Why? Because they are beautiful

I’ve neglected this blog in the months since my first alpine trip last September. Having changed jobs and moved from London to Brussels in the intervening period, my goal of climbing the munros has inevitably taken a back seat. However, I now find myself that little bit closer to the Alps and I am currently preparing for my second alpine trip, this time with fellow members of the Belgian Alpine Club.

Last year I started to write about my motivation for heading to the hills and mountains. Ultimately, there are just two factors at play here for me: the aesthetic and the physical. Today I want to focus on the first of these. In my opinion, mountain landscapes are the most captivating of any on earth. There is just something awe inspiring in the shape and form of a chain of mountains. Depending on the weather the same slopes can inspire both wonder and dread.

Switzerland, September 2016

I have clear childhood memories of drawing pictures of mountains. I would sketch the outline of a pointy peak and then trace the pencil horizontally between the two slopes to mark a snow line. I have no idea how this idealised image of a mountain entered my consciousness at such a young age. It was certainly not from any time spent on or near mountains.

I suppose like most children though, snow held particular fascination for me. The infrequency of winter snowfall while growing up in the West Midlands of England during the 1980s was a source of frustration. During the winter months I would dream of heavy snowfall covering everything in its blanket of white (and perhaps closing school for a few days) yet it rarely did. Decades later, during my first Scottish winter trips the sensation of crunching through crisp snow seemed to awaken an almost child-like sense of excitement in me and to this day I think that any mountain is at its finest in its full winter raiment.

Glyderau, Snowdonia, December 2016

In my late 20s and early 30s I saw glacial ice for the first time in my life. The vivid blue and turquoise glow of Patagonian and Alaskan glaciers was mesmerising. Last year, in Switzerland, descending from Mont Blanc de Cheilon I observed the phenomenon of pink streaks in glacial ice; signs of algae and not necessarily indicative of the ice flow’s health (an important topic for a separate post).

When asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest George Mallory supposedly answered simply, “Because it’s there.” If I had to answer the same question I would respond, “Because it’s beautiful”. To be clear, I harbour no ambitions at all to climb Everest but there are many fine peaks in the Alps that I do long to climb, notably the Weisshorn and the Dent Blanche – two extremely beautiful giants.

Dent Blanche dominating the horizon, Switzerland, September 2016

But in terms of aesthetics and the beauty of the landscape, it is not simply that the mountain itself is stunning. It is also (and perhaps even more importantly) because the summit of a mountain offers a vantage point like no other. I’ve been up plenty of British hills that would not win first prize in a mountain beauty contest but whose summits still offer breathtaking views (conditions permitting).

Within a week I should be in the shadow of Monte Bianco, doing some warm up hikes before heading further east to the Monte Rosa where I hope to make my first foray above 4000m. A long way from the Brecon Beacons yet, strangely, perhaps not all that far in my mind. For me, any mountain landscape stirs similar passions.

 

Six Months of Real Mountains

Half way through the year and with the Cuillin munros recently completed, it seems like a good time to take stock of my progress in the mountains this year. The big difference compared with 2013 is the frequency with which I’ve managed to get up to Wales and Scotland. Over 12 days since January I have covered a distance of one hundred and fifty eight kilometres, climbed thirteen thousand four hundred and fifty metres in aggregate (roughly one and a half times the height of Everest) and and added twenty one munros and six furths to my tally.

Cuillin, June 2014

My trip to Skye earlier this month (a full account of which is posted to my Walk Highlands page ) undoubtedly marks a high point in my experience of the mountains of Scotland. The exposed scrambles and roped climbs involved in attaining summits such as Sgurr nan Gillean and the Inaccessible Pinnacle will remain firmly etched in my memory forever. Sharing those memories with friends and colleagues recently (e-mailing them links to my Flickr gallery of the Skye trip ) elicited some interesting responses. All admired the photographs, many were stunned by the beauty of the landscape and a few were of course alarmed at the thought of heading into that sort of terrain for fun. The most interesting response came from an Austrian colleague. Whilst admiring the pictures, he suggested that if I wanted to climb a ‘real mountain’ rather than a ‘hill’ (which he observed was almost rivalled in height by a hideous looking Arabian skyscraper called the Burj Khalifa) then I should head to Alps where he would be happy to suggest some via ferrata for me to try.

Inaccessible Pinnacle, June 2014

It was interesting for me to see how the mountains of the UK are sometimes perceived by people who have grown up in the shadow of much higher peaks. I had no hesitation in explaining to him that while the mountains of Scotland pose no danger of altitude sickness they are certainly not be underestimated and should be approached with the respect and caution that any mountain deserves – especially in winter. It’s easy to forget that many munro days (especially on the West coast) start at or near sea level. Routes are frequently pathless and the weather, well…. (I’m sure there’s a German word for ‘dreich’). I pointed out to my Austrian colleague that an ascent of the Grossglockner (Austria’s highest point) begins at a car park that itself is located above the 2000m contour. Thus, the climb to its summit involves around 1900m of ascent. By contrast, a full traverse of the Cuillin ridge involves around 3000m of climbing (about the same as a climb of the Matterhorn from Cervinia). Of course alpine ascents and munro bagging are not to be compared. These are different objectives with high altitude, snow climbs and glacier crossings changing the equation altogether. But it’s easy to see how the relatively low altitude of British mountains can deceive people who are used to loftier ranges.

Bla-Bheinn, June 2014

One thing the alpine climber doesn’t have to contend with is the dreaded midge. During the week in Skye I had my first encounters with Culicoides impunctatus and was extremely glad of my head net. OK, I’ll admit that it’s not a look that’s likely to take off on the catwalk any time soon but it’s a really effective way to keep the little buggers at bay. The onset of midge season also seems to coincide with the mass arrival of tourists in the Highlands. I noticed on the drive to and from Skye many more cars and caravans on the road than I had seen earlier in the year. So, despite my desperation to bag more munros I expect to delay my next visit to the Highlands at least until September when I hope the midges will be biting less, and the roads will be quieter.

4.45 am and 636 miles to home

In the meantime, I will set my sights on Snowdonia. Having enjoyed the scrambles on Skye so much I plan to take on Tryfan and the Glyders later in July. My sense of achievement in upping my munro count (from 3 to 24 in the space of a few months) is sometimes matched by feelings of frustration that the mountains aren’t a little bit nearer. A weekend in Wales means 5 hours in the car each way and a Highland trip (whether arriving by plane or train) is inevitably a wager on the weather of at least £200 in non-refundable fares. That said, being in London has its advantages too. It’s clearly too far to reach Scotland by car in a weekend and the flight options are good. In October a new service to Inverness opens from London City so with any luck, this coming winter will see a couple of weekend expeditions into the Cairngorms.

Since starting this blog in March I have received 350 views from readers as far away as Malaysia and the United States. Whoever you are, thank you for reading. I look forward to sharing more mountain adventures with you in the months to come.

24 down, 258 to go

Incompleatist, 29 June 2014