It’s Christmas time…..
The damp and gloom of autumn has receded and we have snow!
My first course for the 2009/2010 season was a five-day beginners course with Steve and Caroline starting on the 17th December.
I met them at the hostel in Aviemore on the Thursday morning and we sped up the road to Cairngorm station car park, happy in the knowledge the road wasn’t affected (just yet) by the recent and welcome snowfalls. It was the team’s first visit to the ‘Gorms, so there was plenty to show them. They’d also only spent a limited time (in Iceland) in crampons. However, in Corrie An’t Sneachda, they soon showed they were adequately competent so I prodeded to get stuck into snowskills under a snowy Goat Track.
Avalanche assessment was first - Were we justified in being there? The answer, that day alone of course, was yes, low avalanche risk showed after ‘boot block’ tests. This concurred with the avalanche forecast issued the day before. There was only about 2.5cms of fresh snow lying on th harder base, and that wasn’t very deep before gettting down to ground level.
Not too many layers for good demonstration purposes, but the guys got the picture (especially amusing was one of me jumping up and down trying to release the old ‘harder’ block under the softer top layer, to no avail I am sorry to say, as I sat and rested after the exertions.
Sliding was good though and the four main disiplines for axe breaking proved good fun and quite educational, especally the one without an axe. Amazing, Christine shouted.
Next came ‘climber security’ from a rising strength of snow belays,when roped up. The bucket seat, then the buried axe, then the T-axe, and finlly the final two snow belays, the Deadman plate and the snow bollard. I laboured the point about ignoring the ‘pear-shaped’ snow bollard diagrams in some of the older textbooks, insisting on the ‘upturned U’ shape, which retains the snow strength. I emphasised though, the use of the snow seat as the basis for all the belays, and again laboured the point about using a body belay for the rope, and the heels of boots working effectively, which allowed for a more ‘dynamic’arrest, as opposed to a ’snatch’ with a belay plate.
Amazingly, the afternoon was drawing on quickly so we sped across the the ‘flat Ice’ and both Steve and Caroline proceeded to hang off their two suitably-placed ice screws, which also suitably impressed them with the strength.
Day One drew to a close as we trekked out easily on the shallow depth of snow lying. A different story would ensue in a few days time.
Day Two surfaced with a problem. Caroline was unwell, and had to drop out of the proposed climb today. This was unfortunate as I wanted to get the two of them to climb Jacob’s Ladder, using all the belaying skills they had learnt on the first two days.
Reluctantly (without Caroline), Steve and I ventured once again into the corrie, but now it was snowing quite badly. Approaching the area of Sneachda, known as The Mess of Pottage Buttress, I determined the avalanche risk as considerable, but related it to our Guides’ ‘working grade’3 and proceeded to follow several other parties up to the halfway stage in the gully, where Hidden Chimmney breaks off left. From that point we were alone. It was too soon for Steve to start his leading role in these sort of conditions, so I led the four rope lengths up to what looked like a long final pitch.
I kept to the thinner snow on the vicinity of the rock walls until the snow depth had relented with the steeper gound, and climbed towards the cornice. The key exit lay in a trough of snow immediately below the steepest part of the cornice, and I front pointed up amzingly good and steep neve until I could lie in the trough. I then worked my way along the trough until the cornice receded and I was able to break through with ease. A really great pitch for a Grade one gully, especially for Steve on his first winter climb. He was elated on reaching the top.
Here though,it was horrenddous weather. The wind whipped the snow with some force into my face and I was thankful for the snow googles. Communication became less than perfect though, but Steve managed the pitch with admirable coolness (for his first cornice) and with Ron and Fiona appearing just as Steve topped out, it was a friendly team that opted for the Fiachall of Corrie Casse exit for the descent, and soon we were back at the car.
It was a little later than I’d expected back in Aviemore so I apologised to Steve for not seeing Caroline at the bunkhouse, and sped off up the A9 in worsening driving conditions.
Day Three - We now were in the full might of the northern highlands snow storms.
Our plan had been to drive over to the west coast and do some climbing, maybe a ridge on The Buchallie Etive Mor, on that day. The road conditions made it unwise to attempt the crossing via the Loch Laggan road, so we packed all the bags and proceeded to take the much slower and longer, but more certain, road up the A9 to Inverness then down the A82 to Fort William, where we were booked in to the Bank Street Lodge Bunkhouse. With the conditions on the roads, together with a fuse problem causing my heater to fail and needing to periodically change the fuse, it took us too long to consider a climb so we checked in the accommodation and had an early Nevis Sports Bar meal and a couple of pints,next to the most welcome and roaring open fireplace.
Day 4 - The Buchaille Etive Mor
It was time for some climbing and the ‘Buckle’ would be a great choice. Although Laggangarb Corrie is a notorious avalanche site, there are always ways to avoid the dangers, and it is a superb peak to conquer in winter.
We had had a few problems with Christine’s crampons coming off for the first couple of days. because of her old Koflachs being very worn at the front, her older ‘bail-type’ fitting would gradually slip off, causing everyone to utter thier displeasure. Today, even before we had reached the steeper top section of the gully, I was again cranking the crampon adjustments as far as I could, and it seemed to work.
There was very little build-up of snow so far, but the steeper chimmney exiting to the col did look a bit thick with snow, so with all the crampons working well, I led off to the left of the normal line, on icy ground interpersed with rock handholds. It was great climbing and the pair below me moved up together and enjoyed the climb.
We took a moment on the col for some hot drinks, then wandered along the track and eventually gained the summit. The wqeather had deteriorated by now and a strong wind meant this was no place to linger. Familiarity with the ridge leading back to the descent gully meant no problems in this poor weather and bad visibility to us, as the storm was now rain, and further on, a full blizzard. Because the storm was relatively recent, our tracks were obvious and we soon were back at the col.
To descend the steeper icy ground would have been more tricky so I opted to send Steve down the normal chimmney line, and had him create as much clearence as he could, while belayed securely by me. His efforts cleared almost all the snow that would likely slip off, and soon, Christine and I were following Steve down to the safer ground. A worthwhile tactic that Was very much safer and definitely quicker. Out of the wind now,we all felt more comfortable, and apart from some crampons coming off, the SMC hut was reached with little problem.
The storm had receded by now but the damage to the road was considerable. We slowly made our way down the ‘Coe until road conditions improved and we made our way back to our accommodation in the Bank Street Lodege,in the heart of Fort William, the now de-rigour of a meal in Nevis Sports bar ended a good day.
Day 5 - Chatting to a father and son couple (both called Dave) staying in the Lodge, we decided to join forces and ascend Stob Ban, a grand peak and part of the Devil’s Ridge, overlooking Glen Nevis. I say join forces because I knew the lads and my team had the same ideas for this peak, but I also knew there would be few if any tracks to the summit,two or three kilometers of deep trail-breaking, which would need a team effort. And so it turned out. Following the river for a long way, the ground was deep in snow, and it proved exhausting. Fortunately, Dave Junior was our saviour. Young and strong, he made short work of the trail-breaking, but I did have to keep offering my turn every so often.
Two Scots caught us up before we reached the col, and we all had a rest from the hard work, while these two new trail-breakers took their turn. Reaching the col, we were all amazed at how long it had taken to reach here. There was,in my calculation, another two hours to the summit, so I proposed a tactical retreat at the next col along before the steeper climb to the summit.Just reaching this second col was not easy, as the snow was well over the knees. I was now certain we should turn back, or we would be descending in the dark later.The two Daves agreed and we rested with drinks, watching the two Scots as they continued slowly up the steeper section of the ridge. A few thoughts drifted into conversations, like ‘perhaps we could just do it’? Our decision to turn back was finally re-inforced when we saw the two Scots also bailing out.
The descent to the car was naturally easier and we ploughed down, cutting corners off our hard-won upward trail. In just over two hours we finally reached the road and made plans for a rendesvous with Dave and Dave back at the Lodge.
My time with Steve and Caroline was over for now, but they assured me they’d learnt a lot, had a lot of fun, and looked forward to more ventures in the future.
I drove back to my home in Dores on Loch Ness with some anxiety. The road conditions were woresening by the hour, and I was to meet Julian and (another) Caroline tomorrow in Aviemore, for another two-day skills session.
Next morning at 07.30 I broke through the fresh snow in the driveway and onto a slightly better B862. Once on the Inverness ring road it was easier, but the radio was warning of poor driving conditions on the A9 down to Aviemore. Sure enough, at the Carrbridge turn-off it was blizzard conditions and entering Aviemore was quite something, a scene from a bad day in Lapland.
Fortunately, the Cairngorm company had for once kept the road open to the car park, so once again, we were able to trudge into Sneachda, no real tracks apart from some earlier keen guys, but their direction had drifted downwards towards the burn in their trail breaking. That meant, if we wanted to follow the footsteps in the track, we’d have a longer than normal trek in. I made a feeble effort to keep a higher line but soon gave up.
It was fun in the corrie, excellent for snow skills, and I knew if this snowwfall continued, things would get more serious for climbers, in gullies, in the next few days.
The snow slides were effective and great fun on the slopes under the Goat Track. We did however, firstly have to construct a slide, clearing the loose stuff off the harder neve underneath, before testing the team on their axe-breaking skills.
Belaying skills were also put to the test with a ‘falling’ climber having to ‘run’ down at some speed to put pressure on the belayer. Great fun though, and the desired effect was created. After some work on the ‘flat ice’ we called it a day and waded out down the burn track and back to the car.
Julian and Christine wanted badly to learn how to handle an alpine glacier, and of course, the crevassse rescue scenario. I had already offered to do some detailed instruction for the next and final day with me.
Matters weren’t going to go to plan though. In even worse weather, I just about made it to Aviemore, but failed to get up the road to the Youth Hostel where they were staying. I parked by the entrance to the now-closed ski road, and walked back along the road to the hostel.
There would be no chance at that moment to get up to the ski car park, so we retired to the lounge of the hostel and spent around three hours learning and practicing all the required details of crevasse movement and rescue. Knots, coiling around the shoulders, prussic loop attachment, required distances to be apart, 2:1 pulley systems, in various and different conditions, and eventually, using convenient sofa legs as belays, the real McCoy, pulling someone out of an imaginary hole (although it would be across the carpet at this time).
As there was little more I could show the team, I proposed we go and see what was happening with the road, and if open, go for a walk above the ski station and get some air and excercise.
Conditions had improved in the last half-hour or so and the road was open at last. We jossled for position with the frustrated skiers and parked up at the ski lodge. A pleasent walk was taken up the road to the middle station, although one couldn’t see much, except numerous snow-boarders plying their skills, and the slient whisttle of the Feniculkar as it cruised passed us.
Soon it was time to return to the car and a welcome coffee in the Cafe Blue ended an interesting weekend for me as well as the team.
All I had to do now was get back to Lock Ness in one piece. Conditions on the A9 were getting very poor. I just made it back and looked forward to a Christmas break with the family, and it turned out very good in the end.
On Boxing Day, after taking my daugther to Inverness and driving probably, no surely, a little too fast back into Dores, down the steeper section of the road, I lost control on the icy and snowed up road and skidded into a wall.
This would mean much reorganising for my course with Dave starting on the 28th.
My wife and I finaly decided she would drive me down to Aviemore on the evening of the 27th, and I would meet Dave who was driving up that day from down south. Although not too happy, My wife managed to get down to Aviemore, drop me off at the hostel and get back to Dores.
Dave had the car and we trudged into Sneachda ready this time for some routes. Aware of a considerable avalanche warning, I chose to climb the shorter, and reasonably safe Goat Track Gully. The initial slopes were deep in fresh snow but tracks through and up to the bottom of Red Gully meant we had a line to follow. Once in the steeper gully, the line weaved left then back right over some rocks, great fun. Reaching the first stance I brought Dave up to me. Hot on his heeels were two young climbers.
‘Is that your grandad?’ I learned the leader had said to Dave. A carefully aimed snowball showed him my annoyance, but really it was all in jest, and topping out onto the plateau we had a good chat.
Descending the Goat Track itself was not a problem and as we had time left, and we turned right as soon as we reached the foot of Goat Track Gully, into a very, very good looking Red Gully. I’ve done this route numerous times and often the first pitch can feel quite tricky, protection poor, and crampons scratching on rocky footholds. Today, after the build-up of ice, and the steepness shedding the fresh snow,it was terrific. Dave made short work following the long and steep first pitch, then in two long 60m pitches we were up.
We decided to go down via the Fiachiall of Corrie Casse and through the skiers, and looked forward to another good day tomorrow.
Late December was becoming something of a record snowfall, with many roads impassible and those that could be taken, had to be driven much more carefully than I had on Boxing Day. Many lorries were jack-knifing, causing road blocks for many hours. A very different December than in the last ten to fifteen years.
I stayed down with Dave at the hostel and next morning we went back up through deep snow to the Corrie. It was getting serious
now, so I waited until other teams had got started on routes before deciding The Runnel would be steep enough to be safe. Three guys soloed up the deeper snow and got established under the final section. Following their deep holes and trail I felt happier and soon we had caught them up on the final stance.
Here they were having a problem. Their young leader had gone over the cornice and had belayed too far back for communication. Much yelling, to no avail, and it was plainly gong to take a long time to unravel the scenario.
I suggested to the other two that, with Dave staying where he was, I’d climb the pitch and act as communicator. They didn’t object and I climbed the route in a short time, only the upper section going through the cornice had any real difficuly. The leader had gone a long way back, so I yelled at him to slack off (so the guys below could release their belays). As soon as he had done so, all continued normally, with my directing climbing calls etc. As soon as they had started, Dave also got going and enjoyed the ice climbing a great deal.
Not time for another climb so we returned to the Fiachaill again and down to the car.
Our pan was to go over to Fort William and do something on Ben Nevis or Annoch Mor, but the road over and past Loch Laggan was anything but sure of travel. So we returned to Inverness and drove down the A82 to be sure of getting there.
A mix-up with the Youth Hostel bookings meant the manager at Glen Nevis Youth Hostel had no booking for Dave, and the hostel was full!
Cold, damp and weary, Dave was getting irrattated. The manager rang around and secured us a room in the Achintee Lodge, at the start of the Ben Nevis track.When we arrived there, all problems dissolved. Scot, the owner, made us really welcome and the facitilites more than surpassed the busy Youth Hostel.
A decision had been made that evening that there was a little too much danger to go to Ben Nevis, because the gullies would be loaded with snow, so early next morning we found ourselves at the Annoch Mor ski centre, intent on taking the climbers’ cable car at 07.30 and then the four-man chair, and going up to see what Annoch Mor was like. Plans were dashed when my pal Wee Davy, one of the centre staff, announced to the few parties who also had the same idea, that he was waiting for reports about the strong winds that would appear to have been blowing, before he would decide whether or not to open the gondola service.It was therefore pretty certain that the four-man chair wouldn’t now run that early and that meant a time-consuming walk to the summit plateau. It had past 8 O’clock and time was slipping away. I decided we should try the Ben Nevis track to the dam, and to walk up from the North face car park at this time would again be a slow process, leaving not much time for a route.
Dave’s £47,000 Audi A4 dealt with the lower sections but about halfway where it got steeper, even the four-wheel drive was having difficulty handling the deep snow. It was getting very dodgy and we might get stuck, so we agreed to turn the car around and go down. Easier said than done, but at a wider section of tthe road, we just got the car arround. Then our troubles strated. With full four-wheel drive, and at one mph (honestly it was no faster) we crawled and slid down the track, a track which had seemed so inocuous on the way up. Several times the car slid sideways but Dave just managed to keep the car from dropping into the gully at the side. It was frightening stuff and Dave did comment later that it was the most serious driving he had ever done. I think he was thinking financialy as well as off-road driving skills.
With great relief we arrived at the ski station and with all our time lost now, we drove into Fort William where Dave announced, with the weather being so bad, he’d make his way down south early to avoid any problems driving later on.
I caught the 12.30 bus to Inverness and by half past three was back at home.
A call from a concerned neighbour about an avalanche on Ben Nevis and one over on the west coast that morning had me later, scouring the internet for reports.
The devastating news was much worse than I could ever imagine. Chris Astill was the one on Liatach. Of the three avalanche victims on that morning of December 30th 2009, the news that Chris was one of them, slowly entered my brain, cutting like a chainsaw through my feelings.
Since Jimmy Jewel had died so many years ago now, I had promised myself I would not allow myself to get hurt again. Some hope!
Chris and his partner Jo had been in the Highlands, over on his favourite north-west coast, as usual over the Christmas period. He had even called me from Loch Carron to say ‘hello’ and to ask where he could get snow shoes from. He was obviously aware of the great depth of new snow that had recently come down and it was still falling.
I pointed to a local guide for the snowshoe advice and asked Chris and Jo to call in again, like last year, on their way back to Derbyshire.
It wouldn’t happen. Nearing the top of a approach gully to the main ridge on Lliatach, the avalanche took him down some considerable way. His climbing pal Ollie, descended the easy gully and got to him. Although Chris was talking, things were serious and the helicopter rescue was probably minutes, hours too late, who knows, as he died later that night in Inverness hospital.
I was, and still am, devastated.
“Eyeeup Kid, ow’s it goin’ youth?” The standard Nottingham welcome which was always truly meant with real friendship. Chris was that kind of guy, one of the nicest blokes I’ve known for nearly forty years. Intellectually always very smart, a neat and determined man and without question a great all-round climber. To me he had no faults, except maybe even for me, a touch too keen, ready for any escapade, a Scottish winter adventure, that wet rock climb, our South American odyssey to Aconcagua with my clients, Bill, David and Sandra (I must tell them!), an Alpine adventure in Chamonix or even a Himalayan sojourn. He was the true all-rounder. And one of my best climbing friends.
I first met him when I was a 19 or 20 year old, when we were both coming through the ranks, grabbing those elite north faces, I would bump into him everywhere. In the UK, mostly in Llanberis but often in Stoney cafe. In the Alps, on the Bioley, then Snells Field, and latterly, Pierre D’Ortaz, legendary campsites used by the best alpinists of the times, as mere breaks between great climbs. We became good friends.
Sadly, as I grew older and slowed down, with my last fourteen years being spent up north, and with that golden era of British alpinism long gone, it would be a less regular meeting, with those famous words ringing out across the Llanberis high street, or in Pete’s Eats, or as I would unload the sacks at Ynys for the weekend. I was grateful for the Climbers’ Club. It would keep us more in contact over the last few years, as we had both secured positions on the committee, and for Chris, the custodianship of The Downes Hut. So I looked forward to the quarterly apointments, and especially the Froggat meetings more than most.
December 12th 2009 was one such event. I would fly down to Manchester to avoid the 8-hour drive. It was also much cheaper with Flybe than to use my car. Chris assured me it was no problem and he would be waiting at the arrivals for me, as he was intent on whisking me to Tideswell and the local pub, to join the boys. I wasn’t sure who would be there, but I was pretty certain the gang, Hughie, Howie, Ron and Pam, and of course, Jo, his beautiful lady as always by his side, they would all be there.
I couldn’t wait.
The plan was thwarted by heavy snow in the Highlands. Twice I tried to fly on the Friday but on both occasions the runway was out of action, and the dense fog didn’t help. Eventually on Saturday morning I had to drive, or I would miss my final Climbers’ Club committee meeting as President. It was a daunting task in that weather but at least I was moving at last.
It was dark by the time my Sat Nav had got me to within shouting distance of Chris and Jo’s lovely house in their neat little village. Chris stood proudly outside his house, and directed me to a parking spot alongside his brand new garage. He had restricted his free time for quite a while to build it, and a super building it had turned out to be.
“I’ve only got the loft insulation to put in and that’s that”, he announced proudly. So sad to know he wouldn’t see the finishing line.
I spent a great weekend with Chris, Jo, and Rachel, one of his two daughters from his first marriage; she had turned up from University to spend Christmas with them.
On the Sunday, Chris and I had a special day together on Kinder Scout. It would be my first visit to this wild place, and not only would we ascend to the bleak plateau, we’d walk through the mire to the Downfall, which I really wanted see, and Chris announced we’d do a rock climb as well, on one of the high crags there. Ok, it would only be a Severe, but in that damp and gloomy atmosphere, you could argue about my keenness. Chris, however, was on fire, and I would not dowse him.
We had a great day, the Downfall was in full flow and I pondered the sight when it was frozen. Later, on the rock route I was watching carefully for sandbags. On a convenient ledge I craftily avoided finishing the top pitch with a “I’ll bring you up. It’s not clear where it goes from here?” He came up, took the rack of me, and proceeded to show me why I held him in such esteem, as he smoothly climbed the slimy, green groove, which I had been convinced wasn’t the normal way forward?
Recently we’d been doing some talking. Our future alpine plans together, given some breaks in my annual summer guiding programme, and Chris’s ability to break off his ‘pole counting’ for BT, were for the Freney, even the Innominata and the Pueterey Integral. How I could put back the clock now.
His new day job, recently acquired after a successful and rewarding career in the mining industry, always amused us all, but it secured the finances along with Jo’s outdoor centre instructor role, and he was happy strolling along the fells in many different locations in the country, and in all weathers. I’m sure there was much more to it than counting poles, but I never got the chance to find out more. He told me he felt so alive.
I’ll do my best to remain strong, to give you courage, Jo, but it’s not easy.
