Cheated by the weather

2015 seemed to get off to a good start. On the third day of the year I found myself back in Snowdonia’s Ogwen valley completing a 18km circuit of the northern Glyders, walking with Andy from Walkhighlands. The route included two Hewitts (Foel Goch and Carnedd y Filiast) that I had tried to climb last year but had missed out on after atrocious weather forced a route change. Conditions this time were much better. A reasonable amount of snow on the ground and decent visibility most of the day. It was good to get them in the bag and looking at my map after the walk, I realise that of all the Glyderau summits only Tryfan remains virgin territory for me – one to save for a nice day. Foel Goch has a grassy but exposed summit, with teriffic views down the valley. Further north, Carnedd y Filiast and its subsidiary top were an interesting pair. The jagged rock formations reminded me of the more famous Glyders to the south but there was also something forlorn and lonely about this less explored northern end of the range.

Pen Yr Ole Wen and Tryfan from Foel Goch

Last weekend I’d planned to be up in Scotland bagging my first munros of the year but sadly the weather forced a change of plan. After a cold but bright spell on the Scottish mountains over the New Year weekend (how I wish I had been able to be up there then) the north west of the UK has been battered by a series of fierce winter storms coming in from the Atlantic. In the run up to last weekend’s planned trip I had been watching all the weather forecasts closely, and carefully monitoring the avalanche warnings from the Scottish Avalanche Information Service. One thing that I have learned about managing avalanche risk on the Scottish mountains in winter is that simply checking the situation the night before you walk isn’t sufficient. You need to be watching the weather closely in the days before you walk to get a picture of what sort of state the mountain might be in when you get there.

Last weekend I had my sights on Beinn Challum near Crianlarich and Ben Chonzie in Perthshire. Both solitary munros with relatively straightforward routes approaching from the south, they seemed like good choices. With the recent storm force winds coming in from the west and south west I was keen to avoid any routes up leeward slopes to the north and east where snow accumulations would pose the greatest avalanche danger. However, any slope with snow on it can present a danger and I also know that a significant proportion of avalanches occur during periods of new snowfall. (SAIS records already show one avalanche this season on Chonzie’s southern slopes). Last Friday, my first planned day out, the forecast was for gale force winds and heavy precipitation. Things looked a bit better for Saturday – but not by much. Also, while Friday’s planned walk was from close by to the B&B, Saturday would have involved a long drive, the final section of which would have taken me along a remote country lane probably covered in deep snow. Even accounting for difficulty actually getting to the hill, all the signals flashed red that last weekend was not the best for solo winter munro bagging. There was going to be a lot of fresh, deep and unconsolidated snow with a lot more being dumped on top. Ideal avalanche conditions.

So, after some consideration (the urge to just go for it and see how I would get on was pretty strong) I coughed up 50 quid to British Airways and shifted my flight and car booking back to later in the year. I’m very grateful to Ewich house in Strathfillian, who allowed me to rebook my accommodation with no hassle. All mountaineers need to know when to turn round and in wintertime, knowing whether or not even to set out involves similar judgment. Being so far from the mountains of Scotland and needing to book travel and accommodation in advance, quitting a mountain 460 miles from its summit is very frustrating. But safety is priceless and any mountaineer’s risk appetite should fall in winter time. Some things that you would try in summer you simply wouldn’t in winter.

Summit, Elidir Fawr, 3 January 2015

So January 2015 turns out to be munro free. My next planned trip north of the border will be the last weekend in February and hopefully the weather will have improved. It wasn’t the start to the mountaineering year I had wished for. Last January I only managed one munro (having to turn back on Carn Mor Dearg before starting the ridge to Ben Nevis) and I had hoped for a better start to 2015. But in winter, plans being frustrated by the weather is just par for the course. There will be many more days and those munros aren’t going anywhere. They’re just sitting there, as they have been for millennia, waiting patiently for me.

From Moel Eilio to Snowdon: 2014 draws to a close

Although I made a few forays into the mountains of Wales and Scotland in previous years, 2014 has been the first that I’ve managed to get into the mountains regularly. Over the last 12 months I have really begun to build my hill fitness and improve my navigation skills. I have covered a distance of over 350km, with a total vertical ascent of 27482m, bagging 33 munros, 20 hewitts and a one active volcano. It has been a year of many firsts. My first solo munro (Stob Coire Raineach), my first solo winter day (Y Garn), my first day bagging 2 munros (Buachaille Etive Mor), my first route over 30k (Black Mountains), my first day with more than 2000m of ascent (Crianlarich 4), my first summit above 2000m (Japan) and my first solo scramble (Bristly Ridge). With all this under my belt I feel a real sense of pride and achievement, particularly given how far from the mountains I am based – for every hour above the tree line there must be at least another two either sat behind the wheel of a car or idling in airports.

Soon after returning from Japan at the end of October I was back in the Highlands to add Ben Lomond and Ben Vorlich to my munro tally. On paper neither of these munros should present too much of a challenge. However, the weekend that I climbed them in November the weather was atrocious. Atop Ben Vorlich I encountered the fiercest winds imaginable, reducing me to a crawl at one point. In such conditions it might have seemed foolish even to continue. Perhaps it was, although I feel I can rationalise my decision to press on because the summit area of Vorlich is reasonably broad and the visibility was pretty good. Had I been faced with a narrow ridge or other serious exposure I would certainly have turned around.

View towards Ben Nevis, Glencoe, November 2014

With those two cold and lonely days near Loch Lomond behind me it was a real pleasure later in the month to meet up with other keen walkers at the Walkhighlands autumn meet in Tyndrum. The day on Bidean Nam Bean was spectacular. Great views across the AE ridge and northwards first snows settling on Ben Nevis, CMD and Aonach Mor whetting my appetite for the winter ahead. Reaching the summit of Snowdon in December meant that I had managed to get out to Wales or Scotland at least once a month in 2014. It was a long, fulfilling day and a fitting end to a year of mountains.

I made a very early start, reaching the car park in Llanberis under moon and stars and watching the sun rise as I climbed the northern slopes of Moel Eilio. Alone and in the still of dawn every single sound registers so clearly, from the crunch of semi frozen earth beneath my boots to heaps of slate crashing down a nearby mountainside and the thud of a Sea King helicopter flying overhead. My planned route was just over 22km, traversing from Moel Eilio over to Foel Gron and Moel Cynghorion before heading up to Snowdon itself via the Ranger path and then descending the Llanberis path. In order to avoid any descent in darkness, an early start was imperative. Still, a survival bag, extra food, spare gloves, warm layer and head torch were all stowed in my bag – just in case.

Dawn breaks over Snowdon’s north west ridge, December 2014

Before long I was enjoying hot coffee and a snack at the top of Moel Eilio. Navigation was straightforward in such good visibility and at one point around 10am I could make out the shelter on Snowdon’s frosty summit. Until reaching the Ranger Path I had hardly seen another soul all day. A group of three other walkers had followed me round from Moel Eilio and we bumped into one another near Moel Cynghorion and climbed together for the first section of the Ranger Path. These walkers were properly suited and booted for the season and I expect they were as stunned as I was to notice how many people were making their way towards the snow line clearly unprepared for the winter conditions that lay ahead. While my ice axe stayed strapped to my pack the whole day I put my crampons on at around the 800m mark and as I climbed above the snow line the cloud dropped and visibility fell to around 20m.

I had heard all the stories about people climbing Snowndon in jeans and flip flops but had assumed that it was exclusively a summer phenomenon. At the summit itself, I was amazed to see a few people arriving in jeans and soaking wet trainers. I even saw one chap huffing and puffing his way to the top in jeans and a T-shirt. His top was a couple of sizes too small for him and the guy was obviously a gym addict, with muscles bulging for all to see. I wasn’t sure what would motivate this sort of bravado (or is it simply stupidity?) When you are surrounded by snow and the air temperature is perhaps minus six degrees celcius, what on earth possesses someone to strip down to a cotton T-shirt?

Snowdon summit, December 2014

After enjoying my sandwiches at the top I turned and headed for home. I narrowly avoided a navigation error on the descent. At first retracing my steps on the Ranger Path I recalled that I should keep the railway to my left to descend the Llanberis path until Clogwyn station. Crossing back over the tracks I picked up the correct path. Lower down, near the snow line, I got a great view of the fearsome crags of Clogwyn. With just an hour or so of daylight left I was again astonished to see so many people still making their way up. There was no way they would make it to the top and back down before dark. Some of them weren’t even carrying packs – so no torches or extra warm clothes, let alone axes or crampons. On the one hand it was great to see people challenging themselves and enjoying the mountains – perhaps for the first time in their life – but on the other hand it was disheartening to see such flagrant disregard for safety and such lack of respect for the mountain (I picked up several pieces of litter during my descent). My thoughts turned to the brave men and women of the Snowdonia mountain rescue teams who put their own lives on the line to come to the aid of people who get into trouble in the mountains. It must infuriate them to see people so ill prepared for winter conditions.

In any event, I arrived safely back at my car with daylight to spare. 2014 has been a terrific year and I look forward to many more mountains in 2015. Next weekend I will be back in Snowdonia. Hopefully I’ll get some blue skies and crisp white snow. However, as I sit and write this in London on 28th December the weather in almost every mountain area of Britain has been spectacular – which just about guarantees it will be dreadful next weekend! Well, you never know….

See more of my 2014 photos here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/sbk21/sets/72157649859618061/

And my walk highlands reports (including gps tracks) here: http://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/blogs/Riverman

Four more round Ben More

September saw me return to Scotland to bag a few more munros before heading off on holiday to Japan. I’d tackled the western three Crianlarich munros earlier in the year on an epic, 10 hour day that ended in darkness and driving rain. This time, my aim was to spend a Friday warming up in Glencoe by climbing Creise and Meall a’Bhuiridh and then on Saturday cover the eastern four Crianlarich munros in one go, to take me to the milestone of 30 munros.

Meall a’Bhuiridh

On Friday, Creise and Meall a’Bhuiridh were dispatched without much difficulty (though insects were certainly a distraction and I had my head net on for much of the day). I climbed in warm sunshine and had the whole route to myself. Meall a’Bhuiridh is sadly scarred by the ski lifts but once the ridge is crossed over to Creise some fine views are a reward. Glencoe never fails to impress and the cloud inversion around Buachaille Etive Mor was stunning.

Glencoe, cloud inversion

On Saturday morning I arrived early at Inverlochlarig and began the long, steep slog up Stob Binnein. At the start of the path were placed two fairly recent memorial stones, a sad and sobering reminder of the dangers of climbing Scottish mountains. These are big hills, rising to over 3,500 ft. They can be dangerous at any time of year but particularly in winter. The north facing corrie of Ben More is a well known avalanche black spot.

On the way up to the first top of Binnein, Stob Coire an Lochain I was caught up by another walker. An English lady from Edinburgh preparing for a Himalayan trek, we ended up walking the whole route together. I was glad of the company. While one of the attractions for me of hill walking is solitude, it’s good to walk with others sometimes as well, particularly on long, physically testing routes. My companion for the day was certainly fitter than me and I was glad of the pace she set. Had I been walking this route alone, I expect it would have taken me at least an hour longer.

For much of the day our conversation focused on the Scottish independence referendum, which was then just days away. I shan’t go into any great detail here but suffice to say I was glad of the result later that week. Before too long we reached the first munro, Stob Binnein. The walk north to Ben More was straightforward but involved a couple of hundred metres of descent and reascent. From the col between Ben More and Stob Binnein we then began an ever greater descent into the valley separating the first pair of munros from Cruach Adrain and Beinn Tulaichean. Blessed with fine weather the navigation across to the next pair of munros was easy enough but the re-ascent was extremely tiring. After gaining the subsidiary top of Stob Garbh I wasn’t sure I’d have the legs to get up Cruach Adrain but I managed it. The fourth munro, Beinn Tulaichean was a much gentler climb and from there it was a fairly quick descent back to the car park.

Cruach Ardrain, 3rd munro of the day

A long and very tiring day with some 2200m of vertical ascent over 18km, I was really pleased with my achievement. Six munros in 2 days and well over 3000m of vertical ascent. Hard weekends like this only serve to increase hill fitness and endurance, while longer routes also provide greater opportunity to test navigation. Later in October in quite different mountain terrain in Japan (the subject of a separate blog post) I could feel real strength in my legs and was able to enjoy a totally different mountain environment from the Highlands without worrying about aches and pains in my legs.

Over the course of 2014 it’s occurred to me that when I first presented at a doctor in 2012 complaining of knee and leg pain when out walking hills, the first thing the doctor should have enquired about was the amount of hill walking I had already done. Questions like, “How many hills have you climbed in the last year?” and “What’s the furthest you’ve walked and greatest elevation gain you’ve done in a single day” would have revealed to the doctor that I was a total novice and that my aches and pains in 2012 and 2013 were simply explained by trying to do too much too soon. But no detailed enquiries were made as to the amount of hill walking I had been doing or was trying to do. Instead, all the enquiries focused around the type of pain I had and what sorts of activities induced it. These led swiftly to MRI scans and probably pointless arthroscopic surgery for a meniscus tear.

My guess is that for many hill walking related aches and pains doctors would do well to enquire in detail about activity levels (distances, height gain etc) and then take a view as to whether the patient was maybe trying to run before they could walk. This year I’ve focused on trying to build up gradually to longer, more demanding routes and to combat the dangers of a sedentary job by increasing the amount of walking I do during the working week. So far, that strategy seems to be paying off. I don’t think my cardio-vascular fitness has changed much, but that’s not my goal. The strength of my legs and my endurance levels are undoubtedly improving with every visit to the mountains. And so, it was with little difficulty at all that I recently ascended the 900m from the beautiful Kamikoche valley in the Japan Alps to the summit of Yake Dake (2455m) an unforgettable experience to which I shall turn in one of my next posts.

Obsessive Compulsive Munroism

On April 13th 2013 I went up onto the ridge of Buachaillle Etive Beag in Glencoe and bagged its southerly munro, Stob Dubh, in decent winter conditions – or at least I think I bagged it. That climb was my first big hill day since having arthroscopic surgery to repair a torn meniscus in February. On the day I was very much focused on my knee, praying I would get across the ridge, up the munro and down again without pain. Alan Kimber from West Coast Mountain Guides led the way and I scarcely looked at a map – which is why I say I ‘think’ I bagged Stob Dubh. I wasn’t really paying that much attention to our route or location at all because I was so focused on my knee. I know we crossed the first top on the ridge (around 902m) and then followed the ridge southward, climbing again until the slope levelled off and the ground appeared to drop away. We returned across the ridge, leaving the northerly munro, Stob Coire Raineach for another day.

Almost a year to the day later, I found myself on Buachaille Etive Beag again but this time alone. The weather was dreadful. Several days of warm temperatures and rain had stripped the hills of snow below 900m and I climbed up to Stob Coire Raineach in a howling gale with rain lashing at my face. (I’ve found that in these conditions, snow goggles provide excellent protection from the elements). The summit was not a place to loiter and I headed straight back down to the col. My original plan for the day had been to continue along the ridge to Stob Dubh and make certain this time that I really had bagged it. Despite the low cloud I actually had pretty good visibility from the slopes of Raineach across the first top and all the way towards Stob Dubh – but it didn’t take me long to decide that the prudent course of action on this occasion was to get off the hill and back to the car.

Stob Coire Raineach, April 2014

Crossing a narrow, snow capped ridge, alone and in gale force winds would have been an unnecessarily stupid risk. Yet the decision not to proceed onto that ridge still left me disappointed. I had really wanted to make it to Stob Dubh last weekend and my fixation on that goal reveals something, I think, about the obsessive compulsive nature of the typical munro ‘bagger.’ For me, heading back to Stob Dubh would have been the winter walking equivalent of turning round, 50m from the front door of the house, to check whether I’d forgotten to switch off the iron or perhaps left the stove burning. What can I say? No matter how many times you check, the iron is never left on, and the stove is never burning. I’d crossed that ridge a year before, with a guide and walked as far south-west as possible before the contours dropped. In any sane person’s book, I’d bagged Stob Dubh in 2013. But the munro bagger wants to be sure. These days, he or she probably carries some sort of GPS device too, so there need be no uncertainty as to whether one is actually at the summit or not.

Two days earlier, I had witnessed something similar at the summit of Ben Vane in the Arrochar Alps. I had taken an early flight from London City to Glasgow and was at the car park at Inveruglas by 11am. Excitedly (this being my first solo munro) I made my way past the power station and on up the slopes of this diminutive but very steep munro. Near the top I met another ‘bagger’ – a delightful lady from Inverness who was close to compleating (only 20 to go I think – not to mention that she was even closer to finishing the Corbetts and Grahams!) At the summit I happily plonked my axe into the cairn that I assumed must be marking the high point. I was struck when I noticed my fellow bagger skip over to a nearby rock that did appear to be perhaps as much as 50cm higher than the cairn! Who wants to leave anything to chance? Naturally, I wandered over to stand on that rock too.

Ben Vane, April 2014 – This is the summit right?

Munro baggers are a funny bunch. Many mountaineers deride any form of peak bagging, comparing it to stamp collecting. I can understand these criticisms. It shouldn’t really matter how many mountains you climb or how high they are. There is certainly something peculiar about ticking off peaks in a list. And the highest mountains aren’t always the best. But for me, and many others, there is something deeply satisfying in peak bagging. By chasing the munros and furths, there’s a structure to my enjoyment of the mountains and an easy way to measure my progress over a period of years. One thing I realised on my most recent trip though, was that the moment chasing those peaks starts to feel like a chore, then you know it’s time to ease off. The day after I’d been up Buachaille Etive Beag in the rain, and two days after Ben Vane, I was scheduled to return to London on an evening flight. Staying in Crianlarich I had enough time, with a sufficiently early start, to take on one or two of the Crianlarich munros on Monday morning. On Sunday night I was thinking that if I hit the trail by 6am I could probably make it round the An Casteal horseshoe with time enough to get back to Glasgow for my flight. After giving it some thought I decided that I wouldn’t set an alarm for Monday morning after all. I was tired, and climbing mountains should never feel like ‘work’.

The Crianlarich hills will wait and my legs needed to rest. I was pretty tired after three days of walking – in between Ben Vane and Stob Coire Raineach I’d spent Saturday walking both of the munros on Buachaille Etive Mor with Max Hunter. Together with my solo outings on Ben Vane and Stob Coire Raineach, the day on Buachaille Etive Mor was a big one for me. My first route combining two munros in a day (though earlier this winter I strung together 4 furths on a longer route in the Carneddau in Snowdonia). Parking on the A82 opposite Lagangarbh, the cloud was hanging low over Glencoe. I’d planned the route with careful regard to dangers: the obvious route onto the mountain, through Coire na Tulaich, has claimed lives in previous winters. Just looking at the corrie on the map, the potential avalanche hazard is obvious. Last Saturday, in late winter conditions, the avalanche forecast from the Scottish Avalanche Information Service indicated ‘low’ risk on the slopes. But in these thaw conditions, however safe the slopes, the danger of cornice collapse was real and, as the SAIS text forecast noted, quite independent of avalanche risk. We decided that the only sensible option was to climb the buttress to the west of the corrie. This was a steep and tiring slog but as we reached the top, the enormous fracture lines behind the rim of the corrie confirmed that we had made a wise move. If and when this thing goes (hopefully it will just melt away gently) it will drag an enormous amount of snow with it.

Coire na Tulaich – Glad we didn’t try to climb up this

Atop Stob Dearg I broke open my hip flask, a really thoughtful Christmas gift from my girlfriend Jennifer who is so tolerant of my increasingly frequent solo forays into the mountains. Unusually perhaps, my flask is filled not with a fine single malt (though I’m certainly partial to a Glenlivet or a Talisker) but with an absolutely superb, aged rum from Guyana – ‘El Dorado’ (seriously – give this stuff a try, it is super smoky and the most ‘whiskey-like’ rum I’ve ever tasted). Before taking a sip myself, I poured a little drop onto the summit, a votive offering to appease the mountain gods. The ridge south from the first munro of the day gave me a good opportunity to test my navigation. While Max has been up to Stob Dearg dozens of times with clients interested in the exciting climbs at the northern end of Buachaille Etive Mor, this was his first complete traverse of the ridge as well as mine. In the poor visibility, our map and compass skills were important in making our way to Stob na Broige which, at 5km from the road, feels reasonably remote. Reaching the summit, I was pleased with my achievement. Three munros in two days. It might not sound like much in the grand scheme of things but given my injury troubles in 2013, the start to my 2014 campaign is going really well.

Stob Dearg (1022m) – Cheers!

Our plan for the descent was to head down Coire Altrium but we both knew that it would – like Tulaich – be heavily corniced and potentially dicey. Worst case we would have had to return all the way to the buttress at the top of Coire na Tulaich and climb down from there. Thankfully though, we were able to avoid the worst of the cornicing and access the corrie more safely by crossing into it from the east. At the base of the corrie we could see a large amount of avalanche debris from earlier in the winter. Above us there were patches of blue sky. Walking along the river Coupal back to the road I had a real sense of deja-vu. I suddenly realised I’d walked into this valley before in 2012 with my Dad. I remember at the time admiring the peaks of both the Buachailles. It was great to be walking the same path two years on knowing I’d bagged them all.

Buachaille Etive Mor, April 2014

All in all it was an intense weekend. In three days, I doubled my munro count to eight. This was also the first time since 2012 that I’d done consecutive days in the mountains and my knees held up perfectly well. In fact, I think that the increase in activity in 2014 is only strengthening my legs and this hopefully bodes well for the rest of the year. Adding together all my routes so far in 2014 in Wales and Scotland, I have climbed five munros and six furths, completing a distance of around 80km with a total ascent of almost 6000m! I have a few weeks off now and will return to the Highlands in May. I’ve realised that all my 8 munros to date have been completed in winter conditions. With any luck, I’ll have fine weather in May for my next few. Thanks for reading, and happy hiking.

The Incompleatist, 12 April 2014 – 8 down, 274 to go