16th January, 2012
by CW
I am a beginner at this game and found this climb (Crollo di un Mito * III, Cogne, Italy) steep enough. But conditions were good and I became slightly more proficient as the week went on, even leading a couple of pitches. I wore my skiing goggles all week – falling bits of ice are a recreational hazard.
Here are two more photos taken on the superb ice climb – Cascade de Lillaz Grade 3 . An early start meant we were first on the route, it’s a popular climb. Park in the centre of the village of Lillaz and it’s a ten minute walk upriver to the first 100m pitch which we soloed. To reach the next pitch we skirted round the edge of a frozen pond as water was visible through the ice. On the second pitch you can choose where to climb as some parts are steeper than others. Then there is a few hundred metres walk to a corner pitch (that’s me leading it in the bottom photo) – really enjoyable with places to stand for putting in ice screws. On the final pitch (middle photo) David took a steep line and I struggled to find a foothold in the icicles. The climb finishes with an easy 50m traverse to a footpath in the sun! A gentle downhill stroll takes you back to the village. A deservedly 3-star Italian classic.
1st January, 2012
Well, just a quick report and a few pix from a very pleasant Christmas week spent in the French Alps. Not a lot of ice formed (due to the unseasonably warm November) but enough for a bit of fun. And, LOADS of snow… so lots of opportunities for XC skiing, falling over and getting back up again. When it all started hurting too much, the gentle pursuit of snow-shoeing was enjoyed – except by those who moaned it was just a glorified form of walking. You’re right, it is just a glorified form of walking but it does stop you getting buried up to your neck in powder snow. Highlights include: the President’s return to the Ecrins Alps 16 years after her first appearance on the Alpine scene as a young debutant (you really need to ask her about that trip…), mass falling-overs on our bad weather day and the fantastically furry dog sledding team.
So now thoughts turn to 2012 and all those exciting opportunities to terrify yourself in your chosen medium.
‘May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
May the next hold always be just within reach.
May you live long to retell all your climbing tales with a pint in your hand.’
Happy New Year!
PS: Question. How can you tell when you’ve got a sports climbers on your winter trip? Answer. When she arrives at a foot of an ice route with a cherry tomato and tortilla wrap for her packing-up
7th December, 2011
by Dierdre O’Caunagh
Hartside Pass in winter
“Snow is falling, all around us, children playing, having fun…”. Oh no they’re not, they’re all in school and it’s my afternoon off so a quick trip up to Hartside Pass for the first cross country planking of the season. Lots of fresh snow on a nice base of deep wet bog made for entertaining going. Plus deep drifting (this is the Pennines) led to the opportunity to bury one’s skis in waist deep snow holes. A white-out developed as we skied back heading into the next rapidly encroaching Atlantic front, unsurprisingly no-one else out on the hill. Combined with a finish in the dark and one headtorch between us the afternoon made for a typically character building experience; I love winter! But hey, before you start to get envious, it’s raining now.
11th September, 2011
by Lou Weth
The first time I remember seeing Brad Pitt was in the film ‘A River Runs Through It’, released in 1992. You wouldn’t think that a film about 2 guys standing in a river fly-fishing would be particularly interesting, but it was both beautiful and inspirational. As I stood waiting my turn to duck through the torrent one of the lines from the original book came to mind: “Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.” Then it was my turn to step through the river and under the waterfall, hood pulled up over my helmet, and test how waterproof my jacket was. Actually reassuringly so. Those of us who still wear Gore-tex are scoffed at by the Paramo President who never fails to impress on us how comfortable she is (and dry/warm/cool/stylish/plum-coloured or whatever else we hoi-poloi are not). However she hasn’t had the breadth of experience in and underwater that some of us have and still attempted (though with little success) to balance elegantly from rock to slippery rock when the rest of us waded or leapt.
You may have surmised from all this that the Lake District was wet – again. Very wet. Trousers-falling-down-because-they-are-so-heavy-with-rain wet. Too wet for slugs! The only thing you can do when it is like that is get in the water straight away and keep laughing. This time we were scrambling up Tarn Crag Ghyll, heading up towards Stickle Tarn. We shuffle-hopped bronco-style across jammed trees, edged our way side-stepping above a ravine, plunged through waterfalls and swung from tree roots to emerge on the hillside into a side-swiping gale that had us crouching down at times to avoid getting blown back into the river on our way down the hill to the valley. We spotted a troop of helmeted, life-jacketed schoolchildren waving excitedly up at us from the stream-bed as we reached the bottom. Prospective Members in the making?
I am haunted by waters (well, I’m not really; I prefer warm, dry rock or frosty, sunny gritstone, but it’s a fine line to end a book, isn’t it?)
