“I think my eyelashes are frozen”. One eye open, one eye squeezed close Dennis looks at me. His eyebrows are clutted with ice and snow. His eyelashes don’t look much better.
“Can’t you wipe it off?” I ask him. With a difficult face he looks at me. ‘No, I think, watching him, wiping it off would hurt too much. Probably more painful then plucking is eyebrows all at once.
I rapidly grab his goggle from the bag and in less then ten minutes he laughs about it all. But that’s just for now…
Dennis is all frozen
We’re still in Scotland. Winter. Not the most popular time to visit the country.
We have a mission; climb as many routes possible in as many different areas. Gain experience, work on ‘the big list’. The list for the BMG, British Mountain Guides, the organisation that facilitates the British version to become an official UIAGM mountain guide.
We set our minds onto this.
But you can’t just ‘enter’ and start. For the Britisch sceme the Alps, US of wherever you climb doesn’t count as much as what you have to climb in the UK and Scotland.
You have to climb, walk, hike and summit the British, Scottish and Irish mountains. Know the local ethics and culture. Climb real Scottish Winter routes…
Thirty-and-five various Winter routes you have to have on the list. We have 22 days.
Not sure if it is a realistic goal…
The goggle stays in my pack when Dennis climbs the first pitch. I take the pack which is actually one pack too many when you have to climb a chimney. But is must go, as it cointains the map, the hot drink, the jackets and more.
Cleaning the snow off the wall (useless efforts)
The wind blows crazy around us. Although it’s not really cold (my watch on my pack tells me it’s just -3ºC) the wind, snow-showers and spindrift make it feel more like -15ºC. The snow stings fierce in my face between the covered areas of my balaclava and goggle.
Dennis screams, a pile of snow blows hard through the chimney. He watches up, but the snow blocks his view. “Aarrrrgh, my eyes!” he calls out. Scarcely any place to put a good piece of gear… The cracks are half-iced, the wall is covered in a thin layer of glacé but where you’d normally find proper ice and frozen turf lay a big pile of light dusty fluffy snow. Noting proper to hold on to.
I call to Dennis as he slowly moves up. “Come on” I call and “allez” and “super Den, nice!” I’m not sure if he actually hears it all, it’s just the idea of encouraging him, giving him the comfort that he does good.
Half way up.
Finally he stands onto a block that looks like a good belay. He looks down and shows me two hands, our sing of I’m-safe-you-can-take-me-off-belay-and-soon-I’ll-belay-you-now.
Rapidly I disassemble my belay and before I know it he tugs onto the rope to let me know it’s my turn to climb. I know my goggle will fog-up completely but the things stays on. All better then constant needle-stings of the spindrift snow whirling around me.
Five meters below Dennis’ belay I can’t hold on any longer. My hands are stiff, I know what’s coming next and can’t get the hex our of the crack. Just a little too long I stand there, my fingers numb and cold and I feel it coming; hot aches, screaming barfey’s, naglakúla, or whatever you call it. The moment when just enough blood reaches your hair-veins and you get a bit of feeling back you your hands (or feet, or nose or anywhere).
It can be so painful you might faint or as the Americans say ‘scream’ and ‘barf’ (throw up) simultaniously. The English are a little more subtile and call it gently: hot aches. Doesn’t matter what you call it, it F*in hurts! “Sorry Dennis” I call, “I have to, sorry, I…” and close my eyes, push my head to the wall, stamp my foot to the walland hold balance with my shoulders, my hands feel like they’re made of wood and are completely immobile.
I was hoping to reach the belay first but I didn’t, it all came just a little too early.
In a while the pain faded and I was able to move again. With surprising ease I took out the hex and moved onto the belay to give Dennis his jacket and goggle.
Dennis looked miserable. Cold and what I thought were frozen lashes was nothing compared to what his face looked like right now. Goggle on, jacket, something to drink…
“Shall we go back?” Dennis asks.
I doubt and want to say ‘yes’. Instead I say nothing, look around and back again.
We’re such pussies, rather go back, do nothing, sit in the camper with the heating on, read a book, drink some tea, soup… The temptation is big to say ‘ah, yes, let’s return, good idea’.
Sometimes you just have a day, where nothing seems to work. You’re slow, you’re tired, you’re not motivated. Sometimes it’s Dennis who says ‘the word’, sometimes it’s both of us. When it’s both of us, we return, that’s easy. But when it’s just one of us… I doubt. What pussies, how weak. It’s just a bit of snow and wind. Tonight you can have your heating again. What are you actually complaining of?
‘Well, you both are the only ones here in the valley. No one else what crazy enough today to come out and play. The weather is really bad with the constant storm of 120km/h (60mph+)
‘Yes, it’s bad’ the other voice says; ‘but you can handle this, the route isn’t even that difficult, and you wanted to become guide, right, well, then you better get your ass up that wall now, yes, also today with this kind of weather guides should be able to climb this wall.’
I sigh… “No, let’s go on” I tell him and slowly I take the cams, hexes, pitons and more off his harness for the next pitch.
This pitch is a little harder than expected. Every crack is filled with a thin layer of ice. If it all would be dry you could place over ten cams on every step, but now, nothing stuck in the stippery cracks. Nuts too small, hexes too big, cracks too shallow for a bulldog or peg and even my axes get only just a little hammered into the cracks.
Slowly I move upwards. My back to the glacé on the wall, my feet on the rounded edged footholds. Every couple meters theres so much spindrift I have to stop breathing. Coughing because of the snow that did blow into my lungs I take step after step.
For my feeling it takes forever.
It probably had taken forever. Dennis is cold and tired when he reaches the belay seconding.
He climbs the last bit to the top of the face. Just below the top he belays me up as theres too much wind at the top to stay straight up.
Happily we walk down an easy gully again, wondering if downclimbing would also count as a route for ‘the big list’.
More stormy climbs…
Summit smiles.
It hadn’t even been one ‘o clock yet, just a little warmer, some food and a bit of walking gave us enough motivation for yet another climb. An easier route got us on the plateau again. We navigated our way through the spindrift and clouds to the other side of the valley, downclimbed, climbed up again, downclimbed another gully and figured it was time to head back. Almost four and tonight we had to get online: team meeting.
That evening we sat in our warm campervan. Everyhwere around is things were dripping. Draws, ropes, pants, bags, jackets. It’s a bit like a sauna, but it doesn’t matter tomorrow we have a rest day. Arrangement-day as we have internet and theres probably a lot to arrange for the big autumn expedition plan.
That evening we all sat together for the first time. The new team: ‘Expeditie Academie’ of the Dutch Alpine Club. We called in on Skype, Tinu too and most others visited Roy to join the meeting. Pretty nice to be part of it!
Skype meeting with the team.
Today three days left before we take the boat back to the Netherlands.
Just a couple days left to work on ‘the big list’.
Will we make it…?
Winter storms
“I think my eyelashes are frozen”. One eye open, one eye squeezed close Dennis looks at me. His eyebrows are clutted with ice and snow. His eyelashes don’t look much better.
“Can’t you wipe it off?” I ask him. With a difficult face he looks at me. ‘No, I think, watching him, wiping it off would hurt too much. Probably more painful then plucking is eyebrows all at once.
I rapidly grab his goggle from the bag and in less then ten minutes he laughs about it all. But that’s just for now…
Dennis is all frozen
We’re still in Scotland. Winter. Not the most popular time to visit the country.
We have a mission; climb as many routes possible in as many different areas. Gain experience, work on ‘the big list’. The list for the BMG, British Mountain Guides, the organisation that facilitates the British version to become an official UIAGM mountain guide.
We set our minds onto this.
But you can’t just ‘enter’ and start. For the Britisch sceme the Alps, US of wherever you climb doesn’t count as much as what you have to climb in the UK and Scotland.
You have to climb, walk, hike and summit the British, Scottish and Irish mountains. Know the local ethics and culture. Climb real Scottish Winter routes…
Thirty-and-five various Winter routes you have to have on the list. We have 22 days.
Not sure if it is a realistic goal…
The goggle stays in my pack when Dennis climbs the first pitch. I take the pack which is actually one pack too many when you have to climb a chimney. But is must go, as it cointains the map, the hot drink, the jackets and more.
Cleaning the snow off the wall (useless efforts)
The wind blows crazy around us. Although it’s not really cold (my watch on my pack tells me it’s just -3ºC) the wind, snow-showers and spindrift make it feel more like -15ºC. The snow stings fierce in my face between the covered areas of my balaclava and goggle.
Dennis screams, a pile of snow blows hard through the chimney. He watches up, but the snow blocks his view. “Aarrrrgh, my eyes!” he calls out. Scarcely any place to put a good piece of gear… The cracks are half-iced, the wall is covered in a thin layer of glacé but where you’d normally find proper ice and frozen turf lay a big pile of light dusty fluffy snow. Noting proper to hold on to.
I call to Dennis as he slowly moves up. “Come on” I call and “allez” and “super Den, nice!” I’m not sure if he actually hears it all, it’s just the idea of encouraging him, giving him the comfort that he does good.
Half way up.
Finally he stands onto a block that looks like a good belay. He looks down and shows me two hands, our sing of I’m-safe-you-can-take-me-off-belay-and-soon-I’ll-belay-you-now.
Rapidly I disassemble my belay and before I know it he tugs onto the rope to let me know it’s my turn to climb. I know my goggle will fog-up completely but the things stays on. All better then constant needle-stings of the spindrift snow whirling around me.
Five meters below Dennis’ belay I can’t hold on any longer. My hands are stiff, I know what’s coming next and can’t get the hex our of the crack. Just a little too long I stand there, my fingers numb and cold and I feel it coming; hot aches, screaming barfey’s, naglakúla, or whatever you call it. The moment when just enough blood reaches your hair-veins and you get a bit of feeling back you your hands (or feet, or nose or anywhere).
It can be so painful you might faint or as the Americans say ‘scream’ and ‘barf’ (throw up) simultaniously. The English are a little more subtile and call it gently: hot aches. Doesn’t matter what you call it, it F*in hurts! “Sorry Dennis” I call, “I have to, sorry, I…” and close my eyes, push my head to the wall, stamp my foot to the walland hold balance with my shoulders, my hands feel like they’re made of wood and are completely immobile.
I was hoping to reach the belay first but I didn’t, it all came just a little too early.
In a while the pain faded and I was able to move again. With surprising ease I took out the hex and moved onto the belay to give Dennis his jacket and goggle.
Dennis looked miserable. Cold and what I thought were frozen lashes was nothing compared to what his face looked like right now. Goggle on, jacket, something to drink…
“Shall we go back?” Dennis asks.
I doubt and want to say ‘yes’. Instead I say nothing, look around and back again.
We’re such pussies, rather go back, do nothing, sit in the camper with the heating on, read a book, drink some tea, soup… The temptation is big to say ‘ah, yes, let’s return, good idea’.
Sometimes you just have a day, where nothing seems to work. You’re slow, you’re tired, you’re not motivated. Sometimes it’s Dennis who says ‘the word’, sometimes it’s both of us. When it’s both of us, we return, that’s easy. But when it’s just one of us… I doubt. What pussies, how weak. It’s just a bit of snow and wind. Tonight you can have your heating again. What are you actually complaining of?
‘Well, you both are the only ones here in the valley. No one else what crazy enough today to come out and play. The weather is really bad with the constant storm of 120km/h (60mph+)
‘Yes, it’s bad’ the other voice says; ‘but you can handle this, the route isn’t even that difficult, and you wanted to become guide, right, well, then you better get your ass up that wall now, yes, also today with this kind of weather guides should be able to climb this wall.’
I sigh… “No, let’s go on” I tell him and slowly I take the cams, hexes, pitons and more off his harness for the next pitch.
This pitch is a little harder than expected. Every crack is filled with a thin layer of ice. If it all would be dry you could place over ten cams on every step, but now, nothing stuck in the stippery cracks. Nuts too small, hexes too big, cracks too shallow for a bulldog or peg and even my axes get only just a little hammered into the cracks.
Slowly I move upwards. My back to the glacé on the wall, my feet on the rounded edged footholds. Every couple meters theres so much spindrift I have to stop breathing. Coughing because of the snow that did blow into my lungs I take step after step.
For my feeling it takes forever.
It probably had taken forever. Dennis is cold and tired when he reaches the belay seconding.
He climbs the last bit to the top of the face. Just below the top he belays me up as theres too much wind at the top to stay straight up.
Happily we walk down an easy gully again, wondering if downclimbing would also count as a route for ‘the big list’.
More stormy climbs…
Summit smiles.
It hadn’t even been one ‘o clock yet, just a little warmer, some food and a bit of walking gave us enough motivation for yet another climb. An easier route got us on the plateau again. We navigated our way through the spindrift and clouds to the other side of the valley, downclimbed, climbed up again, downclimbed another gully and figured it was time to head back. Almost four and tonight we had to get online: team meeting.
That evening we sat in our warm campervan. Everyhwere around is things were dripping. Draws, ropes, pants, bags, jackets. It’s a bit like a sauna, but it doesn’t matter tomorrow we have a rest day. Arrangement-day as we have internet and theres probably a lot to arrange for the big autumn expedition plan.
That evening we all sat together for the first time. The new team: ‘Expeditie Academie’ of the Dutch Alpine Club. We called in on Skype, Tinu too and most others visited Roy to join the meeting. Pretty nice to be part of it!
Skype meeting with the team.
Today three days left before we take the boat back to the Netherlands.
Just a couple days left to work on ‘the big list’.
Will we make it…?
Will we make it…?