|
October 2002 Other Articles
THE FINAL MOVE? - Tony Gask
Just one more move. My arms were already aching. A bit of Skye
wedged under my chin. I was going to make it, wasn't I? Yes.
No, no, no. Everything seemed to explode, then it was all crashing,
tumbling, bouncing downwards. After a mighty oath, I started
checking for damage, but slipped into a deep chasm of reminiscence.
The Cwm Silyn (no underpants) affair...
After climbing at Cym Silyn
on a hot day, a dip in the lake seemed a good idea, but sadly left my
wet undies there. Ironically all my spare clothes had been stolen
from the car, when it was broken into. I was still upset when I
went to Caernarfon police station, wearing just a sweaty tee shirt
and a scruffy pair of trousers, but Lester Payne told me not to get
my knickers in a twist. Chance would have been a fine thing. Moral:
dim parcio or should it be dim pantio?
...and other hot stuff.
I still lick my lips at memories of the Dubh
slabs, on Skye, a superb scramble, with valcro like friction, well
worth the long hot walk in. It was a real heat wave then, so much so
that we (with Dave Wylie, Mark Garrodd ) had to rest in the scanty
shade of the overlaps, with my water rationed to 1 cm per hour from
my bottle. The same year, Chris Thickett, John Thorley and myself
lugged all our gear up to Coira Ghrunnda, only to fall asleep at the
bottom of some climb, we couldn't find. When we awoke we all
admitted that we never wanted to climb in the first place! So we hid
our rucksack, then stormed up to the ridge; and I swam in the lochan,
which was very refreshing.
...and really cool...
Winter climbing in Scotland still gives me
shivers. The ascent of Tower Ridge on the Ben was however
magnificent, and memorable, but in some way a nightmare, as I had no
sleep at all after a very long drive up from Manchester. That was
with Gavin Anderson and ANO, who fell off, I was told later, but I
was asleep at the time.
...like the man with one crampon.
Curved Ridge in winter is usually
straight forward and pleasant, unless your second (Mr X) insists on
taking a different line, ending up 40 metres horizontally from an
iffy belay, and then decides he only needs one crampon! Not for the
first time too. And my nerves were not improved by 'never mind, I'll
just 'op along on one foot'
Get knotted...
In the Lakes: Pillar, Dow Crag, Gimmer, Gillecombe
all spring to mind, as does a near epic on Raven Crag (Borrowdale)
which was plain daft. Still under the influence of an annual dinner,
Gavin and I chose a very easy climb, but which we struggled on. A
runner after 10 shaky metres seemed be in the spirit of the occasion,
but where was the rope? Answer on a ledge. Gavin croaked 'You must
remember to tie the knot'
...or get stuffed...
We had done a grand traverse on Bernina and Piz
Palu. My knees were aching, but Alan Barber declined to fork out for
the cable car down. However what we had saved was blown on £20
worth of cakes in St Moritz. After that I knackered and stuffed.
In contrast to that, how about bivying in the Alps with Joe Flynn, in
the Bregalia area, when for our tea we had a half cooked 'sweaty
vest' meal, due to each other thinking they had the spare Gaz. For
breakfast, apple flakes, semi-hydrated in icy cold glacier water, and
a mangy slab of chocolate.
Also in the Alps, I still rate my ascent of Mt Pelvoux with Pete
Walker very highly. The real thing. Finding the route into the
valley was however tricky, due to massive rock fall, and some how I
ended up doing a hairy unroped traverse, followed by about ten other
lost souls. Talk about the blind leading the blind. It was quite
educational, how, in four languages, one can ask 'Do you really know
what you are doing?' I hope my reply in colloquial English was
equally educational, 'Get stuffed!'
...with more cake...
Once in Scotland, in perfect conditions
(seriously!) with Brian Taylor we swooshed down, on our metal edged
cross-country skiis, by chance joining a group of telemarkers. It
was all a bit too much for the Ben Lawyers hotel when 12 hungry
skiers suddenly appeared. They soon ran out of crisps, sandwiches
etc. and we heard the old lady running the bar complaining to the
manager, who responded ' Let them eat cake'. Stale Jaffa cakes
were duly produced.
...harder than a rock.
Our regular base in Skye was the Glen Brittle
hut, with memories of whisky drinking (Messages from the Scotch
Office), Bob Anderson's jokes (Ayrshire bacon still makes me chuckle)
vegetable charades (until banned by the Taoiseach) and my boat bread.
It was a bit hard, and 'tis said that a rock broke when it fell onto
a chunk of it.
Sounding off about Wales...
Tryfan is always a good course,
though, to be frank, I've only once jumped from Adam to Eve. Snowdon
in winter (or summer) should be on everyone's menu especially if
combined with an ascent of one of the side ridges or gullies, like
many of us did last New Year. I was brought up in a corner of
Shropshire, where it was easy to get to North Wales, and early on
started hill walking with my father, so Snowdonia has always been
special for me.
...the place for a good Dhu...
Tremadoc's a great place, I like the
café. Creagh Dhu Wall, is one of my favourites, with dinosaur proof
protection at the crux, to stopping one from having a mishap.
...and a good bash.
Tyr Powdyr has always featured large in my
life, hells bells I helped convert large bits of it (including the
septic tank!) It's almost been a second home at times, and the
scene of some great bashes, with lots of food and drink.
But beware of 'easy' climbs...
I have mentioned some above. Then
there is Stanage - need I say more? That's where I managed my first
VS (Inverted V) without a great epic, but failed on some so called
V.Dif. In the Peak, I like Froggat the best, maybe Green Gut is
one of my favourites.
Cresta Climb on the Ben is meant to be easy, but delayed by several
vertical ice pitches, with Mick Green, we had to bivy on the top in a
very cold January. Our teeth rattled like machine guns all night. I
would have had a hot drink from some guys with a stove, but I knocked
the pan over.
...on the road to ruin.
On the subject of epics I will say that the
hairiest moments of my life have been on the roads, such as the M60
in thick fog, or hitting black ice on the road to Braemar. By chance
we found Lester Payne and Brian Taylor drinking whisky, at the
Spittal of Glenshee Hotel, having come off the road in exactly the
same place as ourselves, half an hour earlier.
A good crack...
Nowadays I can go hill walking when I want,
especially in the Lakes if it looks fine. Then there is cycling,
sailing, swimming, dry stone walling and hedge laying, to stop me
converting all those jam sandwiches into large overhangs around my
middle person. It's a good crack having early retirement; compared
with working it sure is a step up.
...and the final move?
Coming out of my daydream, I gazed at the pile
of guidebooks scattered down the stairs. As I hadn't been climbing
recently I decided to move them upstairs, to a cupboard in the back
bedroom. I had foolishly tried to carry the lot in one go, but they
had all slipped, fortunately without damage. But will they be used
again? Or have they made their final move? Will my old rope be
uncoiled at the bottom of some rocky cliff? Not when Neville's
around, he would have a fit. It was easy to blame work, foot and
mouth or whatever but the truth is that it is nearly two years since
I wanted to climb seriously. Gulp.
The excuse for 3 pages (at pitch 9) of nostalgia? Nearly 30 full
years with the KMC, great times on and off the hill. But why are so
many memories based on near epics, and/or food and drink? Good
wishes to all present, and past. And I do go on the occasional
event, so see you.
THE ANGLO, WOP AND JOCK, ALPINE SHOPPING EXPEDITION - Duncan Lee
After numerous preliminary training shopping expeditions, during
which share prices in Outside soared and Sheena procured a light
weight collapsable kitchen sink, the car was eventually loaded and we
were off towards the big scary snowy mountains of northern Italy.
Retail base Valtournenche, ten minutes stroll away from our reclining
base in the idyllic old alpine hamlet of Crepin, which contains one
of the many outposts of the Cosulich family empire and mercifully, no
shops!
The trip started well; rain! Thus with the going being tough the
tough went shopping. Thankfully on this occasion only to purchase
fine locally produced produce of the edible variety but a full
reconnaissance of the other retail outlets in town was carried out by
the girls/ladies *(delete as deemed applicable). Day two dawned fair
so we set forth onto the hill (Monte Pancherot) to begin the weeklong
torture of our gracious host, Isaia, Sabina's brother-in-law. The
poor lad was introduced to the delights of multipitch routes on an 8
pitch 6B+ (Via di Salassi, 5+ obligatory), which despite forgetting
his rock boots he struggled manfully up for 3 pitches until escape
was possible. Sabina and Isaia beat a strategic retreat and ferried
all the packs round to the top of the hill in time to meet Sheena
"eyes on stalks" Hendrie and I as we topped out into the sunshine for
a bite to eat and a much appreciated shot of grappa. Suitably
refreshed we walked out the long way via Lago Cignana through meadows
that were a veritable blaze of colour finally arriving back in Crepin
after 11 hours on the hill to conclude a nice little warm up.
Rest and retail therapy was prescribed for the following day but even
the ardent shopaholics baulked at the sky high prices in Courmayeur
so we beat a retreat to the Val Ferret where we grazed our way up to
the sun kissed granite walls of Frebouge consuming vast quantities of
wild strawberries and bilberries on route. Only the absence of
raspberries prevented Sabina from awarding the crag three stars for
grazing potential. On the climbing front we did manage to drag our
lazy behinds up a couple of things before munching our ways back to
the car and heading back to Crepin where we were "Bowkered!" Revenge
was sweet however because Steve's dreams of fine Italian home cooking
were dashed. It was curry night courtesy of moi because Isaia had
never experienced the delights of vegetable madras.
The following day saw Steve lazing around in bed whilst the rest of
us set of for the cable car up to the Torino hut and the hot slog
across the Valle Blanche to the Tour Ronde. The snow on the glacier
was like porridge at 8am and was virtually non-existent on the normal
route thus most of the climbing was on unstable unconsolidated rubble
lying on shallow angled slabs. Lovely! This coupled with the building
cloud saw us retreating from the Col Freshfield down disgustingly wet
snow back to the glacier for a surreal misty walk back to the Torino
hut. This was definitely not an auspicious introduction to Alpine
climbing for Sheena but at least the views of the Blanc et al were
superb until the clag rolled in.
The next morn saw me out voted as the rest of the team decided on a
bizarre form of rest day. A monster bloody walk! Thankfully the views
were again fantastic and there was not a shop in sight as we strolled
over to the Col di Nana for lunch in the sun overlooking the Monte
Rosa group whilst being over looked ourselves by a pair of curious
ibex. Here it was that Isaia played his masterstroke of Italian
hospitality by producing a bottle of Grignolino from his pack to
accompany our lunch of bread and cheese. A fine effort. On the walk
back to the car we even bagged a peak, the diminutive but elegant
Punta Falinere.
Friday saw Isaia's departure back to Milano and the bambini whilst
Sabe, Steve, Sheena and I ventured all of half a mile to the local
crag (Singlin) to sample the delights of one of the valleys old
"classic" multipitch rock routes and the vagaries of the Italian
grading system that never fails to keep you on your toes. The climb
(Les Hirondelles) proved to be a gem that was sustained at English 5C
all the way with a great variety in the styles of climbing.
Everything infact from an outrageous roof on pitch two to thin
delicate slab climbing on the fifth and final pitch.
In the late afternoon Steve disappeared off to Zermatt to brighten up
someone else's life whilst the rest of us left the Alps to the
weekend hordes and headed south to Genova and the seaside for some
rest and recuperation. The weekend then consisted of eating and
drinking vast quantities of fine Italian food, chocolate and wine
with Sabina's family to replenish the "Alpine reserve" in between
numerous dips in the sea and an enjoyable route on Bric Pianarella at
Finale. Suitably rested we then headed back to the mountains for
round two.
Round two started off with a jolly little walk from Crepin to the
Rivolta bivouac hut at the Col du Fort on the Punta di Cian . A mere
five and half-hours with a height gain of 1400 metres. To compensate
for the quality suffering I carried a bottle of Grignolino to the hut
that we consumed after watching the chamois and ibex grazing on the
nearby slopes.
The following day dawned fine and we were out of the hut by 7am for
an enjoyable outing up the airy and atmospheric Cresta Ray. For the
majority of the climb we moved together pitching only a few awkward
steps and the superb granite slabs on the penultimate tower on the
ridge. With this last obstacle overcome we reached the summit just as
the mist began to envelop the mountain and thus chose not to linger
in favour of a quick descent of the normal route which was billed in
the guide as "a fine little rock climb." This statement highlighted
the age of the Alpine guidebooks and the wonders of climatic change
because in its present state the descent consisted of rubble that
made for more than a few nerve-jangling moments. Much to everyone's
relief an alternative safer descent was possible down easy angled
snow from the first col thus bypassing more quality rubble
experiences on the next section of ridge and the shooting alley of a
gully that the guidebook recommends as the descent! This faster
descent also had the benefit of meaning that we were down on the
remnants of the Rosetta glacier when the hail and rain swept in to
dampen the long walk back to Crepin.
Suitably enthused by a good little jaunt and too tired to be bothered
cooking we treated ourselves to a celebratory pizza and bottle of
vino in an excellent little pizzeria in Valtournenche.
The following two days saw the Alpine weather returning to its fickle
best with frequent storms and the odd brief fleeting sunny spells
that generally lasted long enough to tempt you out onto the rock in
time for normal service to be resumed. Thus each day we managed at
least one climb, one soaking and at least one tour of the shops, two
on the really bad days.
Friday saw the team heading west to Chamonix in search of the missing
pieces from Sheena's dinner service and a tour of every shop in the
town. Finally I managed to drag them over to the sun kissed granite
slabs of the Vallorcine where we did a couple of enjoyable routes.
The experience was spoilt slightly by the fact that half the world
was there but the crag did score highly on Sabina's grazing scale
providing an abundant supply of wild strawberries, raspberries and
bilberries.
An expensive meal in Argentiere ended the day and the following morn
saw the girls/ladies* (delete as applicable) abandoning the smelly
hippy and heading home. Bliss! No more nagging about showers and
forced trips to the shops!
I only asked.... - Roger Dyke
My email to Neville McMillan:
| |
Paraffin-based lubricant is recommended by DMM for their camming
devices. One of mine has gone stiff so I would like to try it. Am I
likely to already have some under another name?
roger dyke
|
Neville's reply:
| |
Roger,
Now that you have all this super-dooper high-tech climbing gear, you
clearly need to know how to look after it! What you need is a copy
of the BMC Booklet: "CARE AND MAINTENANCE - equipment standards -
equipment wear and failure - routine checks and care". This is (I
quote) "an essential reference for anyone owning or using
mountaineering and climbing equipment"; clearly, you should not be
without a copy. It is available from the BMC Office for £4 to BMC
members (£6 to non-members), and will answer ALL your questions,
including the ones you haven't yet asked.
It just so happens that I have a copy of this invaluable reference
work. Indeed I have several copies, one of which I would be prepared
to sell to you (on behalf of the BMC) for the special low price of
£4, so that you could read the WHOLE of the section on care and
maintenance of camming devices. I do not want to let out too much
information, since it would spoil your enjoyment when you come to
read your own copy, which I am sure you will. However, the
aforementioned section does recommend "an aerosol lubricant such as
GT85 or WD40". I have used WD40 in the past, but GT85 (from cycle
shops such as Bikes 'n Gear, King Street, Knutsford) is cleaner to
use. The solvent evaporates leaving behind a PTFE film, or so the
manufacturer says, so you don't have to wipe away the surplus to stop
your gear getting greasy and dirty. Unfortunately it costs more than
the price of the booklet, which is obviously much better value for
money! However, if you were to buy the booklet from me, I could let
you have two quick squirts of GT85 for free!
Cheers,
Neville
|
OK, I'll buy that.
I had been wondering who had persuaded Tony Blair he needed new
Nuclear Power Stations: I can make a shrewd guess now.
[Neville used to be with the United Kingdom Atomic Energy
Authority]
THE HEATON DYKE FLYING CIRCUS - Roger Dyke
I gather stories about this have done the rounds, so I thought those
who have only heard 3rd hand [wake up in Vancouver there!] might like
to know what really happened at Nether Tor?.
Rucksac is only S, but fortunately overhanging. I put my 2nd piece
of gear, a Rock 5, in about ¾ the way up, and then a Rockcentric 4 on
the other rope just above it, immediately below the little overhang
at the top. I was feeling stressed at the time, and was not too
careful about the run of the ropes.
I swung up over the overhang with no problem, but things were
starting to drag and Martin & Neville called to me to go back and
sort the ropes. Reversing my last move seemed a bit impractical; I
was on the last move of the route and not in a restful place, so I
ignored them and started to move up against the drag. It needed a
lot of push. Next I knew I was going down the crag head first. Air
and rock rushing past and all that. I hit Martin, who was belaying
me, and sent his helmet flying. Fortunately he didn't let go. My
own helmet hit the side of a boulder and my fingers hit the ground,
breaking a couple of fingernails. A bit close, that.
The top runner came down the rope after me, a bit the worse for wear.
Great advert for A having an ace belayer, and B wearing a helmet.
There really shouldn't have been a problem in the first place,
because I went back up, put a Friend with good extension below the
little overhang, had no drag at all, and using the hidden foothold
that Wavey now told me about, topped out with ease.
Then twisted my ankle walking down.
My own rope had been thro the top runner, and was permanently
stretched a couple of feet before the Rockcentric had popped:
Neville's had taken most of the strain, had 4 ft of permanent
stretch, and had the pattern on the sheath smudged for a few inches
where it had melted going thro the krab of the Rock 5. He has
converted it into several shorter lengths, and produced in its place
a black horror that he claims is indestructible. I'm working on
that, but it feels like it has a steel core.
Neville reckons I had somehow got the ropes and krabs into a freak
configuration that worked like a karabiner brake. We tried to
reproduce it in Cheshire the following weekend, but failed. It was
difficult without being back at the actual route.
To give Martin more practice at flight control, I also fell off the
next route we did at Nether Tor: another S, but a bit mucky. I ran
out of steam while cleaning the crux and knew I was coming off; the
top runner held, so did Martin, and there was no problem.
Five weeks later, on a sunny Monday at Stanage, after Martin & I had
knocked off several HS's I decided to have a go at Via Media [VS 4c,
on Rusty Wall]. Alley appeared. A few years ago, at the Roaches on
his birthday, he told me that the way other people make New Year
Resolutions, he had made a Birthday Resolution: now he was 70, he
wasn't going to solo anything harder than E1. Before I set off
up Via Media he told us he had just soloed that, and it was very
polished. Then he stayed to watch the fun. He knows my
(in)ability. The first time I came off my feet just touched the
ground gently. The second time I was higher up with more gear and
Martin was able to keep me in the air altogether. I thought
"We've really got this flying business cracked now". Alley called
something about the next bit being easier and less polished and
wandered off chuckling. He was right, and I finished it OK. Then
Martin came up and lost most of his newly-acquired Brownie Points by
saying "Can't think why you kept coming off that - it wasn't hard.".
A big Thank You to Martin - he did a grand job on all 4 occasions,
especially as the only time he had any warning was during the
gardening - the other 3 times I had no idea myself I was about to
peel. Which is the one thing that worries me about this.
October Newsletter Index.
Copyright © 2002 Karabiner Mountaineering Club
|
