French Ice.

It took a bit of travelling to get there but just over 3 hours after landing in Nice the four Irish and the rented Fiat Panda arrived through the snow with a boot full of sharp pointy stuff to get stuck into the ice. I was excited. Celliac, La Grave and loads of other places all within driving distance from where we were staying. A quick dinner, sort kit out, bed...

We woke to snow, everything was covered in fresh white powder. “Great”, I thought, “its cold”. Calvin, Clare and Ian weren't so optimistic. It must be the years of experience. Stupid Irish boy, there was lots of snow, too much in fact. We managed to get to and from the shops going sideways with snow chains on across the bridge over the lake. I was gripped and I hadn't even been on any ice yet! We got back to the house in one piece and went for a walk.

Ian Rea my climbing partner for the week. He also has a good eye for nice French wine.

Luckily the roads were cleared for the next morning and we headed off down to the little known, quiet Ubaye Valley near the Italian border. As we trundled through an avalanche tunnel I caught flashes of an ice fall between the breaks in the wall down to the right in the valley. “That looks amazing. Pretty steep! I wonder what grade it gets? I'd love to try something like that. Don't be an idiot, take your time and get warmed up first,” went the internal debate. For someone who's only climbed in UK winter conditions it was the best looking bit of ice I'd ever seen! We pulled in at the tunnel exit and everyone got out and started gearing up. I thought I'd missed something. “Oh crap, we're going down to that route. You're about to embarrass yourself big time.” A short walk and an abseil located us at the bottom. Calvin went first and shot up it, Clare followed with similar ease.

Calvin running up the first route.

Ian kindly gave me the lead and off I went. I started up and relaxed, it was a lot easier angled than the walls I'd been training on. I took my time, making sure of axe and crampon placements, sticking in screws when I felt necessary. Soon it was over, first proper ice route done and I wanted to do more.

We did another route further up the valley with an abseil approach which topped out directly onto the road! The belay was off the crash barriers, luckily its a quiet road.

The top out onto the road was a bizarre first!

Day three and we headed up to Celliac. We decided to do Les Formes du Chaos a mega classic 300m route. Although the route was quite busy it was still really enjoyable. There wasn't too much hanging around at stances. The pitches really contrasted with belays in caves and some funky ice formations it was a fun day out. There is an optional walk off if the top two pitches are out of condition but luckily they were in and Ian got to traverse into the waterfall and swarm up the back. I got the steep ice wall at the top.

Ian leading out of the cave on Les Formes du Chaos.

That night we continued onto La Grave hoping to find some space in a gite Clare had stayed in the year before. Luckily there was a free room which left us with a five minute drive to the route in the morning. The owner who is also a guide gave us a conditions update and also gave us some e-climb axes and an ice screw to try out! Caturgeas, the mega classic line was on the cards. Eight pitches of good ice according to the guide. The only problem is that the route faces south so it gets the sun. We knew it was a gamble to see if we could get up it before the sun hit the top so an early rise was in order.

We arrived at the bottom of the route at first light. It was 07.30 and probably about -10 °C, game on. Calvin headed off first and Clare quickly followed. Ian then shot up the first pitch and I followed with numb hands. Some hot aches ensued at the belay but I quickly got over it and lead up the next pitch. By the time we got to pitch four the sun had risen. Small bits of ice started coming down the route. I looked at Ian. It wasn't boding well. The temperature was rising and the sun was already warming the top. “It'll be grand.” he assured me. It wasn't grand. Half way up the pitch waves of chunky hail started coming down the route. I couldn't look up without getting a painful face full of ice. Calvin was at the next belay already sorting an abseil. I climbed to some good ice and put in a screw and clipped it. There was nothing for it but to bail. Ian summed it up well, “That's a damn shame.” 

The top of Caturgeas can be seen high in the centre. We didn't get that far, gutted.

The previous night we had arranged to go an stay with another Irish man, Harry O' Brien who spends time in the smallest house I've ever been in around the back of the Les Deux Alpes ski resort. The area is best described as the back arse of nowhere! It made a good plan B however as there was an ice fall there. It would be a consolation prize fifteen minutes walk from Harry's door so not all bad then.

We arrived, put packs on, walked the fifteen minutes uphill. I heard rushing water. I turned the corner and was greeted by the sight of a waterfall in full flow. Bollix! Ian joined me. “Do you want the wet frozen bit on the left or the right?” I asked. “I didn't bring my wetsuit”, replied Ian “Sure I suppose you can only be philosophical.” He was right but I was still disappointed.

An out of condition route. It really wasn't our day.

Thanks to Harry's hospitality we al had somewhere to squeeze in and sleep and we were well fed. The drive back the next morning was a nervous one. It was snowing again and as we approached La Grave we spied two north facing routes. Stop and do the routes and risk not getting back through the Col du Lautaret or gamble on there being something to do on the other side? We continued on and then turned back. It was worth the risk.

Ian started up the left hand route. The ice was ok but not great. I had a steeper rising traverse for the second pitch. It all started feeling very Scottish. I pushed in an ice screw and clipped it anyway. Axes were getting buried to the head and then raking down through the ice when I tested them. Front points were doing the same. I persevered and arrived at the belay. “Christ that was terrifying.” I thought. We hit the bottom in one abseil and headed over to the route on the right as Calvin was seconding up the top pitch.

Ian following up the top pitch of some Scottish feeling ice.

I didn't think it looked too bad. The top pitch looked quite short but a little steeper than anything else we'd been on. I tried to give it to Ian but he was having none of it! As Ian neared the top of the first pitch Calvin arrived back at the bottom. I asked how it was, “First pitch is four, the second pitch is defiantly five, belay's on the right.” Shit! The alarm bells in my head started going off. I started up to Ian as Clare was coming down and I asked for her opinion as well, “The top pitch is quite steep and very sustained.” The bells were deafening. Oh god I was in trouble.

Looks quite short and not to bad from the bottom.

  
I arrived at the first belay. The next pitch looked a lot steeper that it had at the bottom. It also looked a hell of a lot longer. I warmed my hands and looked on nervously. Bail or have a look? I decided to have a look. I placed a screw a few feet from the belay, I wasn't taking any chances on this. I established myself at the bottom of the steep climbing and placed another screw. I looked back across at Ian. He looked miles away. I looked down, I felt a long way up and quite alone. 85° ice lead to 90°. I was starting to get a feel for the axe placements. I was taking ages, I had to keep shaking out. Hanging off one tool was more terrifying than hanging off two. I was onto the steep section and decided to place another screw. I started it and it bit in well enough. Why can't my wrist rotate that extra few degrees?! I fumbled it. I thrust my hips forward and caught the screw between my waist and the ice. I nearly came off. “Jesus its not worth forty quid,” I thought “relax you idiot!” I managed to get the screw in and continued, taking an absolute age. I thought it was going to ease up after the 90° bit but it returned to 85°. My arms were fading fast. The axes felt like lead bars. If it didn't go in second time I had to hook it over my shoulder and shake out. I was getting worried and then I saw the tat on the right. It was only ten meters away. I crawled up to the ice towards it. “Safe!” I shouted down. I got away with it.

Ian arrived beside me, beaming. He shook my hand. “I'll have to buy you a pint for that!” Two abseils had us back at the bottom and ten minutes later we were back at the road. Calvin walked down towards me, “Well? Hardy man!” he smiled. I smiled back, “That was amazing!” I don't think anyone realised how close I came to not getting up it!

Saturday was spent on limestone in the sun at Sisteron. I pulled on a draw on a 5+, that got a good laugh. Some epic travelling on Sunday from France to North Wales via Dublin had me home for 03:30 on Monday with work at 09:00. I ran up Snowdon after work, its lovely over here at the minute. Cold but hopefully the clear skies are a sign of things to come. The axes and screws are back in the drawer, I've organised the trad rack. I'm psyced for spring....

Relaxing day in the sun clipping bolts!

Nervous Expectation.

So I'm finally in a position where I can afford to go on proper climbing trips. I live in an area with ample training facilities. There's no excuses for being weak and unfit, its all on the doorstep or in the attic. My own laziness is the only limiting factor.

Am I lazy? Sometimes... Then I got a text off Helena who had to work at 11 am the other Thursday:

“...Would you want to get out really early tomorrow and climb something in Idwal?... Would have to leave here at 6 and go do the Screen?” Well there was only one answer to that! “I can bring ropes and 6 ice screws!”

And so the plan was set. I woke at 5.30 forced down a slice of bread and some coffee and was off. We weren't the first people at the Ogwen car park, I was surprised to see others there just after half 6. Word must have been out that the ice was in! A quick walk had us at the bottom of the route and geared up for first light at 8.

I've never climbed a proper ice route before, I've also never really lead any harder that some lean III's in Scotland and backed off a really lean Vent in the Cairngorms but I was psyced. So here I was standing at the bottom of my first proper ice route and I wasn't nervous, I wasn't scared, I didn't even think too much about it. Thunk, thunk, kick, kick and I was off. Mega hooks lead most of the way. I took care on the steeper section; tap, tap, tap, make a placement, be delicate, pull! Faff in a screw. All too soon it was over.

As I sat at the top belaying up Helena, the rising sun turned the clouds a shady orange, I smiled. Everything went well. Everything felt fine. Great route in good condition, no wind and an amazing view. Maybe for once I've done enough and put in enough hours to not feel left behind. Not feel like I should have done more and not be scared for the wrong reason.

I planned this trip to France back at the end of November so there's been plenty of time for preparation. I'd like to think I've been doing that. Many hours have been spent drytooling in the quarries in all weathers, day or night. I've been running for weeks, always in darkness generally with rain and wind, accompanied by the glare of harsh LED's. I've spent a lot of time in the attic recently. Pulling hard, traversing, getting pumped, resting and getting pumped again. Cold, damp, chalky and claustrophobic sums it up. The music from Chris' old mini discs blaring; Scar Tisue, Californication, Mojo Pin, Grace....

Will it all pay off? I Hope so. The weather forecast is good, its cold in Gap.

Helena at the top of Deer Hunter. Steep walls ensure sore forearms!