You never climb the same mountain twice

Since injury struck in March I’ve finally nursed myself back to a level of hill fitness. In June I spent a week up in Kintail and managed to climb a couple of munros and some smaller hills. Although the the big routes for which the area is famous were beyond me I was still elated to reach the solitary summit of Ciste Dubh. I crossed Am Bathach, the Corbett to its south under grey clouds and in driving hail. Reaching the col (bealach a Choinich – or the col of the bog – the name is apt) the weather had only worsened and I was in two minds about continuing to the munro but I’m so glad that I did. The sun came out on the final ascent and the fin shaped summit was really beautiful. Ciste Dubh is probably the most attractive munro that I’ve climbed alone.

Ciste Dhubh, ascent, June 2015

While injured I tried not to think about the mountains at all and over the last 3 or 4 months I’ve spent more time playing guitar than pouring over mountain maps. But now, in recovery, my mind turns to the mountains again. I’ve wanted to write something about the ‘list ticking’ aspect of peak bagging for a while. Spending a week in Wales with J recently, we climbed Snowdon and the Glyders together – all repeat routes for me. J is a fair weather walker and on our last walk together in February I regretted taking her on a miserable bog trot across 2 of the more obscure and uninteresting summits accessible from the Ogwen valley (only chosen because they were on my tick list). This time, I think J appreciated the solid paths on these more popular routes.

Time in the mountains is so precious and I’m so single minded in my pursuit of the munros and the Welsh 2000ers that part of me would have preferred to avoid re-visiting mountains already climbed. Really I would have loved to have picked off some new summits. But things on my radar either involved exposure (the Nanttle ridge) or bog trots (the northern Carneddau) – all of which would have made a dreadful day for J. Despite getting soaked on Snowdon, both days were really enjoyable. Up on the Glyders I climbed the cantilever stone and scaled Castell y Gwynnt (a really good little scramble) – both things I’d missed on my first walk across the Glyders.

Ciste Dhubh, descent, June 2015

Peak bagging is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it can take you well off the beaten track to some beautiful locations that you wouldn’t otherwise get to. On the other hand I think it can deny you the opportunity of really getting to know a particular mountain or route. I’ve heard it said that “you never climb the same mountain twice”. Weather conditions and your own frame of mind always make each return to a mountain feel different. I’ve now stood on Snowdon’s summit in blazing sunshine, pouring rain and freezing snow and the mountain feels all the more familiar to me for these repeat visits.

I’ve also realised than when enjoying the mountains with others who don’t share my obsession with list ticking, it’s just not fair to drag them up routes that are either too difficult or too dull for them. While opportunities to get into the mountains are not as frequent as I would like, I’m slowly learning that I don’t have to climb a new mountain every single time I go out. That said, the greater distance and cost involved in getting up to Scotland means that when I do repeat hills, they are far more likely to be in Wales.

Atop Castell y Gwynt, July 2015

Looking ahead I hope to manage the Aonach Eagach ridge in September and to tick off some of the Lawers munros in October. Initially I’d planned to sweep through the latter in one giant day of seven munros. However, given my recent experience of injury I think it will be sensible to divide the Lawers range over two or three trips. The sports masseur who has helped me back to fitness since March has extensive experience as a triathlete and long distance runner and she has battled overuse injuries herself. Her best advice to me was that as far as endurance activities go (and mountain walking definitely falls into that category) it can take a few years for the body to really accustom itself to the stresses associated with the activity. So before I launch into 30k routes with 2000m of elevation it will pay dividends for me to spend a couple more years walking at half that level of intensity before stepping things up.

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

Hill fitness

A few weeks after returning from the Highlands in March 2012, the pain from my shin splints finally abated. Later in the Spring I made my first foray into the hills again, heading up to the Brecon Beacons. I completed a route that took in Pen y Fan, Fan y Big, Corn Du and Cribyn. For the last 2 miles of the walk I was in absolute agony. I remember two other hikers on the trail slowing down to see me down the mountainside safely. Those guys were seriously good samaritans. That summer I climbed Vasstinden, near to Tromso in the north of Norway. Once again, I climbed the hill no trouble whatsoever. But the moment I turned around to descend, I found myself in difficulty.

Cribyn, Brecon Beacons, 2012 – a beautiful mountain, a colossally painful descent

Over the course of the last two years I have seen sports doctors and an orthopaedic surgeon. I have had MRI scans and an arthroscopy to repair torn cartilage and several sessions of physiotherapy. During this time I have learned that the knee is a complicated and vulnerable joint and that powerful glutes and a mobile ankle are crucial to shielding it from the impact of a day in the mountains.

Knee pain is pretty common amongst hikers so I know I’m not alone. But it can sometimes be demoralising to have the fitness to charge up a mountain hardly breaking a sweat, only to be crippled by the descent. Today I find that my best safeguards against knee pain are hiking poles and a knee brace. I use the poles all the time, both on the ascent and descent. Also, when I climb I try to move as gently as possible, zig zagging at a reasonably slow pace. Climing, I take short strides, making sure I’m not bending the knee forward too much. If the knee cap passes too far in front of the foot vertically, I know I’m overdoing it.

The other thing that I have realised is that there is absolutely no substitute to being on the hill. It’s impossible to recreate a six or seven hour mountain day in the gym. I’m hoping that the body weight squats I try to fit into my morning routine will help but I know that the best way to get and stay hill fit is to just be out there. With any luck, as I increase the frequency of my mountain days, I will be able to put knee trouble behind me. This year I already have 4 quality mountain days under my belt and all passed without any serious knee pain.

The big test comes next weekend. 4 days in Scotland with the objective of 6 munros. My targets are Ben Vane in the Arrochar Alps, Ben Chabhair at Crianlarich plus Buachaille Etive Mor and Buachaille Etive Beag. Fingers crossed for the weather, the snow conditions and my knees!