I went to Scotland in january. It was scary

Project winter, Scotland 2013

                Climbing, as a sport it so vast and has so many different variables it almost seems impossible to cover all the basics of all of them and master it all in one lifetime, but that doesn’t stop us trying does it? A while back my climbing partner and fellow adventure mad friend David suggested we go spend a week or so up in Scotland to understand the art of what it meant to handle physically and mentally tough conditions, and of course to bag some ice routes and increase both our knowledge and experience as universal climbers. The centre stage for this would be the Scottish highlands at the peak of January and for what was to unfold, myself personally will never forget the lessons I learnt up there.

                The story begins at my workplace actually, just finishing a shift and bidding farewell to the boss’s and my manager, all wondering why on earth I would want to even consider throwing myself into such a terrible situation. And I don’t blame them really. Not sure why I have this gut instinct to go into this environment but I guess everyone has their calling in life, mine was the mountains. before I leave my manager shows me the latest avalanche warning put out by the SAIS and typically it says the area we were going into had a considerable to high rating, needless to say I just disregarded it. On the way out I have friends and colleagues all chase me down and bidding me good luck and also making sure they are in my last will and testament. On a deadline I now hit the road with a vengeance. It’s a hundred miles south to meet David and then a million billion miles north to Scotland so I was on it like a fat kid on a cupcake. Arriving at David’s house in record time (legally of course!) I get greeted with a warm welcome from the whole family. We all settle down and are fed an epic meal while talking tactics, routes and the most important thing of all, the climbing. We load the car up and after getting told to look after David by his mother and after the usual farewells as I’ve come to embrace over the years as I’ve slowly become the adopted son and we set off into the night. 

The plan was to drive through the night and stop in a layby somewhere near the border before setting off again. Even though the conditions were classed as tough Scottish winter we chose to go straight for the north face of Ben Nevis. We had our eyes set on a couple of routes and as every young climber know when you infatuate yourself with an image of a route the idea of doing it becomes insatiable, and that’s what we did. Tower ridge was our target, not one of the hardest routes on the mountain but it was one of the classics and certainly on that mountain it looked the part. Throughout the night we made several stops at service station to top up on tea and king effin chicken! (That’s KFC for anyone that didn’t know) and somehow around 2am we chose to rest up north of Glasgow, not bad for one push.  We found a layby just off the motorway and settled down there for a while, getting into our sleeping bags and resting up for the night. We were woken by local police just checking on us and after a quick chat (and showing them the milometer which shocked them somewhat) we were left to carry on the nap. Sometime around 5am we woke up to find both my main headlights had blown! And without spares we had to gamble until we got to a service station. The first one we came to had no bulbs at all so 10miles up the motorway with either full beam or no light we found a service station that did. Now a fact about modern cars, they are shits when it comes to simple jobs like changing bulbs. After battling for nearly an hour getting one in gave up on the second and even the same Scottish police team that saw us earlier that night had showed up again and had a go but failed so they let us off. I later found out that if you take it to a dealer to get done they charge you £60 labour, plus parts, plus vat!!!!!!!!!! I don’t think I’m alone when saying this but what an effin joke! Further up the road and once the sun had risen we started seeing our first Scottish mountains, and my god did they look spectacular. We push further on into the highlands, talking rubbish and banter about boobs and how Carol vaurderman was probably every boy’s wet dream which led onto finding out David had a childhood crush on the countdown presenter and thus began the “CAROL!!!!!!!!” David obviously on an epic quest in life to pull her...obviously. We make it up to the Glencoe pass where I noticed something. Before this trip I watched the new James Bond film Skyfall, in this film there is a scene with Bond and M in the Scottish highland and as it turns out we were driving on the very same road they were on. Random pointless fact over we make it into fort William at around 11am both famished we decide a proper breakfast is in order and we needed another ice screw so quickly popped into a climbing shop, got our screw and made a b-line for Morison’s where we stacked in our last real food and even picked up a bottle of jack for the week ahead.

A short time passes, we make it to the north face car park just outside of fort William where there tonnes of car (a promising sign) so instantly we change our attitudes from layback road trippers to more hardened and ready to tackle the long hike in. Our gear weighs an absolute tonne and once we have our packs on that’s it, no time to waste. Starting the walk in is relatively pleasant, then there’s the hill. Long and unrelenting they go on for ages without rest or ease. By now Dave has done his normal thing and naturally being way fitter than me he has gone completely out of sight so it’s just me for a time. I actually like this, gives me time to reflect on what I’m doing, whether I’m doing it for the right reasons, and just to let my mind do its own thing and talk hours of crap to itself. Once at the high car park (which you can only get into if you have a special key, probably by doing a special favour) we cross a fence so high I can only imagine it’s that high to stop trolls from entering human territory. From here it’s about another hour until you reach the CIC hut where normal people would go in to their pre booked bunks and rest and get warm. We on the other hand had more a part brave big part fool plan in which we were going to wild camp during our time up there, in the cold dark hole of the north face of Ben Nevis...what tits! After an hour of hunting around in the snow we eventually found a spot that came with, well what you expect from a frozen wasteland under a terrifying face, nothing! Once tent was up we instantly dived in, with light fading fast we thought it would be best to hunker in nice and early. That night we discussed what we would attempt, how bloody cold it, Carol, talked jokes and boobs from my traditional literature and ate hearty with mac and cheese. That night the wind was howling and the snow was falling heavy, by midnight I was shivering in my sleeping bag and the condensation that was building up had already turned into icicles on the inside of the tent, needless to say it was a rough night.

The next morning somehow we both missed the alarm for 6am, not quite sure how as I spent pretty much all of the night shivering and Dave had suffered a similar experience. We both woke around 8am to a completely frozen through tent! Ice had formed all over the zippers and throughout the entire interior and I had no heat in my lower body plus my shoulder (later discovered I had injured it quite badly in fact) had no heat in it at all. Having an utter shitty breakfast of muesli and chocolate we get our heads together and get out onto the face. Not many parties were up there today and the weather was pretty crap but we thought we’d give one of the smaller routes a go. We decided to climb the Douglas boulder which given our timeline was probably the best call we could make. The way up was fun dicey solo climbing over thin snow, rock and ice until you make it to a gulley where we were a bit cautious as the snow was deep and powdery, in short, perfect avalanche snow. After some decision making I take lead and start breaking trail up the gulley, it takes a lot of effort but we were making progress. A guide and his clients follow us up only to break off early or in fact in the correct place to join the boulder. He shouts to us “taking your gear for walk lads?” and we simply just shout back “making it a bit more fun!!!” we join the boulder at a point where it looks relatively easy ground and set up a belay. From there Dave leads the first pitch up some really hard terrain, jamming the axes and his crampons into any and every available crack he can find. It was a tough pitch which we graded around tech 4 and once he had battled up it, it was my turn. At this point the wind had picked up and I was getting hit by spindrift constantly and to a normal person they would just moan about it but I was loving it!!! Climbing in those conditions, having a proper adventure where death was always just around the corner, I was seriously enjoying myself. At the point of meeting Dave he took lead on the next pitch to get to a better position. This was easy walking with using axes for stability. The final pitch was led by me and was my first ever lead on a Scottish winter route, it also happened to be the crux on the normal route so I was stoked to give it a bloody nose, or get one. After making round the corner on some dicey moves I made it to the crux, a high ledge with no good foot placements or tool placements. At this point a guide who was also leading the same pitch as me had caught up, a very awesome and friendly guy we had a joke at the bottom of it and he let me have the first crack at it. For a while I was struggling, having to wedge my body into a crack then unlocking the secret to doing the crux, a butt jam! It’s a heroic position to be in, knowing if you fall you are taking one hell of a mighty fall. I managed to smash my axes into good ground and very undignifiably, pulled myself onto the summit. Standard moment of holding back a tear and screaming a mighty hoorah!!! It was an epic moment in time. The guide followed me up and congratulated each other on a gnarly route, we both set up anchor on this huge boulder and started pulling our partners up. At this point while bringing Dave up, I and the guide were just talking about the area and I was learning what I could from him. We spotted an avalanche in point 5 gulley and after having a proper scout to see that nobody had been caught in it carried on laughing and joking in the blizzard of wind and spindrift. Once Dave and the client had made it we decided to share an abseil back into the gulley and retreat route, me being the last off and just marvelling at the sheer terror this place had to offer. The descent was not a comforting graceful descent like everybody would love it to be, this is Scotland at winter and if you don’t have your guard to emotion up beyond that of a Spartan then I’m afraid you shouldn’t be there. Every step would be initially graced with powder shortly followed by an off angled boulder. By the time we got back my ankles were destroyed, back in the tent we celebrate with a bar of milky bar and a sip of jack then instantly go into rest mode for another day.

That night Scotland decided she was gunna be a bitch. Winds howling, tonnes of snow fall and my body hating every second of it. The storm kept on going until the late the following morning and when we eventually had to get out of the tent to piss the damage was pretty clear. The tent had been buried, most of the gear was coated in spindrift, our tracks from the previous day had gone and worst of all, nobody wanted to try anything due to avalanche fears. We chose to take this day as a rest day, hide in the tent and hope we don’t get too bored. To counterbalance boredom I took it upon myself to sort and improve the tents “structure”. By digging a trench around the sides and burying the edges of tent it prevented any more spindrift getting inside. I also moved rocks into place to strengthen up the stands and guide lines so snow wouldn’t build up on top like it had done. At midday I also decided to hike in solo to scout some of the conditions and lines, it was clear that nobody was trying any of the serious lines and very few were on the small less committing lines. The route we had in mind to do was a big one, called the northeast buttress it’s a long and committing buttress that takes you all the way to the summit and retreat would be far from simple. I hiked in to the point where you turn off for the gulley and thought that will do, had a look and before going too far and getting into trouble I turned back. Back at the tent I emailed my boss about a new job, there were jokes to be had, food to be eaten and preparation to be done. The night’s sleep was not a fitting one.

Next morning we chose to get up at 4am I think it was, either way it was bloody early and I was bloody freezing. We chose this morning to have mac and cheese for breakfast and ya know what? It’s bloody marvellous!! And it kicks porridge and muesli arse any day of the week!! The cold snap had come in overnight and we chose to go for it. At the CIC hut we met these 2 Scottish climbers. Both young and carrying pretty expensive equipment, we had a little chat with them while putting on our harnesses and racking up, they had met up in fort William at midnight and hiked up directly from there!!!! I mean bloody hell son, that’s commitment.  They were there to do point 5 gully. One of the guys said the weather window is good, clear day, no wind and cold weather, we were later to find he didn’t know what he was talking about and he nearly had a very bad accident. Both teams parted ways and we were off towards the buttress. It’s a harsh walk in, soft powder covering basically a scree field and my feet were destroyed. We took a while but we eventually made it to the start of the route where we noticed a few signs that tell us doing the route would be a bad idea. There was a lot of avalanche scars and the snow wasn’t frozen enough for our liking so after lot of yeah and no we chose to bail on the route and to get off the whole damn mountain, and truth be told it was the best decision we could have made. On the hike back to camp we had a heli rescue fly overhead which went into the point 5 gully area but was waved off and was gone in a flash. At camp we went straight into pack up and bugger off this god forsaken land and in a hurry mode. Like a pit crew we got all our gear packed up and started the long trudge back down to the car...2 hours away! Along the route Dave had naturally gone into speed hiker mode and me taking a more human speed to hiking with a super heavy pack which was killing my shoulders. At the point it was true murder I stopped when an elderly Scottish chap was walking his dog and taking a fitness hike himself. He stopped to have a chat and like everybody I’ve ever met in the mountains he was as friendly as if he were your granddad. His dog was also an awesome little pup that was shy and scared at first but we eventually became friends. At the troll fence I find Dave having a breather and calling his family just to let them know he is safe and well, and what our plans were. Shortly after the old man and dog turn up and we get a history lesson which reminds me when my granddad used to tell me stories which I loved and sadly miss after his passing.  The old timer then bids us farewell and we get our things together, just before we leave the 2 Scottish kids turn up and it turns out the heli was called for them. They tell us on point 5 the leader was on pitch 4 I think and as he hit his axe into the ice a massive flake that he had all his points of grip into (axes, crampons, and dear life) suddenly gave way and he took a 30m fall. The heli was called in by someone below and after they managed to retreat and send the heli off and walked out. He was lucky some gear held in otherwise there could have been a much worse situation at hand but we walk out with them and have a joke or 2 with them then they turn to take the long hike back to fort William direct. I wanted to offer them a lift but I had no space, instead I and Dave continue on. Back at the car and back into fort William we do what any smart young climber does after a terrible situation, go to McDonald’s!!! There we feast until our bodies can’t fit any more in and discuss our next move. We decided to go the northern cairngorms where the conditions were getting good over the next couple of days. Back in the car, a route set, we set off on the road to somewhere!!!

The route was full of incredible scenery, with masses of snow topped mountains and amazing forests, it all added to the reassurance that we made the right call. Passing several awesome little villages, lakes, forests and a castle which I agreed if ever I won the lottery I would buy Dave we made it to the Cairngorm mountain ski resort car park. We arrived really late and the wind was so strong we made an executive decision to screw the tent and stay in the car which to be honest, in comparison felt like staying in the Ritz. We waited until the last car had left the car park then broke out the stove. Cooking here is a logistical nightmare! All decent snow is at least an arctic blizzard away! Cooking outside is impossible (which I found out the hard way), cooking in a car is tough going and going out for a tinkle is more effort than the word effort itself!! Honestly peeing your pants was more appealing but still. We left the engine running until about 9 when we hit lights out and got some rest. The wind was so strong that night I was convinced it moved the car overnight and the following morning ice had built up on the passenger side of the car so everything had to come out of the driver door, even the boot wouldn’t open!

  The day started badly, with navigation issue and super strong wind it became a concern to stay warm and dry. It took about an hour to hike up to the crag and it was a marvel of a crag. The route we intended to climb was called fingers ridge. As the name states it’s a ridge that leads up the summit where the rock splits into two mini pillars. You could argue it was giving you the peace sign but in all honesty it was giving us the V’s and that just made us set on giving it the V’s! We made a swift pace on getting onto the face, soloing up the snow slope and getting to what we thought was the start of the route…yeah it wasn’t. It actually turned out we had started up the wrong route but instead of backtracking on ourselves we chose to turn it into a first ascent/variation. Dave led the first pitch to a good belay where I then took the lead on a frozen waterfall which was so cool! Tackling pure ice and popping the cherry on the new ice screw it became an incredibly fun climb. I led the rope to the next belay where we had the choice of a gully or going up a much more tougher mixed route, Dave being Dave, you guessed it, took the harder line up the mixed terrain which while leading it he nearly had a bad fall but managed to keep his head in the game. The rest of the route was traversing onto a ridge and summiting into the cairngorm plateau which a vast white wilderness of endless high winds and frostbite territory, probably the closest you can get to being in the arctic in this country, it looked stunning. We meet at the final belay and instantly make a B line for the descent. At this point it’s so cold my double layer of gloves have frozen solid and my clear lens eyewear was icing over a treat and my feet were feeling the strain. I had to take it a lot slower than normal and later worked out I had sprained my ankle. Taking a ridge back down into the valley we get a great view of the ski resort and the surrounding areas but my ankle was getting desperate. Limping for about an hour solid I had to first get Dave to lend me his shoulder to help me down a steep section then I took my crampon off and kept an axe to hand just in case I took a slide. It took some time but we eventually made it back to the car park where by luck the bar was still open so as men we dumped our gear and went straight for the bar, got a pint, a “mandwich” and with it being Scotland, they had homemade shortbread on sale, so I bought all of it! We used the time there to charge the phones and laptop and to have a look and see if we could work out what route we had done, still with no idea we carried on getting the grub down. Dave had a moment trying to work out the different recycling and waste bins and me just laughing point blank at him. We get informed the night was bringing in another sub chill and strong winds so we chose to spend our last day up there but instead of parking in the car park we went down the valley and parked in layby out of the wind but still on the mountain road. That night bought heavy snow in the valley, the wind was a lot calmer and temperature was manageable but still a cold night of sleep.

Sleeping in that layby was arguably a bad call, the following morning the snow had come down so heavy the road was impassable. We watched a plough and gritter came past about 3 times and thought we would give the road a crack but about a mile in the car wouldn’t make it any further. We crashed into a ditch and after a lot of drifting and wheel spinning we made the call to bail on trying to get back up there. On the turn around the car was an over steering nightmare, drifting round every micro corner and such it became a mission not to fall off the side of a cliff! When we eventually got to the bottom of the road (which had been closed off by the police) we had to get someone to open the gate for us. We had a chat with a few of the cars waiting to get up there and explained you needed 4 wheel drive to even consider the opportunity to get up it and then made the call to end the trip.

In fairness we ended it on a high, potentially putting a new route, climbing some fun stuff, having an adventure which will probably stick with us for the rest of our lives and I’ll probably bore my grandchildren with and probably the most important bit of knowledge anybody can ever have doing anything, risk assessment. Its better being able to walk away and try another time then to make a bad call and maybe never walk again. I’m pretty sure some smart explorer has said this before but I’m claiming it as my own. The fact we chose to end it there was the best call and judging by what was to follow in the press with the deaths of the 4 and the solo climber on the Ben it was clear Scottish winter wasn’t settled at all. Driving back we stopped for fuel and copies of zoo and nuts and powered south, only to be greeted at the border by endless traffic and a blizzard that engulfed pretty much all of England. Trying to navigate through this I opted to say sod it and drive all the way to Bournemouth and that wasn’t easy. I got Dave back to his family and instantly called shotgun on the shower! He on the other hand had crashed out so I decided to head back out into the blizzard and try to get home. By this stage I had already covered about 500miles in a day and exhaustion had taken me so I did what all smart people do, check their phonebook and see who’s local, luckily for me Beth was in Southampton so I called her and got a sofa for the night. The following day I got my boots back on and got back to hometown, took myself straight to minor injuries to have my shoulder looked at. I was told I had stretched my tendons and my ball joint on the shoulder was swelled. Figures, another injury to add the wall! Next was work to check in and pick up my hours, my boss Skye was the first to see me, limping and in haggard form it takes a while for her to actually get a grip on a conversation (bitch) but as things go she later organised physio sessions for me through work which was nice I suppose (and considering they told me it was 10mm displaced that was probably the nicest thing she ever did for me).

Now I leave this piece with some news, as it is clear to me that this is not the end until family, kids or death takes me. In the summer of 2013 there will be another adventure and granted we get the weather window, Chamonix watch out! The Walker Spur, we’re coming for you.

Peace out x

From my 2012 expedition to the Swiss Alps

From the Alps, as it kinda happens

            3 months ago when 3 guys were sat around a bar after an indoor climbing session were talking about doing something epic this summer. There were many ideas bought to the table. We had the maps out. We were throwing our interests out there and trying to put together something that would be feasible to do in a respectful budget and when we said for the summer it officially gave us no time to put it together/train/ get the beers in that kinda thing. In the end we agreed on a climbing trip in the Alps. We agreed that it had to be a respectful objective within our grade and something we could all come home alive from. In the end we chose Switzerland as our playground for 2 weeks with an ideal target of being able to climb some big impressive mountains doing it all in alpine style and making it an adventure to stick in memory for a good time if not all of time.

            Now unfortunately with all great ideas when they turn into plans something has to go wrong and unfortunate to say but we lost our 3^rd guy due to time constraints. But with 2 of us ready to give the mountains hell we quickly put together a plan and got working on prepping for the big trip, myself and my good friend and fellow climber David started putting objectives and logistics together for the trip. We agreed for the 1^st time in our 3 year partnership as alpine climbers we would drive down to the alps whereas in year 1 I flew in to meet him and year 2 (the failure year) we hooked up a bus to Geneva and a taxi service to Chamonix (may I recommend that nobody in their right mind never use Eurolines as a means of transport across Europe. Being in a cattle transport is by far more comfortable, reputable and oh yeah, better!). We also set a plan in place that technically wasn’t a plan. We agreed to leave it to the last minute to commit to the trip as with the last year mother nature got all pissy and decided to shut down the mountains for the duration of our trip thereby causing us to bail and put some summits and routes on hold until the next time. Our game plan was either drive to Switzerland if the weather was going to play or if Mother Nature thought we needed another year away from the mountains we would go for a road trip around the UK climbing new areas and testing our trad climbing abilities. On Wednesday the 1^st August we made the call to drive out to Swiss and take on the big mountains once more.

            On Friday the 3^rd August, just after I finished work and set off for the coast to pick up Dave. We settled down, sorted out gear, maps, route to Saas-fee and had dinner with the family. Around 8pm we set off for Dover where our ferry awaited. We were supposed to get a 1am ferry but to our surprise we were offered an earlier ferry which of course we accepted. The first thing we hunted for once onboard was somewhere to rest but with all ferries as soon as people park they run for the nearest seat and as things go, we found 2 chairs in the family area to rest……….kinda. Driving from Calais didn’t go as all to plan. As we had planned to avoid all forms of toll charges our route sent us through Belgium and Luxemburg before taking us into Switzerland. At the border we had an epic problem. The border had no guards and nowhere to buy swiss road tax. This didn’t bother me so much but Dave was insistent that we find somewhere to buy some. So we stopped in the first town, nothing. We stopped at a tourist information, nothing. We spent hours hunting from town to town until we stopped in a city called Spiel where we dumped the car in an underground and went running round the city in search. It was after I stopped a random and asked he gave me the exact answer we needed. A quick sprint to the post office or “post” next to the train station and problem solved! Now back to the road we made up for lost time. As we passed south through the country we saw from a distance the iconic and impressive north face of the Eiger, a mountain I one day hope to climb. We used this underground car transport that looked like it was from the mining era. So sketchy a rickety I did wonder whether we’d die on the track. Shortly after it darted us through the mountains we arrived in Visp, I class it as that town in the middle before you reach the big old mountains. I can’t remember much about Visp, except for the call made on a girl passing by. I classed as too young but Dave said yeah to her. Moving on, we pushed on into the mountains, stopping off at a petrol station for fuel. There was jaeger on sale there but I refrained out of principle.” I may collect it on the way back who knows” I thought to myself. When we eventually made it to saas our instant hunt was for a camp, or parking, or somewhere to ditch the car. We found a campsite called Mischabel at the end of Saas Grund. Relatively cheap and we were given citizen cards during our stay. This gave us free use of all the lifts, cable cars, buses and trains in the valley. To anyone wanting to get into the mountains, this is a gift from the gods! It certainly saved our arses from 8 to 10 hour approaches to find a base camp let alone start the climb. It was a relief to finally be here. Mountains all around, the scene was set for an awesome adventure.

            We knew that the first couple of days in the valley were gunna be bad weather days. So to help with acclimatising we went up on the Sunday up the lifts to just over 3000m. It was wet and windy but we got a lot done for such poor conditions. We scouted our route up the Lagginhorn which earlier this year made news when 5 German climbers got blown off the ridge but as unfortunate reminders of how dangerous our passion can be it doesn’t hinder us from our goals. The face of this mountain surpasses everything in the area. As you take the lift up it just has a presence that dominates everything around. It definitely inspired me to give it a bloody nose. The next day we moved into position for a summit push, again the weather was windy and wet. During a brief spell we found a bivvy site next to a river and set up camp. Our rest seemed fitful for the challenge at hand early the following morning.

            Early the next day, like real early, around 12.30am we woke to a disgusting breakfast of porridge and just porridge, urgh to porridge period. Getting ourselves ready is a cold challenge, with the gear you need and the mental game you have to be in getting yourself out of a sleeping bag is enough to make an Olympian weep. Then there’s the matter of getting out of the tent. When sleeping is all you want to be doing (by nature) getting yourself to hike up some unknown terrain in pitch black with nothing more than a head torch to aid your way is not really any normal persons cup of tea. The murrain trek up was an interesting piece of work. We managed to get lost en route thinking we had made it to the glacier crossing and all we really had found was a small snow patch in a bowl of rocks. We quickly realised this and instead of putting the crampons and axes away they were simply clipped to our harnesses and we carried on up being stabbed every few paces. When we eventually met the glacier it was a gentle and somewhat agonising hike across on the feet. Me still not having a good sock and boot combination my feet were rubbing terribly! I could feel blisters forming, and bruising occurring all over and all I could do was just carry on. We eventually made it to the rock ridge where I could find a brief release from the pain of having your ankle wrenched every time you take a bad step on the ice but with climbing, rest never lasts long.

            As we started blasting up the ridge we were slowly feeling the effects of altitude sickness. Where this was a physically demanding route of scrambling round and over rocks at a respectful angle we were both struggling for air. I was trying to suck in as much as I could. Moving one leg in front of the other, it became a monumental task. Like going for that epic amount of effort people do, over and over again for hours on end. It was unrelenting and soul destroying almost. We made it past the “easy” rock section in good time, pushing on and pushing each other. We made it to the upper ice and rock section. We decided to try and follow the rock lines to avoid more time wasting putting crampons back on. This became precarious in some areas but by this time the sun had started rising to route finding became less of a challenge. We raced for the summit as both our conditions were slowly deteriorating as clearly we were not acclimatised for the mountain. The summit itself is quite a small rocky area with 2 bits of scaffolding welded together to form a cross (not the most dignified way to display belief in my view). Dave was the first to make it up and with an almighty roar he yelled out “YES!!!” I on the other hand was a bit more toned down. Stoked to have made it but I think the altitude had taken away part of the flame that is the ascent. We got photos done and bailed out sharpish to some cover below on the east face. The wind was howling and while trying to catch my breath and get some food and water down me I was slowly passing out, wanting to sleep and really having to battle it. We in a very sharpish manner cramponned up and started down-climbing the fastest route we could see. As we descended the snow beneath our feet was nothing more than inch thick and under it was bullet ice which as much as you try, your tools will never go into it. I had some close calls and had to descend in a way that would see someone descending an 8000m icefield, using nothing more than my axe and my toe-points on my crampons, desperately trying to bury them in the ice we eventually made it down to clean and easy rock.

            Our ascent of this mountain seemed somewhat quiet. As we were the only ones on it during such perfect conditions it seemed suspicious that nobody was attempting it then just as we made it down to the lower part of the rock we bumped into our first party, then our second and third and fourth. This was about 7am at this time and they were still 2 hours minimum from the summit. This baffled us massively because a rule of thumb with high alpine climbing is being slick and fast, bagging the summit at sunrise and being off and out of the danger zone (crevasses field, bergschrund, cornices) before the sun has time to turn them into death traps. By the time we had got back to the start of the glacier we had passed well into the double figures of parties and they were still coming!! The only thing going through my head was what the actual fuck? I spoke to one of the last guys to come off the glacier and he didn’t really give a good enough reason behind it so as people do I just said good luck to em and got my arse out of there. Back at the tent we could see people summiting and few coming back on the glacier pass that goes directly under the west face. It all seemed very worrying, we knew the ice conditions up top were only getting worse and with that mountains reputation I could only fear for the guys and girls up there. Thankfully parties were coming down but avoiding the west face, taking the ridge all the way down past our camp. We can only hope that all parties chose this route or the south ridge. The sun was hot that day so the snow and ice would be an instant slush and avalanche hell.

            Our descent back to the lift station was fitful. With full packs and a sense of success under our belts (the first in 2 years!!!!!!) we were craving more. A long hike back to the campsite and a victory baguette later we were doing our post-ups to inform the world of our success. Me over Facebook and Dave over his blog as Facebook isn’t his thing apparently. We had chosen a new objective on the other side of the valley. A mountain called the Alallinhorn. It’s another 4000m summit and we wanted to test ourselves with another big ass mountain and see how we faired up there. We had 2 choices for the route. There was the simple snow plod from a lift station up some summer ski piste to the summit which seemed excessively tourist and boring or the alpine style from a very wild location with massive objective danger and included a fun rock climb before the summit. We naturally went for the adventure (of course).

            The next day we packed up from the campsite and moved our arses up the valley to saas fee where like everywhere we had been to for some reason was full of Jews! We pondered this and figured out they were using the “bergerpass” which for 3CHF a day gives you free use of the lifts in the sas fe valley. We were also doing this but there were so many Jews I couldn’t help but make a reference to Hitler and clearly this was what was missing in his plans back in the 40’s( I don’t actually mean this, Jews have equal rights to us but for the love of god don’t hog the fucking lifts you dim-witted fucks!) . We got the lifts up to 3000m or about and noticed we were famished. Dave kindly bought us burgers as the food we were carrying had to last us 2 or 3 days. At the top station we had timed it wrong with all the skiers coming off the glacier and the amount of skiers just blocking us really helped my hatred towards the breed of fairy booters!! We made it out eventually and got ourselves onto the pass heading for our intended camp. The guide book classed it as “the most depressing walk in the Alps”. With only 39m of height gain we thought hell with it how hard can it be? Those words will haunt me for all of time. The route started with a super dangerous snow pass. The route was slushy and above there was a rock and ice face just releasing boulders as and when it pleased. And what scares me is people with barely any sense with kids were walking up there!! Myself and Dave just agreed not to rope up and gun it. With heads pointed at the face and ears tuned in to the sound of crashing rock and ice we blasted across only having to dodge 3 rocks in total. Round the corner however showed us we were far from done. From where we were standing we could see the hut that we would hopefully find a camp nearby. Between us and it there was what can only be described and walking through the bowels of hell itself. With no real route set through you had to hop through boulders, ford streams of ice and water and cross dangerous high angled snowfields. For a good couple of hours we spent working our way through this getting heavily drained and route finding was a bitch. There was another pair of hill walkers that chose to turn back (smart) because it was getting quite hairy in places. The further we went the less and less markers we saw. We eventually made it to the base of hut where we noticed a lower much easier path snaked its way through the valley below. We agreed this was going to be used on the retreat out (heavily annoyed we never noticed it to begin with, cunt). After cresting the ridge of the hut we dumped bags to scout the area to only find our hope of a bivvy spot near the hut was non-existent. There was no water supply and nowhere safe to put up the tent. In an effort of hope we pushed on up the glacier in hope we would find something. Apart from mountain goats kicking rocks at us we didn’t find much. Where the path meets the start of the rock field and glacier we met 2 British climbers, back from scouting a route up the Strahlhorn they mentioned a tent further up the rock field. We instantly went up and found the area. Not exactly the best spot we’ve ever pitched. The ground was constantly shifting, constant sound of something crashing or crumbling and no flat area to get the tent up so we still put it up anyway.

            With the tent in the safest place we could find we first went in hunt for water. The glacier was not far from the tent. The challenge was finding a stream runoff that didn’t fill our bottles with debris which in most cases, there was a lot of, but hey at least we found water. That night after plastering up, causing an epic fail while cooking (knocked over the water as it was boiling, no food was ruined but fail either way), reading books and scouting the route we settled down for the night, or at least attempted to. The glacier was constantly shifting through the night causing many boulders to move, crevasses to open and a lot of concern for what might roll down in the night and crush us, luckily that never happened. We “woke” at around 2am to another epic crap porridge breakfast and got ourselves under way. The glacier crossing was full of crevasses and navigating through them was a bitch. The next fun stage was a steep icy face that was painful on the old feet. We blasted up this section knowing when the sun hit it would turn everything we were climbing into shit. The next stage was a fun little 15m rock climb, nothing hard in the grade, just fun to do at altitude with an incredibly fun committing move that really got our hearts racing. The final stage was a ridge plod which I led to the summit which was a pretty decent cross cemented into the rock summit which we both climbed up onto to claim the mountain!! Photos were taken and we got our first look at all the mountains in the Zermatt range including the rather captivating Matterhorn. Such a pretty and scary looking big bit of rock that I have been obsessing over for months, it looked marvellous to say the least.

            The descent was somewhat of a tough decision, we knew that backtracking and descending the ascent route would be difficult with the ice faces turning to slush and the crevasse field would be on the move making a retrace impossible. Or there was the normal route, which is done in an hour from the top station but that meant doing a gigantic monumental traverse of mountain range and go back to the “fun” route we hated taking the previous day. We chose to suck it up and take the normal route. We made it down to the ski piste before actually seeing any other climbers which again was confusing but saying that it was becoming clearer that late summits were the thing to do around those parts. We played the game of roulette and darted across the piste dodging skiers and made it to the top station. To our surprise it was an underground train that tunnelled into the range and not your typical cable car. Despite being freezing and having no chairs it was a good site to see, and the floor seemed adequate. The next stage was to get ourselves back to camp, a good hour away. We chose to make a gear stash at the lift station and went with 1 empty pack and set about making the fastest trek across and back to the tent anybody had ever made, and we did not disappoint. With heavy chests and beaten lungs we blasted down the lower stages of the pass and did not stop until we got to the tent. There we gave ourselves 5, restocked on chilled glacier brew and got straight back to packing the camp up and hauling arse back to the station. We turned the return journey into 3 stages and between me and Dave we shared the load. Me holding the 1^st and 3^rd haul and Dave on the 2^nd so he could get back to his pack while I contended with the snow face. The return journey again took us just under an hour and definitely exhausted us. Back at the station we had a couple “interesting” scenarios. We witnessed a father and his very young son walking across the snow debris face (thankfully they made it across, no harm), we witnessed some Jews with no mountain experience or correct footwear or anything attempt it (rage for incompetence) and not get far and we were asked by an elderly British couple about the condition of the route. They were experienced walkers and had mentioned they had done the route before but were concerned due to the closed and danger sign and I don’t blame them. I advised the snow was ok but partially slushy and that past the snow face it was easy stable safe ground. I warned them that it’s still a potential danger with rock-fall and just to keep their wits about them and keep their eyes and ears open, they chose to do the route. I felt I had been responsible for those guys and feeling the weight I chose to wait and make sure they made it across the face before I moved on. That was a long hour of my life. They made it across with no rockfall or snowdrifts but saying the what if factor I had that on my conscience, it was my duty to make sure they got across ok.

            The next epic part of the descent involved the lifts. With all the snow turning to shit it was time for the skiers to arrive in their masses and turn the cable car system into a cattle market. With no concept of cueing it turned into a strong current of midgets and skies dragging myself and Dave around. We forced ourselves into a bubble and were instantly being slashed by skies and stabbed by poles. I’m pretty sure this was Dave’s version of hell and after taking 3 hits to the face by the same set of skies I wasn’t having a splendid time either. My axe was to hand and if I’m honest the idea of a cull did cross my mind but 10minutes down you make a change to another cable car. We took this opportunity to avoid getting in the same lift. The next wasn’t so bad, a few tourists and a few snowboarders, and a dog. We managed seats on this one thankfully and another 10 minutes of moderate comfort later we were back in the valley of sas fe. To the bus depot we trekked, which felt like a marathon. Uphill all the way and with no shops open due to lunch laws (bastards) we walked, empty stomachs and full heavy packs we walked. The bus was an hour wait, which inside the waiting area we slept and hogged a lot of the benches. When the bus finally arrived, again the Swiss and the art of cueing, something that needs to be addressed with local law enforcements and should be dealt with in their normal manner, by being shot at dawn! Was living up to its normal fashion. We battled again jumping over a midget and clouting countless others with the rope and packs to eventually get a seat. Once back in Grund it was a normal case of hiking back up to the campsite but before all that it had passed 2pm, which meant shops were open again! I opted to utilise this by buying 2 baguettes, shit loads of meat and cheese. Back at the site we feasted like kings until our stomachs could take no more. My belly was more full then it had been even prior to the trip and despite having to force the last of the baguette down me it felt worth it. Later that night I had my first shower of the trip. Despite only using water and old clothes to dry myself it felt good just to wash off the blood and dirt from my beaten body. That night we were introduced to our “traditional” creep of the trip. Where last year we met a deranged American who for some reason had to get into Switzerland without being stopped at the border and loved to show off his prison tags which  later stole some money from some people staying in the hostel and bailed into the mountains via a route we had advised him……..woops. The new chap was an elderly British fellow. Very well spoken and with an almost eccentric accent he was reeling off tale after tale of climbing all the back to the 70s and 80s and guiding and being guided up such things like the north face of the Matterhorn. He also told us of many deaths due to climbs in sas and Chamonix. We believed he was out looking for climbing partners to go tackle some routes in the area, thinking smart we chose to remain a disclosed party.

            The following morning we had to choose one more route in the sas valley to get full use out of our free lift passes so while looking around the area it had occurred to us that the north ridge of the Weismies seemed to offer that inspiring challenge. Harder than anything we had thrown ourselves up against before it consists of moderate grade level climbing up and over a long exposed ridge and a snow ridge top out to the summit. All at high altitude, seemed like the perfect gig so we set about getting ourselves up there and by mid-afternoon we were well and truly established under the north ridge, just off a tourist trail by what I officially claimed as Heart Lake. There we established a camp, got some food on and spent time working out where certain points matched up with what was in our guide book. We chose to also scout up the start of the route. An area called the Lagginjoch was where our route started and to get to it you had to follow a ridge scramble on uneasy ground, traverse a glacier and work through a scree field, how hard can that be? We worked the ridge, made it to the glacier and thought ok no biggy. Our mistake was not to go onto the glacier for what we considered to be an easy trek across would later turn into a test of courage and taking a risky gamble. That night we listened to the sound of thunderous avalanches and high winds and hunkered down in our tent, I did not have a good sleep.

            3am came about all too quick. Breakfast sucked arse but hey, at least this time we had a chocolate bar to go with it! Then came the gruelling routine of getting our gear on. In a tent no bigger than a fully grown fat man we got all our kit on including harnesses which even (I reckon) a professional gymnast would struggle doing! We stepped out into a cold dark place. I drained the snake and we got moving up the ridge. On the way we passed many monuments of the mountains around the area. When I passed one it caught me by surprised and after a good 30 second stare I was pretty certain I was staring at the grim reaper! This shifted my confidents somewhat and began the mind war that I was slowly loosing and believing I had death breathing down my neck, it was only going to get worse. We made it up the ridge and onto the glacier where again, it started getting worse. We traversed over to what we thought was a scree field, oo no it wasn’t. It actually turned out to be a giant pillar and with no real markings on the map we were lost. We retraced our steps and tried again lower, and then higher but we were losing valuable time and had no idea what was going on. We made the call to turn back which was a major blow but with the sense of death on my case it was quite comforting turning away. We made it back to the ridge and began the argument of whether we should go have another crack at it. Me being against it and Dave being for it, it wasn’t a fun hour. I eventually said fuck it and was totally not up for but still re-racked up. By this time 2 more parties had showed up and sunlight was starting to touch the valley so we went up for round whatever the hell it was. We followed the parties through a weak point in the pillar and carried on to the Lagginjoch. On route both my crampons fell off and my toes had gone past the point of bearable pain. We parted ways at the joch and started working up the ridge of never ending pinnacles and my lord what a tiring vendetta that was. All the effort I put into keeping myself moving had made the fear of death pass on and I started enjoying the route. With fun slab style climbing and some tricky sections which when you are wearing normal rock climbing shoes would be classed as a doddle. We chose on the other hand to not bother with them and were climbing in our big ass boots which made hunting for foot holds “interesting”. The pinnacles then led us to the crux pitch. Named the “Grand dhala” it was 10m of good fun and tricky climbing. Dave led the pitch, French freeing the route along with me doing the same, grabbing anything I could and even standing on a giant stake we clipped. It was a fun test at altitude.

            Onwards and upwards we continued passing countless pinnacles which seemed to go on for hours. We stopped about 3 hours into the ridge to stop for water and let a team of 3 overtake us. At this point the fun of climbing had caught up with me again. With the sun up and my camera out we just enjoyed the moment saying screw it if we were supposed to be at the summit 2 hours ago. The camera only lasted a minute though before it froze in the wind so we agreed to keep moving. We powered on all the way, sacrificing one piece of gear on an abseil until we caught the team of 3 at the end of the pinnacles. We were greeted with a “well done” and joking over my response of “we finally fucking made it!! Fuck you pinnacles!!!” we had a good laugh before then parting ways again. Me and Dave choosing to catch our breath while the swiss guys cracked on bagging the summit. Another party caught up with us just before we set off for the summit. It was a couple in their 60s doing the same route as us but with a different descent.  We spent a good 10 minutes talking to these guys and finally learnt to the reasoning behind the late starts. Apparently swiss mountaineers are more laid back than normal swiss people and therefore don’t worry so much. Fair enough, it made my mind feel a bit more at ease. And considering he mentioned doing many difficult routes including the north face of the Matterhorn in his 30s we were not exactly going to discard such information. We parted ways and pushed up the snow ridge. Seeing an obvious cornice (or better described as a snow wave) that the wind and sun were carving into the east face we tread carefully, checking every step with an axe. This didn’t stop both of us putting a leg through it in different spots. Making it past that I was given the lead up the last steep mound of ice which led to graceful snow summit. We made it here just before 1pm and to describe my emotions as totally anti from that morning would be an understatement. I was on my knees air guitaring my axe and was back to being honoured to have done such a route. Despite it being the toughest route we had ever done we had made it. This was a moment to get the photos done and congratulate each other. From the previous year we met a group of Australian climbers called Brendon and Steve and although our trip to the Alps had proved fruitless they managed a weather window to climb Mont Blanc. In their summit photo Brendon was captured rocking out the air guitar. I only thought it would be honourable to do one also. Inspired by the man himself let’s hope the future sees more climbs with them.

            With time and conditions totally being against us and knowing we had only fought half the battle we decided time to haul arse and get out of there. I led the descent and kept a strong fast pace to avoid any chance of being the next statistic. Dodging crevasses and blasting through the slush we made it to a relative safe point. There we ditched the jackets and cracked on to the section we were both worried on. Crossing snow bridges, bergshrund’s and putting ourselves in the path of a potential death wish of a face. We approached these with caution and made it with without a scratch. From there it was a blast down a debris and ice boulder field and a quick nav through a multitude of big crevasses and then home free. Total time on the decent route was just under an hour, well in the guide time. 10 minutes spent catching our breath and packing up our gear and we were back to trekking back to camp. There we made pasta and were rather rudely documented by passers by. Apparently mountain climbers are a rugged rare breed that society doesn’t understand. So that gives them the right to interrupt my lunch and take photos, hmmmmm. This over we cracked lunch in and got camp packed up and bailed out of there. The first cable car origionally just had us in there but out of nowhere a mass of people decided they were gunna jump in to. This displeased us so in my moment of rebellionism I lifted my arms and made everyone suffer the smell of a climber that hasn’t properly washed for a while. Pretty sure they got the message because the next cable car we only had a few in and actual space.

            Back down in the valley we treated ourselves to baguettes and even Dave nailed a carton of iced tea! To put it lightly we felt on top of the world, next stop Matterhorn or so we thought. It was all about to go horribly wrong.

            Back at the campsite we asked to check our bill for the week and it came with an epic blow, like a girlfriend telling you you’re dumped because you’re not good enough. The final bill came to 180CF!!, 100 more than we had anticipated!! This totally wiped me out and put all plans of going to Zermatt out of the window. This put Dave in the foulest mood I have ever witnessed from him. There was nothing for it, I was going home and with Dave’s friend Jordan coming out at the end of the following week it left him with a predicament. His choices were either come back with me and fly out the next week or rough it out living in the hills for a week and maybe solo something. He chose to come back with me, mind you he didn’t speak to me at all. I used the last couple hours in the camp site to charge everything I had and try to memorise the drive home which was looking more and more of a challenge, we had booked a ferry for the Monday morning at 4am so that gave us Saturday night and Sunday to get there.  To “save” money I chose to drive east, up and over the Grindlewold pass, avoiding the cost of using the Visp to Kandersteg car train. So silently bidding farewell to the valley we drove north towards home.

            The first 50miles or so were pretty simple, I knew I was aiming for a place called Oberwold where I would then turn off and head up onto the Grindlewold pass. In the daylight this would have been a piece of cake however it was dark, I had no co-driver as Dave had placed himself in the corner and was just doing his sulk thing and I had no map. I had no choice but to power up my phone and turn on my data roaming, one thing I did not want to do, period. It turned out to be a life saver and I made every turn correct but I had spent nearly £40 on just checking the map every now and again. So yes I made it back but at a cost. I kept driving throughout the night making it up to the pass. By far one the most fun roads to drive on I was blasting the alpine roads and enjoying every moment. Every moment until someone crashed into me! On a straight just outside a little village a driver coming the opposite way decided in either his drunken or tired state to come onto my side and took off my passenger mirror. I stopped along with a Porsche behind me but clearly this Swiss dick had not noticed and carried on. Another £50 to add to the  costs, thanks jerk!  Off the pass eventually we started travelling back west towards the capital of Bern. To take my mind off the mirror I took the scenic route through a town where the road followed the curve of a lake. With the lights of the city it looked stunning and bought back my calm. Through this town I’m pretty sure I set off a traffic or speed camera but saying that I haven’t received anything yet so I’m not gunna worry about that yet. At around 200miles into the journey I chose to pull over in a rest stop and sleep the rest of the night. Must have been around 3am and I knew Dave wasn’t going to be much help as he still wasn’t talking to me.

            At 6am I said screw it as I wasn’t actually sleeping so I carried on with the drive. Heading north just before Basil we stopped for fuel. At this point Dave finally spoke. As we were driving past 2 female hitch hikers aiming for Germany I think, one was quite petit and not too bad, the other can only be described as a whale and going on the top gear rule of fuel economy I suggested we take the slim one and leave the fat one behind, nothing like a good joke to bring it back. he apologised for the lack of chatting and explained that as climbing is the only thing in his life and something prevents him from doing it (for example, my finances) then it becomes like a global disaster to him. He was just trying to come to terms with that, still not 100% but hey he broke out a truce pain au chocolat and we cracked on. The next few hundred miles were a bit more enjoyable. We spotted 2 (YES 2!!!) Dacia Sandero’s and even an off-road version! Totally blew our minds away. There was also some funky radio stations being played. Outside Luxembourg however the reality of driving caught up with us. A car ahead of us had exploded and engulfed itself into flame. Luckily fire crews were pretty sharpish and by the time we passed it there were no casualties but it did mean having to drive pretty close, luckily it was on the passenger side so I had lost care for that side of the car.

 Onwards into Belgium the roads changed again, more shit now and holes and bumps to dodge. We stopped just before the border with France to catch another break. Here I finally changed out of my climbing gear. And actually put some real clothes on! We also had one of typical film moments. Next to us there was a van parked up. the driver casually got in, started driving off. I don’t think he noticed but his back door was open, and on top of the washing machine or whatever it was there was a cat in a cage. Me and Dave looked at the cat, then each other, then the cat again. “Should we have said something?” “Nah man, cats got 9 lives innit”. We never saw a cage on the side of the road so clearly it was fine. Back to the road we pushed on for Dunkirk and by 7pm on Sunday we made it.

Now with all ferries if you arrive early chances are if they’re feeling generous they tend to let you on at no extra cost, I guess we caught them at a bad moment. They offered an earlier ferry for an extra cost of 60euros, I kindly declined. To pass 9 hours we cleared the car and tidily packed everything, cooked dinner of pasta and chocolate and I even started writing this piece. Around 11pm I chose to throw in the towel and get some rest. Before long it was 2am and we were checking in to the ferry. With 2 hours still before departure we stretched our legs and put the last of our change together to buy a bag of crisps between us. When the call came out we were back out sharpish and started boarding. Making it to the front of the ferry and in good position to blast off the second we landed back in blighty. On board I hunted for a power socket and good seats. By chance I found both! Dave picked up a couple teas and with the advantages of WIFI I got online to post out I was coming home early, and have my first proper chance to go through my photos of the trip which bar my noob mistakes some of the panoramic I thought I did rather well. Again I continued with the type up and looked forward to the comforts that awaited me back home. Another 200miles down the road and back home, thankful to be home but with the hunger of not completing the Matterhorn I guess it’s a project yet to be completed. With 3 4000m summits completed in a week I classed the week as a success. As much as the Matterhorn never came to be on this trip and I’m not totally satisfied it’s not the end of the world. As quoted from Travis Rice, something’s got to leave you hungry for the next time. Knowing me this isn’t going to be my last time in the mountains. Yeah it was tough going, I technically danced with death and gave it a good few opportunities but at the end of the day if I want authenticity I have to initiate it. Till next time fuckers.