reverting to the left has been much harder. Even now, a month on, I find myself concentrating very hard to make sure I don't end up on the right-hand side of the road when I turn right! How strange.

I knew that coming home would be great. I would enjoy seeing friends again, having home comforts like hot showers, a comfortable bed and internet access(!); I even looked forward to some hard training indoors. But the joy has been relatively short-lived. This is not to say that the delight in seeing friends and family again is any less than I anticipated; it isn't, at all. But it has amazed me how quickly it feels as though I had never been away, how quickly things return to "normal". I've been back at work for only 2 weeks and already assumptions are being made that I know about x, y or z which happened while I was away. Clearly, my colleagues believe I have some special powers akin to omniscience, that I myself have yet to identify or harness! It's very flattering, but also a bit frustrating.

The word frustration brings me neatly to the subject of training indoors. I had been warned that long sport climbing trips have a tendancy to sap one's strength, particularly bouldering strength, but (in my usual cocky fashion) I firmly believed in my immunity from such symptoms. Wrong! My first trip back to Alien 2 was soul destroying. What do you mean that's a 3?? It feels like an 8!! Similarly, some of the lead routes at Alien 1 seem far tougher than I think they should be for the grade. As Mr Brown rightly pointed out to me the other day, I haven't been climbing steep stuff, which is why so many indoor routes feel so hard. It also highlights the disparity between indoor grades and outdoor grades. In my opinion, any comparison between the two is highly suspect.

On the positive side, the grade labels no longer seem to affect my inclination to attempt either routes or boulder problems, although there is a considerable "can I be bothered?" factor instead! I am sure that will change with time. Indoor walls seem very uninspiring by comparison with the great outcrops of limestone we had become accustomed to. I haven't been able to get outside climbing since I came home, partly because of the weather, partly because I now have my 9-5 job back again and partly because life is so complicated here! There are so many other things I have to do (and want to do), but there isn't time to do them all.

I am hoping this is just January Blues; I'm not sure whether I am treating or torturing myself by flicking through all 1700 photographs that we took.

I have, however, returned to something I love. We had a lovely walk to the top of Ben Vorlich. It was a beautiful day until we got to the summit, where we found ourselves in an icy, gusting wind and thick cloud! Despite being a little chilly, it was nice to be back in familiar surroundings....very different from sun-drenched, Spanish limestone.

The snowy summit of Ben Vorlich

The view towards Loch Earn

Sunny Cairngorms

Having seen the weather forecast, I was intent on some climbing this weekend. So all my gear went with me, but when we got to the Coire Cas carpark we decided there was still too much snow and that Hell's Lum was probably either covered in snow or at very best running with snowmelt. Judging by he size of the cornices, we were right!

Instead of Auld Nick, we decided to head for Braeriach....and then to the Angel's Peak (with the unspellable, unpronounceable Gaelic name)....and Cairn Toul.... then down to the Corrour Bothy, and home through the Lairig Ghru.... 21 miles and 12 1/2 hours later...!! It was a beautiful day, but there were moments when I wondered whether we'd had ideas above our station in taking on such an epic walk. The Lairig Ghru alone is 6 1/2 miles long, and that was only part of the long walk back to the car. We managed without the one headtorch for all but the last 200 yards or so, but by 21.50hrs it was too dark to cross the river without it.

It wasn't a great day for photographs, since the air was very hazy. This was my first trek through the Lairig Ghru; it wasn't quite as I expected, but certainly a desolate, lonely, eerie and impressive place. I was glad we were through it before it was really dark.

The Lairig Ghru

The northern end of the Lairig Ghru at about 7pm

Looking into the Lairig Ghru from the Braeriach plateau

The Chalamain gap was freaky enough in the dusk... imaginings of goblins and elves and Jacobite rebels were running through my head while I tried to concentrate on not tripping over my very tired feet. Despite being very close to the lights of Aviemore, there is something very wild about being out on the hill in the dark. But then again, I still have to run down the corridor at home in the dark, convinced that there are monsters chasing me....

Chalamain Gap earlier in the day...the northern corries of Braeriach just visible through the Gap; an exciting view of the day's prospects.

I found some interesting lichens on the plateau. It's easy to see why the area is so heavily protected.

We got back to Mill Cottage at about 10.30pm, feeling somewhat hysterical with exhaustion. Driving back from Coire Cas in the dark was almost trippy. It felt as though we were whizzing through space, and the lights on the bridge at Kincraig (spaced about every 10 feet down the length of one side of the parapet) made for a vision akin to the trippy scenes in The Big Lebowski!

Needless to say, Sunday wasn't good for much. I felt as though everything below my knees had been beaten with a cricket bat. So I drove to Inverness and spent a lovely day in the garden with friends. On Monday I headed home, via Cairngorm again, this time with Emily (20 months), Gordon (3 1/2) and Mummy, for a short walk towards the Ptarmigan Restaurant. We had lunch behind a shed and Gordon learned how difficult it is to walk up spring snow slopes. Quite an adventure for a little person, as was walking across heather.

Further down the road I stopped north of Dalwhinnie at a place called Glen Truim.

There was a short but lovely walk along the river and back past a couple of beautiful highland cottages, one new, one old, both well kept and very welcoming (from the outside, at least).

Further down the river I saw a Dipper. It seems like a long time since I saw one of those. Amazingly, one couldn't hear the traffic from the A9, despite the road being only about 100 yards away. As I drove the rest of the way home it struck me how beautiful Scotland is at this time of year, with the last of the snow outlining the hills and the sun streaming between dark clouds. Why would I want to live anywhere else?

Sharing pictures

I still haven't found inspiration for what to blog about, so I'll start with a link to some photographs. Now that these are on the web it's much easier to share them. I will change the pictures from time to time, but for now, these are they.

Winter climbing: Comb Gully, Ben Nevis