This is the first Episode of two about living and climbing in Yangshou
This is the first Episode of two about living and climbing in Yangshou
This is our video about climbing in Thakek!
This is our video about three months climbing in Catalunya
This is me waking up 1000ft up on El Cap’s North America Wall. I am not overly psyched.
Although you cannot see it in the photo, at this point I was being blasted by ice cold wind, being showered with bits of ice and I had a knee that had seized up. My psyche level was around 1 out of 10 and despite sort-of hoping that things would sort themselves out, I had pretty much already decided to bail.
I really did not come here to bail but somehow the idea of going back down is, on the whole, more reasonable when you are on a route compared with when thinking about it at home. So, what was meant to be my first big-wall solo, became my first big-wall bail.
~- x -~
A week earlier I arrived in San Francisco. It was after a pretty hectic week and I was knackered, I think, due to this, somehow I managed to lose my wallet between airports. It took a while to accept this – I do not lose things. Boring story really; but I made contact with friends-of-friends, crashed at theirs and spent the next 48 hours getting cash via Western Union and finding somewhere that would rent a car using photos of a debit card and a counterpart driving licence.
I arrived in a cold and rainy Yosemite Valley on the 7th of May and, with no a tent, I set to work to find a bivi with a roof. Once found, I went shopping for the gear and converted the car boot in my gear store/wardrobe.
The next day I went dumpster-diving around the park to find water bottles for the wall. Most shops had stopped selling the ‘best’ ones so the result was a fairly assorted bunch.
I filled the bottles, put Gatorade powder in half of them, packed them into the haul bag and drove down to El Cap meadow to start the hiking gear in. The walk-in is technically quite short in the grand-scheme of big-wall walk-ins but it does gain quite a bit of height and with uncomfortable 40kg bag and ‘office’ fitness it felt long enough. That said, it was good, it felt real, better the discomfort of real work than the stagnicity of 9-5 in an office.
Water stashed, I walked back down, racked up with ropes and gear and hiked back up to fix the first three pitches. The start of the route features some of the harder aid climbing (C3F) and if the fixed copper-heads are missing/rip then this can be harder. Actually it was the first C3 aid I have climbed and pretty much the first time I had used the Silent Partner (Solo belay device) in anger so it was a good learning environment.
The first easy pitch went well – I rappelled, cleaned & jumarred. The second pitch was slower due to the difficulty but it went OK, despite being rained on for half an hour wearing only a t-shirt and, with no solid gear to rap-off, I had no choice but to keep going and finish the pitch. Due to the weather I left it at 2 pitches so I rappelled the route fixing my lead line and my haul line in place. I poured the puddles off the gear I left at the base of the climb and hiked down and then back in with the Portaledge before doing a food-shop. During this I noticed a team heading up the steep ‘Mescalito’ route, I would be able to see while on NA Wall and I was pleased to have some neighbours!
Initially I had planned to get on the wall the following day, but I was still pretty jet lagged I was actually very tired. Advice was taken and the next day I just chilled out before hiking up to bivi at the base of the route ready for an early start the next day.
Technically this was a good idea – but at about 1am it started raining and it carried on until about 5am. I was using a basic bivi bag and, a combination of rain, hearing animals (either dear of bears) and being too warm I only really got a couple of hours sleep. I got up at 7am finished packing the haul bag, ate some leftover snacks, and got going.
The first jumar was free hanging, so was the second. Chris Bevins and his girlfriend Harriet Short got me a Petzl Croll for my birthday and, using it with the ‘frog’ jumar technique was way easier than normal jumaring for ascending free hanging ropes. I was an instant convert and I like that it also provides extra gear redundancy.
I hauled, jumarred and hauled and got back on to the lead. So far so good.
The third pitch involved some trickery, a fixed head was missing which meant a strenuous reach and putting a small pecker into the side of an old broken hammered in nut. It felt dicey, a 40 footer if it pops. I tentatively weighted it and, reaching up to add a small spur hooked with a sling, I carefully stepped up, strenuously reached a half broken through piton, tested it, and the crux of the pitch went down.
Pitch 4 has a ‘5.8’ squeeze chimney. My psyche level 11/10; this pitch was the first pitch I planned to put on the free climbing shoes. I was geared up and ready to dispatch! I cruised up toward the crack – and got stuck in. The lower part was good, big enough, but that quickly diminished and suddenly it was awkward. Really awkward!
The problem was that with a chunky self-belay device (and back-up knots) on your front, a bunch of stuff on your gear loops, a hauling device & haul rope on the back of your harness and a double-to-triple set of cams on a gear-sling – it makes the ‘squeeze’ part rather, admin heavy.
Racked up.. erm ready for a squeeze chimney. Need a new technique. Grey is to level out image.
Strenuously I pushed up, reaching in to the higher sections as the crack got smaller I walked up a #5 Camelot as I went.. but soon that was tipped out and I still had 10 ft to go. Using a tiny edge for my feet, my arm chicken-winged in I swore at the gear that caught on the rock as I scraped my portable gear-shop up through the constriction. Below me, the tipped out cam had shifted sideways exposing me to a iffy fall, possibly back to the ledge, far enough either way.
Looking up, just in reach was a small copper-head, I greedily got out a quick-draw – clipped it and, while getting a higher foot position, cranked on it with my left hand to help with my upward progress, instantly the wire snapped – a heart jolting moment as it almost sent me out of the crack, thankfully I stayed wedged in.
A high foot to a small edge and, carefully shifting my body higher, I was now 3ft below some old fixed slings on a large chock-stone. With one hand I pulled a 120cm sling off my harness, put a biner on the end.. held one end in my teeth and threw the biner through the sling. I larks-footed the sling, pulled up, clipped into it on it and then hauled my way to the chock stone and took a rest. I felt like I had taken a beating – a warm welcome to Yosemite 5.8 off widths.
Getting up in it’s grill – the start of the squeeze that leads up to the off-width
I made a move out to underneath a vast hollow roof carefully back-cleaning gear as I went but making sure I had at least one solid piece of pro. At this point the climbing was OK – like ‘normal’ climbing – but as I came to the corner the moves to get around the overhang were harder and I was knackered so I got back on to aid climbing. It felt nice to chill out on the Fifi hook after the struggle of the off-width.
The route continued and, to finish pitch 6, it required a pendulum off a bolt to a blunt edge which you could hand-over-hand and to reach some easy climbing to the end of the pitch. This would be easy as a team of two; you would pendulum over – catch the blunt sloping ledge with two hands – and as you are slowly lowered by your partner – you can move yourself across and climb up the slopes to reach the ledge.
Not so simple for a soloist! I got to the pendulum bolt, used a gri-gri to lower myself out and made the pendulum – it took a bit of swinging around to get the right amount of lower-out, and catching it with two hands I discovered that I had a bit of a conundrum..
As I am hanging, my body at around 45 degrees I am supported by the rope pulling one way, and my hands pulling the other. To give myself slack (so I can move left, away from the bolt and up the slopers) I need to let some rope through the Gri-Gri. To do that I have to use one hand. So, after energetically managing to catch the swing, I hold the sloper with one hand, try to very gently feed some slack with the gri-gri – but with a touch on the lever, woosh! I go flying down the wall until the gri-gri decides to catch again a few meters later. I ascend and try again.. again the gri-gri sends me flying. The next time, more gently I ease some rope out, but I need a bit more.. and it sends me on a trip again.
The benefit of this is that I feel like a wild man. I literally did not care anymore, running left and right, jumping for catches, chucking myself off. It was ridiculous, frustrating but also really quite fun.
I was getting pretty tired, after climbing, jumaring and hauling a 70kg load for 12 hours with no rest (rappelling & cleaning is kind of resting). I resort to some aid-trickery – I place the biggest hook on the end of an aider and next time I catch the sloper I also put on the hook. To my general surprise it holds. I feed out a tiny bit of slack out – and with the hook’s support, it works out OK, but the hook will only work in combination with the tension of my rope. Using aider-steps I blindly feel around the higher edge and, feeling a small slot the back, I take the small cam-hook and put it in what feels like a slot.. it sort of works.. I pull round a bit more, the main hook pops, but only slips an inch, it stays. I then notice a small nub on a ledge to the right, I get out a small hook.. put it behind it, so the hook is laying flat, it felt almost solid. Too tired to care – I stand on it.. it holds as the other hook pings off. I am finally able to reach the ledge.
There was a short section up to the Pitch 6 belay, 5.6 – super easy, but I was so beaten I pulled on a cam to get through one section.
I fixed my lead and haul line – and rappelled back to the P5 belay. There was a small ledge here and I got to setting up the portaledge. I had practiced this in the comfort of my own home – where we actually have a couple of bolts 25ft up an internal concrete wall. However, after 15 hours of effort it took me about 10 attempts to get the last pole in – my bicep was too weak to lift it in to place.
Finally sitting in the ledge, I had a Coke, cooked some food and rehydrated. For the first time since arriving in the States I slept well.
The next day I woke with the light, the day was cool and crisp – and it looked like the bad weather was finally at an end. I realised that I had made a mistake in my breakfast choice. I had decided not to bother cooking to save time so I just got some granola bars, pop-tarts and some protein bars. Early in the morning they all tasted disgusting and forcing them down made me want to vomit.
I packed up, racked-up and got moving. I wanted to be on Pitch 11 (Big Sur) the next evening. The following few pitches went without a problem. The hauling was harder as pitch 8/9 were slabbier and generated more friction but the climbing was easier and I could free/French-free more sections. On pitch seven I took my first solo-lead fall, a relatively pleasant 20 footer when a fixed-copperhead, which bounce-tested OK, ripped when trying to top-step. Fortunately there was a reasonable hooking edge that allowed me to bypass the missing head.
The only problem I had this day was that my right knee was feeling pretty sore – not terribly but enough to try use it less. I was not sure why, it was aching a bit the day before – I can only imagine I did something to it during my squeeze-chimney trauma. I tried to jumar using my left leg, but not using it is fairly impossible, but if I could avoid weighting my foot when it was nearly totally extended it felt OK.
During that morning the party on Mescalito managed to take their portaledge right down to the base. They bailed shortly after and now I was totally alone with no other parties on the entire West Face of El Cap.
The higher chimney (5.6) did not give me the pain of the previous 5.8 and 12 hours after starting I hit Big Sur, but as it was going to be dark within an hour, I headed back down to pitch 10 to set-up the ledge. I was tired and sore but also super satisfied with progress.
Ledge up. Cooking done. I posted a big-wall solo-selfie on to Facebook, partly to point out that I am still alive, and partly because that side of the valley has great 3G.
On waking the next day and immediately noticed my right knee was not so keen on mobility. It felt really stiff – so I just decided to lay there for a while – slowly moving it, testing it to see if it would sort itself out. It warmed up a bit but it was definitely swollen and pretty sore.
It was bloody cold so I let the sun come up, ate some disgusting bars for breakfast and was generally feeling a bit sorry for myself. Everything up until now (despite lost wallets and the odd bit of walking around un-roped) had gone amazingly well. My rope work and haul systems, which in the past were generally a bit bodged (but safe) were basically perfect. The main pitches that relied on fixed heads had gone well. I took a photo of my knee and posted it to Facebook to substantiate my excuses (not sure why I felt the need to do this) and, as the next pitches traverse and would be very hard to reverse, I made the decision to head down.
As had not really bailed before this was a bit new too.
Initially I wanted to keep the spare water – after hiking it up here I figured I might as well try and re-stash it at the base for a future attempt. A pitch down (lowering the bag, rappelling, fixing the bag, jumarring up, rapping down) I realised that the effort required to keep the water soon became way more effort than hiking it in and besides, hiking in water was a job for future Nathan. Present Nathan poured out the water, halved the weight of the haul bag so that the rest of the route could be rappelled more easily.
That said, it is still hard work when you have a haul-bag and ledge hanging on your belay loop. Luckily the lower, steeper sections were more-or-less straight-down rappels. I left a couple of biners for the rappels, old ones of course, and always on the bolt that I hauled from.
Once down, almost the rest of the day was spent hobbling up and down the walk-in to get my stuff back down to the car.
North America Wall – Red is approximate route/progress. Green is a very approximate rest of the route – note that due to foreshortening it looks less distance than it is.
After I was down some friends were in the Valley so I foolishly offered to join them on a hike – they would go ‘slow’. It was not slow, my friend Taylor does not know the meaning of this word, and it mostly comprised of hundreds of big steps, however I went slow, and even slower downhill. The hiking is pretty good in Yosemite – having been here for a couple of trips before it was the first real hiking I had done that did not involve hulking gear into a route.
I spent a few days hanging out in the valley and my knee was feeling significantly better. I had already decided that I would go to Havasupai for a couple of nights with friends so I figured after that I would be well rested. I had never heard of the place either – but it turned out to be an amazing gorge in the middle of Arizona with a turquoise-blue river full of waterfalls and pools that were great for swimming and jumping off.
How cool is that?! ^
When I got back into the valley I had 6 days left before the end of my trip. My knee felt really good and I had discovered out that it only flared up if I had hiked for a full day. Therefore, my plan was to try and get a couple of solo ‘walls in a day’ before I left the valley.
The first wall I decided to hit-up was Leaning Tower, in part because I had done 4 years before with Oli Lyon but also because it is a super steep fun route. It is not a very serious route but, due to it’s overhanging nature, it would be very hard to retreat from solo.
I made the mistake of filling the platypus before packing it, somehow the nozzle switch had turned, and emptied most the contents out in my haul bag. Not a great start – but I figured I could get by with less water so I hiked in anyway.
This time, in contrast to the emptiness of NA Wall there were a few people at the base – it turned out that while I was in Havasupai it had basically rained the whole time in Yosemite which meant that people who had been waiting to get on a route all decided to go for it the day after it stopped.
I walked into the base using the fixed lines (the route starts a couple of hundred feet of the deck and there is a long ledge system you use to get there) and got my ropes set-up ready to jump on lead the next day. There was a load of ‘booty’ water at the base – I decided to risk it and boil some up to make-up for my platypus losses.
At first I thought I was going to have big-wall-traffic related problems, but it turned out to be OK. Two of the guys at the bivi-spot were actually bailing, another guy was aiming to solo it in 2-3 days – and he kindly said that if I was on the route by 6:30 that I could go first. At 3am another party came in to the bivi area. A veritable wall party!
Again basically my sleep was pretty bad. Not totally sure why, I was not feeling nervous, but perhaps after being disturbed at 3am it was too late to worry about it. I got up early, made a sachet of oats and some tea. I felt really tired – I am not a morning person.
In my day bag I took a 60m half rope, 4 litres of water, a waterproof jacket, sun-cream, GoPro, torch, 3 cliff bars and some mixed fruit. Rack-wise; 2-3 small cams, doubles of mid size cams and one size 4 and 5, nuts, micro nuts, cam hooks and usual ascending/descending gear.
The first two pitches being mostly bolt laddered flew by and were despatched within an hour, however at the end of the second pitch I realised that I really needed to go for a shit, badly. I rappelled, went down the fixed lines, walked down past the bivi-spot and way further, took off my gloves and did my thing, the ‘booty’ water might not have been such a good idea.
Back up, got on the rope and then after casting off – realised I left my gloves. Hard decision, but I did not want to have to be gentle on this route. I used the lines the bailers left to get back in to the face. Back down found my gloves. Went back up, got on the line, cast off.. but with the other soloist slowly getting set-up with stuff all over the ledge, and being in a rush, I did not notice that I left my bag with water/rappel rope. Back down – pull in – get my bag on – and get back up. MASSIVE a waste of time! I was feeling pretty stupid, but I knew it was just tiredness and that it would sort itself out once I had woken up a bit.
So, at the P2 belay again, on request, I dropped the bail-team’s ropes and got on with the route. Pitches fell pretty quickly, not having to haul was very nice and I could link pitches which, although always a preference, when solo-climbing as you do not experience rope drag it is a no-brainer if you have enough gear.
The day was baking hot with almost no wind. Luckily I was in the shade until around 2pm but even then I was sweating buckets.
At one point I put in a sort-of wrong-way round Alien off-set cam and, while pulling off it to reach a higher placement it popped sending me down. Luckily I placed a solid cam about only 10-15 foot below. Luckily because generally I placed around 6 to 8 pieces per double pitch, partly out of stinginess in case I needed them later, but also because the falls were in to space and the pro was generally pretty good.
I moved efficiently, drinking water while I jumarred and eating every-so-often. Pretty soon I was under the big roof, 3 pitches from the top.
On the slab before the big roof
The roof pitch went down, and I had caught up with another soloist who was doing it in 2-3 days – I had to wait for him to clean a pitch, so I did not link the last two pitches to give him time. It was a small inconvenience in reality and it was nice to have company for rappelling the gulley to get back down.
The last pitch I over protected, I was feeling fairly tied and had to wait for the guy above so my efficiency went to pot. Not a big problem, but I could have been a bit more focused.
It was great to be on top hanging out for sun-set.
End of the trip..
The day after I did the tower I fell ill with some gunky chest infection that basically wiped me out for the rest of the trip. So for the last few days I just hung out with climbers, chilled by the river and watched other climbers on El Cap with Tom in the meadow.
And that was basically it!
Choose a suitable pace
Probably the most useful bit of learning I gained.
Although doing 5-6 moderate to hard pitches (with hauling) per day was possible, it was not the safest option and it left me over tired and with little time to enjoy just being on the wall which, lets face it, is a big part of the fun of big-walling. I found that on average a pitch took 2.5 hours to lead, clean, jug and haul – some faster, some a bit slower due to harder climbing or due to having to descend again to get the haul-bag un-jammed.
If (or when) I do it again I would probably pack my haul bag assuming I climb 3 pitches a day, but aim to do 4 per day. This means that you can be relatively chilled out in the process and get longer periods of rest. By doing long days of continued physical exertion I found myself getting tired quickly, when I get tired I get stupid and there was definitely moments where simple mistakes could have caused injury or death. At one point late in the second day on NA wall it took me 3 attempts to tie a Munter Hitch – I was clearly mentally impaired.
Get over jet-lag
It can take time. I felt time pressured and was keen to get going as fast as possible. It left me generally over-tired due to a lack of sleep and rest which definitely had a negative effect on my performance.
Breakfast should taste good..
If I only I could take bacon and eggs.. however, in lieu of that, next time I go I will try and be more imaginative and bring some food that I would actually like to eat at 6:30am. I will also test it out before buying a week’s worth.
Leave Facebook behind
Oddly enough I felt much better just letting people know I did Leaning Tower the day after, rather than having friends sort-of as part of the process like on NA Wall. Not sure why – it just felt better to be doing it 100% for myself without any outside communication.
I can move pretty quickly over rock
It was nice to throw down pitches fairly quickly solo, I think I could move a lot faster with more time-on-rock and increased fitness.
Solo is not thaaat scary
Once you got your process dialed and have done a bunch of pitches it felt more-or-less like being on belay. The silent partner gives a pretty soft catch and, unless you get it twisted, it feeds pretty well. The scariness probably has as much to do with how you think about it than anything else.
I actually really want to get strong & fit
Aiding is kind of OK, the spicier bits are entertaining just due to the wild feel of it, but this trip really inspired me to get strong and fit enough to do more free. The aid techniques are useful and placing and testing a bunch of gear is good for the mind – but over-all I aspire to free climb big routes.
Practicing putting up the ledge at home was totally worth it
The nice people are The Castle Shop ordered-in a ledge for me to buy – and getting familiar with how to put it up by myself at home was incredibly useful. If I was trying to figure it out while feeling totally exhausted it would have probably made me cry.
Doing stuff in a day is a lot of fun
Climbing stuff in a day is a lot of fun.. I knew this already but the same applies for Solo – cutting out hiking in loads and hauling has serious advantages.
Train over-all stamina
My stamina could have been much better – the ability for your body to work long hours, recover, and do the same the next day needs to be trained to build up this sort of resilience.
Going on a solo climbing trip to Yosemite alone is totally fine
Maybe I like my own company too much but the reality is there are so many climbers around that if you want to hang out with people it is easy enough – even if you are not staying in the main camp grounds. Also I bumped in to a whole bunch of people I met on other trips so it all worked out.
My cunning bag-release system worked like a dream
Using a rope-man to stop rope-feedback worked really well
I also found that it was only on the steepest and longest pitches that I needed to use more than one.
Arcteryx 320 Trad Harnesses are shit for big-wall – unless you like a cheese wire effect on your waist when hauling/jumarring. Also the buckle under the lower loop broke in a fall.
Initially I figured I would use a rope bag for the haul line, but stacking ropes just takes quite a lot of time and feels a bit of a faff. It was not very windy for most the day so I just let it trail. Seemed pretty much fine and it certainly made things faster.
Using light weight dry-bag gear sacks were a success
You can get these dry bag things, about £8 each – not essential-spend but totally worth it. Not only are they strong/easy to find and seal. But you can write on them what is inside and if you got seriously rained on – everything inside them would still remain dry.
Over-all despite a bunch of screw-ups (lost wallet, hurt knee, chest infection) the trip went pretty well. At minimum; at least I soloed one wall successfully, learned a lot from the failed attempt, did some fun trad in between. I got to hang out in Yosemite and discovered Havasupai. The main upside is that I did not kill/maim myself which all-in-all is indicative of a pretty successful first Solo trip.
Should climbing be an Olympic sport?
Apparently last week some guy at the ‘International Federation of Sport Climbing’ (whatever that is) announced that they are putting forward a multi discipline format to the IOC in with the hope that a sugar-coated spectator-friendly approach to climbing will help them pick climbing as an Olympic sport.
It is my opinion that this is a bad idea.
This is why;
1. The people pushing this through, in the most part, are doing it for narrowly-focused personal or organisational gain not for what is best for the global climbing community.
Thanks to political zeal, Olympic sports can be rather well funded; which can give a great cash-boost for climbing-focused organisations (of the right kind) across the world. Regardless whether the heads of these organisations truly believe that it will be better for climbing over-all, to ignore the potential of this sort of cash boost for generally cash-strapped organisations seems to be tantamount to professional misconduct. It really wouldn’t be.
“This could give a great boost to organisations and provide more jobs within the sport” I hear you say? Put simply this sector-building argument comes from a selfish drive for constant growth and, constant growth is not necessarily a good thing, it is only the corrupting pressure of money that makes people think it is.
The suggestion that more money going into climbing has to be a good thing depends on where that money goes and how you would like to see climbing develop as a whole.
Personally, when I think about the climbing experience, I think of climbing big walls under azure skies, freezing while battling winter alpine routes, bouldering in peaceful forests. Suffering with friends, overcoming fear and the enjoyment being in amazing places. When you look at the vast experiential-diversity that climbing can deliver, the indoor climbing experience comes out paltry and miserable.
It is this ‘paltry’ side of climbing that will:
2. The proposed event is ridiculous and the whole concept of finding the ‘best’ climber is a fallacy
Being a ‘good’ climber has far more texture and depth than say being a good 100m sprinter – and therefore it will never raise the ‘best’ climbers in the world to the Olympic platform. A good climber may climb something with extreme difficulty or risk with good style when there is no-one watching or applauding, by being diligent and focused a good climber may save a friends life, by caring about the natural environment they may minimise impact or a good climber may climb routes that challenge the perception of what is ‘possible’. I could go on – but the point is that it will never be as binary as the 100m sprint where, quite literally, the only thing that matters but how fast you travel from A to B.
Because of this, we need to ask some questions;
Do we want to shift the focus even further away from the true experience of climbing towards a manufactured and sanitised ‘sport’?
The media is generally incompetent at explaining climbing when it gets into the news – in part due to its complexity and, if they are given an Olympic definition of climbing, will this be the story of climbing that wins-out? Will this vision of climbing, delivered to a global audience, encourage any more than increased climbing-gym memberships?
Will it develop a new breed of Olympic-focused climbers who focus intensely on bouldering on plastic, leading on plastic and, for some strange reason, speed climbing plastic? I suspect so.
Will it deliver a future of ‘climbers’ motivated only by winning at competitions, bring in doping-inducing desperation to win above everything else in an activity that traditionally has always been embedded in team work and imagination? Will this have an impact on the attitude and culture of the climbing community?
These future Olympians will be the new media-stars of climbing; and when we have them why would a journalist or politician take the views and opinions of a near middle aged man who has climbed some of the most incredible routes in the world (where they have little grasp of his achievements – and he is not reliably near a phone) when you have an Gold-Medalist media-darling on call 24/7 via their London-based agent? It would be the equivalent of having Tom Daley provide media representation for Deep-Sea Technical Divers. Both ‘diving’ but vastly, vastly different.
The media loves to dumb down complicated things; climbing in the Olympics will be the fastest way to dumb down climbing on a global level.
We must avoid thinking that being in the Olympics is automatically going to be good for climbing as a whole.
A constant push for growth, which doubtless is the key driver for Olympic inclusion, only really makes sense for people who profit from climbing which means it does not make sense for the vast majority of climbers regardless of discipline.Continue reading “The case against climbing becoming an Olympic sport”
My aim was to go for about a week, alone, live in a snow hole in a self-sufficient manner and climb some routes on the Tacul Triangle and, if that went well, hit up some bigger steep routes on the back of the Mt. Blanc Massif.
At the time I did not really realise it but I was feeling a general background hum of stress at the time (2010) with the recession nabbing the more interesting projects for the coming year while still having staff costs/general overheads always there. The ‘recession’ was literally everywhere with doom and gloom in the news, papers, TV, radio and in conversation.
The previous winter I was meant to go to the alps with a mate but he managed to totally ruin a finger pulley bouldering so cranking on ice axes was not going to happen. This year there was not really anyone eligible to go (motivated & in possession of the cold-weather right gear)but as I was super keen to get out so I decided that this was as good a time as any to test myself with a solo trip.
I had big aspirations (as you do when sitting in the warm a 1000 miles from the mountains). I learned how I could self-belay on half ropes, should I need to, and started my training. This mainly involved running and calf training with the general expectation that if I can keep comfortable on my front points, avoiding a fear inducing calf-pump, I will not find it too scary and can stay in control.
I spent quite a bit of time studying a super high-res picture of the Tacul Triangle I found online to work out which route I fancied doing first and which sections could be more daunting for free solo. My preference was ice over mixed as it felt more secure from a soloing point of view.
With ropes in a big carrier bag as hand luggage and wearing my mountain boots, I took a morning flight to Genva, coach to Chamonix and, as always, got there just at the 2 hour French lunch was starting. This means there is nowhere open that sells cooker fuel/gas (the only thing I did not bring with me). After walking around Cham waiting for a couple of hours I was able to get some gas so I went up the to the Midi via the cable car started the walk off. My bag, with enough for a week’s snow hole living and various options for climbing weighed around 35kg (80lb) making getting down the thin edge of the midi a little more precarious than usual. Later in January they put up hand rails to help with the decent – but I was there too early to benefit from such a luxury.
Once down I picked a suitable place, away from potential avalanche and started to dig in to the deep snow. I made an L shaped snow-hole and, to finish it off, heaped snow up at the entrance so it could more effectively be blocked with a bag to keep some of the cold out (but requiring you have to dive/slide in).
A few hundred meters away was a tent, unusual for this time of year, but no sign of any people throughout the evening so I bedded down for the night and possibly for the first time I felt actually quite alone. Being the first week of January there was literally no one around and it was insanely quiet in the snow hole. I melted snow for tomorrow’s water, cooked some pasta and went to sleep waiting for the carb-loaded dinner to start warming me up.
The next morning I woke up to good weather and as I slowly got stuff sorted I saw a rescue helicopter choppering off what seemed to be stretchers from the longer routes on the East Face of Tacul. It turned out that the day/evening before two young British lads took a fall from the upper sections of Gervasutti Couloir. The news of these deaths via text message was a little sobering; a few years before I had been on that route; a fairly straight forward route but with high objective risks due to the massive towering Seracs looming threateningly over the top of the climb. It reminded me of the seriousness of the winter Alps.
During the day I walked to the base of the routes breaking a trial to make it easier when I went to climb them. To reduce the amount of stuff I had to carry I did not bring up snow-shoes making trail breaking fairly arduous, the snow builds a hard crust in the top layers which takes 90% of your weight to punch through, meaning that you are constantly doing steps ups.
Moving from London (elevation 20m) to 3500m on Mt.Blanc in a day is a fairly significant shift in altitude so your body is not used to it. For me, the usual affects are a constant mild headache (for which I bring plenty of Asprin) and general sleeplessness. The sleeplessness is caused by the fact that your heart has to pump faster and your lungs breathe more making your body keep thinking it is waking up not falling to sleep.
The next morning I woke with the light, time was not such an issue since I was going solo, so I geared up andContinue reading “Solo in the Winter Alps”
There are many subtle things that climbing teaches you, beyond using gear and climbing technique, that I think can help you live a better life. In life, as with climbing, the bigger the challenge the more (and faster) you learn; there are some interesting parallels between being successful on big wall routes and doing well in life.
Personally I find aid climbing a slow, however, not being super strong, on big walls I will generally find myself doing it at some point. That said, the interesting thing about aid climbing is that the lazier you are, the harder and slower it is. Efficiency is everything.
(If you do not know what aid climbing is; it is basically sticking in a bit of climbing gear to the rock, attaching a fabric ladder, climbing the ladder and putting another bit of gear in. Repeat.)
For example; let’s say you aid climb 1000ft of a route, your aiders are about 5ft long with about 1ft per step.
If you are being a little lazy, you use the second step on your aider and place your gear at a ‘comfortable’ distance, instead of top-stepping and placing the gear as high as you can, the difference in height gained at each placement can easily be 2ft.
Over a 1000 ft route, this would mean 330 placements instead of 200… 130 extra placements, at 3 minutes each = 390 minutes = 6.5 hours more time spent climbing. This can easily mean an extra day on the wall, which means more food and water, which means slower and harder hauling compounding the inefficiency.
The point I am getting at is that, seemingly benign inefficiencies, when multiplied out throughout a route has a significant impact on your ability, and the time it takes, to reach your goal.
Your life is a bit like a really long aid climb and, almost any way you cut it, this analogy applies, for example;
Health; That bit of cake every day, along with a tendency to skip a bit of exercise for the odd drink after work seems totally fine, but over a period of 20 years, the extra calories in, and fewer calories out means you put on weight. Combined with a slowing metabolism and the fact that being fat makes exercise harder you ‘come to terms’ with the ‘inevitability’ of putting on ‘middle age spread’ and now your just another fat dude sweating it out on the tube wearing a suit that used to fit.
Your personal projects; Most people I know have some kind of side-project. Something they are doing which is not their main vocation but would kinda like it to be. However most people I know do not work overly hard to achieve the side goal and, in reality, because ‘today was a long day at work’ or ‘I deserve a rest/treat/meal out’ or the myriad of lame excuses people use to do nothing in the part of the day don’t sell to an employer, they don’t get it done. If you spent a little over 2 hours a day on your project; it would equate to 16 hours; 2 ‘working days’ a week. If you were given 2 working days a week by your employer to do your own thing; what would you get done?
The reality is that you have more than ‘2 days a week’. After a 5pm finish you have about 7hrs of usable time before you go to bed – plus your weekends. You easily have another working week within your normal ‘working week’ should you want to use it. Not using it is a gross waste of your time and does no justice to the value of your life.
Financially; Let’s you like a nice coffee and a bit of cake every working day, you buy your lunch at the sandwich shop near work and you take the tube instead of cycling. Say this costs, as it would in London, £15/day. Over a year = £3975. Over 20 years with 8% compound interest; £175,000; which could give you £14,000/year in interest in your retirement and enable you to retire a few years earlier. Instead, due to a seemingly benign ‘comfort’ habits you work longer and are less financially secure.
The same goes with.. maintaining relationships, improving skills and probably many other areas I have not thought of. Essentially your life, with any luck, is many years long and small comforts and lazy actions are magnified by time and can make the difference between early or late retirement, physical health or obesity, or simply meeting the goals that make you feel satisfied with what you have achieved and live without regret.
Use the top step.
This is about focus and taking risks.
Speed climbing usually involves commitment and a slightly higher level of risk; you carry next to nothing so a second day would be a real problem and you are probably short fixing (leader self belays the next pitch while the second jumars/cleans) or climbing together where there is more risk of injury in the case of a fall.
Whatever you want to do, doing it in your ‘spare’ time is going to be less efficient compared with doing it full time. All that time spent hauling and messing around with your job slows everything down. Being 100% committed and taking the risk, speed climbing gives you focus; the option of a night on a hard ledge with no sleeping bag and no water or food is pretty unattractive and this positive stress forces continuous action.
So you want to do [thing-you-want-to-do], if you do it in your ‘spare’ time say it might take 5 years. If you focus completely; it would probably take 6 months.. this obviously depends on what you are doing and how well you use your ‘spare’ time but going at something hard and fast, although tougher, is the usually the quickest way to meet your goal.
Loosely speaking, you could apply this to many sports, especially endurance activities, but for me, there is something about the big wall experience that amplifies life-scenarios in a way that, with retrospective analysis, can give clarity and insight in to the way I live my life.
There are also obviously many other things climbing in general teaches you, from relationships, handling stress, injury management etc etc.. but big-wall specific; this is my take 🙂
Over ninety percent of all of my mountaineering experience has been gained from climbing on Mount Blanc in January. The first time I donned crampons in anger it was walking off Aguille de Midi January 3rd 2004 after a night sleeping rough in Chamonix. In the following few days I learnt a lot about living in the cold – the first lesson being after 5 minutes; a platypus hose is utterly pointless.
When getting my annual cold-fix I typically fly out from London on an early morning flight and, by 5pm, I am dug in to the side of the Mt.Blanc massif with enough supplies to stick it out a week. Its pretty cool – however being prepared for the cold and sudden increase in altitude is pretty important.
Climbing in the Winter Alps, especially if your sticking it out for extended periods is generally tough and, from what people experienced in Summer Alpine climbing say, it is incomparable. In the summer 2 routes in a day can be a blast but in winter, when contending with the environment and it’s effects on your body, if you get 2 decent routes in a week and you haven’t done badly.
The weather in January at 3,800m is generally pretty brisk, and I have experienced everything from sunny pleasant mornings where it feels like +5°C (until any wind picks up) to bitter cold in the regions of -35°C or lower. The general temperature is -15 to -20 and it is often very windy meaning the wind chill can be severe enough to freeze exposed skin and make talking difficult due to the cold’s effect on your mouth and face.
Long term exposure in temperature likes this, especially while on routes means a high risk of cold injury. Typically in the form of frost nip or frost bite but the cold dry air can also accelerate dehydration. If you have the right clothing hypothermia should not be a likely problem unless you end up in a very exposed bivi in bad weather/very extended belay.
If you have ever had the pleasure of your calves being so pumped out that you have to hang on your axes to de-pump or when the idea of taking a 60ft fall is tempting just so you would be able to sit for a while – you will understand why when I try to get in shape for a winter trip, if I do nothing else, I will beast my calves.
I find nothing more discomforting than, when on a ice route, your calves pack up. My theory is that, while you are able to stand happily on your front points, you remain in control and therefore can remain fairly safe . In early January 2009 I was going to go to the Mt.Blanc massif and go soloing for a week – the aim was to be self sufficient – live in a snow hole and do some routes on the Tucal. Therefore calves were an important part of my training.
When soloing in winter, the way I see it, you have to bear a few of things in mind;
Weight wise – with plastic boots & crampons, axes, various clothing required, rucsac, a couple of ice screws/abolokov threader, a pair of 60m half ropes to rap, tat, harness, a bit of water and some snacks you are probably going to weigh around 20kg more than if you stood naked. So bearing that in mind that you are going to be heavier than if you are leading when climbing as a pair – making sure your calves are have good strength and endurance is critical to your safety.
At the time I had a spare room in my house & a load of wood from an old fingerboard frame and an ikea bed I recently dismantled – so feeling fairly creative I made the mother of all calf training rigs..
This rig enabled me to stand on my front points, carrying a 20kg weight bag and do sets of one/two foot calf raises to build strength or spend around 5 minutes at a time on one foot to build up endurance. With the stack of rungs – I was also able to use it to train my thighs in a style similar to the requirement Continue reading “Calf training for winter climbing”