After chamonix I still had the climbing itch so decided to take a gap year before finding a permanent job. I lived at home, working odd jobs 5 or 6 days a week to save up some money. I was able to get a van and spent November converting it (whilst working full time) and then moved to Scotland come December. I found a part time job, working weekends to cover the bills, and my UKC logbook says I climbed 37 winter routes between December 9th and March 18th. But that doesn’t tell the full story. This winter season was an especially bad one with multiple big thaws happening throughout the season. I did get out almost every day I had free and if something was in condition I would climb it, otherwise I would go for a long hike/scramble/run by myself.
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| The state of the van before I even left London. I never ended up cutting the mattress to size or plugging the electrics in. |
Here are a few of my highlights across the winter.
Haston Line: Get busy living or get busy dying
My first route of the season and also the only one I ever repeated (other than easy gullies) which made for a nice comparison. The hardest route I had climbed previously was Number 3 Gully Buttress (III 4), and I had seconded the crux, so perhaps jumping onto a III 5 seemed a bit ambitious but I was feeling pretty psyched. Freddy led the first pitch with finesse and then Nathan (different Nathan to chamonix), who had the most experience of the three of us, took two falls on the crux. I decided to give it a go with the titular phrase in my head. Feet bridged out as far as they would go, front points skating on small sloping edges, stein pulling on the wide crack, I thrutched my up feeling absolutely desperate. Elated I brought the others up and apologised to Freddy who had now been belaying over two hours!
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Me having just got above the crux.
C. Freddy Dorling |
Interestingly enough this is the only route I ever repeated later in the season and the comparison was mind blowing. I breezed the crux, feeling secure and comfortable, however this unfortunately allowed me to compare the quality of the climbing and it is really quite lacking, I’m surprised the route even gets given a single star.
Wavelength: I’m running late for work!
A couple weeks later and I had broken into the IVs with anvil gully on Cha-No. Eager for something a little more committing and sustained I arranged to climb wavelength. The part time job I was at had told me ahead of time that there would be a team meeting at 7pm that day. No bother, I said, I had never been benighted in the northern corries.
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Starting up Anvil Gully.
C. Fiona Hodgson |
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And on the top.
C. Fiona Hodgson |
The day started well with the snow road closed. Unsure of when it would open, we parked the van and hopped the fence preparing for a long march up to the car park. They were letting the workers through and in no time we got a hitch up, starting only an hour or so later than planned. No bother, I had never been benighted in the northern corries. It had dumped snow over night and we were by ourselves in the corrie breaking trail through waist deep snow drifts. The approach alone took us almost three hours. No bother, I had never been benighted in the northern corries. Wavelength is a 3 pitch, sustained IV 4 climb on Fluted Buttress. We can average 1 hour per pitch, or even slightly more, and then it’s the sneachdta! It’ll be an hour tops for the descent. Plenty of time. Struan took the first pitch, a bit thin and tricky, but a solid lead and an hour and half later Fin and myself were heading up to join him. Pitch 2 was mine, time to catch up some time. It started with a bold traverse across an exposed slab, magnificent. Although the climbing was engaging I was fortunately not finding it too hard (the difference a couple pitches of Scottish winter makes!) as I was having to stop and scratch my head at the route finding every few moves. The guide book talked about following a series of faults, grooves, and ribs; it all looked like faults, grooves, and ribs. I quickly brought the others up. Don’t tell me what the time is, I have now been benighted in the northern corries. No bother, I still have three hours before needing to be at work and the third pitch is meant to be the easiest. Fin set off and steadily worked his way upwards. The easiest pitch it may have been but it’s hard climbing an exposed rib in 40+mph winds. An hour and a half later we were coiling the ropes and trying to stop the wind from stealing our things. 0.5 was a bit too avalanche prone to downclimb so windy ridge it had to be. The plateau was in a cloud, as per usual, but it would be impossible to say what the visibility was when the snow was being driven into our eyes seemingly independent of the direction we looked in. Ok, walk that way, stick to the cliff, don’t fall off, and we’ll make it to the 1141 cairn. Done. Time to find the ridge. Struan brought out his map and compass, took a bearing, and set off. Struan, we’re standing over mess of pottage, let me see that compass. It’s demagnetised. I have a gps device in my bag somewhere give me a minute, fuck, the cold killed the batteries. Ok, ok, I have OS downloaded on my phone and have signal. What. The. Fuck. When did OS cancel my subscription and why isn’t it letting me renew it. Hi Andi, sorry for the late notice but I might not be able to make the meeting, I’m currently lost on the cairngorm plateau. We hunkered down and tried to find some way to take an accurate bearing until, eventually, out of the cloud emerged an angel; other climbers who had a working compass, and we followed them down to the car park. They kindly gave us a lift back to the van and at 7:45 I walked into the meeting. 10/10 would miss work again.
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| Following the climbers with a working compass, a bit less stressful once below the cloud |
‘Summer’ Scrambles
After Wavelength I was hitting my stride with ascents of hidden chimney direct (IV 5), the haston line (2nd time), grooved rib (a very stiff III 4), and fingers ridge (IV 5), but then one of the mega thaws set in and despite the fact it was mid January there was no snow to be found. During the 2 weeks that it took conditions to return I spent some time on the west coast to tick off some of some classic summer scrambles.
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Bri approaching the crux of grooved rib.
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First on the list was Aonach Eagach which was a nice day out if not a bit confusing. The route itself was definitely overhyped as it’s mostly just walking with some easy rock steps. I left the van at 8 in the cold and rain but soon the sun came out and it got pretty warm. I did most of the ridge whilst it was snowing, which luckily never settled, and the visibility was down to about 10m. The sun came out on the descent again and I was wishing I had my shorts on until I got bitten by a midge, in January! The walk back along the road was all the bad adjectives: cold, wet, sad, and absolutely terrifying. The man in the pristine Land Rover who responded to my hitchhiking attempt with his own thumbs up will always hold a special place in my heart. I hope you crawl into a hole a die.
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| Coming down Aonach Eagach I thought how it was really cute that this bird was sitting on my mirror with me. Until it fucking took a bite out of my doughnut. |
Another scramble I had been wanting to do for ages was curved ridge. I set up it and was enjoying the movement of flowing over the rock until ‘hmmm, there’s snow here. There wasn’t any on aonach eagach yesterday. I’m sure it’ll be fine’. It had clearly snowed far more overnight than forecasted and it was making the climbing very slippery and insecure and, by the time I realised it was a bad idea, I was far too committed. Luckily there was enough signal to download what3words. The relief I felt topping out was unlike I had ever felt on a scramble. Having now done the proper line of curved ridge, I have no clue where I went on that day.
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The Buchaille the day before from Aonach Eagach
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| And when I was on it. |
AC CIC meet: Trying hard (to impress)
I had booked to go on the Alpine Club CIC meet during the first week of February and the thaws made it look like we weren’t going to be able to do anything but luckily the Ben pulled through.
I walked up on the Monday in possibly the worst weather I’d ever been out in. Driving rain and wind strong enough to blow me over at times. These conditions weren’t helped by the fact that I had over packed a bit, carrying a stuffed 65L on my back and my 32L on my front. Tuesday was raining again so whilst a few went out for a walk, I stayed in the hut drinking tea and chatting shit with the others.
The freezing level dropped overnight and it snowed far more than forecast. As it had come in on a southerly a lot of the mountain was pretty avalanche prone so I went out with Katie to climb the south west ridge of the douglas boulder (IV 5). A bit of route finding error to find the start but once on the route it all went pretty smooth. We tried to do both abseils in a oner but couldn’t get the ropes down so had to climb back up the gully before pulling the ropes.
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| Katie on the crux of the south west ridge |
The snow consolidated overnight so Katie, Matt, and I went to do Tower Ridge (IV 3) in alpine conditions. The game plan was for Matt and myself to take turns leading the pitches (that needed pitching) as Katie, who had a bit less experience, was a bit unsure on it. About halfway up we were making good time and joking about how we could possibly do another route if we continued at that pace. We reached a short pitch and it was my turn; in the 20ish minutes it took me to climb it and then bring the others up, Matt had come down with the Nora virus and went from being very comfortable with the terrain to having to be on belay constantly as he was throwing up everywhere and could barely walk. We had a chat and all agreed it was a bail upwards situation. A while later, at the bail point just after the eastern traverse, he had improved enough that he was confident he could descend by himself. Katie and I reached tower gap (the infamous crux) at sunset and Katie wanted to bail down glovers chimney. I thought it would be easier to finish the climb and go down No.4 so after a small fight that wasn’t going anywhere I employed the ‘sucks to sucks I’m going’ method. Back at the hut, when we were warm and fed we apologised to each other.
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Myself and Matt when it all started to go wrong.
C. Katie Comer |
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| Katie approaching the gap. I should really get benighted more, look at that sky! |
With Matt out the picture and Katie having to leave early for work I was paired with Simon Richardson and Neil Silver on the final day to do the first ascent of a V 6. Climbing with these two legends was honestly amazing and I learnt so much just watching them move (and protect) the ground we covered. They hadn’t climbed much together but it was clear they shared the same unspoken language built up over years of experience: wordlessly stopping to layer up, or put crampons on, or spreading out over a patch of windslab but having to warn me about it.
Simon directed us to the base of the climb and racked up for the first pitch. Moving up the first pitch at a steady pace it would have been impossible to tell if it was tech 3 or 6 by looking at him, with each movement being the same. Seamlessly placing an axe, testing it, and then pulling up on it. Despite the line roughly following the shallow groove it was surprisingly complex, often having to move left to climb the rib or move right to climb the wall direct and yet, looking up at the ropes at the end, they were parallel enough you could run a tram down them. The crux move was going over a bulge. A high right foot with the front points placed on a nubbin, left axe torqued into a crack providing some support to bump the left foot up minuscule features to be able to reach over with the right axe, finally get a solid hook and pull to glory.
The belay was in an awkward spot at the full 60m stretch of the ropes, so Neil led the next pitch whilst I perched on the boulder. Getting up to Neil, having cheated a bit and done a bit of rock climbing, they asked if I wanted to lead the next pitch. I would love to, I calmly said in my head. OhmygodOhmygodThatwouldbeamazingThankyousomuch is more likely to be what I squealed out loud. Going up the grade II/III ground and eager to please my self talk went something along the lines of ‘Cmon Juli make a move. Left, right, or over the top it doesn’t matter. You’re climbing with Simon fucking Richardson, he’s probably spotted three new lines to climb in the time it’s taken you to make this one decision.’ My pitch got us to just below the plateau so after a final short pitch, handshakes were given and I had officially done my first first-ascent. Though full credit must of course be given to the other two for leading the hard pitches and Simon for being the mastermind behind it.
Creag Meagaidh: Finally some Ice
Storm Eowyn seemed to bring in more usual winter weather and by keeping an eye on the conditions I was predicting Meagaidh to have some ice despite the Ben being dry.
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Walking into Meagaidh.
C. Zander Wrey |
On February 10th, with no first hand accounts of ground conditions available, Zander and I went to have a look at Staghorn gully (III). Meagaidh has a certain je ne sais quois where even just soloing the easy grade 1 approach put a smile on my face. That we were by ourselves on the mountain helped. I led up through the three ice steps in one long pitch, with a bit of moving together, and then we simuled to the top. Having made such good time, Zander then led Post Haste. A one pitch grade IV ice fall in the descent gully.
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Approaching Staghorn gully.
C. Zander Wrey |
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| Post haste |
We went back to Meagaidh a couple days later to give the Last Post (V 5) a shot. Zander put in an excellent lead on the thin and steep crux first pitch with bulges pushing the angle over 90 degrees at times. My clear memory of this pitch was being pumped out of my mind and trying to hold it together. I had moved the ice clipper to the front of my harness for ease, but a few high steps loosened it and near the top of the pitch I watched in horror as I dropped 5 ice screws. I led the next pitch, a short nevé slope, leaving the second ice pitch to Zander again. I had mixed feelings when he accidentally dropped a couple more ice screws (bad for him but less guilty for myself) and fortunately I was able to collect them seconding. Despite losing over £300 of gear this was possibly one of my favourite routes of the season (the screws were later returned to us).
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Me just before dropping the screws. Taken by another party who had decided to bail after the first pitch.
C. James Kelly |
During the following days other classic ice routes such as The Wand and The Pumpkin came into conditions, these were obviously the dates I had to be in Manchester for an interview. By the time I got back everything had thawed out.
Final Week: The final sprint
By the middle of march I was starting to get pretty tired. I had been going non stop for about 4 months and had accumulated a lot of fatigue. Not just from the climbing but also from the van life, I didn’t have any heating, just a -1 and 3 degree sleeping bags (nights were commonly around -10). I was eating pretty well but the main problem was the water which would constantly freeze so I was quite dehydrated all the time. I was going home at the end of March for my dads birthday, in time with a thaw and it was just too late in the season for conditions to come back. So despite the fatigue I wanted to go out with head held high.
Being tired but still pretty psyched, I knew it was time to go back to the norries. Alex and I headed into mess of pottage to give the classic The Message (IV 6) a bash. I unfortunately didn’t lead the crux pitch but was very pleased with how I felt cruising up it and unlike a certain other climb on the same buttress, this one deserves all of its stars.
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| Alex on the crux pitch of the message |
He had to work for next couple of days so I decided to give Cha-No another go with Alex (no not that one). We had been wanting to climb Jenga Buttress but got lost and ended up climbing, at my best guess, Kerplunk (III). The next day we went back and managed to find the start of Jenga Buttress (III 4) but at some point on the climb we went too far to the right. A climbable looking corner looked like it would get us back on track. I stemmed my way up the corner and used my knee enough times that people would probably think I was very invested in advancing my career. Thin hooks in the seam provided some support and the climbing was a similar proposition as the Message, if not slightly harder, with much worse gear. I reached the ledge above and was disheartened to see that to join the route again I would have to go up another flaring corner for perhaps 3 or 4 metres. This one looked much harder with no feet, poor hooks, and no consolidated snow to use. It was time to do what I do best: bail. Having bailed so much I had developed a system to retreat and not leave any gear behind. It went as follows: find a bit where two rocks touch, hack the snow/ice away to ensure it is rock touching rock, wrap a prussic cord around it, attach the mailion to it and run a rope through it (not the rope that’s attached to the gear), begin to lower off, begin to fall, realise in the fall that it was not in fact rock touching rock and that you just put the prussic around ice that you hacked at until it looked a bit grey, fall about 3-4 metres, bounce of the ledge, fall another 3-4 metres and get caught by the second rope slamming you into the wall. And voila you’re down and have brought the gear with you. I had landed on my hexes during the first bounce and was scared I had cracked my ribs so Alex (no not that one) took over whilst I was in shock and found an escape route to get us out. The walk down took a while as my left thigh had taken the brunt of the second impact.
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Heading down into Cha-No.
C. Alex Edge |
My lungs hadn't filled with my blood overnight so I met up with Alex (yes that one) the following day. We had been thinking about heading over to the shelterstone but between my fall and not great conditions we walked into mess of pottage again. This time to try Pot of Gold (V 6). I led the first pitch, leaving the two crux pitches to Alex (yes that one). He dispatched them both with ease, I struggled a bit on the first one as it required a lot of high reaches which hurt my ribs a fair bit but the second one went smoothly as I could rely on my feet more. Also another spectacular route.
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Alex (left) starting up the second pitch with me belaying. This was a very relaxed social climb with up to 3 teams sharing a belay at points. Luckily no one was running late to work.
C. I don’t know the name of the photographer |
I had arranged to go ski touring two days after Pot of Gold with a work friend and after those 4 days I was pretty knackered. So I slept for a solid 12 hours and decided to have a rest day. One thing I wanted to do was to buy a bottle of whiskey for my dad, and the saleswoman was really quite good. After trying a lot of samples she convinced me to get a very expensive bottle and having only eaten a handful of cereal (remember I had gotten out of bed around midday) it meant I was a wee bit drunk. Leaving the whiskey shop, on a sunny spring day, with the whole view of the cairngorms plastered in snow and I just couldn’t contain myself. I quickly got back into the van and drove up, deciding on the drive that I would do the ‘over the back’ route from Mountaineering with One Axe. The first section went well but descending down diagonal gully into the Loch Avon basin I hit my three lemons, likely helped by sobering up. The first was that I was really hungry (having only eaten the handful of cereal and the whiskey) and had no food. The second was that I had decided to practise my alpine skills and go fast and light, which worked well whilst I was moving but I hadn’t predicted how much the plateau had thawed out and how slow that made me, making me pretty cold. With the sun setting the temperature was dropping as well. The third lemon was that my trusty socks had finally worn through and I could feel a blister would form at some point. Turning around here was probably the one of the best things I have ever done, with the time pressure off I relaxed and just enjoyed being out for one of the final times of the season. It was a perfectly clear sky and the setting sun painted the horizon a beautiful deep shade of orange that slowly darkened across the sky. Looking towards the east it was dark enough that the Milky Way was visible. At one point going down windy ridge, I sat down. Forgetting about my cold, hunger, and blister to just take it all in and reflect on the amazing season I had where I had made such great friends and accomplished far more than I thought was possible.
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No picture can do this moment justice for me, but this’ll have to do
 | Heading up to Cairngorm the following morning having taken advantage of the recently reopened funicular.
C. Joeseph Boddy |
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