WEST FACE OF AONOCH MOR and CARN EALASAID - 3rd/4th April '10

Andy was working this weekend and I was keen to go out and climb an established route, particularly keen to do either Central Buttress on Lochnagar or Pinnacle Gully 1.  That wasn't to be though as I couldn't find a partner for the East coast, bar a timewaster.
I did manage to get in touch with a guy called Eugine that I'd met a couple of times via other folk, and who I'd meant to climb with before now, so that was nice to finally meet up for a route.
Euge was climbing on the Ben on Sunday so was keen to do something in the West.  A quick phone call to friend Jamie http://www.ice-factor.co.uk/instructors/jamie-bankhead.html and we made the decision to give Glencoe a miss and head up to the West face of Aonach Mor, meeting at the car park at 9am.
Driving up in the morning, it rained pretty much the whole of the way up the A9 and across Laggan and I was highly dubious, it seemed so mild.  Another wash out of a day?  However, the rain had pretty much stopped by the time I arrived at the carpark and by the time Euge arrived and we were organised, it was around 10am and had cleared up nicely.  We were now faced with the problem that it was late in the day, would we make the last gondola back down the hill, or have to do the 'walk of shame?'  The woman at the ticket office said the last ride down was at 5.30pm whereas the board at the top station said 5pm.

Dropping down from the Col at Meal Beag there was a bit of a cornice which was completely unexpected!  Someone had dug a trench through however, so we just downclimbed that.  It was only a wee step or two but whoever had dug it must have had longer legs than me.  I lowered myself onto the first foothold fine, but the 2nd foothold was really far down and that left my other leg really high up and wedged in.  So wedged in that I couldn't remove it!  I was stuck!  I had to step back up again and get Euge to come up and point up some intermediate foot holds.  I couldn't kick in as it was too bulgy but eventually I made it.  Bit mental for what should have been a simple wee downstep!
The walk in to the West face seemed to take hardly any time at all and before long we were faced with the decision as to which route was which in the swirling mist.  The ribs here are notoriously hard to pick out in anything but clear weather but as we made our way up to where we knew the routes to be, opposite to the NE ridge of Carn Dearg Meadhonach, and sat up in a little bay, we determined the line of Western Rib, which was the route we wanted.  We'd both done Golden Oldie previously and Western Rib was meant to be slightly harder and a *** route.  We soloed up the easy grade I flanks of the route right up to the start of the first steepening.  There was a wee ice bit on the flanks which Euge had a play on, but I chose to go up a turfy groove to the side of it thanks.  There was still a bit of ice about in the gullys to the left of the ribs which was quite surprising.  What it's quality was like I can't attest to however.
Euge and I roped up at the steepening, Euge taking the gear first and setting off with about 15m or rope between us.  We seemed to move quite fast as a pair which was ideal and there were plenty of blocks and cracks to keep 2 or 3 bits of gear between us.  The first steps were fun, with a few grade III moves but nothing too taxing and there was a really funky wee chimney near the top of the step.  I thought it looked hard and bulgy but right at the top of the snowy groove inside the chimney was a big foothold, then another big foothold on the sidewall, followed by loads of glorious frozen turf over the bulge.  Nice!  Euge had run out of gear so it was my turn to go in front.  The route above was easy going, snowy ramps and blocks took me to more easy ground but I'd run out of slings.  I asked Euge if he wanted to solo but we decided to keep the rope on and just weave it round blocks, either of us jumping off the other side of the ridge if the other were to fall.
I was really glad I'd kept the rope on however, as the easy ground took us to a narrowing of the rib.  It was so narrow that in 3 seperate places I had to sit on a snowy arete, leg dangling either side and bum shuffle along au cheval.  That was hard work!  In other places I had to decide which side of the sharp snow looked more inviting to side step across and at other places I had to perch myself across and over narrow blocks.  At one point I was faced with a downclimb.  Eeek!  I hate downclimbing!  It was much easier than it looked thankfully.  There was a small block on the top and I flung my extendable quickdraw around that.  Then I cleared snow away down below and unburried a nice ledge for a foot.  I dropped an axe and used the upper block as a hand hold and lowered myself down onto the small ledge.  There was a gap at the bottom of the downclimb that was filled with snow.  As I cleared that snow away, there was nothing but more snow beneath.  Hmmmm.  If I stood onto this snow, was it going to collapse underneath me and send me plummiting down into the gully below.  Well, not quite as I had that sling as gear above me.  I gently lowered myself onto the snow and kicked in my foot, solid, phew!  I then traversed around a couple of blocks and onto another snow arete.  I could climb this one by a foot either side but dug into the snow and axes plunged in either side.
By this point I was boiling!  There wasn't a breath of wind and I had my big hard shell jacket on and my thermals!  Total overkill.  I hadn't drank or eaten anything since we geared up and my belly was grumbling furiously and I was really dehydrated.  I kept rubbing snow into my face to cool down and shoving a hard block of it into my mouth to sook on.  The ground got easier again near to the top and I felt twinges in my knee, rats!  My neck had been really sore earlier on, with the bandolier of gear really digging in and causing horrible muscle spasms.  Thankfully, having to concentrate on those narrowings so much made me forget about the pain.  But coming to the easier ground brought it all back.  I was knackered!  I was moving faster than Euge, and kept feeling the rope come tight which didn't help, though did give me an excuse to stop and have a breather.  At the top was a snowslope but it was so misty and there was so much snow, that I couldn't see a thing.  It was disconcerting not knowing where I was going and I kept trying unsuccessfully to peer into the mist to see if I could see the top.  It was a case of take a few steps and stop for a breather and then the ground started to level out and become more wind scoured, I was nearing the top.  Poor Euge was moving much as I was and shouted up a few times, 'were we near the top yet?'
'Nearly there!' I shouted.
4 o'clock.  Could we make the gondola?  We were both starving!  Stop and eat and miss ride down?  Or tank it and eat once there.  We decided on the tank it option, both of us grabbing a sugar hit as we packed away our gear.  There was no tanking it however as it was just far, far too misty.  I took a bearing due North that should keep us away from cliffs on either side of us.  Luckily, Euge's eyesight is much better than mine and he was able to discern the top of the West face so we were able to use that as a handrail to keep us away from the cornices and cliffs of the East side.  Before long we could see the ski tows peering out of the mist and it was compass away, head down and try for the gondola.  If the last ride was down at 5 then we might just make it, if it was 5.30 then we were laughing.
It was 5.30 and we were down for 5, so were able to relax for a while, have something to eat and get our crampons off.  I was pretty chuffed with msyelf.  Last time I'd come to the West face I'd gotten the early climber's gondola up at 8am, had done an easier route than today and had still missed the last ride down.  Today I'd started 2hrs later, done a harder route and had gotten down with half an hour to spare.  Just shows how a couple of years can make you move faster and with much more confidence.

On the Sunday, D and I had a leisurly start to the day so I could have a nice lie in after yesterdays hard work and also let the showers pass through and clear up.  We left home around 2ish and drove up to Corgarff to bag the Corbett, Carn Ealasaid.  There was more snow left than I thought there would be but no need for crampons as it was all soft, Spring snow.  We took turns breaking trail up the SE spur and onto it's broad top which seemed to go on forever.  Took around 1hr and 15mins and it was time to decide whether to carry on over Beinn a' Chruinnich (or Ben Cornflake) and do a horseshoe, or just head back the way we came and down to the Allargue Inn for something to eat.  It was very tempting to go back down, but I'm thinking about a planned trip to the Alps in July and know that I need to get a bit fitter so we decided to carry on.  The pull up to the top was further than it looked and we cheekily cut a corner and missed out the top, contouring round to the hills SE side instead.  Then it was a case of following the tops of the Lecht ski tows down onto Carn Mhic an Toisich and down the S spur to Carn Meadhonach.  I remembered seeing a bit of a cornice in this area on the way up and wasn't sure if we'd come across it or not.  Come across it we did!  D was infront at this point and stopped at what seemed a dead end in the path.  I carried on for a bit, and the snow seemed to just ripple in waves and come to an abrupt stop before a steep edge.  Hmmm, no this didn't look good.  I recalled seeing a path going leftwards but we decided to go rightwards instead and down a heathery slope towards the Burn of Loinherry.  That was a good call as it was much quicker than following the path.  We then skirted around the corniced area.  Looking back, the cornice was pretty big and you certainly wouldn't have wanted to walk over the edge of that one!

It was just a case of following the burn back to Loinherry, then the track back to the van.  There was supposed to be a Ford at the point where 2 parts of the river met, but there was nothing but a wooden pole across the river and the landowner had put an animal trap upon the pole.  I'm not sure if that's actually legal for them to do so?  There was a narrowing just beside the wooden log and we made it across there.  Just as I was about to get across however, I dropped one of my walking poles.  It seemed to stick in the water momentarily and I tried to fish it out with my other pole but that only served to dislodge it from the river bed and off it flowed down the river.  Rats!  We crossed and then peered into the river as we walked to see if we could see it.  I spotted it eventually, stuck in a wee bay on the opposite bank.  I didn't fancy crossing the river at that point to get it as it seemed to deep and wide but I did spot another point downstream which looked narrower.  I walked down, dumped my sack, looked back and there was D on the opposite side of the river with my pole.  In his moment of chivalry he'd gotten his feet sodden and as I crossed the river at the narrower point I couldn't help but mention that I'd crossed with dry feet which I don't think he appreciated too much, hehe!
That was the excitement over for the day and it was a straightforward, albeit slushy walk back to the van and to the Inn, for some food.

BITS AND BOBS and BEN ALDER

A few things to report since the last time, but no winter climbing unfortunately.  I've been really busy moving house and getting settled in, preparing and attending a Uni interview (and being accepted to do Diagnostic Radiography which has been a dream of mine for some time now, woohoo!) and chauffeuring RB around Stirling and Glasgow to compete in this years Youth Climbing Series.

D and I cycled into a Glen somewhere so I could check out a cliff that doesn't have many routes on it.  I found a wonderful looking route there and am keen to go back and explore next year if conditions allow.  We also cycled into Derry Lodge last Sunday and bagged Derry Cairngorm.  All this cycling and walking is helping me to get hill fit again (I hope!)  I'll need it as I'm off this evening for a trip into Culra bothy!

So, to RB.  First round of YCS was in Stirling and she battled into 1st place, by just one point.  The round in Glasgow saw her getting 2nd place, the girl who came 2nd previously, getting 1st this time.  That means that both RB and the other girl are tying for first place.  Next round in Dundee is the decider.  Should be a good one!

Andy and I cycled in to Culra Bothy on Saturday morning.  The original plan had been to cycle in at some ridiculous hour, do a route or 2 and then doss at the bothy Sat night and head back out on Sunday (doing another route if we were keen enough)  We had a change of plan though as the forecast got milder for Saturday and then colder for sunday.  Only problem was that the winds looked quite high for sunday but we decided to risk it anyway.

The cycle in was hellish.  The wind was blowing from the SW rather than the NW so we were cycling into it the whole way.  On the downhill bits you couldn't free wheel it as the wind was too strong.  Jeeze my back!  the uphills were painful, like a knife slicing into my SI joint, and I had to get off and walk those bits.  Finally, we arrived at Alder Lodge and then an easy walk followed to the bothy.  There were a group of guys from the Langside MC from Glasgow who were a friendly bunch, but one guy who hoped that we didn't snore, ended up snoring his head off!

After we dumped our stuff we went for a look in one of the corries, but the buttresses were pretty black looking.  There was some ice about which looked okay, though a bit on the lean side, and we weren't sure on the condition of it either.  We didn't bother to take our gear with us, which ended up being unfortunate as we could have climbed something there and then.

Back at the bothy, through the night the wind picked up to howl against the bothy walls, driving lashing rain against the windows and when Andy's alarm went off he didn't even bother to wake me from the dead, so hopeless was the weather.  We lazed about in our sleeping bags for another hour or so, got up for a brew and bite to eat, wandered outside, got blasted by the wind and showers.  A momentary gap in the showers brought a glimpse of sunshine and with it, a glimmer of hope.  But it wasn't to be, within 10 minutes it was wet again.  That ice may have been climbable but the thought of climbing in the rain and howling wind sent us scurrying back out towards Alder Lodge and our bikes once more.  Typically, the winds had changed to the forecast NW-erlies, so we were once again cycling into the wind.

Another week gone, and no winter routes.  I WILL climb one more route before the season is out!  I have an inkling to do Central Buttress on Lochnagar, or Pinnacle Gully 1.  Both easy, but been wanting to do them since I first started winter climbing.  Any takers?

REALITY SINKS IN, TORRIDON - 20-21st Feb '10

I think I should stay away from the cliffs near and around Sgorr Ruadh as every time I climb (or try to climb) here I end up having a hard time/epic or conditions are difficult.

The route that Andy and I had wanted to do was as black as the ace of spades so we decided to do a new route near to Postbox Gully instead.  I was finding getting up into the corrie tough going.  I'm not sure what's going on with my leg at the moment, but whenever I start up off steep ground I get a pain in my hamstring that gets worse and worse until it's searing and I have to stop and wiggle it about.  Don't know if it's coming from my lower back, which is also struggling painfully with carrying a sack.  Whatever it is, it's really hampering my enjoyment of getting out into the hills at the moment and I'm finding each day out a struggle of my will against the pain.  Add that on to the pain of my shoulders/neck/arm and I'm getting exceedinly frustrated at my body's weak and pathetic state.

Still, I made it up there eventually and belayed Andy up the 1st pitch of icy grooves.  I wasn't that keen on this pitch and found it hard to start.  There was a really steep section of ice but it wasn't that thick and it was really brittle and dinner plating all over the place.  I still can't seem to get into climbing water ice but Andy gave me a few more tips for next time, like aiming for the whiter looking bits rather than the greyer bits.  Of course, because I was wacking the living daylights out the ice, I was using up strength and energy fast and getting frustated.  Above the ice, the snow/ice was pretty cruddy and I was finding it pretty tenuous.

The 2nd pitch was much nicer.  A rising traverse rightwards saw a bulge of ice, steep at the bottom.  You had to get into the corner beside the ice and sort of swing your axe around the side of bulge, step onto the arete of the bulge, swap feet by a wee hop, before stepping up.  That was quite a nice wee funky move and made it a bit more interesting than the usual thwack, thwack.

We just moved together up the top section into a snowy gully, with me managing to find enough gear to keep us protected, topping out into the most gorgeous day ever!  It really was stunning up there.  The sun was beaming down, the surface layer of snow made up of enormous hoar crystals and sparkling like diamonds.  Liathach was poking up in the near distance and in the other direction, Lurg Mhor and neighbours stood glistening white.  We had a comical moment when I walked round the coire rim, to the edge of the cliff to peer down one of the gullies.  I mentioned to Andy that I had seen footprints in the gully and rope marks so somebody must have climbed it recently.  Andy was curious, realising that Postbox Gully topped out a bit further away than from where I was looking.  Turns out I had simply been looking back down into the gully which we had just climbed, doh!

During that day, Andy had pointed out a possible line for Sunday, on Fuar Tholl.  I was a bit intimidated by Fuar Tholl, it had always seemed a 'hard man's' mountain to me, even though there is easier stuff there.  And the line that Andy was looking at looked scary from where we saw it.  Steep, dark and intimidating looking.  Andy reckoned it would 'go' though at not too hard a grade, maybe IV/V and in retropsect I should have listened to my gut feelings about not wanting to do anything hard or scary for me.  Trouble is, I am forever wanting to climb hard.  I feel inspired by other woman that climb IV's and V's and wish I could be like them, wish I could climb that well.  And it's pride, pure and simple, I don't want to climb these routes for the beauty of them, I simply want to feel that I can climb well.  But the fact is, that I can't.  I'm not a good climber, I'm not a hard climber and I'm not a confident climber.  When I'm going well, enjoying the route and not pushing myself too much, like on II's and III's then I love it, but once I get that bit further out of my comfort zone, my natural aggression turns to fear and stress and I don't cope well with these emotions at all.  I'm simply no good at keeping my cool when things get scary and as it's in my nature to be that way, I'm not sure how I can change it, or even if deep down I really want to change that.   My winter climbing seems to becoming more and more like my rock climbing where I've reached a wall, and I'd need to push out my comfort zone to get past it and get stronger and more confident.  With my rock climbing, that took a long time to happen.  It took me several years to feel confidant and calm enough to lead VS without gibbering like a wreck.  So possibly it will be the same in winter.  Maybe IV will one day happen for me, but it's not happening today.

Back to Fuar Tholl.  The walk up there is horrendous!  First of all we walked along a railway line for a while, Andy insistant that no trains ran on a Sunday, then it was a slog up a heather covered hillside, coated with sheets of verglass.  And where there was no verglass, there was powder covering the heather making the going tough.  Still, I wasn't in great pain today which was good.  It got bouldery near the top and I was inwardly grumbling at Andy for his talk of a short and easy walk in.  Only an hour he says!  Aye right!  I made my discontent known once I had caught up with Andy and he did look a bit sheepish.  But to the cliffs.  Oh my!  There was the route that we'd come to do, towering menacingly above us.  He can't seriously mean me to climb that surely!?  The first pitch looked okay, the 2nd pitch was on ice, but thin, thin ice which looked more like verglass covered rock to me.  Andy reckoned you could use the turf and not the ice, but it looked hellish.  Above, there was a wide crack/come chimney with long bits of turf drooping down.  I hesitate to say invitingly, because it was far from it!  The chimney narrowed and narrowed until it went up a steep wall with just a smear of snow in the crack.  The side wall of the crack looked like a smooth slab to me and I couldn't begin to imagine how you'd climb it.   Andy reckoned the crack was big enough to fit axes and feet in, like a ramp.  But as far as I could see the crack was only about a hand width and it didn't look to me like you could get into it at all.  I grumbled some, didn't like it.  I grumbled some more.  Andy grumbled, knowing I wasn't keen but then finally softened when he remembered we could do a grade II nearby to take us up the cliff, where we could drop down into anther of Fuar Tholl's corries and do another route.  Ho ho ho!  That didn't happen.

Andy headed off to the start of the grade II gully, whose name escapes me.  Instead of starting at the bottom, he traversed in from the right.  But to get up there involved scrambling up little steps and steep powder covered heather.  I wasn't moving confidently at all.  The steps actually involved big rock overs for me and my legs felt shakey and I felt all out of balance on the horrible ground.  Made it up there though and Andy was ready to set off.

He was moving really slowly and this got me worried.  Normally he'd fly up a grade II like it was a walk in the park, but he was moving very slowly and I finally saw him move onto the left wall of the gully, clear a load of snow and make a difficult move upwards.  Gulp!  Is this really grade II?  I was getting paranoid that Andy was trying a different version to make things more spicy and that he was going to go off route onto something harder.  I wasn't feeling up for hard at all, not confident in the slightest and feeling pretty vulnerable. 
'10m of rope left!'  I shout up.  '5m left!' 
'Why the hell isn't he setting up a belay where he's getting that gear in?  I don't want to have to start climbing without a fecking belay!'
I'm getting more nervous at the prospect and I begin inching forwards and upwards to give Andy more rope, but thankfully I'm not at the difficulties before Andy gets a belay higher up.

Conditions are awful! I reach the foot of the chimney at the bottom of the gully, and hell it looks steep!  There's no way in hell that's grade II!  Make a few moves up and I've got my axe hooked precariously around some unfrozen block, my foot on the same side on some nubbin, other foot dangling into space.  Then I can't find a single thing for my other axe.  Oh it's banging off the rock, it's ripping through turf and muddy crud but it's finding sweet feck all.  I'm starting to panic as I'm off balance and I'm weakening, my arm screaming in pain from the overhead swinging.  Andy shouts down that he will lower me off as he doesn't mind not doing the route as it's in awful unfrozen condition.  Only problem is, he is belaying with his Reverso and needs to give me slack so he can sort it to lower me off.
NO FECKING WAY!!  No slack just now!!!  I'm hanging off this awful hook with one foot balanced on god knows what.  I trust my other axe to some crud and quickly weight my foot, praying that it will hold me so I can push up and not weight those axes.  It does, thank feck!  I feel more in balance, get that load of slack in the rope before it comes tight again, ready to lower me.  I hate this.  Not enjoying it all.  Hate being lowered and not being in control.  It takes ages for my weight to come onto the rope due to the rope stretch and I'm half being lowered, half downclimbing and finally I'm back on steady ground.

Bollocks!  I can feel a big lump in my throat.  I feel so incompetent and so useless.  I really don't want to be here.  I want to be down off this hill, I want to be safe.  I want to be home and with my family, my D and RB.  Bloody well keep yourself together Sonya!  Don't succumb to your feeble emotions!   I can't help it though and it all comes out.  And I sit there in the snow sobbing.  Sobbing because I'm so crap.  Sobbing because I want to climb hard but I'm just sh*t.  Sobbing through feeling a failure.  Sobbing because Andy will think I'm an utter idiot and will never climb with me again.  Sobbing because I'm sick and fed up of feeling in pain.  Sobbing because it all feels like so much hard work.  Sobbing because all my drive and passion for winter climbing seems to be drifting away.  Sobbing because it seems a toil rather than an enjoyment.  Sobbing because more than anything I want the pleasure and the enjoyment to come back.  Sobbing because I'm sick of feeling stressed and scared.  What the f*ck is happening to me!

Andy is abbing down the route and I will myself to stop crying, dry my eyes.  It's pretty damn obvious I'm upset though and we have a good talk about things.  Andy thinks I'm not ready for grade IV and that I treat IV like it's going to be a doddle when in reality it's not.  I guess with climbing with him, because he climbs hard and the folk he climbs with climb hard, then IV seems like it's something that must be easy.  He tells me that even III's aren't easy and that John Lyall had said himself that many III's aren't easy.  But my ego won't believe that.  III's are easy, anyone can climb III!   I don't want to be just another punter, I want to climb hard!  But I face myself and the reality, that I don't actually enjoy climbing hard and find it far too scary and stressful.
There are IV's that we've done though, that have been utterly amazing.  But that's because they are amazing routes which have had good, quality climbing on them.  I have forgetten to enjoy the climbing for the climbing sake, forever getting lost in wanting to be up there with the folk climbing IV's and V's.  I've become obssessed with climbing new routes and the problem there is that sometimes we don't know how hard the ground will become so Andy tends to lead the harder bits, unless we can see that they won't be harder than III.  But it does mean that I don't always get a chance to lead.  There are so many long and classic II's and III's that I am missing out on because I'm so het up on climbing new routes, or climbing hard things.

I think for me, that it's time to go back to basics for the rest of the winter.  My pride and ego has taken a severe beating, the hills have a way of stripping you down like that from time to time and revealing your limitations.  I've learned a big lesson this weekend.  Fuar Tholl, trully gave me a big spanking and I need to lick my wounds and get back out there with a different attitude and simply enjoy myself.  That's what it's all about after all.

SKYE, GLEN SHIEL, TORRIDON AND THE BEN - 6th Feb and 11th-14th Feb

Not written on the blog for a while now as life has been so busy, what with starting a new OU course and not having a car at the moment, needing D to chauffer me about.  This leads to my biggest bit of news………D and I got engaged on my Birthday at the end of January and I’ve never been happier.

So, to the hills…………
D and I had an impulsive trip to Skye on 6th of Feb which was absolutely amazing.  We’d originally thought to go either to Glen Shiel and do Forcan Ridge or to Torridon to do Ben Alligin, but a report on UKC about the Cuillin being in good nick had us over in Skye.  Neither of us had been in winter before so we didn’t want to do anything too taxing, so decided on bagging Bruach na Frithe, the easiest munro on Skye.
We arrived pretty late in the day and drove down Glen Brittle way to doss in the van.  We hadn’t really looked at the munro books or any guides about the easiest way up the hill, but upon looking at the map we decided going up the NW ridge looked best, though it would seem that in reality going up Fionn Coire is the easiest walker’s way.

The ridge is nothing at first, just a walk, but it then steepens and narrows and we found  ourselves weaving around blocks and up steep, little steps.  We eventually got to a point where the ridge got so steep that neither of us felt very comfortable without a rope so we tried to find a way around.  We followed a small, snowy ramp to the right of the crest and I kept climbing up steep gullies to find a way back on to the crest.  At first it seemed I’d get back on, but the gully would become so steep and slabby with such a thin layer of soft snow that it was impossible to get purchase and I was forced back down again.  We were starting to worry that we’d have to bail, can you imagine the shame of being spanked by the easiest munro?!   Thankfully we managed to find our way onto the crest again and after some more weaving we found ourselves on the summit.  Imagine our surprise about 10 mins later when a couple came up the same ridge with crampons and all roped up!  One of them seemed to know his way about when we enquired about the easiest way up the hill and probably thought we were a couple of clueless numpties.  Turns out that this ridge is grade I/II in winter.  So, that’s another winter route for D, without him realising, and an exciting day that we hadn’t banked on!
We didn’t plan on doing much the next day as D had to drive us back home again, so we went for a short walk down Glen Sligachan.  We only got as far as being directly across from Pinnacle Ridge on Sgurr nan Gillean when I decided to turn back as I was feeling pretty tired, hormonal and grumpy and really couldn’t be bothered with doing anything other than laze about.
Conditions on Skye hadn’t been as great as I’d thought they’d be.  The snow was soft and crusty and the rock a bit verglassed in places, but it was utterly amazing to be there all the same as it’s such mental place.

The end of the week saw RB off school and away to Germany with her Dad and Stepmum, and me with a couple of days free to go climbing.  I had arranged to climbing with Helen Rennard, a lass I’d bumped into a few years ago when new routing up in Fisherfield.  I was really looking forward to climbing with her as she’s one of the few woman I’d heard of who was keen and who could actually lead some hard stuff in winter.

We drove up to Andy’s on Wednesday and finally decided on going to Glen Shiel the next day, Andy and Dave McGimpsey heading to An Teallach.  Helen and I arrived in Glen Shiel at around the back of eight and set off up the hill for Creag Coire an t-Slugain .  Helen was off in a shot, leaving me behind like a huffing, puffing heap of lard!  I just don’t understand why I seem to get unfitter every time I go out rather than the opposite.  My legs felt tired, my back felt sore and even though the walk in is pretty short, I found it difficult going.   We arrived in good guidebook time though, so I obviously wasn’t going too slowly.
We’d planned to do a route called Rose Garden which Andy had recommended then if we had time, dropping back into the corrie and doing either Flaky Ridge or something else.   Andy had said Rose Garden would be a grade harder without any ice on it and the route certainly didn’t look icy.  I was worried that Helen would still want to go for it and I’d embarrass myself by struggling up what would then be either V or tech 5.  Fortunately for me, Helen didn’t seem too keen on climbing it without any ice either.

We ended up doing Flaky Ridge in the end.  I started off on the 1st pitch and found it difficult from the word go.  Each steepening up the crest seemed to get progressively harder and more awkward and at one point I wasn’t sure whether going left or right looked easier.  I tried going directly upwards, over a bulging slab of rock.  I had my axes placed over the bulge, one on either side and as I was trying to move up my foot slipped and I was left dangling by my axes!  F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!!!  Time seemed to slow right down as I hung there and I wondered what it would be like fall.  Thoughts of my nut placement about 10 foot below which wasn’t 100% and a warthog in slightly squidgy turf didn’t inspire confidence!  Oh f*cking sh*te!!!  I swung my body weight over to the left of the bulge but there was nothing for my feet there but a blank slab.  Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!  I began pedalling furiously with my right foot, trying to find some kind of purchase on this slab.  I couldn’t look down to see what to do with my feet as I was pretty stretched out.  Eventually the edge of my crampons seemed to find a tiny nubbin high up on the slab and I rocked over onto it with all my might, power screaming like a banshee!  Oh thank f*ck, thank f*ck!  I leaned against the rock huffing and puffing and trying to calm my heart which was threatening to burst out my chest with the exertion and adrenaline of it all.  Helen shouted up, very concerned and said to take a belay when I could if I was struggling.
I’m okay now though.  A few more moves up the crest and I find a belay spot, but it’s taking ages to dig out placements and about 10 feet above I can see 2 massive flakes that will take slings, so move up there instead.

Helen climbs quietly and quickly at first and I’m thinking, bugger, she must be finding this easy!  But the rope soon slows and I feel more reassured that it’s no doddle.  Helen’s head finally appears over the last steepening and the first thing she says is that she found it pretty awkward so I feel better about my struggle.
Helen’s pitch takes her out of view and after about 20 or 30 metres she takes a belay as she’s run out of slings and I’m good to go.  I’m faced with another steeping which looks pretty brutal!  I have to get my foot up really high, drop my axes and use a flake as a hand hold and it feels pretty damn hard.  I’m thinking, jeeze, this route is desperate for a grade III!  You put a new grade III leader on this and they’re going to be in trouble!  The ridge now narrows to a definite knife edge and I’m forced to sit on my bum, leg either side of the ridge and shuffle along.  It’s damn awkward getting my bum onto the damn thing and ouchy once I’m on, the schist digs in and is pretty sore, especially when I jar myself on a wee spike of rock!
This takes me to a spot where I can sit in relative comfort and belay Helen up the next bit seen as her pitch was so short.  And to be truthful, I’m thankful as the next bit looks even more desperate!  The sharp knife edge continues, but with flakes that you can use as a hand/axe rail.  Only problem is, it’s really blank for your feet.  Helen tries to go direct to no avail, then tries to go left to no avail.  She then goes right, traversing precariously along the slab.  The rope catches on a flake and she’s forced to climb back again to sort it as it won’t flick off.  She gets across the slab and into a steep groove, but the turf is dubious and things are looking pretty hairy with not much good gear.
I shout down that we could always escape off into the gully below to the right.  Helen doesn’t take much persuading not to continue and managed to down climb the groove and come back across the slab.  She decides to down climb into the grade III gully to the left however and I’m crapping myself at having to follow her.  She’s got a bomber hex above her, but when it comes to my turn, the rope is below and I’m faced with a fall into the gully if I come off.  Thankfully the down climb isn’t as steep as it looks from above and before long I’m into the gully and up beside Helen.  We deliberate whether to continue upwards as it’s now well after 4 o’clock.  How the hell did it get so late!  It has taken hours to climb a 100m of what should have been grade III ground!  Andy had mentioned it was top end III 4, but this seemed desperate to us!  We decided in the end to carry up rather than ab off as we weren’t sure the ropes would reach the bottom and sod being faced with not being able to find suitable anchors lower down to ab off.

Then the ropes decided to get tangled.  Why do they choose to do that when you’re in the midst of having a tad of an epic?!  Finally sorted, Helen led the final rope length up the gully, after we decided she’d probably be quicker having more experience than me.  I seemed to be waiting forever though and once I set off I realised why.  She got in a very token ice screw, mainly to keep the ropes running smoothy and then one bulldog in a crack which came pinging out when I boshed it with my axe and then was faced with a steeping and small cornice of terribly soft and deep snow.  The spindrift was blowing wildly and you had to make the final moves completely blind and just trust the feel of what you were doing.
Woohoo though!  Finally up!  Which way to descend though?  We decided on the longer but easier option of heading across to Druim Shionnach and heading down the North ridge and back to the Alt Coire an t-Slugain.  Once out of the snow line it was now dark, I stopped to get my torch out and sort out my sack, stupidly having burried my water down at the bottom.  I told Helen to carry on as I’d be a while and I’d meet her back at the car.  I ended up arriving 20 minutes after her, after following the bank of the wrong river and ending up right at the head of the loch Cluanie.  Great, just what I needed!  I was being blinded by the  lights of the Inn and by oncoming traffic and was struggling to pick out where Helen’s car might be.  On top of that, I was trying to wind my way through exceedingly boggy ground to get away from the loch and back to the correct river bank.
I eventually saw Helen’s head torch and used that as a guiding beacon through the marsh and back to the car.  11 hours on the hill, what a day for a blooming grade III!  Boy was I glad to be back and get my boots off.   To make matters worse, back in Inverness we stopped for Fish and chips then Helen’s car wouldn’t start as the battery was drained.  I was inwardly groaning at the thought of hours waiting for the RAC, and I’m sure Helen was cursing as it was her car afer all.  Thankfully my RAC was only 10 minutes as he was in the area and just finished with a call out and I wasn’t long before Helen was given a new battery and we were on our way back to Andy’s, battered and bruised.   I wasn’t sure I was keen for another day, but Andy reckoned a late start of 6.30 am would see us get up the new route I’d discovered previously on Liathac, and back down to the car again in good time.  I was eager to climb this line I’d spotted last time especially after drooling at it when it wasn’t in good enough nick, so there was no way I was backing out no matter how tired I felt.

A fitful 6 hours sleep saw the alarm go off at 6.30 and me stumble out of bed bleary eyed.  I haven’t a clue what time we left the Ben Eighe carpark for walking around to the back of Stuc a’ Choire Dhuibh Bhig on Liathac but I found the walk up to the point where you leave the path not too bad and thought I was going well.  I saw the prow of Rambler’s Rib and thought that was my route, thinking it didn’t look as steep as I thought.  But I quickly realised my mistake and there was my buttress, sitting high up on the right of  Chi Squared with plenty of snow on it this time.
What a slog up to the start of the buttress though!  One initially clambers up to the right of Chi gully, then you actually enter the gully itself for a step, then back out the gully, scrambling over grade I steps as you go.  I was finding the going really difficult, my back was killing me at my SI joint and my legs were screaming with the exertion of it.  I really wanted to just say I’d go back to the car, but how could I?  This was *my* route and there was no way in hell that I was having Andy and Helen climb it without me!
Finally, we arrived at the foot of the buttress.  It looked much easier than I thought from below, grade II Andy reckoned.  So much for my thoughts that it might be III/IV, and I felt a bit guilty for saying it should be that grade to Helen, worrying that she’d be fed up of 2 days of not climbing anything hard for her.  But she was totally cool with it, and said she enjoyed the route, comparing it to Central Buttress on Lochnagar.
I was curious about soloing up the start of the route as both Andy and Helen felt confident to do so.  But in the end I decided against it as I wasn’t too sure if it might get harder higher up and I wasn’t too keen on soloing if things did get harder.

Helen was happy to rope up with me though and Andy soloed off ahead.  I’m not entirely sure whether he should have soloed ahead as it began to feel like he was the 1st ascentionist and Helen and I were merely following.  But we did agree that it was fine for him to solo ahead so only myself to blame for that.  I had to comment though and tell him to stop clearing gear placements as that was going a step too far and was getting a bit annoying.
The 1st pitch followed a snowy ramp and the going was hard.  The snow was deep and at points was so soft that I was sinking in and not getting very far.  Andy suggested booting my feet in hard and that certainly made it a little easier.  My bad arm was feeling the strain of the easy ground and repetitive movement though and by the time I was belaying Helen up, my arm was in so much pain that I had to stop pulling the rope up every so often, before gritting my teeth once again.
Helen led the 2nd pitch over a nice wee step that felt around tech 3 ish (if there is such a thing!) and was really quite nice and then I led the 3rd pitch over smaller steps and a final steep groove.  I reckoned this was pretty much the end of the route proper, so Helen and I unroped and soloed the last 30/40 metres or so.  Across a snowy arete and up a final wee steepening where I thought, hmmmm careful here without a rope on!
Then it was the most hellish slog ever up to the summit of Stuc a Choire Dhuibh Bhig where I had to stop every so often and recover, forcing myself to go atleast 50 steps before leaning into my axe and groaning.
Helen and I were keen to descend via the walker’s path but Andy the stubborn goat was having none of it and insisted we follow him down the NE prow of Dhuibh Bhig.  His thoughts on how hard it was changed every 2 minutes and even Helen raised her brow at the conflicting opinion.  Firstly it was just a small down step of grade II, just a few feet with no exposed ground and was a doddle.  A few minutes later it was atleast 20 or 30 feet and you really didn’t want to fall off the top!   Grrrrr!  I was feeling really nervous and I don’t think Helen particularly likes down climbing either preferring to take the longer, easier option at the end of the day if possible.  Still, we were committed now.  Andy set off to try and find the correct way down with me insisting that he come back up to show me the correct way.  I was crapping myself!  Thoughts of my fall on the Aonach Eagach forever on the back of my mind.
The first part of the down climb was easy enough and you could face out, but the 2nd part was the scariest!  Andy reckoned I should sit on a block and reach my leg across a gap and down to another block.  Only problem was that my leg wouldn’t reach the block by a mile!  He reckoned I should just slither down until my leg reached, but that didn’t feel good at all!  It felt totally out of control and I had to have tension on the rope to reach down.   Helen managed it be facing inwards and climbing down properly and that was the much better way for us short folk to do it I reckon.   The next bit had you facing inwards down a steep groove and Andy pointed out an axe slot in the corner.  That bit wasn’t too bad and looked scarier than it actually was.  That took us to the bottom of the 1st tier that you had to down climb.  The 2nd tier had a step that was easy, followed by another bit where you had to face in, get down on your knees and sink your axe into a hole between rocks and use it to lower yourself down a groove/slab.  Again that was easier than it seemed and not as long as it seemed from above either.

That was it, we were down off the hard bit, phew!  All that was left was a traverse across steep snow, into a snow filled groove that took you right down onto the path again.  Andy tried to bum slide all the way down but the snow was too crusty.  Helen and I preferred to walk.  Conditions were good though and it didn’t take long.  After a few slides on the boggy/slabby ground after, we finally arrived on the path and were back at the car for 6 o’clock.

D came to pick me up around 10ish and we drove off the North Face carpark of Ben Nevis to spend the night in the car.   I was knackered by this point and fell asleep in a heap, not before suggesting that I was totally fine to manage a day doing Carn Mor Dearg, followed by the CMD arete and then up to the Ben itself.   The alarm went off at 8am and I sure didn’t feel like I’d had a good sleep, not having gone to bed until around 1.30 am.  We slogged up the new forest path and up onto the Alt a Mhuillin, leaving it shortly to slog up the slopes of Carn Beag Dearg, bypassing that summit and onto the summit of Carn Dearg Meadhonach.  That was an utter killer!  My legs were so tight and sore from the previous 2 days that I was having to continuously stop and rest for a pause or two.  We arrived at the summit around 1.30pm and I was thinking it might take me another 3hrs to get to the Ben summit so slow was I going.  But the final pull up to Carn Mor Dearg was easy enough.  We had a brief sandwich stop, then it was crampons on and axes out to cross the arete.  There was loads more snow on it from when I did it previously and this made it a lot easier, not that it’s ever hard!  It’s all walking really, with just little bits of exposure and a final wee step up at the end which is literally just the one step, and it’s much easier to use your hand rather than axe in the conditions of soft snow we found.  Lovely views across to the Mamores though and it was a  shame because just as we reached the end of the arete, the cloud came down and that was us shrouded for the rest of the day until we got lower.
The final pull up to the Ben summit was just as hard as I remember it, only this time I was managing around 50/60 steps before having to stop for a breather.  The summit was shrouded in cloud and visibility was down to around 20 metres.  Navigation time.  We’d only packed D’s 1:50 map and it didn’t take me long to figure this wasn’t that great for navigating off the Ben!  I managed to get the 2nd step of the navigation just fine but I was struggling to get the first step.  Each time I tried I was getting a different reading as it was pretty much impossible to tell from the map the correct bearing as the step was so small on the map.  D realised that he had the bearings off the Ben written on his map and a quick look got us the 1st step and confirmed I was correct about the 2nd step.
Pacing off the 1st step at 231 degrees for 150 metres was bang on and we soon saw foot prints of the masses.  There had been plenty of footprints at the top but it was impossible to see where they were going as they were all over the place!  My pacing was bang on and the 2nd step at 281 degrees saw us come to a line of cairns that guide you off the hill.  We didn’t really need them, but I must admit they are very reassuring all the same.  The footprints took us down into the Red burn and I remember thinking that Andy would have  field day bum sliding down there!  As it was D and I walked down the soft snow and we were down at the half way lochan really quickly and the path around the loch.  The path runs out at the loch and I remember thoughts of some on UKC that the path should be extended down to the carpark.  Must say, I normally don’t agree with that but the new path seems to guide you away from a deer fence where the going is usually dry, and into more boggy ground.  We were okay today as the ground was frozen enough and it wasn’t long before we were back at the North Face carpark, 8 hours after leaving the van, knocking an hour off my previous time doing the arete.  Fitter than I thought eh?!

Today I’ve been lazing around the van with D, visiting the Ice Factor for lunch and to say hello to the manager there and friend, Jamie and we’re off to the Jimmy Marshall lecture this evening to hear about Dave MacCloud and Andy Turners exploits on the Ben, repeating Jimmy’s routes from 50 years ago.  Should be a good evening if I can still move by that point and am still awake enough!

Torridon - 17th Jan '10

When the alarm went off at 5am I burried under the duvet, still half asleep, thinking,
'Why, oh why, oh why..........?'
I'd slept really badly, tossing and turning, tense with worry and anticipation, finally falling asleep only to be awoken by nightmarish dreams.
I'd discovered a possible new route but it looked like it might be a bit too nails for me and we weren't sure it would be formed properly under the present thawing conditions anyway.  Checking out some photos, we found a different route, not ice and one that looked absolutely amazing!   There was grade I looking ground below the route and a very steep slope above the cliff, facing in the direction that could be dodgy for avalanche if the snow was dodgy with slab.   Hence the worry!  I was having nightmares of doing the route, getting to the top and coming face to face with slab, ready to sweep us off the cliff face.  Then started dozing and having thoughts of RB climbing, and wishing that she'd never started.  What if she ever wants to take up winter climbing?  It's far too dangerous, she could get hurt!  My mind was imagining all the possibilities that could go wrong, for me tomorrow and for RB later in life if she chooses to keep climbing.
So, come the morning I was a mess!  The drive up to Torridon didn't help.  Black ice everywhere and with the tires on my car not being the best, I was forced to drive at a slow and steady 30mph.  Other cars on the road were taking it slowly too, so atleast I knew it wasn't just me being over cautious.  Anytime I tried to speed up, the car would start skidding, so 30 it was, pretty much all the way.  It was a tiring journey!
Driving west, we could begin to see the extent of the thaw.  There were only patches of wet snow left down in valley level and there was no way in hell that any of our South face cliffs that we know of were going to be in any sort of condition.
Walking in should have been easy, the snow all melted on approach, apart from small slushy patches.  But I was tired and grumpy, not helped by my knee being really sore too.   I stopped at one point to take photos as the sky went this amazing grey lighted colour and the sun was throwing shadows of the cliff face into the sky, something I've never, ever seen before.  It quickly faded though, to be replaced by a massive rainbow extending from one cliff face to the other.  The light was amazing but I had a feeling it was going to start pissing it down any moment!  Which is duly did!  Shower only lasted 5minutes or so though.
It soon became aparent that our line wasn't in nick at all.    God, it looked amazing though!  If I can get this route in nick, it will surely be the best of my routes yet.  Such a simple, understated and yet obvious line and I hope the climbing will be as good as the route looks!
There were still ice smears about however and Andy, with his keen eye, found himself something to play on.  I wasn't as keen.   Looked a bit steep for me!  That sort of ice just doesn't appeal to me whatsoever.  I don't really get the whole ice climbing business.  I've never really given it much of a chance though.  I've done Sunshine Gully on Udlaidh and hated every minute of it, but on that occasion I didn't have a clue where to hit my axes, or about technique for ice, and really struggled.   Indicator Wall on the Ben was amazing however and I really, really enjoyed that, but that to me seemed like a different kind of ice route.  A cliff face, coated in ice, whereas these icefalls form quite distinct pillars and chandeliers and I just don't like the fickle nature of them. 
So the mental torture began!  Do I climb this damn route or not?  The ice sections are quite short, but they look brutally steep to me.  Tech 5 and I've only ever climbed tech4 ice before.  There are actual vertical steps on this ice and it looks scary!   I don't like the look of it and ask myself why the hell should I force myself to do something I don't like, just for the sake of it?   I then ask myself why not?  I might enjoy it?  Just get on with it!  It really just doesn't look appealing though and holds no attraction for me whatsover, thwack, thwack, step, step, thwack, thwack, step, step    Where is the turf?  Where are the cracks?   Where are the nubbins of rock to hook and smear on?   What sort of climbing *is* this?  It reinforces my thoughts that mixed climbing is far, far, far more fun that ice climbing.
Andy is happy to solo the route and meet me at the top, me going up some grade I gully.  But the snow is soft from the thaw and although not dodgy, I decide against it.  All that worrying about avalanches for nothing!  What a joke!  The approach to the icefall had seen me continuously breaking through the snow and wrenching my knee and I decided that trudging up a grade I would have me close to tears of pain and decided instead to head down the way we came and meet Andy back at the car.
Heading down was probably just as painful though!   The ground was treachorously steep and my knee became so painful that I was scared of it seizing or locking up completely and me being unable to weight it and having to crawl off the god damn hill.  Very concious of the fact that I was on my own if my knee should go completely.   As it was, I gritted my teeth and grinned and beared the pain, and once down off the steeper ground it did ease off a bit.

The N.facing cliffs in Torridon that we could see have been stripped of snow, only the bigger ledges on easier stuff have some snow on them.  The turf is still well frozen however.   There is still ice about, but thawing rapidly and nothing we saw was complete.

Bonnie and Clyde go Pole Dancing - 9/10th Jan '10

Andy and I did 2 new routes in the Southern Highlands on Saturday,
Pole Dancing IV 6
Bonnie and Clyde III 4

I met Andy on Fri night at Broxburn Services and we drove to D's in Glasgow to stay the night so we didn't have to get up so early, though we were still up at 6!  Oh boy did I want to stay in bed or what?!  D had been up the hill the previous day so we knew the road was clear and there wouldn't be any wading involved (thank god!) but what we didn't bank on was thick cloud and a few inches of fresh snow in the morning.  All forecasts had mentioned crisp, clear and bright, sunny winter weather and I had been so looking forward to an outstanding day in outstanding conditions.  Never mind, conditions were still utterly superb, even if we didn't get our clear, blue sky.

The road wasn't too problematic and we arrived at the carpark around 8ish, setting off around 8.15am.  The path up through the woods was treacherous with ice and I was skiting about all over the place but adamant and stubborn that if Andy could manage without crampons, then so could I! (even if I secretly wanted them on)  The walk in was slow.  Again, I feel so unfit and at times I struggle with my breathing, my legs have no power behind them, my lower back aches and at the steeper ascent towards the descent slope my calves are screaming.  But at last, 3hrs later, we are there and I can relax, for a short time anyway!

The descent is on rock hard neve, but the ground isn't too steep so it feels okay and before long we are the bottom of the cliff that we backed off from last year due to poor turf conditions.  No such fear today!  The Northerly winds have scoured the crags and the turf is bomber enough to hang a bus off!  We pick out our line and I'm keen to have a go at leading the first pitch.  Andy is hesitant and thinks I might get myself into trouble, so I give him the lead and right enough the crux is hard!  But it's well protected (although I'd have struggled to place gear in Andy's higher position as it was so strenuous)

I'm having horrible thoughts as I belay.  I'm wondering why the hell I'm here?  What a stupid and pointless activity this is!  I feel scared.  I feel out of my depth and I wonder why the hell I keep saying I want to push myself.  I bury deeper into my jacket to fend of the cold and the negative thoughts, but they keep creeping back.  I'm kidding myself that I can be a winter climber, that I can ever lead grade IV.  What a fucking joke I am!  I don't want to be here anymore, I want to be back at D's, safe and warm.  I want my man, I want my daughter, I want my family.  What will they do if I push myself too much and end up hurt or worse?

Before long though, it's time to go and as I start climbing and focus on the job at hand, all bad thoughts disappear.  The crux is soon upon me.  A funky looking chimney with a wee cap/roof at the top of it and a slab to either side, one with miniscule edges and the other coated in verglass.  Inside the chimney is very helpful, big tufts of turf and chockstone higher up.  What the hell do I do with my feet though?!  At first I have one foot in the chimney on the turf with the other dangling and I'm udged up into the chimney but I can't go any further because of the roof.  I have to bridge it.  But how, there's no footholds!  I trust my front points to stick to the smallest thing I've ever asked of them and am surprised that they hold and feel secure enough.  Not so the other foot though!  It is windmilling all over the shop on the thin ice, grasping for non existant purchase!  Thankgod for bomber axe placements and a tight rope!  It's as scary and strenuous as anything but I have to remove one of my axes for a higher placement,
'aaaaaarggggg, it's all soft snow over the lip!'  But I eventually find something, heave with all my might, get my right foot up high, left foot still scrabbling helplessly, and finally I'm up and over, panting with the exertion, shaking with fear!  Thank fuck I didn't try to lead that!  The next section up to Andy is sublime!  A steep turfy wall with tiny ledges and bulges and just my cup of tea.  It's over all too quick and I'm beaming from ear to ear, all the earlier panic forgotten.  Me give up climbing?  Never!  This is the f'ing business!

The next pitch has a couple of steep sections and an airy traverse but it's not problematic and I wish I'd led it and bagged my first IV, but hey ho!  The only problem with this new routing business is never being sure what I'm going to find and whether I'll be able to cope with it.
Woohoo!  I ask the time?  Have we got time for another route?  It's 2 o'clock, I'm back in December and thinking it's going to be getting dark at 3, but so keen am I that I don't care about the dark, I just want to climb!  That route was worth 2 stars in my opinion.
Our next route is an easier line we'd spotted on the right side of the buttress.  I'd thought it looked around grade II originally, but again, standing underneath it looked steeper.
I started off up a left trending ramp and onto a steepening, which led to another steepening.  Hmmm, I really wanted some gear in somewhere before it got steeper.  I tried to get a nut in, but it was crap and fell out as soon as I moved past it.  Slightly higher, I managed to hammer in a hex which I wasn't too sure about but Andy later reassured me he struggled to get it out!  Then came the steepening, and in common with other routes here, there wasn't much for feet (but massive ledges compared to the crux on the earlier route!)   A couple of seasons ago I'd have been terrified trusting my feet to stick on ledges that are only an inch wide, but these sorts of ledges are huge really!  Not fair though, the turf on my route doesn't seem as thick as on the previous, but I get up eventually.

Another steeper bit, and the crux of the route.   There is a flake with a smallish crack beside it.  I manage to bung a hex in behind the flake, get my axe hooked blindly behind something, but it feels solid.  Other axe is hooked into a wee chockstone in the crack.  I step up onto ever smaller footholds than before.  My foot skites off and gives me a sh*ter, but the other foot stays put and my axe placements are good.  Foot back on, step up, wack into the turf only to find it isn't turf but more soft snow, aaarg!  Think feet Sonj, think feet.  Get a big high step onto small projected block in the crack, paranoid that it might be loose and come sliding out.  But it holds fast and I can use the momentum in my legs to push up and over the steepening.  Phew!  That felt tricky!
There's a couple of places I can belay but as the ground above looks to pose no problems and seems only grade II'ish, then we just move together for a section and Andy belays me off the bomber hex I'd placed below.  I fling around a sling at the top, then bring him up.  Quick bite to eat, then we dash off down the hill feeling pleased as pie :o)
Andy takes his crampons off after the steeper bit, but I'm feeling less proud now and more tired, so I keep mine on, trudging down on auto pilot, going over my ankle on occasion and yowling as it wrenches my knee!

I'm glad I kept them on though as the woods are icier than ever.  Andy's crampons go back on and he is flying down fast as usual and I'm left behind, in the woods, in the dark, on my own.  The fear comes back.  I can hear twigs crackling and don't like it.  I see a shadowy shape on a boulder and wonder what the feck it can be.  It must be Andy surely.......of course it is!  He's stopped to take his crampons off again.  I keep mine on till we're down though.
We arrive back at the car at 5.30pm and set off for Glasgow.  I'm busy texting D telling him we are on our way, happen to glance up and feel that Andy is going too fast, the road is still white.  But I go back to texting.  Put the phone back in my bag and as we go round a bend, it hits me that we're going way too fast round this bend, Andy's not going to make it!  I hear myself shout out,
'we're not gonna make it, oh my god, oh my god!'
I can see a black and white marker post and for some reason I think it's concrete.  I know I'm going to smash into it and I think,
'fuck me, this is gonna be bad!'
WHAM!
We hit something, a big jolt, my head is flung forward and bounces back but other than that it wasn't too bad.  Just a big jolt.  I quickly turn to Andy,
'You okay?'
'Yeah.'
The car feels like it's vibrating and it takes me a moment to realise it's my brain that's vibrating, not the car!
Holy shit!
I peer out my window, it's not a steep drop out my side so I try to open the door but it won't budge.  Andy gets out and I'm paranoid that him getting out will overweight my side of the car and cause it to roll.  I have to remind myself, that it's my head that's jolted and the car is stationary.
I feel pretty shook up, giggle nervously, check out the damage.  Does't look good!  The post had bashed against the side of the car and it was a telephone mast we hit, square on my side.  No wonder my brain hurts!

I get myself together.  Thankfully I've got RAC roadside and recovery and they will bump us to the top of the list so we only end up waiting 50mins.  The guy who comes up in the pick up truck has trouble on the icy road too and is cursing that this is the worst job he's ever had to do!  They won't take us to Aviemore tonight but we get Andy's car dropped in the garage at Helensburgh and then given a courtesy car which we drive to D's.  D has been a star and ordered in Pizza for us and made a cuppy.  Andy and D have a whiskey (bleurg) and there is wine, but my head can't handle any booze right now.  I feel utterly wasted.  I'm wandering round in a bit of daze.  My head feels minced, can't think straight, am looking for milk in the washing machine cupboard ffs!  Don't feel so great the next day either.  Must have given myself a bit of a jolt in the car cos the muscles up my neck are sore and bruised feeling.  But there is no wincing pain like having whiplash, so all is good.

Andy drives back to Helensburgh on Sunday morning so he can be towed back home and I take it easy at D's, still feeling pretty wasted.  No thoughts of climbing today.  A walk along the canal and some lunch at the pub is about all I can manage.
We did cross the canal by walking over the ice.  D had been tempted during the week after seeing folk cycling along it!  But I was too much of a wimp and just crossed it quickly rather than walking along it's length.  The thought of death by drowning under ice is far too horrible a thought!  Would you drown or succumb to the cold first I wonder?  A cheery thought to leave you with!

New Year hillwalk - 1 Jan 2010

D and I went for a walk up An Caisteal on New Year's Day.  We were up fairly early and arrived by daybreak.  The going was easy at first as the trail was already broken and the snow not as deep as in the East.  The higher we got the more scoured were the slopes and a wee interesting step saw us approaching the summit just in time for lunch and the cloud clearing to give us nice views of the hills to the West and Lomond to the South.
We decided to carry on to Beinn a Chroin seen as there was still plenty day left and I was glad we chose to as it's a fine hill. 
There is a nice scrambly section on the approach to Beinn a Chroin from Caisteal where you can make it as easy or hard as you like, with us choosing to head up a ramp with a couple of grade I sections.  I couldn't be bothered getting my axe out but it was such a short section and I had crampons on, and decided a slip wouldn't take me anywhere dodgy so just used hand and poles.
There were a few false summits ahead, which was frustrating as I'd stop at a cairn thinking I was there, only for D to say the top was further on.
The tops were even more scoured here and it was amazing seeing the sculptures and dunes made out of the wind blasted snow.  Much of the wind blasted stuff was rock hard neve and I'm sure that N facing cliffs around these parts would have bomber turf just now.  The scramble up also had little sections of hanging ice.
We chose to come down the N facing spur, changing our mind half way down and dropping into Coire Earb instead as we had spotted what we thought to be a path down there.
Ugh, it was horrible!  The snow wasn't as deep as our previous trips out but my knee was giving me a good bit of grief and I tried to stick to patches where the tufts of grass were poking through so as not to break through and wrench the knee.
Finally we were down and
'Aaaaaaah,' I thought, 'not long till we're back to the van.'
I could see the woods and road below but it seemed to take forever and a day to get down there!  There were a good few streams to jump or cross and even though we found a trail, the going still wasn't the easiest.
We came across a few tents surrounded by a marvellous igloo made out of snow bricks and complete with arched doorway.  All it was lacking was a roof (but the tents would suffice for that)
There had been a Scouts van in the carpark so we assumed the tents were theirs.  Looked like a good spot to camp and nice to see them out there.