I think I had a good start in life. Put together by that wise, bearded Scot from Ballachulish, I was proud to hang on that stockroom rack with all the other wannabees. It wasn’t long before I sensed some chemistry with the one on my right. A slightly odd, flattish head on her, in complete contrast to my round and heavy features. We soon hit it off, a grand pair.

I think HE had a good deal when buying us, that day back in the early eighties. We would all leave where we were made, in pairs for some reason, out into the wide open world, where being aggressively handled was the norm. I soon got used to the pounding I was giving to those strange-shaped pieces of metal, and she became a good craftswomen, working hard, chopping away at that funny stuff HE called ice. Silly name for frozen water I always thought. Our long noses seemed to do most of the work.

HE would take us from his shed, out into the hills and up some pretty steep ground,

using her first, and then me alternatively, and we both got used to being slung back on his old bag after the day out.

My fondness for my partner grew and grew. I knew she felt the same, not wishing to be taken out without me, and HE seemed to realise that. HE seemed to be getting some accolade for what HE was using us for, but we didn’t

mind. As long as we were dried, sharpened occasionally, and left hanging tidily in his shed at night . It was cold and dark. I heard him once say it had to be so because of the bundles of string also hanging in there? We put that darkness to good use regularly. Life was sweet.

The winds of change were growing after some ten years of great times. HE suddenly introduced my partner and me to some strangers. “Mark 2s” I heard him tell his many friends who’d come and use his files and vice. The newcomers were positioned next to us. We could get on with most, but I had a distinct feeling trouble was ahead.

It became a regular, uneasy feeling to be left hanging, when HE would select off the rack those with that shape I couldn’t describe, and I certainly didn’t like. They had my heavyweight head and her flattish top alright but it looked like they’d got bent

somehow when the bearded wise man had put them together. HE seemed keen to try them though?

My lady and I did get the occasional outing, especially every summer, a long way away from home, where it seemed our long straight shapes were best suited for what HE wanted? She often got a bit sea-sick at one point of the journey. We were stuffed under bags of food and other gear, spending long hours being thrown about in that tiny van. HE wasn’t hanging around, that’s for sure. The boat trip did give us a brief rest until once more we were hurtling south again after a couple of hours. I knew it was south because he kept telling his mates, “let’s not stop for chips, we’ve got to get down there as soon as we can”.

I was often out of breath on our first outing but the air did seem cleaner, nicer here. We were mainly back on the dark, cold stuff. Yes, cold in those early dark hours, but on the other hand, when the sun came up, we warmed quickly, and then often, we were parked outside a noisy bar and left for a couple of hours to sweat away the late afternoon. However, back at home, whenever the weather cooled, HE seemed to have to choose between that other couple, and us?

Our luck definitely changed though, when HE went off to do some “Minus” Gully (Number 3, I think HE told his pals later). There had been some problems moving out of easy ground onto steep rock and I think HE got a bit frightened. It seems their noses were angled a bit different because of how they’d been put together? That had been a real worry for him.

“I just couldn’t hook properly”, I heard him tell his pal that evening. “I wasn’t happy at all”.

She and I couldn’t resist looking smug. HE had had a shock and suddenly, we were back in the frame.

For a while we had a lot of fun.

 

Then it DID all change. Two more newcomers muscled their way into our scene. We

couldn’t argue. Their ‘Predator-like’ approach wasn’t to be tangled with. They were tough-looking, mean ‘son of a b…..’ fighters and I had my lady to look after. We spent many a cold month in the shed. idling our time away the best way we knew, it was still fun after all these years. We felt slightly relieved in fact, a sort of resting period. So we didn’t object to be left on the shelf, well, hanging off it.

We both realised our time was running out. I was still mad on my partner so just being next to her was good. So it came as a bit of a surprise when we found ourselves back on the old bag and off into the cold morning, recently. There was a feeling of being a bit out of practice, but HE seemed happy, going it alone on this occasion (HE had rarely been so bold).

The familiar ridge was cold and snowy, but HE quickly despatched the harder section, hooking us with glee into the steep cracks, and on the summit, crossing over to the way off, he put me away and concentrated on using her to go down the steep snow. I remember HE stopped for some drinks out of his flask at the bottom, and seemed to be peering at the cliff face, although I couldn’t see a thing in that thick clag. Although it was still fairly early, HE didn’t seem to want to push it any more, and sliding her down the side straps on the other side of me, HE wandered off down the good track and back to the car.

I never noticed she had gone. All I recall is being tossed quickly into the boot of his car, and we were soon racing up the A9 and back in the shed. There seemed to be some consternation? I gasped when I realised what HE was telling his wife. “I’ve lost my axe. I must have lost it on the way down”.

I was completely distraught. My one and only love for over twenty years, maybe

longer, had gone. All I could do was hang limply from the shelf and cry. It was a horrible night. I realised HE was trying everything to get her back. A good friend of his had a great website that people used to read often, and my lady’s disappearance was published.

Next morning I wanted to die. The first few waking hours were so painful, but by mid-morning, something was happening? HE was so excited, dancing around joyfully. I heard him tell his wife, “The website has paid off. It’s been found! ”

I almost fell off my hook with joy. She wasn’t gone!

Sure enough, a few hours later, she was back, right next to me, I was so happy.

They are a strange bunch, these humans who throw us at that white stuff so aggressively, but I have to say I don’t really care anymore. Thanks to that website and the kindness and thought of the other human, she and I are together again.

And it does look like we will be relaxing for even more of those cold days, because another two newcomers from France, (Nomics or something like that), seem to have taken his fancy.

Good luck to him and to them. My lady and I are happy to chill.

I’ve been inside all day, when I should have been driving back down to Aviemore and searching for my lost axe. I’d already asked my friend and colleague Alan Kimber of  ’West Coast Mountain Guides’, Fort William, to put something out on his daily blog about my missing axe, thinking, you never know, and sure enough, he did.

Thanks so much Alan, for your efforts paid off. Bill from ‘Scotch on the Rocks’ was returning from Sneachda as it was geting dark last night and spotted my axe in the snow (not the car park where I thought I’d lost it)!

It’s a great example of our small world, full of really great people. I’m putting away the beer money right now. Happy Christmas Alan, and Bill. I owe you.

What a christmas present!