Performancing Metrics

blog : Rhodes, Ullrich and Earle reap the wind!

Glacier Skiing Safety video

Glacier Skiing Safety (full audio version) from Simon Christy on Vimeo.

— January 19, 2010 02:32 PM

The School: No4 Buttress, Coire An Lochain

Lochain is a honey pot for aspiring Scottish mixed climbers, and although detractors will point out that it’s nothing but a road side crag, and tame in comparison to many other full value venues, as a testing ground or lab for mixed climbing there is probably nowhere better.  In my mind, if Coire an Sneachda is the Stanage of UK winter climbing, then Lochain is it’s Curber; offering steeper and tougher climbs.



It’s here on these relatively small buttress’ that the best climbers of the day learnt their trade and exported to bigger routes and bigger mountains; both in the UK and overseas.



This short article focuses on just three routes that stand side by side, and offers some extra beta for those who are interested in sitting some winter exams.  I’ve done all three of these routes (two of them several times) and would love to include Sidewinder - but having still do do it, I’ve left it out.  If people have anything to add them please post your own experiences in the comments below.



The Crag







The Routes



I’ve chosen 3 routes that sit together and offer a jump in both difficulty and style; Savage Slit (), Prore, and Fallout Corner.  All routes are short, and all have pitches that can be run together, yet all tend to feel much longer, and take much longer, than you imagine, in fact I climbed the North face of the Droites faster than Prore!



I’ll list the routes in order of grade.



Savage Slit



Savage Slit is a great intro to mixed climbing, as it is well protected (unless under ice) and straightforward, plus being a chimney it’s very much like rock climbing.  As with most routes like this it’s all about footwork, and digging for good hooks with your tools.  It goes without saying that this is not a good route to wear a rucksack on.



The first two guidebook pitches should be run together for speed, and many climbers find the first slabby section off putting, as it can feel intimidating and balancy, but take your time and it goes without any fuss.  Once you reach the slit itself take take it one move at a time, and wear the route down bit by bit; finding gear, moving up a bit, then finding some more.  There are no show stoppers on the route, and it’s just as case of being the right way round to use what it has to offer.



Once you reach the top of the slit you’ll find an abseil point/belay and you can either descend or carry on to the top.  If you descend make sure you double test the anchor, and remove any tat you don’t like.  Make sure the tat is well extended and has a karabiner or maillion on it, to aid pulling the rope, as this is a prime spot for getting ropes jammed.  Under very heavy snow or ice you might not be able to find this anchor anyway, and always make sure that the tat you’re clipping into is in fact the anchor, and not just some tat that’s been cut off and left in the snow (always take old tat down with you).



Personally I love the finishing pitches on these crags, as they just open up and often feature some amazing hore frosted sculptures.  Again watch out for dangerous snow and don’t let your guard down until the top.



Fallout Corner





I remember Alan Mullan telling me he thought you’d have to throw yourself off Fallout Corner it was that easy, but again it’s down to conditions, and for some it can be a clip up, while for others it can be an exercise in jibbering (I’ve done it several times and can attest mainly to the latter).  As with Savage slit it’s all there, only this time there are a few more thoughtful points where it’s not clear what to do, but like Savage Slit it is well protected unless heavily iced.



Again begin by some bouldery moves up towards a leaning corner and move up this to an over lap.  This takes some good gear (a hex), then work out what to do next (have a good look beyond the obvious for footholds or hooks that may help you).  This will get you to the 1st stance (good belay).  The next pitch is really the meat of the route, and is a great intro into steep winter slab climbing, and is an exercise of balance and gentle probing upwards, and again much it is on your feet.  It’s well worth experimenting with using different parts of your crampons here (heal, inside edge) to rest your calves, as well as mantling off good hooks on your axes.  Also don’t neglect to use your hands as well as your picks.  If the corner is free of ice then there is lots of gear, if not, then you’ll be forced to run it out a bit further, finding gear on the face.



This pitch ends at a good stance, and one more steep step leads to easier climbing and the top.




Prore




Prore is the next step up from Fallout in terms of steep slabs climbing, being less well protected or positive, and requires a steady approach and a mixture of climbing techniques.  I’m told this is now a soft touch for the grade, but perhaps still means it’s a very serious grade VII.



Climb the first pitch of Savage Slit and move up the chimney until you can traverse right along a break out to the arete.  It’s about now, balanced on some rounded holds without anything for your tools, looking up at a steep arete full of rounded breaks and seams that you’ll have a good handle on if this is your bag. 



Now start up the gristone like arete on both good and bad foothold and the odd good hook, placing gear if and when it appears (don’t forget to look on the other side of the arete).  Climb a hanging corner (loose block)  to a ledge and place your big cam at your feet, then make some bouldery and committing moves up and right to the arete and climb this without any gear to some turfy ledges and belay. 



Climb to the top. 



Well done - you’ve graduated.



Related articles:

Winter climbing tip No.1

Winter climbing tip No.2

Winter climbing tip No.3

Winter climbing tip No.4






[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]


— January 15, 2010 12:41 PM

Dieter Rams: ideas on good design

If you’re looking at buying some new gear this winter, or have some design ideas, or even looking for a way to approach life itself, then here are a few tenets for industrial designer Dieter Rams.

Good design…

Is innovative

The possibilities for innovation are not, by any means, exhausted. Technological development is always offering new opportunities for innovative design. But innovative design always develops in tandem with innovative technology, and can never be an end in itself.

Makes a product useful

A product is bought to be used. It has to satisfy certain criteria, not only functional, but also psychological and aesthetic. Good design emphasises the usefulness of a product whilst disregarding anything that could possibly detract from it.

Is aesthetic

The aesthetic quality of a product is integral to its usefulness because products we use every day affect our person and our well-being. But only well-executed objects can be beautiful.

Makes a product understandable

It clarifies the product’s structure. Better still it can make the product talk. At best it is self-explanatory.

Is unobtrusive

Products fulfilling a purpose are like tools. They are neither decorative objects nor works of art. Their design should therefore be both neutral and restrained to leave room for the user’s self-expression.

Is honest

It does not make a product more innovative, powerful or valuable than it really is. It does not attempt to manipulate the consumer with promises that cannot be kept.

Is long-lasting

It avoids being fashionable and therefore never appears antiquated. Unlike fashionable design, it lasts many years – even in today’s throwaway society.

Is thorough down to the last detail

Nothing must be arbitrary or left to chance. Care and accuracy in the design process show respect towards the consumer.

Is environmentally friendly

Design makes an important contribution to the preservation of the environment. It conserves resources and minimises physical and visual pollution throughout the lifecycle of the product.

Is as little as possible

Less, but better – because it concentrates on the essential aspects, and the products are not burdened with non-essentials. Back to purity, back to simplicity.

— January 14, 2010 01:48 PM

The process - exploiting the disabled for personal glory

I’ve had this blog hanging around on my computer for a week or so, not sure if I should post it, thinking I may come over as being an offensive wanker, and that I should maybe just stick to writing about gear.  But then I read Stevie Haston’s blog and thought maybe that’s what blogs are for? (not to be an offensive wanker - but to write about thoughts, ideas and opinion).

I was forwarded a link the other day for a polar trip that was looking for two injured servicemen for an exped to the North pole - the aim being to make the first unsupported trip by an amputee, increase awareness of those wounded in action, and raise money for Help for Heros.  All very commendable. 

The trip looked as if it would comprise of two polar guides, the two yet to be found injured servicemen and two non injured others, who seemed to be behind the trip.

The first thing I thought was here was a trip were a group of people were piggybacking their ambition on the backs of someone else’s misfortune.  Having injured servicemen would obviously increase media interest and sponsorship, maybe the only way to get funding for such a trip - beyond self funding - now that every ‘first’ has been done a dozen times (such a trip can cost $90,000 per person). 

Reading it, it smacked of those trips that propose to ‘put a blind person on the top of X’ or drag someone in a wheelchair from A to B for X, where the disabled are often exploited for someones else’s gain - very often by people who have no understanding of the real limitations, and implications, of such trips on those they seek to help (both physical and mental). 

This kind of thing always makes me feel very uncomfortable, especially now I live with someone who’s labeled as being disabled.

But as I sat reading this email - getting on my high horse - it suddenly occurred to me that really I was no better.

Why had I agreed to ski across Greenland with Karen Darke, someone I’d didn’t know at all at the time; traveled to Patagonia sea kayaking with here, the BBC picking up the bill; climbed El Cap with Phil Packer?  Hadn’t I done just that, got a free trip on the back of someone’s disability - after all non of these trips would have been free or subsidized without the disabled element?  Also how much money had I made talking about these trips, cashing in, and proving I’m inclusive and caring. 

Would I have done these trips if I had to fund them myself?

The idea that I was no better made me feel very uncomfortable, especially as we’ve been trying to raise funds for a trip to the South Pole sometime in the future, another super expensive trip that no one would support without Karen or Phil being involved.

What really motivates people to do trips with disabled people who are strangers, if not to exploit them?

This is a tough question.

I thought very hard about the trips I’d been on with Karen and Phil and scribbled down a few lessons I’d learnt, that I think are worth sharing to others who go on trips (big or small) with disabled adventurers.

It’s vital that in every stage of a trip that everyone is part of the team, disabled and abled, and that the disabled members are alway part of the process, not the process itself.

Above all disabled people want to be treated the same as everyone else in all respects, and want to do their share the work and have no special treatment.  They do not want to be passengers or the focus of the team, they want to be part of the team.

The ideal trip should be instigated by disabled people themselves, seeking support from ‘experts’ if need be, not the other way round.  To these ends it’s vital that more disabled people are aware of what adventures are out there for them, and given support (either financial or with equipment) to make them possible.

Phil Packer is working really hard to set up the BRIT trust that has these aims in mind, helping young people to find their own way into adaptive sport, and their is great work being done by many groups.

But that question still hung over me - why do it, why get involved?

I think for me it’s a selfish reason really, not financial (in the short term I paid my way on the trip with Phil, and when I climbed El Cap with Karen; which was done with very little fanfare).  I do such trips because I love a challenge, and in the case of Karen I love the person as well (sorry Phil), and guess the couple who get shit scared together - stay together.

More importantly doing crazy trips - things that ‘expert’ would advise against - sets the bar higher each time, and I could never resist trying to prove people wrong.  Plus such trips (Karen hand biked over the Himalayas, down the length of Japan, kayaked around Corsica , to name just a few) allows others to be inspired for their own adventures.  When you’re disabled every day is an adventure.

A few months ago I did a talk at Tisos, and afterwards walking to the train station with a group of people, one of them told me she was a nurse who worked in the children’s spinal unit.  She described how one day the news had showed a clip of Karen skiing across Greenland, and the atmosphere in the room had suddenly changed, the kids growing more animated and excited, their view of what was possible suddenly changed, and maybe the future a little brighter.

So I wish the polar trip all the luck in the world.

As for me - I’m doing it for the kids.

 

 

 

 

— January 13, 2010 03:36 PM

Hagan Nanook appraoch skis

I can remember about ten years ago, when Salamon Snowblades first appeared on the market, telling the UK rep Pete Rostron how great they would be for climbers, if only they had a simple heal lift binding.  Every time I saw him I’d tell him the same thing, and every time he laughed, thinking I was joking.  I wasn’t. 

I’d seen people using tiny Bigfoot skis in the Alps in winter, and had seen howc Paul Ramsden had used a tiny pair of woman’s calving skis to great effect in Patagonia, as well as using short - but heavy - Firn Extreme skis myself, and new that there was a need for a very light, short and cheap ski that bridged the gap between slowshoes (sorry - snowshoes) and full mountaineering skis. 

The reason pete laughed was because he was a skier, not a climber, and knew that such a ski would be simply rubbish; having poor floatation on anything but a piste (you’d sink), poor control (too short) especially when wearing plastic or leather boots, and basically suck at being a skiable ski.  But Pete had also never used snow shoes, because if he had, he’d know that even with these drawbacks - they would still be potentially better then snowshoes. 

Another factor was Pete didn’t realize that many of the users couldn’t actually ski anyway, and simply wanted a bit of a plank to shuffle on, and maybe side slip down the easiest pisted runs at the end of the day, and if it got dicy then they’ed just take them off and walk (walking downhill is easy anyway - even in deep snow), which is what they’ed have been doing anyway.

In the intervening years a few such skis have come and gone, some good (Kong Grimper and Rossignol Free Venture) and some Mickey mouse.  Climbers also took matters into their own hands, cutting down knackered old skis and sticking on a light ski mountaineering binding like the venerable Silvretta 404.

Skis themselves also began to conform with what a climber ideally needed, becoming shorter, fatter and more idiot proof (skiing with modern skis is very easy to learn), and it was only a matter of time before someone came up with the ideal package for climbers.

This has appeared in the form of the Hagan Nanook, probably the best buy for climbers faced with long (or short) approaches through deep snow, but who don’t want to carry full sized and full weight skis (they are light enough to carry up and over), are happy to live with very basic skiing on hard neve or pistes (akin to glissading really) and also want a low cost option (half the price of a full mountain ski version), plus one that can be used a full on ski (well skiboard) in ski boots for fun days on the piste (great for crap weather - keeping you out of the death zone!)

The Nanooks come with everything you need including bindings that will take any boot that will take a step in, and skins, so you can shuffle with ease.  They are short enough to stick on your pack (99cm) and light enough to carry when climbing (1390g), and cost under £200, which isn’t bad when you see the quality of the ski. 

Being fat these skis have an OK floatation, probably about the same as most snowshoes, but with the added benefit that they require less effort to move, and work better when traversing.  If you’re used to full size skis you will be disappointed, as the floatation and glide is much lower, but compared to walking it’s a million times better.

Fitting the boot to the binding is simple enough, and can be adjusted without tools, but I did find the bar that flips up for climbing steep ground flipped up of it’s own accord, either due to catching on the binding as you walked, or on the boot itself.  This could be remedied by changing it’s width using a vice, or by removing it all together.

The skins are wide, and offer very good traction (but without great glide), and come ready to use, and most users would be best advised to put them on at home and leave them on (the whole business of ski skins is an art).  If you were a heavy user I’d probably advise getting hold of some kicker skins, which would improve glide and reduce weight.

For non skiers, or anyone using these with a heavy pack, tired legs and bendy boots, coming down hill can be a trial, and you are often best taking them off and just walking unless the snow is super deep.  Another option is to rap cord or slings around the ski to give better traction downhill (this will have to be binned afterwords as the edges will cut the material).

Finally like all skiboards these are great fun on the piste (ideally with skins removed and proper ski boots!), and a good introduction to the fun that can be had on skis, plus they will give you a head start on most walk in’s, be they alpine or Scottish.

At the moment the best place to buy the Nanooks from is Braemar Mountain sports (they’re not on their website, so give them a call on 013397 41242 if you want to know more.

— January 11, 2010 12:35 PM

Designing stupid

Many moons ago I was working in a climbing shop.  One day a certain - rather rotund - hardware manufacturer’s sales rep came in with an idea he wanted to run past us.  He explained how the company had been looking into designing a new alpine/winter harness, which was proving taxing, as everyone seemed to buy the BD Bod or DMM Alpine.  But this rep had thought up and idea that he believed to be a winner - one that would have climbers all over the world saying “how did I get through life without this?”, and no doubt trump every other design on the market. 

Now I bet you’re sat thinking ‘what was this great invention or design’, no doubt because you can’t remember any startling alpine harnesses that have cropped up in the last ten years.

Well the idea - or concept - was simple, and like all great designs was aimed at eliminating a problem that most people were unaware off; namely that their harness fell down when winter climbing.  The design this rep had come up with was startling in its simplicity, namely a bog standard alpine harness - but with braces attached.

As he spilled the beans to us - we privileged few - a hush went around the rock counter, each person taking in the magnitude of this innovation.  Then someone said - matter of factly - “Your harness falls down because you’re a fat knacker and your belly’s too big” at which point the spell was broken, and no doupt so too were the dreams of a would be designer and we all fell about laughing.

Now this story is an important one for me because when some design idea or technique comes into my head,  I always ask myself the question “is this just a harness with braces?”.  Stupid ideas are were innovation comes from, but they are ideas that are best developed and tested cerebrally first; because once you share them they are no longer stupid; you are.

I read about a web design company a while back that had a great approach to design, in that anything was sayable, but if you knew it was a stupid idea you could put your hand on top of your head to prove that you knew it.  A good example of this would be to ask “why not have pockets sewn upside down, so the contents fall out when you unzip them”, a very stupid question that would be expressed under the protection of hand head.  But stupid ideas get the flow going, and soon you may be thinking of others things that may work better the wrong way round (this is how the recurved ice pick came about). The also kept a note of all ideas - good and bad, because ideas often come before their time.

So why am I rabbiting on about such things?  Well for a while I’ve been having a braces kind of idea about a piece of kit that’s missing off many climbers clothing; but one I wasn’t sure that was actually needed.

What it is is a crotch strap (calm down at the back), a strap that goes through your legs and is attached at the rear hem at the back, and beside the front zipper, made from either nylon or elastic.  Buffalo where the first to use this idea with their Big Face shirt, followed by the Montane Extreme smock, Moonstone, and even Patagonia, who thought it good enough to include it one one season’s speed ascent jackets. 

What it does it keep your main layer in place, and stops it slowly riding up and exposing your midriff, a pretty important feature when most climbers are wearing trousers these days.

Of course great and unrestricted arm lift should reduce the importance of this this, and a big baggy softshell or shell reduces the need further, but never the less, the action of binding layers and normal movement will see a slow rise in layers, forcing you to keep pulling your hem down - especially in well fitted soft shells.

A crotch strap can also stop snow being forced up into your jacket hem when in very deep snow, or skiing in powder,  generally keeps everything neater, and will reducing ‘bagging’ of fabric at chest level (which restricts visibility of your rack and feet).

To make a removable crotch strap you’ll need a 2 foot length of 15mm strong elastic (you can use thinner elastic, or webbing), a length of velcro to match and some thin tape (5mm or 10mm).  Sew a loop on the rear hem (1 inch up inside, so it won’t be exposed and potentially snag), and another loop on the front, offset from the zipper. The loop should be sewn so it creates an open loop that corresponds in width with the strap you’re using.  Now sew the velcro to one end of the strap (don’t scrimp on velcro - as you want it to be strong), so it can be attached and removed, then get the length right before you do the same on the front of the strap.  When fitting don’t go for something that’s got G string tightness, just go for something that’s snug when you’ve got your hands above your head.  You can add a tri-glide buckle if you want some adjustment.

Is this a stupid ‘braces’ kind of idea, after all if it was so good wouldn’t all manufacturers use it?  Unfortunately it’s a prime example of one of those very functional features that suffers from also being very uncommercial and super unsexy; just imagine some Range Rover driving car coat buying punter being told that his jacket has a built in crotch strap!

Maybe I am wrong - but to be honest I don’t really care if this sounds stupid, because as I type this, I’ve got one hand firmly planted on my head.

— January 09, 2010 08:48 PM

giving up the drink

What do you think is the best hydrating system for winter  climbing? Carrying some water in a camelback, or relying only on the snow and the melting of it on a stove? And how much water do you have to carry, if you need to carry and also you want to go light?
Thank you.

I’m one of those lucky people who can go all day without drinking or eating anything - probably because a: I live off my belly timber (aka: fat), and b: because I tend to move pretty slowly (I may be slow, but I can be slow all day).

I also think this modern obsession with drinking water is totally bogus, and historically humans have never drank so much as they do now.  In fact I’d go so far to say that water is destroying modern adventure! 

Being thirsty, and being able to deal with it is probably one of the main skills an alpine climber should develop, because no matter how much Evian you drink now, no matter what great hydration system you use, you will have moments when you feel as if you’re dragging your sorry ass across the Sahara.

In the old days every alpinist went through their “Oh I thought it would be colder” alpine apprenticeship, staggering around with their brains being boiled by the sun, generally overdressed in a pair Buffalo salopettes, the only relief,  drinking a French guides piss as it dribbled down a crack with your handy straw.

Bottom line is water is a drug, the more you drink the more you want.  The amounts of water flagged up as being needed by some climbers as just unrealistic.  Water is heavy, it freezes and very often it doesn’t get drunk and just turns to icy mush that cools your core.  Anyone who says otherwise is a water junkie.

For me it’s 2 brews in the morning (.5 litres), .5 litre in a bottle on the hill, followed by two brews at night.  This is a fair amount on something like El Cap in the blazing heat of the sun, and so is good enough for any alpine route. 

Mitigating points here are; I dress so I don’t sweat like a bastard - thereby not wasting loads of water.  My physiology is also sloth like, so I probably need less water than say kelly Cordes (although he mainly lives off margaritas and the blood of his opponents). 

So here are my water tips:

Try and keep your daytime water consumption down to 1 Nalgene bottle’s worth.  Try and keep it handy so your tanks topped up, either in the top of your sack, or better still attached to the hipbelt or shoulder strap (on non technical routes).  1 litre is good for dawn till dusk, but if you’re setting off very early, or climbing into the night, then take a stove to brew up and melt up (stop and brew up in the last bit of sun, not in the dark).

Your Nalgen should be stored in an insulated cover that can be attached to your sack.  Outdoor Research used to make the best one, but the new version is utter crap (not insulating enough, zipper busts as the design is too small and so puts strain on the zipper, you also cover is so tight getting the bottle out to drink from feels as if you’re delivering a baby ). Luckily the Nalgene insulted cover is the same as the old OR design.

Your can make your own cover out of foam and gaffer tape, but if it doesn’t have a lid make sure you put it in your sack upside down (so the ice forms on the bottom, not the top).

Mark your Nalgene bottle so no one pisses in it.

Lastly it’s all about having the right amount of water and no more, not having none, so always have the tools to create more water if need be.

Oh and don’t forget your straw.

— January 07, 2010 03:18 PM

Don Norman: The three ways that good design makes you happy

— January 06, 2010 03:22 PM

Broken Axes

A friend of mine recently had a very nasty accident when his Petzl Quark snapped.  He was in the process of doing a can opener move, resulting in him spiking himself in the face, breaking his jaw and generally coming off very badly indeed (he’s Scottish and a hardcore winter climber, so his biggest concern was having to stop climbing when there were ‘conditions’, not facial disfigurement). 
When I heard the news I was a bit aghast, and contacted Petzl, after all, axes shouldn’t break like that.  But then I thought about it.  His axes were ten years old and he’s a very heavy user.  I also thought back to all those other axe malfunctions, of BD, DMM, Simmond and Grivel tools whose shafts bent or broke, not to mention adzes and picks that were abused to death - and a few that just weren’t heat treated properly. I came to the conclusion that perhaps axes - just like ropes - could do with an expected life span.
One of my favorite stories is of my old boss Dick Turnbull heading off for a winter ascent of the Chere goulotte on the North face of the Plan one winter with Frank the Decorator (so called because he was a decorator named Frank).
They got the last cable car up and slept in the Plan hut (good winter dos for routes on the Plan), setting off super early to get to the base before the sun crept up.  It’s a long old slog to the Chere in winter, without skis or snow shoes, but they finally got there and sorted themselves out, a thousand metre couloir stretching up above them.
Dick stepped up, and picking a sweat spot, swung his Chouinard X tool hard, at which point the head snapped off and fell at his feet. 
The resulting tirade of profanity - much of which was directed at Chouinard - was probably loud enough to bring the Plan seracs down on them both, but luckily they didn’t, and so Dick and Frank walked all the way back to Chamonix, bought another axe and returned to climb the route a few days later.
Sometimes there can be unseen dangers even in new axes, perhaps because rivets have been badly placed (Simond Naja), or the tool designer had no idea just how much abuse a climber could give an axe (Mountain Tech Vertige).  But my best axe malfunction was also my most unexpected.
At one time I had the good fortunate to be on the list of climbers who got prototype Black Diamond gear, and every year I’d be sent new axe and crampon designs to test and give me feedback on.  Some of these looked very heath Robinson, with bits of other crampons cobbled together, along with new welded sections in order to try new design ideas. But I always trusted them, taking them on expeditions to try out and so get some good field testing in. 

One proto that came my way was a pair of Viper’s - which looked pretty hot at the time (I had Black Prophets, which now luck very old school).  I took these tools out and used them for about a year, climbing in Scotland and the Alps until I was sent a finished production pair; at which point I gave them to Ian Parnell. 
Now Ian is gods gift to product testing, as he destroys everything he touches (he’s broken a harness for gods sake!), and he took these newish fancy tools with gratitude, having dropped one of his Charlet Moser Axars of the Denali Diamond a month or so before.  These axes saw a lot of action - and I mean a lot - including a trip up the Diamond in winter,  the East face of Mermoz, lots of scottish winter climbing, and probably a few trips to the Himalayas and Alaska (at the time Ian was away on trips most of the year). 
Anyway time past, and one day Ian was on Crackbaby (uber classic hard ice route) with Neil Gresham.  He’d just led a pitch and had set up a belay when he decided to back up his screws by clipping the rope into the spike of one of his fancy second hand proto Vipers.  Being a good aid climbers Ian thought he’s give the tool a few good tugs with the rope to check it was solid.  But as he did so - and much to his surprise - the spike of the axe fell out.
It turned out - after some detective work - these axes were only designed for ‘photos’ and was never intended to be climbed on - and as far as we know, were simply glued together.
Anyway, the bottom line is don’t assume that your axe is invulnerable, as Scottish mixed climbing puts forces on axes that they were never designed to take, and one day they will go snap!

— January 04, 2010 11:16 PM

Gut instinct - 5 ideas on how to avoid an avalanche

Over the last few years I’ve got more and more into sea kayaking, both because my partner refuses to walk, and because it’s the nearest thing to having a full on expedition in your back garden (1 hour in a sea kayak is equivalent to 1 day on an expedition).

One thing you learn very quickly is that the sea always wins.  No matter how strong you think you are; go out in a big gnarly sea and you’re going to come a cropper.  Like climbing you can run head first into trouble and just hope that experience, bravado, and the luck that saw you through last time, see you through again, but unlike the mountains, the sea can play a much longer game, made all the worse that you can’t hold your breath long enough or keep your body temperature high enough to see its hand.  Also the sea rarely bluffs.  As they say, the sea always wins.

And so when the sea is dangerous you don’t second guess it and you don’t go.

But for climbers very often the opposite is true, and in many ways we have more to fear. 

Most UK climbers seek out the biggest waves, the roughest sees, the red flags, maybe because our winters are so short, it’s only the weather warnings and avalanche alerts that tell us it’s time to climb, and climb we will, weather be dammed.  Most of us - even those with decades of UK winter climbing under their belts - are really still winter novices; we just don’t have enough experience of snow or avalanche safety to really know what we’re doing.  We also have a gung-ho attitude to mountain safety; how many climbers have decided not to go on the hill only to kick themselves when they hear of some other team that did, and got a route in? 

We see a level 3 avalanche warning and just think “great it’s not level 4”, tell ourselves we’ll be more careful, and go anyway.  We do crazy things like climb below parties in dangerous gullies with only luck on our sides, never thinking that there is only so much luck that can go around in such places. 

One problem is that although the sea always wins, it’s also pretty predictable, were as the mountains tend not to win, can be outwitted, but are far less predictable because of it. 

But all these things are part of what it is to be a winter climber in the UK.  It’s the dilemma of knowing time and conditions aren’t on your side. It’s betting a ten hour car journey on the weather being good, and the snow pack safe, and losing, and better again that you’ll be lucky and get to climb, and luckier still not to die.

It’s easy to look at winter climbing fatalities and find faults, but such deaths are just part of human nature, and have to be partly excepted as the price others pay for such a raw experience. But its also a time to reflect on what we all do and make adjustments, even if it’s only for the next climb.

Anyway here are five ideas on avoiding thoes traps;

Fill your dance card: Get some early ice climbing in in Norway, the US or Canada.  The more miles you have under your belt the lower to impulse to push it when the winter comes, plus your fitness and ability will be much higher when it’s safe to climb.  This is especially true if you’re moving up in the grades and intend to tackle steeper ice routes, as the skills learnt on cascades overseas will be invaluable (and much easier to learn), than on a skinny Scottish smear in a snow storm.

Learn to ski  People told me this for years and years and I just ignored them, thinking it was too expensive.  But ski gear has come down a lot in price, and you can pick up skies and boots in most ski shops at a really good price these days.  Better still get into ski touring, as this will aid your climbing and mountaineering no end.  Also don’t ignore Nordic skiing, which is very cheap to start, and is great fun and even better training, and can be used for approaching routes as well if you stick your climbing boots in your sack. Very often when it’s too dangerous to climb, you can ski instead.

Get better.  The Mick Fowler dictum of ‘stick to the buttresses’ is often quoted by me, but it’s true; climb out of the gullies and you’ll be safer.  On buttress routes you have belays, solid ground and no cornices to drop on your head.  Most go to the top of the crag, allowing ridges to be descended.  Also short buttress routes can be approached from above, avoiding dangerous lower slopes, just abseil in and climb out.

Outsmart the danger. Use your experience, your map and local knowledge when it comes to both route and crag choice.  Take it slow and don’t blindly walk into a trap.  Stay flexible with your plans, and be prepared to ‘just go for a walk’.  Also don’t let poor judgment be caused by poor communication.  If everyone is shitting their pants, but no one is willing to say it, then be the first (to say it, not shit your pants).

Get skilled up.  A friend of mine was caught in an avalanche once, and while being drawn down to what he imagined to be his death he realized he new nothing about avalanches.  In that moment he decided that if he lived he would get clued up and so avoid it happening again.  And he did.  Although there are many more sexy courses to do I’d highly recommend getting onto an avalanche course, as the skills will be passed on much easier, faster than reading a book, plus they will stick.  The best courses at the moment are a steal at £35 (1 day) and is being run by MCofS (info here).  Glenmore Lodge also do do a a two day course on avalanche awareness, and most guides will be happy to run courses for small groups (a good option for climbing clubs).  On the subject of awareness, I think most of us simply go by gut instinct and a small amount of knowledge, but mainly our gut. 

This reminds me of that story about Carl Sagan, who, when asked for his ‘gut’ feeling about the existence of God, replied “I try not to think with my gut.”

 

 

 

— January 01, 2010 07:12 PM

Page 2 of 14 pages  <  1 2 3 4 >  Last »