I recently had to go to Snowdonia to pick up a bench for my Campervan, it was far to wet & windy to climb, I had a choice of returning home to Sheffield, Parisellas cave with Aly (out 'because my rotator cuff is knackered) or....
....Remembering a rather drunken debate between myself and Jim Keeley (Apex’s Owner), regarding the stability of the air beam tents in bad weather, I decided (somewhat stupidly) to head of up Snowdon and pitch the sample Morpho AR leant to prove otherwise, with the hope of handing him back a shredded mess. The forecast had suggested gusts of 60Mph were likely. I parked at Pen-y-pass, left a note for the car park dude to let him know I was staying on the mountain ("Hi, I’m in the blue transporter van...sleeping on Snowdon tonight, If Its still parked here at 2pm start worrying") and headed off up the mountain, initially the vis’ was good but as I joined the PYG track and traversed up under Crib Goch the cloud base dropped till I was in deep in clag, as I neared the summit plateau edge I could hear the roar of the wind and it was quite disconcerting to say the least, the nearest thing I can compare it to was a Vulcan Bomber at Duxford. On route to the summit I was knocked over twice so, I was starting to get worry about pitching the tent in the midst of the maelstrom wind from hell.
On arrival at the summit I was considering heading back to the valley but darkness was nearly upon me and I couldn’t be arsed, “how bad could a bit of wind be?”
I couldn’t actually pitch the tent on the summit as there isn’t any grass so I headed in the direction of Lliwedd to the col in between the two peaks were I knew there was some flat ground, unfortunately darkness overtook me and the rain started so all I could find was a small patch of grass on the edge of a cliff just off the main path, the tent just fit on but about 5cm overhung the edge, as the Nemo tents are tunnel in nature and not geodesic I was slightly concerned about the lack of ideal pegging points but as it was pissing it down I decided to worry about it later, I threw my pack in the tent and started inflating the Morpho from inside. After 1 min or so it was up. I got out my thermarest, sleeping bag and started looking for my food, I could of looked for the whole night but I probably wouldn't of found it as I'd left it in the Van...
The weather throughout the night was particularly horrid, I was repeatedly ass whipped by the Morpho’s air beams in the extreme wind, but I'm pretty convinced that most normal tents would of been ripped to pieces and the poles would of snapped. The air beams are pretty cool, becasue they smash you in the face and then pop straight back up! Using my noise cancelling headphones I managed to grab a satisfactory night sleep until I was woken around 6am by the wet tent fabric, one of the rear pegs had manage to come out, hence the rear of the tunnel was sagging onto my face, amazingly enough this did not cause the whole tent to demoleculize as I'd expected. I was slightly damp due to the horizontal rain being blown in the vent but all in all I was surprisingly happy in my little green home.
SO... at the end of the day I have found out that the Nemo, all though certainly not billed a 4-season tent, was capable of standing up to 4 season weather despite being improperly pitched and even remained standing when the guy pegs came out in 60mph winds at almost 3000ft!
I Have learnt a few things from this little trip..
1. Sheep are amazing creatures in the way that they can stand up to incredibly hostile weather with little or no shelter - WE ARE NOT SHEEP!
2. Sheep, although stupid, do not leave their food in Vans.
Jim Keeley (and Apex), 1 Taylor, 0
Until next time...
Monday 10 December 2007
Saturday 10 November 2007
3 Point 5
It was on the Monday, that Danny suggested the trip up to The Ben to do Point Five Gully. At first, I thought it was a foolish idea, certainly something that Danny would suggest, not me. Initially I think, Danny and some of his housemates were going, but soon they realised how stupid an idea it was, and I was being tempted by my days off falling perfectly on the Sunday and Monday. Somehow, Danny subtly cajoled me into agreeing to go.
The initial plan was that both Danny and I would finish work on the Saturday (in separate Joe Brown shops), race home, meet up at Danny's with Rob (who I believe took no persuasion at all!), and fly up to Scotland. After finding the North Face car park, we would bivi beside/inside the car, get up early, be among the first on the route, and after finishing race back to Danny's house in the South Lakes where we would sleep and be home the next day to drop Rob off at work in Pete's at 2pm. The plan was faultless!
Friday night I went to sleep with half my stuff packed, and didn't do any more on Saturday morning. I counted on being able to take a short lunch, and race back to my place in time to finish the packing and be at Danny's house in plenty of time. At 6pm (the designated meeting time), I was puffing my way up the hill, and once there we waited for Rob. Minutes ticked by, and after one false start to pick up Rob's sleeping bag, and one breakdown of communication, we were underway. Within 10 minutes we realised Rob had forgotten the majority of his food, but Danny was dead set against turning back.
After Danny, I, and then Danny again had driven his Rover Metro for well over 6 hours we arrived in the North Face car park and slept uneventfully. I was rudely woken at five in the morning after nowhere near enough sleep, by a nearly ready Danny & Rob wandering around, stumbling into my prostate form. Slowly I emerged and readied my kit, and we were nearly ready to start. Danny had a couple of gastric problems causing "explosive diarrhoea" 3 times in 10 minutes.
If anyone has walked from the North Face car park to the CIC hut, they will know all about the peat bogs, and the tussock grasses, and various other unpleasant things that one must walk through to make progress. I can imagine it being a dreary place in the middle of the day. At 6.30am, it was a truly God-forsaken spot. Fortunately, we were walking at a reasonable pace so made out way through swiftly.
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On arrival at the CIC hut, we donned crampons, removed axes from our rucksacks, and had a bite to eat before we moved on. Looking at the North Face of Ben Nevis from the CIC hut is possibly the biggest wake-up call to many prospective climbers/ice climbers/mountaineers. She stares at you with impending doom. She often has a wreath of clouds surrounding her head warning you to come no further. In winter conditions, she is even more impressive. Her normally black, grey, ochre, and brown flanks are for the most part covered in a thin white layer. In some places, these layers are just thick enough for your dirty great metal weapons to allow you to make progress up her sides. Sometimes you can make enough progress actually to appear on top of her head. However once there she still does not relent. Having left your mark on her summit she tempts you to veer ever so slightly off course, and Five Finger Gully is the death trap awaiting those whose navigation isn't honed to perfection. It would take concentration and luck all day to do this without any problems.
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We made our way to the base of the gully separately. Rob and Danny sped off, leaving me for dust. Only fair, I was the scummy boulderer; I wasn't supposed to have stamina. The burning sensation in my calves felt alien to me. Eventually I appeared some fifty feet below where the others were making their stances a little more accommodating. Danny had already established he was to lead the first pitch, and once on it I managed to get some photo's of him looking in control, and comfortable in this most-hostile environment. I initially followed on one of the ropes, but as Rob was going to lead the second pitch, I paused halfway up, allowed Rob to climb past, and waited for Rob to continue to the second belay. I then climbed up to meet Danny who was loving every minute. Danny seconded up to Rob, and I followed. I quickly became impressed with the skills of my companions. The fact that Rob had easily wandered up this highly intimidating pitch, and Danny had rushed up it only made me feel worse when I thrutched and clawed my way up through the chimney! At around this point the spindrift avalanches were just starting to annoy us. As soon as I appeared around an ice-covered block, I was able to see Rob with quite a good belay, and Danny 30 feet beyond him with a crap one. I was then required to climb 10 feet beyond Danny to make a slightly better belay. From here, I belayed Danny through, followed by Rob. Danny had made a bucket seat to belay from, and as Rob and then I climbed past him, he mentioned an increasing empathy with Simon Yates on Suila Grande. Considering the outcome of that trip, this comment did nothing to alleviate my growing concerns, but at least it lightened the mood. We carried on up with another bucket seat belay, and a couple of buried axes to belay from. The trouble is that there were no cracks to place protection, and the only places where there was enough material to put a screw or warthog in, were on the steeper ground, where belaying was not on our minds.
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Rob and Dan led almost the entire thing, but eventually I was forced to lead up a 45-50 degree snow slope. It was similar to all the other snow we had climbed through previously - Soft, slushy, unconsolidated, offering very little in way of axe placements, and nothing in way of gear. I approached a fork and chose the left route as it appeared steeper, but for a shorter distance, and with actual ice on the surface. I stood underneath the steeper ice, and asked how much rope was left. I did not hear anything of the replies, so tried to work out how far away I was, and realised I would have to create an anchor. There was nothing. No thick ice, no turf, the snow was too soft for half-decent axe placements, or a bollard. I could hardly create a level platform to stand on. Even a bucket seat would have collapsed within moments of my sitting in it. However, I noticed a dark patch within a big sheet of snow on my right. I started clearing the snow with my adze and discovered lots of rock! I knew I would be able to find a crack. I am not ashamed to say that I was momentarily berserk. There had to be a crack. If I could just get a wire placed, then I would be happy to belay Danny, and Rob up to, and above me. In my temporary insanity, I cleared about five cubic metres of snow directly onto Danny and Rob's stance. After a couple of extremely irate spouts of verbal abuse, I placed my axe, hammered it in, and placed my hammer. I didn't even trust my own weight on them, let alone two people combined!
Once Danny reached me, he realised my stance was shit, so he told me to take him off belay, and he climbed the next bit trailing his rope. Rob appeared next to me, and at once tied onto Danny's rope; He climbed above me and within 20 feet had disappeared over the lip. I had no idea how much more of this route was left. There could have been the next 20 feet I could see, or there could have been 200 feet of the same crap snow as the last 200 feet. When I followed Rob onto the top, I was so unbelievably tired, cold, and elated that I offered anyone who helicoptered me off, a princely sum.
Danny and Rob were insatiable. They were so happy, and full of spirit, that I couldn't help but be perked up, and after sharing around what remained all of the remaining chocolate we were off. From the top of the Ben, there are two very specific bearings that you take in order to avoid the infamous Five Finger Gully. Many people have lost their lives by taking poor bearings from the trig point and ended up walking over the cornice that overhangs Five Finger Gully at that time of year. The conditions were complete whiteout, and it was hard enough trying to watch where you were stepping never mind walking a certain number of paces on a particular bearing. I was sure at one point that we were walking too far to the right, and kept trying to walk further to the left, but as Rob was holding the compass, I had to bow to his judgement. It seemed like just a few minutes before we were walking alongside several snow-covered cairns, and then eventually as we stopped below the level of the cloud, we were awarded fantastic views.
Eventually after much bog jumping, and as the sun finally disappeared behind the mountain, we arrived back at the car much to everyone's relief. We threw all of our wet and dirty kit into the car and piled in for the journey back to Danny's house. We had left the car 13 hours ago!
After a couple of pit stops, we arrived at Danny's and Kath (Dan's sister) made us brew's and reheated some soup. We chatted about hat we had just achieved, and all laughed at Danny's little finger which had been quite badly bruised due to the picks on his axes having been filed down by several centimetres. After deciding who would sleep where I crashed on the sofa, with adrenaline still ebbing through my veins, and eventually sleep overtook me.
Early the next morning I was woken as Dan made a phone call. In my semi-conscious state I couldn't quite string together exactly whom he was talking to but I caught two very specific references. Kendal Hospital and frostbite! A little while later on I was getting up, and Dan showed me his previously bruised little finger. It had turned black, and huge blisters had appeared along its entire length.
The initial plan was that both Danny and I would finish work on the Saturday (in separate Joe Brown shops), race home, meet up at Danny's with Rob (who I believe took no persuasion at all!), and fly up to Scotland. After finding the North Face car park, we would bivi beside/inside the car, get up early, be among the first on the route, and after finishing race back to Danny's house in the South Lakes where we would sleep and be home the next day to drop Rob off at work in Pete's at 2pm. The plan was faultless!
Friday night I went to sleep with half my stuff packed, and didn't do any more on Saturday morning. I counted on being able to take a short lunch, and race back to my place in time to finish the packing and be at Danny's house in plenty of time. At 6pm (the designated meeting time), I was puffing my way up the hill, and once there we waited for Rob. Minutes ticked by, and after one false start to pick up Rob's sleeping bag, and one breakdown of communication, we were underway. Within 10 minutes we realised Rob had forgotten the majority of his food, but Danny was dead set against turning back.
After Danny, I, and then Danny again had driven his Rover Metro for well over 6 hours we arrived in the North Face car park and slept uneventfully. I was rudely woken at five in the morning after nowhere near enough sleep, by a nearly ready Danny & Rob wandering around, stumbling into my prostate form. Slowly I emerged and readied my kit, and we were nearly ready to start. Danny had a couple of gastric problems causing "explosive diarrhoea" 3 times in 10 minutes.
If anyone has walked from the North Face car park to the CIC hut, they will know all about the peat bogs, and the tussock grasses, and various other unpleasant things that one must walk through to make progress. I can imagine it being a dreary place in the middle of the day. At 6.30am, it was a truly God-forsaken spot. Fortunately, we were walking at a reasonable pace so made out way through swiftly.
.jpg)
On arrival at the CIC hut, we donned crampons, removed axes from our rucksacks, and had a bite to eat before we moved on. Looking at the North Face of Ben Nevis from the CIC hut is possibly the biggest wake-up call to many prospective climbers/ice climbers/mountaineers. She stares at you with impending doom. She often has a wreath of clouds surrounding her head warning you to come no further. In winter conditions, she is even more impressive. Her normally black, grey, ochre, and brown flanks are for the most part covered in a thin white layer. In some places, these layers are just thick enough for your dirty great metal weapons to allow you to make progress up her sides. Sometimes you can make enough progress actually to appear on top of her head. However once there she still does not relent. Having left your mark on her summit she tempts you to veer ever so slightly off course, and Five Finger Gully is the death trap awaiting those whose navigation isn't honed to perfection. It would take concentration and luck all day to do this without any problems. .jpg)
We made our way to the base of the gully separately. Rob and Danny sped off, leaving me for dust. Only fair, I was the scummy boulderer; I wasn't supposed to have stamina. The burning sensation in my calves felt alien to me. Eventually I appeared some fifty feet below where the others were making their stances a little more accommodating. Danny had already established he was to lead the first pitch, and once on it I managed to get some photo's of him looking in control, and comfortable in this most-hostile environment. I initially followed on one of the ropes, but as Rob was going to lead the second pitch, I paused halfway up, allowed Rob to climb past, and waited for Rob to continue to the second belay. I then climbed up to meet Danny who was loving every minute. Danny seconded up to Rob, and I followed. I quickly became impressed with the skills of my companions. The fact that Rob had easily wandered up this highly intimidating pitch, and Danny had rushed up it only made me feel worse when I thrutched and clawed my way up through the chimney! At around this point the spindrift avalanches were just starting to annoy us. As soon as I appeared around an ice-covered block, I was able to see Rob with quite a good belay, and Danny 30 feet beyond him with a crap one. I was then required to climb 10 feet beyond Danny to make a slightly better belay. From here, I belayed Danny through, followed by Rob. Danny had made a bucket seat to belay from, and as Rob and then I climbed past him, he mentioned an increasing empathy with Simon Yates on Suila Grande. Considering the outcome of that trip, this comment did nothing to alleviate my growing concerns, but at least it lightened the mood. We carried on up with another bucket seat belay, and a couple of buried axes to belay from. The trouble is that there were no cracks to place protection, and the only places where there was enough material to put a screw or warthog in, were on the steeper ground, where belaying was not on our minds. .jpg)
Rob and Dan led almost the entire thing, but eventually I was forced to lead up a 45-50 degree snow slope. It was similar to all the other snow we had climbed through previously - Soft, slushy, unconsolidated, offering very little in way of axe placements, and nothing in way of gear. I approached a fork and chose the left route as it appeared steeper, but for a shorter distance, and with actual ice on the surface. I stood underneath the steeper ice, and asked how much rope was left. I did not hear anything of the replies, so tried to work out how far away I was, and realised I would have to create an anchor. There was nothing. No thick ice, no turf, the snow was too soft for half-decent axe placements, or a bollard. I could hardly create a level platform to stand on. Even a bucket seat would have collapsed within moments of my sitting in it. However, I noticed a dark patch within a big sheet of snow on my right. I started clearing the snow with my adze and discovered lots of rock! I knew I would be able to find a crack. I am not ashamed to say that I was momentarily berserk. There had to be a crack. If I could just get a wire placed, then I would be happy to belay Danny, and Rob up to, and above me. In my temporary insanity, I cleared about five cubic metres of snow directly onto Danny and Rob's stance. After a couple of extremely irate spouts of verbal abuse, I placed my axe, hammered it in, and placed my hammer. I didn't even trust my own weight on them, let alone two people combined!Once Danny reached me, he realised my stance was shit, so he told me to take him off belay, and he climbed the next bit trailing his rope. Rob appeared next to me, and at once tied onto Danny's rope; He climbed above me and within 20 feet had disappeared over the lip. I had no idea how much more of this route was left. There could have been the next 20 feet I could see, or there could have been 200 feet of the same crap snow as the last 200 feet. When I followed Rob onto the top, I was so unbelievably tired, cold, and elated that I offered anyone who helicoptered me off, a princely sum.
Danny and Rob were insatiable. They were so happy, and full of spirit, that I couldn't help but be perked up, and after sharing around what remained all of the remaining chocolate we were off. From the top of the Ben, there are two very specific bearings that you take in order to avoid the infamous Five Finger Gully. Many people have lost their lives by taking poor bearings from the trig point and ended up walking over the cornice that overhangs Five Finger Gully at that time of year. The conditions were complete whiteout, and it was hard enough trying to watch where you were stepping never mind walking a certain number of paces on a particular bearing. I was sure at one point that we were walking too far to the right, and kept trying to walk further to the left, but as Rob was holding the compass, I had to bow to his judgement. It seemed like just a few minutes before we were walking alongside several snow-covered cairns, and then eventually as we stopped below the level of the cloud, we were awarded fantastic views.Eventually after much bog jumping, and as the sun finally disappeared behind the mountain, we arrived back at the car much to everyone's relief. We threw all of our wet and dirty kit into the car and piled in for the journey back to Danny's house. We had left the car 13 hours ago!
After a couple of pit stops, we arrived at Danny's and Kath (Dan's sister) made us brew's and reheated some soup. We chatted about hat we had just achieved, and all laughed at Danny's little finger which had been quite badly bruised due to the picks on his axes having been filed down by several centimetres. After deciding who would sleep where I crashed on the sofa, with adrenaline still ebbing through my veins, and eventually sleep overtook me.
Early the next morning I was woken as Dan made a phone call. In my semi-conscious state I couldn't quite string together exactly whom he was talking to but I caught two very specific references. Kendal Hospital and frostbite! A little while later on I was getting up, and Dan showed me his previously bruised little finger. It had turned black, and huge blisters had appeared along its entire length.
Tuesday 23 October 2007
Cilo gear Dyneema® packs are nearing completion!
After you’ve spent a bit of time in the mountain gear industry you begin to get a little non-phased about new products, its not that your not interested its just that I see a lot of new gear and if I bought every bit I liked, I’d spend too much time figuring it out rather than climbing.. The Cilo gear Dyneema® packs on the other hand, I’m very, very exited about… there will only be a handful of stockists in the UK; lakes climber in ambleside are confirmed, one or two more to follow. These packs are going to be crazy expensive and only weigh about 500g! Think of a pack that’s made out of the same material as your quick draws yep, those things you fall on.. Dyneema® is a super strong polyethylene fibre that offers maximum strength combined with minimum weight. It is up to 15 times stronger than quality steel and up to 40% stronger than aramid fibres, both on weight for weight basis.
Here’s what Graham @ Cilo Gear says – “We didn’t end up using the Dyneema thread, and we didn’t use Dyneema for the frame sheet pocket. So we didn’t want to lie, and call them 100% Dyneema packs.
The prototypes were heavily tested and abused by Kelly Cordes, Maxime Turgeon and others over several months, including being used as a bike lock cover here in Brooklyn and Manhattan…This material rocks!”
Images to follow
Here’s what Graham @ Cilo Gear says – “We didn’t end up using the Dyneema thread, and we didn’t use Dyneema for the frame sheet pocket. So we didn’t want to lie, and call them 100% Dyneema packs.
The prototypes were heavily tested and abused by Kelly Cordes, Maxime Turgeon and others over several months, including being used as a bike lock cover here in Brooklyn and Manhattan…This material rocks!”
Images to follow
Monday 15 October 2007
Don’t say it’s not worth the feeling
We're rushing to the west along an American highway down to the valley that is the climbing mecca. There is, by far the some of the best rock climbing in the world there. And it’s us that are speeding right to it. We are about to cross TAIOGS PASS. As we’re going uphill. The road starts twisting. The air is cold, like in the mountains. We open the car window to expose our feel the mountain air."It must be near."
"What?"
"My dream, my dream is within the reach." .
“What does it look like?”
“It’s high. It’s fu….. very high."
Honza Říha is probably the second blind person in the world to climb El Captain in the Yosemite National Park in California, via the Nose. On 17 – 19th August we managed to climb up this legendary route. Of course, due to his handicap he climbed on the second, he was clearing the rope lengths removing the belaying devices and helped with lifting up the gear bag.
We bivouacked twice in the wall and spent the last night on the top. On the first day we climbed the first four lengths on the Sickle Ledge where we left our belongings, the gear bag, and abseiled down. Four days of climbing altogether. Because of the weight we’ve decided to sleep only on natural rock ledges. We spent the first night on the ledge of the Dolt Tower (11th pitch), the second night on the ledge of Camp V (24th pitch) and the last night on the top.
The first time the Nose was climbed up in a single push ascent it took12 days in 1958 by Warren Harding, James Whitmore and Wayne Mary. In 1960 the real single push ascent took the team of Joe Fitschen, Chuck Pratt, Tom Frost and Royal Robbins six days. The route is usually climbed in 19 to 32 pitches. The Nose is classified as VI 5.13+ or 5.9 C2. We joined some of the pitches and so the route took us, by estimation, about 28 pitches. We climbed some lengths 5.9 to 5.10c, including Stoveleg Crack or Pancake Flake, free. The event was supported by the Czech Mountaineering Association. Other team members:Janek Bednařík (Mountain guide) and Vojtěch Watt Dvořák (Singing Rock)
· Related articles (training, idea, intro) here
Froggatt Frenzy - By George Taylor @ Mounatin Beta
After a few days of being stuck in corporate hell at work in London, Me and Stumpy were finally on the train back to Sheffield, beers in hand, ready for a weekend of sunny grit. Aly txt'ed in the morning with suggestions of ticking a few E5's so the plan was set. After a breakfast of goliath proportion, we felt ready for action. After a few easy solos (Heather wall, Sunset slab) we got straight on Strapadictomy. I bouldered out the start which had a fairly tricky move but was OK once you had the sequence. I jumped off and Aly jumped on, cruised the start and then got involved! after placing a few cams in the break of Strapiombante he leaned across to the tenuous rib and somehow fiddled in a big nut and a green Alien.
Needless to say we all then thought we'd step up to the challenge only to fail
Strapadictomy is hard! After being ego bashed by Strapadictomy, I headed on to Strapiombo which was good, awesome hanging upside down of bomber fist and foot jams! Adam followed me up but the Link cam I'd placed dissappeared into the depths pf the crack only to be retreived 30 mins later after lots of stick coaxing. I received lots of strange looks when I asked for something long smooth and stiff...We then headed over to Great Slab, Aly flashed Great Slab, Dom cleanly headpointed soloed Heartless Hare at E5 5c, then Aly tried it one handed, in the dark whilst being attacked by a bat... Which was an excellent end to an excellent day!
Shortish El Cap report for those who might be interested! By Andy Kirkpatrick
Here's a quick run down of mine and Karen's trip to Yosemite in September/October where we made a 4 day ascent of Zodiac (A/C2+).
Karen became paraplegic in a climbing incident 15 years ago ( a fall that also broke her skull, neck, ribs, and arms), but since then has undertaken many non climbing adventures (kayaking the inside passage from Canada to Alaska, skiing across Greenland, hand biking over the Himalayas). When she asked me to ski across Greenland with her in 06, my first comment was she should climb El Cap instead, as it would be much easier (little did I know!!!).
After Greenland (a 600 km ski from coast to coast that took 28 days), we started wondering about El Cap. One problem was that the 4 paraplegic climbers that had climbed El Cap had all had lower breaks, meaning they could use their stomach muscles - crucial when it comes to doing several thousand pull ups. Karen on the other hand has no feeling below her ribs, yet a few hours spent jugging up a tree, using a Petzl Pro traction and assorted pulleys seemed to do the trick, even if it was pretty slow. The main problem now was that the lack of muscle bulk or control meant that a normal sit harness compressed Karen's waist to just a few inches - potentially very serous for anything but the shortest of hangs. Climbing El Cap could take us up to 10 days, so another option was needed.
The next trial was in the Foundry in sheffield, were we used a loaned paragliding harness, which was ideal, acting as both a rigid seat, and harness. With this we went off and did our first climb; Kilnsey main overhang, which Karen jumared up with very little problem. It looked like it could work.
Next up was something with a bit more spice; The Old Man of Steor, a sea stack of the West Coast of Scotland. The approach was made by sea kayak, and the overall logistics were much harder, involving a bit of swimming on my part, plus some carrying of Karen. Moving Karen around by myself had long been one of the hardest parts of all our adventures, as being nearly six feet tall, and weighing 70kg, this was always at the limit of of safety and strength! Never the less within an hour of landing, Karen was on the top, having made a swift 60 metre free hanging jumar. It was here though that I saw for the first time just how terrified Karen was hanging on the rope, and because of this I said that El Cap was off, after all if she was terrified on a 60 metre climb, how would she feel on a 600 metre on?
But being a stubborn kind of woman, Karen was not for giving in, and so having only climbed twice (if you ignore the tree, and two ropes in climbing gyms), we headed off to climb El Cap, only this time with the proviso that she would have a back up rope!
I'd always just assumed I'd be carrying Karen on my back too and from the climb, so on our first try I simply hitched her on my back (sat on a modified rucksack), and started staggering up to the base of El Cap. Within 100 yards I felt that there was no way that I could do it, my whole body feeling as if it was engaged in the most extreme form of weight lifting ever devised (carry 70kg up talus in extreme heat), but with lots of sit downs we made it to the base of our route (Shortest Straw) 2 hours after leaving the road...at which point I had to go back for one more haul bag! I'd always planned to climb as a 2, but after climbing El Cap the week before, and seeing the descent again (I'd climbed EL Cap 11 times before), I realized that getting down would be the crux, and doing this alone would be very dangerous for both of us, if not impossible. Looking for some help, I went looking not for climbers with the right skills and plenty of muscle power , but someone I thought would be fun, and easy to get on with, plus be in to the idea of climbing with me a Karen (having a partner in a wheelchair would put most climbers off any route, let alone climbing El Cap.) We teamed up with an Australian female duo from the Blue Mountain (Tasher and Jemmer), would although having almost no big wall experience, seemed very keen to come along on such a crazy adventure.
Unfortunately the climb didn't go as well as I'd hoped. The climbing was slow (lots of dangerous climbing, including a pitch of new age hard aid with many metres of hooking with no gear), and working well as a four person team seemed beyond our grasp, with a lot of time waisted as we tried to figure out a way of hauling all our stuff. Karen was also pretty scared by the whole deal, especially the fact that very often all 4 of us were hanging from just 3 belay bolts. On the 3rd day I woke up after having a nightmare that I translated as being about maintaining focus, and irreversible consequence (it was about my son being run over) and I suggested that I should either rap to the ground and come back with more water, or we should all bail. For the next hour we talked it over, with each of us trying to work out what was the right and wrong thing to do. Finally Karen realized her Thermarest had gone flat, and the girl's realized they'd invertantly dropped all their food, so the decision was made,and we rapped 200 metres back to the ground.
Needless to say carrying Karen back down was easier on the legs, but much harder on the soul.
Once down we talked over our options, the Aussie girls would go off and do a wall by themselves, feeling guilty that they had slowed us down, and while me and Karen discussed if we should go back. For a few days we tried to recover, but something felt wrong, with a great deal of tension between us. Then one night, as we sat eating a pizza, Karen began to cry, feeling trapped by the fact that she was terrified to go back on the wall, but also terrified of running away from a challenge. Basically she had never been scared of anything in her life before, but this was different. I said we should just go now, and leave the valley, and that El Cap wasn't going anywhere, but she replied that we should climb it, then go.
That night we watched a slide show by our friend Timmy O'neil, talking about climbing El Cap with his paraplegic brother Shaun. It was pretty inspirational, but showed up how much grind was involved. The most interesting part was seeing 6 climbers carrying his brother to the base!
The slideshow, and the support and kind words from people like Alex and Thomas Huber, turned the tide and Karen suddenly found the strength to say lets do it, and as we stood their in camp 4 making plans again Jemma and Tash came over and said they'd been thinking that they we should try again as a 4. And so we did.
Four days after leaving the base of El Cap, at around 10pm Karen jugged up in the dark above a 700 metre drop. There was snow in the air, and a viscous wind blew her backwards and forwards as she literally inched up the rope, having made over 4000 pull ups to get there. I lay on the top, exhausted after leading for the last three days. and watched as she grew nearer and nearer, her headtorch and speed making her look like a diver slowly coming up afraid of the bends. Finally she reached the rim, puling her self tight to the bolts until only her skinny legs hung over the edge. Jemmer appeared beside her smiling having cleaned the pitch.
Without help Karen had to wait until I could help her fully onto the top, and for a second I was worried she'd loose it, being trapped by her useless legs one more time on the wall, stuck between heaven and what had often been very much hell. But instead she smiled and with with her usual grace, patience and tenacity, waited a little while longer until it was finally all over. An hour later it began to snow and all was left was getting down.
Postscript
Just talked to Karen who's sat in Hospital in Aberdeen with a broken leg and foot, the result of a fall on our 7 hour wet and slippery descent from El Cap the following day. Never in my life have I undertaken such a psychically and emotionally demanding climb, with the final broken bones coming as a shattering final touch. I have to ask myself what I got out of it? Hubris, self grandisment through another person's disability? I don't know. I also don't know why karen climbed it in the end as well, but what I do know is that El Cap invariably breaks you in some way, but when you heal you know it was all good, and you always want to go back for more.
Thanks to the Hubers, Tom on the bridge, PTPP, Timmy O, Pete and family, Arun, Keith at YOSAR, Don Mabbs, Lee and Anne, Aberdeen A&E and everyone else who made a crazy ideal seem a little less crazy.
Karen became paraplegic in a climbing incident 15 years ago ( a fall that also broke her skull, neck, ribs, and arms), but since then has undertaken many non climbing adventures (kayaking the inside passage from Canada to Alaska, skiing across Greenland, hand biking over the Himalayas). When she asked me to ski across Greenland with her in 06, my first comment was she should climb El Cap instead, as it would be much easier (little did I know!!!).
After Greenland (a 600 km ski from coast to coast that took 28 days), we started wondering about El Cap. One problem was that the 4 paraplegic climbers that had climbed El Cap had all had lower breaks, meaning they could use their stomach muscles - crucial when it comes to doing several thousand pull ups. Karen on the other hand has no feeling below her ribs, yet a few hours spent jugging up a tree, using a Petzl Pro traction and assorted pulleys seemed to do the trick, even if it was pretty slow. The main problem now was that the lack of muscle bulk or control meant that a normal sit harness compressed Karen's waist to just a few inches - potentially very serous for anything but the shortest of hangs. Climbing El Cap could take us up to 10 days, so another option was needed.
The next trial was in the Foundry in sheffield, were we used a loaned paragliding harness, which was ideal, acting as both a rigid seat, and harness. With this we went off and did our first climb; Kilnsey main overhang, which Karen jumared up with very little problem. It looked like it could work.
Next up was something with a bit more spice; The Old Man of Steor, a sea stack of the West Coast of Scotland. The approach was made by sea kayak, and the overall logistics were much harder, involving a bit of swimming on my part, plus some carrying of Karen. Moving Karen around by myself had long been one of the hardest parts of all our adventures, as being nearly six feet tall, and weighing 70kg, this was always at the limit of of safety and strength! Never the less within an hour of landing, Karen was on the top, having made a swift 60 metre free hanging jumar. It was here though that I saw for the first time just how terrified Karen was hanging on the rope, and because of this I said that El Cap was off, after all if she was terrified on a 60 metre climb, how would she feel on a 600 metre on?
But being a stubborn kind of woman, Karen was not for giving in, and so having only climbed twice (if you ignore the tree, and two ropes in climbing gyms), we headed off to climb El Cap, only this time with the proviso that she would have a back up rope!
I'd always just assumed I'd be carrying Karen on my back too and from the climb, so on our first try I simply hitched her on my back (sat on a modified rucksack), and started staggering up to the base of El Cap. Within 100 yards I felt that there was no way that I could do it, my whole body feeling as if it was engaged in the most extreme form of weight lifting ever devised (carry 70kg up talus in extreme heat), but with lots of sit downs we made it to the base of our route (Shortest Straw) 2 hours after leaving the road...at which point I had to go back for one more haul bag! I'd always planned to climb as a 2, but after climbing El Cap the week before, and seeing the descent again (I'd climbed EL Cap 11 times before), I realized that getting down would be the crux, and doing this alone would be very dangerous for both of us, if not impossible. Looking for some help, I went looking not for climbers with the right skills and plenty of muscle power , but someone I thought would be fun, and easy to get on with, plus be in to the idea of climbing with me a Karen (having a partner in a wheelchair would put most climbers off any route, let alone climbing El Cap.) We teamed up with an Australian female duo from the Blue Mountain (Tasher and Jemmer), would although having almost no big wall experience, seemed very keen to come along on such a crazy adventure.
Unfortunately the climb didn't go as well as I'd hoped. The climbing was slow (lots of dangerous climbing, including a pitch of new age hard aid with many metres of hooking with no gear), and working well as a four person team seemed beyond our grasp, with a lot of time waisted as we tried to figure out a way of hauling all our stuff. Karen was also pretty scared by the whole deal, especially the fact that very often all 4 of us were hanging from just 3 belay bolts. On the 3rd day I woke up after having a nightmare that I translated as being about maintaining focus, and irreversible consequence (it was about my son being run over) and I suggested that I should either rap to the ground and come back with more water, or we should all bail. For the next hour we talked it over, with each of us trying to work out what was the right and wrong thing to do. Finally Karen realized her Thermarest had gone flat, and the girl's realized they'd invertantly dropped all their food, so the decision was made,and we rapped 200 metres back to the ground.
Needless to say carrying Karen back down was easier on the legs, but much harder on the soul.
Once down we talked over our options, the Aussie girls would go off and do a wall by themselves, feeling guilty that they had slowed us down, and while me and Karen discussed if we should go back. For a few days we tried to recover, but something felt wrong, with a great deal of tension between us. Then one night, as we sat eating a pizza, Karen began to cry, feeling trapped by the fact that she was terrified to go back on the wall, but also terrified of running away from a challenge. Basically she had never been scared of anything in her life before, but this was different. I said we should just go now, and leave the valley, and that El Cap wasn't going anywhere, but she replied that we should climb it, then go.
That night we watched a slide show by our friend Timmy O'neil, talking about climbing El Cap with his paraplegic brother Shaun. It was pretty inspirational, but showed up how much grind was involved. The most interesting part was seeing 6 climbers carrying his brother to the base!
The slideshow, and the support and kind words from people like Alex and Thomas Huber, turned the tide and Karen suddenly found the strength to say lets do it, and as we stood their in camp 4 making plans again Jemma and Tash came over and said they'd been thinking that they we should try again as a 4. And so we did.
Four days after leaving the base of El Cap, at around 10pm Karen jugged up in the dark above a 700 metre drop. There was snow in the air, and a viscous wind blew her backwards and forwards as she literally inched up the rope, having made over 4000 pull ups to get there. I lay on the top, exhausted after leading for the last three days. and watched as she grew nearer and nearer, her headtorch and speed making her look like a diver slowly coming up afraid of the bends. Finally she reached the rim, puling her self tight to the bolts until only her skinny legs hung over the edge. Jemmer appeared beside her smiling having cleaned the pitch.
Without help Karen had to wait until I could help her fully onto the top, and for a second I was worried she'd loose it, being trapped by her useless legs one more time on the wall, stuck between heaven and what had often been very much hell. But instead she smiled and with with her usual grace, patience and tenacity, waited a little while longer until it was finally all over. An hour later it began to snow and all was left was getting down.
Postscript
Just talked to Karen who's sat in Hospital in Aberdeen with a broken leg and foot, the result of a fall on our 7 hour wet and slippery descent from El Cap the following day. Never in my life have I undertaken such a psychically and emotionally demanding climb, with the final broken bones coming as a shattering final touch. I have to ask myself what I got out of it? Hubris, self grandisment through another person's disability? I don't know. I also don't know why karen climbed it in the end as well, but what I do know is that El Cap invariably breaks you in some way, but when you heal you know it was all good, and you always want to go back for more.
Thanks to the Hubers, Tom on the bridge, PTPP, Timmy O, Pete and family, Arun, Keith at YOSAR, Don Mabbs, Lee and Anne, Aberdeen A&E and everyone else who made a crazy ideal seem a little less crazy.
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