Life Catches Up.

I said I was getting better. I wasn't. I've been in steady decline. I've now got two professional opinions that my hip will either get better with exercise or worse. Its not a torn muscle.Worse means operation. I've been told to keep doing what I normally do. Run, climb, keep it active, keep it moving. How can I run when I know its going to be sore? I feel alone and detached.

I hiked my way up to Cloggy last Thursday with Rich. I wanted to get on Shrike. My hip was sore at the top and my mind elsewhere. On reflection I wasn't in the right mind frame. We abseiled in. I was slightly scared and totally in awe. The Axe looked amazing. I pulled onto Shrike. I pretty much came off as quick. A stupid, stupid mistake had me hanging off my only bit of gear just above the ground. Luckily it was a number four camalot. I came back down and got back on. Doubt had set in and I tried to follow the route description as exactly as it sounded. I committed to a traverse and ended up in no man's land. I couldn't find any gear. The swing potential was enough that I would get hurt. “Rich... I'm really not happy,” the tone of my voice said it all “like really not happy.” I didn't know what to do. I placed a large offset in a flared crack that half the nut went into. I twisted it and it popped out. I put it back in. About fifteen slow minutes of contemplation followed. I managed to reverse the traverse... just. I lowered off and Rich lead the route. 

Ritch Gentry cruising pitch two of Shrike.

I thought nothing of it for a few days. Shit happens. I wasn't on form. Whatever. Its one of those things. I know now, its more than that. Life has caught up. I've built a brick wall around a lot of things since moving. A long term relationship was ended over skype and I just got on with life. I didn't know what else do do. Anyone I had around I'd known for less than three months. Everything else was new and exciting. I had good training facilities, unexplored mountains and crags and a massive selection of trad and sports routes. I still do, I've barely scratched the surface but motivation has died when I know its going to hurt. The enjoyment and freedom I get from the situations when I'm at my limit has been dead recently because I can't push. Its impossible to concentrate when pain shoots through my right hip when I move it a certain way.

I moved to North Wales to climb and work. I needed a job and the location was the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me. But now, being injured, I feel foreign and isolated. Everyone I know climbs and I'm not really climbing at the minute. It defiantly makes me question my life decisions and miss friends and family back home.

The Axe. One of the most stunning routes in North Wales. A good reason to live here.

I'm really struggling at the minute.

I've been denying it to myself for a long time. The brick walls have stood and I've ran and climbed. There was always another project or trip and now there's not. I've no plans, I don't know what I'm doing and I'm lost. I thought I could deal with it but clearly I can't.

Chris was around the other morning. I came downstairs just before work. “How's it going man?” I mumbled a response. He looked at me, “Are you ok?” For the first time in a long time I was honest, I paused and thought, “no.” and I broke down.

Work has been amazing. I've been off for three days and they know exactly why and I've been told to take the time I need. I know this will all pass and I'll wonder what was ever wrong with me but at the moment I'm really struggling. Its not easy to leave everything behind and trade it for something else overnight. I've denied it to myself for a long time and now I need to accept it, deal with it and move on. Its hard.

Lonley.

I've made great friends in North Wales and I'm here for the duration however long that is. I love this place, I love the climbing but being injured sucks. Recently I've been grounded, torn muscle in the hip and tight everything makes even walking painful. Basically everything hurts, I can't run, I can't cycle and climbing hurts fuckloads. Last week I was sitting around the house alone as has been the general trend recently. I went for a walk in the rain around the back of Vivian Quarry. The bluebells were amazing. I got home two hours later, it was still early enough in the day and I was at a loss as for what to do. I cooked some eggs for dinner and sat at the table, tried to eat them and cried. Its hard to say and admit but it happened. I've never felt so alone in my life and I don't know why. Probably a combination of injury and change. Rich noticed when he walked into the shop the next day. He said it looked like I'd been crying. I denied it of course. Chris and Karen I think, noticed and have pretty much taken me in the last few days. It means the world to me to have people like that in my life.

Myself and Chris, a smile hides all. Photo - Richard Williams.

Its only because I feel much better now I'm comfortable saying this. One year is not long but its been enough for me to realise a lot. Its hard to move countries, leaving friends and family behind. Sure modern communication helps but I've seen my family for possibly four or five days in the last year and a bit. I missed Christmas and god knows what else in between. I think change and distance has finally caught up with me a bit and I'll deal with in time. New and exciting has changed to routine. Since I've struggled every day gets easier. Climbing provides freedom from everything. I have great friends. It was Gogarth with the Americans last week, I'm on for a painful slog to Cloggy in the morning. Joe said he'd love to be able to just walk up and have a look at it, I'm going to climb. I know life is good and I'm really lucky. But seriously get in touch, come stay, the door is always open and I'd love to see people.

Tired and Happy.

Well the trip to Fairhead got cancelled last minute. Gutted. I probably wasn't fit enough to make the most of it anyway. It would be more gutting if I didn't live where I do. Still lots of rock and routes for me to get on with over here! Not a bad situation to be in. My hip is still fucked from the mountain marathon in Scotland and my ankle is sensitive but it can deal with a bit of discomfort. Luckily this hasn't affected my climbing too much and I've got a lot done the last few weeks.

First route was straight off the train from Scotland the other week, I followed Helena up Centerfold at Roscolyn. Helena's defiantly on form at the minute. We got started just after 7. She cruised it and finished before dark! A great effort as the route seems tricky to read. I had a mare getting up it with a swollen ankle I couldn't weight and a very tired body. I managed to get to the top eventually with most of the gear back. Lovely clear star lit skies at the coast made it worth it.

I forced myself to rest for a few days which didn't work. I took the bike out for a 30 mile loop after work. Ended up freezing because I was going so slow! I crashed for about 11 hours after that and woke up at 7 the next morning. I knew I shouldn't climb. I hadn't arranged to. "Everyone will already be sorted for the day" I tried to convinced myself, "that's a good thing, rest." It was a lovely day. By 9 I had texted everyone in my phone book. I felt better. Ben replied saying he was free. I threw some gear together. I hate wasting a sunny day in North Wales!

We cycled down the pass with not much in mind. Craig Ddu which is nearly always sopping wet was dry! It also involved the shortest walk and the least uphill cycling. Ben pointed me at a wall with a route called Sea Panther on it. I racked up and pulled onto the wall. The climbing felt really good. The odd quartz feature nice positive holds. The gear was a little spaced in spots but with the holds and moves never felt bold.

Adding a splash of colour to the Black Crag!

Canol was next on the cards and after some debate about where it started I headed up. The first pitch was easy climbing but only had a couple of novelty wires in 20m! Ben shot up the main pitch and then got himself slightly lost, wandering around the easy ground for a bit trying to remember if it went left or right. Back on the ground I had to call it a day. My ankle was starting to swell. Not to bad for a rest day though!

I did force myself to rest for 2 days but by the Sunday I was dying to get out again. Owen agreed to take me to Tremadog after work so I could get on Falcon and hopefully there'd be enough time for him to look at Vulcan. Tourists driving at 30 mph all the way to Tremadog meant it took a while to get there. Eventually we located the bottom of the route. Owen didn't really want to do the first chossy pitch so I headed up to do it in one.

I went slightly right to a ledge and realised I was at the wrong one. I need to be on the left to start. I put a wire in and climbed back down and across to the right spot. Then I realised that the rope on the right would be useless for the route unless I could swing it around the roofs from higher up. Start located I pulled through the first overhang and got some good gear. A few pulls later I could see the peg in the groove and I was pumped! I made it to the peg and bridged in the groove. My calfs were burning. I hadn't recovered from the mountain marathon at all. I couldn't figure out what to do next. For a split second I considered lowering off there. "Don't be an idiot. If you're coming off this route you're falling off!" I told myself. I ignored my legs, they might be sore but they weren't going to come off. I felt out a hand hold and moved a foot slightly higher. I rocked my weight onto it in the corner and stood up. I did the same with my other foot. Progress! I fiddled a tiny cam into a crack and continued painfully slowly up the groove. A small wire went in and I finally made it to the good foot ledge before the move right. I stuck a few small wires in the horizontal crack and removed a lower one in case I couldn't sort the right hand rope out.

I peered around the arête. I could see the foothold. I reached out with my right foot and slowly rocked out. My right hand went in search of something to help and a good edge had me around pretty easily. Luckily the other rope came to so I wouldn't have to deal with mega rope drag. The crack continued above. At each bulge I got progressively more pumped getting around. Finally the top was in sight. A few moves and I would be there. I tried to go right around the top bulge. A foot popped. I retreated to the rest shaking. "Relax! You’re not fucking blowing this onsight!" I looked to the large crack on the left. From an undercut I reached across and pinched it. I kicked my feet to the wall on the left and laybacked up the crack, arse hanging in space. I was pumped! I managed to get into a secure position. One more move. I just need to get my foot in the crack! I was exhausted. I pulled and dropped my knee in! I rested there for about 5 minutes adrenalin rushing, then topped out. Two and a half hours! Its the longest I've ever spent on a route and not fallen off!

There wasn't enough time for Owen to get on Vulcan so I abbed and stripped the route. Of course the ropes got stuck and I spent 50 min wondering around the top of the crag trying to find them. Luckily I did just before dark! Happy days!

A wet week followed so I stuck to the attic. Thursday came round and it was back to Tremadog with Emma and Ritch. We wandered up Merlin Direct. I got to lead the top pitch which defiantly has some good climbing. Emma then went off with Rich to do Vector. Its a route I'm saving for later in the year. I wandered down to Eric's Café and had a chat with Eric for a bit. What a legend!

Emma heading off up the first pitch of Merlin Direct.

 

The next 2 evenings were spent on Jerry's roof and Bus Stop. I've started working them as a bad weather option. That move to the pocket still feels miles away. Sophie will have it soon I reckon!

Sunday after work had me up to the Grochan with Helena. I decided to push the boat out a bit and get on SS Special. I found the ledge before the top moves very accommodating. So much so I must have re-visited it about 5 times before commiting to the move left. Once out there I kept pulling up on the left! Some terrifying slopeyness had me too far out left and I continued to the top. I'll have to go back and do the route again for the tick. A bit annoying!! Helena then did Slape Direct a nice steep crack line.

Yesterday it was back to Tremadog with Sheila. I did Fang which I've wanted to do for a while. Once I figured the move out and left on pitch two I headed up the slabby ground above. Brilliant climbing. Really enjoyable and totally run out. Defiantly not a place to come off. I couldn't help wondering as I placed an rp if Joe even got any gear in on the first ascent! I then followed Sheila up Carlo and Grim Wall Direct. 15 min down the road from the crag we drove into the rain. The different micro climates never cease to amaze me around here!

I'm currently wrecked. My arms feel dead and my back and shoulders are sore. Its a good way to be. I feel like I'm making some progress for once. I just hope the weather clears up. I'm heading out bouldering later!

Two Week Turn Around.

April was busy! Winter ended late and the Highlander was drawing closer and closer. In typical fashion instead of training for the job at hand in the wet weather I tried some new things!

1. Sit On Top Sea Kayaking:

I don't like being in deep water. It makes me nervous. I can't swim well. However stuck for something to do on a typical wet North Wales day Lily suggested we head kayaking off Newborough on some sit on tops. I borrowed a wet suit and buoyancy aid and was reassured by the fact that sit on tops are impossible to fall out of or roll....

“Lily!” there was alarm in my voice, “The back of this kayak is very low to the water.” Lily looked around her face turned to shock. I was sinking. “We should head back to shore.” I didn't need to be told twice. I turned the kayak and it rolled dumping me in the sea. I wasn't happy! I clung onto the kayak with a climbing style terror grip. Long story short I got rescued by Lily and we towed the kayak back to shore. It had a 2 inch hole in it and took about 5 minutes to drain.

Still not a huge fan of deep water.

2. Surfing:

Went to Rhosneigr with Adam, Ruth and Lily. We checked out a few spots just to establish that the surf was shit everywhere. Perfect for me to learn in then and no chance of being swept home to Ireland. Surfing is something I've wanted to try for ages. Mainly because I think it'd make me look cool. Being a qualified surf instructor and decent individual Lily was willing to give me a lesson. “Paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, PADDLE!” in a crazy instructor voice just about sums it up! After a few failed attempts I managed to pop up and promptly fell off backwards. This happened a few more times then BOOM! I popped up found my balance and I was away. First wave if you could call it that successfully surfed! I felt like a super hero!

How I felt on a tiny wave! Photo: Wikimedia Commons.

Water is growing on me.

3. Cliff Jumping:

Low clag and rain meant climbing was off. In a fit of desperation and running avoidance I paddled a surf board 500m across Llyn Gwynant and did a 4m jump off the rocks. I have never been as scared in my life. Felt totally ridiculous standing on a rock ledge looking at the deep water below and shaking like a leaf. The shaking wasn't from the cold. It took a while... Splash. The cold was biting. The darkness unnerving. I broke the surface. Deep breath. I think I smiled? I went back up and jumped again. The paddle back was freezing!

I am defiantly more comfortable in water now.

Still not a fan of sand, bloody stuff gets everywhere.

***

Two and a half weeks with very little running meant the long journey up to Scotland held an impending sense of doom for me. I knew I was going to suffer. Andy claimed he hadn't been doing much running but what counts as much for someone who rain the Dragon's Back race last year?!

We arrived in Newtonmore and registered. Andy talked to a few folk, ever the sales rep and we headed to the pub. Some food and 4 or 5 pints later we sacked off the idea of pitching a tent and slept in the car. We were up at 06.30 and I finished packing. Breakfast was hard to eat. We were on the bus at 8 and on course about an hour and a half later. The terrain was difficult. Bog, marsh and tussocky heater turned to snow higher up. There was also a route choice to be made for the second half of the course. Any order we liked on the controls. The sun was out in force and I could feel myself burning in the glare from the snow. Andy was up for pushing, I tried to follow but was on a bit of a go slow. At some stage in the day something went in my hip. Every time I lifted my leg I got a stabbing pain. I suffered through slowing Andy down at every uphill. 

Running conditions on day one. Photo: SAIS Creag Meagaidh Blog.

We made it around in 6 hrs 21 min, the leading time was 4hrs 40min! The run into the finish was agony, Andy took my pack for the last few kilometres. Day one finished and I was broken. We got some food, pitched the tent and I crashed out for a few hours. Andy woke me up at 7ish I think I we got some water on for dinner. I got to hear about the virtues of how good the expedition foods meals were as they were resealable and could be used as a hot water bottle while they cooked. “Make sure it doesn't leak” was my advice as I lay there bemused. Five minutes later there was fish pie down Andy's front and on the tent floor. I was too tired to even laugh much.

There was a great atmosphere in the marquee that night with a ceili band, beer and people up dancing. I ate more food. My intake was now verging on the ridiculous. At about eleven I took 4 nurofen and headed to bed hoping for a miraculous recovery in the morning. It didn't happen.

Half five came quickly, we broke camp had food and were on the course at seven. I was suffering, it was raining and the first icy river crossing burned the hell out of my sunburnt legs. A nav error between points 3 and 4 had us moving up the bottom of a steep sided gorge. Eventually we got sick of icy water, falling through snow and sticking in mud and clawed our way up the side and out. Luckily we popped out beside the control. The next few hours passed in a blur of popping nurofen, eating to occupy myself uphill and variable weather. It was sunny, then we had rain, wind, hail, sleet and show then back to sun.

I got very cold near the end after a waist deep river crossing. My right ankle had deteriorated throughout the day and now I could just about manage a hobble downhill. I decided to nip any more problems in the bud and stopped and layered up. Eventually we hit the last downhill section and I hobbled to the finish. 

Scratched legs, sunburn and a slightly less swollen ankle!

We finished 13th overall, well off the pace of the top finishers but I'm happy to have done my first mountain marathon. Thanks to Andy for dragging me around and putting up with my slow pace and complaining! Also Rab lent me an Infinity 300 sleeping bag for the event which was great. Salomon gave me the use of some S-lab ¾ tights and and S-lab t-shirt which didn't come off all weekend and were very comfortable over the many miles. I also had the use of a Klymit X-Frame mat which was surprisingly comfortable and I'd defiantly use one again.

Now I have about two weeks till I'm off to Fairhead. I feel like I've been neglecting my climbing although for once this hasn't bothered me as much as it normally does. So I've two weeks to turn it around. I'm psyched!

Smiling for Days.

Thunk. Another solid placement. Pull. Feet up. Kick, kick. Thunk. I look right. A dim orange glow lights the “V” of the pass. Clear twilight skies freshen the oncoming darkness. I notice the first star twinkle. I'm in control, comfortable and I smile. What a ridiculous situation to be in. 30m up Cascade on Craig y Rhaeadr after work with the onset of darkness approaching. I soak it all in. I know this is special. Its been a good few days.

Twilight from Cascade.

***

Last week Paul Headland who I met on the BMC International Meet got in touch wanting to know what conditions were like in Wales and if I was free towards the end of the week. Luckily I was and we headed to the Black Ladders on Thursday.

I've never seen the Ladders in winter before and of course the first thing that struck me was the obvious gully. Took the guide out to find it was Western Gully, first ascent J. Brown, its now on my list. Spin drift was dumping down it so we headed right with an eye on Icefall Gully. I think we ended up on a route called ATC. Good to shit ice lead into a mixed corner where I struggled to find a belay before I dug out a good crack. Minimal gear had Paul up the second pitch and easy ground and some snow swimming lead to the top. We were back at the car for half three and there was a slight feeling that we should try and get more out of the day but we decided to rest up.

Good ice turning to shit ice. Photo: Paul Headland.

On Friday we headed up to Cwm Hetiau and I climbed The Flying Scotsman. I even got sunburnt! Paul's friend Jim and myself then headed up Railway Gully which was pretty boring. We seemed to just be running out 60m stretches at a time and the angle was constant. The walk off was long and I managed to fall through some banked out snow into the only hole on the mountain!

Cwm Hetiau.

There were some climbing superstars in town over the weekend and I heard that Cascade was in condition. I was interested. Why not give it a go? I texted Will and he was free after work on Monday too, game on.

Cascade is the line on the right.

It was a smooth ascent, finished in the dark. I got bad hotaches, I can live with that. 

Will heading up steep ice to the top.

***

When I think of the climbing and the views and the position I still smile, I haven’t stopped for days.

Smiling for days!

Quiet Times?

Its felt like a quiet few weeks in North Wales since I've been back from France. Then I realise if I go a day or two without doing something I think its quiet. Then I think about home, friends I haven't seen in ages did I do the right thing packing up everything and moving. Lots of people talk about getting out, falling out of love with Ireland, wanting to leave. I've been gone a year in another two weeks. Feeling a bit like I've not done much recently so I'm making a list to remind myself why I'm here and why its worth it...

Ran up Snowdon after work a few times.

Walked up from Llanberis and soloed the Trinity Face after work. It was dark. Felt ridiculous and amazing.

Near the top of Trinity Left Hand.

Walked up to Clogwyn Du after work with Will to try and find something easy to do. The rock was black when we got up there. Nearly got lost about four or five times.

Sitting in a tree for 2 hours belaying Will on Pincushion, he made it to the peg and lowered off.

Perched on an arete on One Step in the Crowds wondering what the hell I'm doing up there for the first trad route of the season and how the hell I'm going to get over the roof. Smeary feet, good jam, work feet up. Hit the slopey lip of the big crack, jam other hand, work feet up on nothing. One last look a the WC zero at my feet. “Trust your feet, don't fuck this up,” is all that's going through my head. My arms are getting tired, I think I've been up here for fifteen minutes or more, time crawls. I pull. I see good holds. Smear feet up. Reach slowly. Keep in balance. My foot pops. I slap up violently as I start to barn-door. My hand lands on the jug. Tremadog rock has never felt so good, I laughed after an outpouring of expletives.

Up at five to 5 am and find the last of the ice in Ogwen with Helena. We walked in, it was warm. Climbed the Idwal slabs in boots at 7 am. Pretty ridiculous. Few snowy and icy holds up top. Felt sorry for the guys starting up it at 9.30 am in rock shoes it was cold!

Helena somewhere up on the Idwal Slabs at a stupidly early hour.

Ran Moel Eilio and around the quarries a few times.

Few beacon sessions.

Seen the Alain Robert talk.

Had a chat with Joe Brown. He showed me this pretty funny video: 

We got chatting about bolting and how he's worried that climbing is loosing its adventure. He comes from a generation where it seems like they just went out and got on with it in pretty much any weather so this week I decided to take a leaf out of Joe's book.

Jono arrived from Ireland on Wednesday. His heel is still injured for his trip to the States so we couldn't head up the mountains to have a look for conditions, too much walking required. We headed up to Skyline in Australia in the quarries instead. I got on one of Joe's routes, a HVS which had 30m of novelty gear placements until I got a good wire 10m from the top. It got windy, then the horizontal snow came whizzing by followed by hail. The rock stayed dry so Jono climbed directly to the line of bolts on the 6a. I was wearing two belay jackets. We couldn't feel our feet or hands. Just as I topped out to join Jono it started raining. The rock got wet so we sacked it off...

A crap forecast lead to us drinking too much that night. Made it up to Vivian at 2 pm the next day with a raging hangover. Jono had his eye on the Dervish. I offered to lead Last Tango for a warm up. I was in trouble straight away. I could barely get of the ground. I couldn't seem to quite put my feet and hands where I wanted them. Moving up the crack to the overlap I was feeling really rough. It was a mega effort not to vomit, then I got the shakes and couldn't keep my feet on anything. I put in a wire and lowered off. Jono shot up the route. Just as he got back down we heard a rushing sound. A wall of white hail came in from the mountains and soaked the place. The ropes got stuck when Jono tried to pull them. An ad-hoc system got him back up the ropes to release them. We retired to Llanberis in the rain.

So back to the start of the post. Did I do the right thing in moving? I think this picture says it all.

Alone on the Trinity Face in the dark. Never been happier! I swear I'm smiling.

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!