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Home > Ascent List > Trip Report (2004-10-02) |
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Ice Climbing |
| Accompanying: Jamie |
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I used to have had a very long, and very very complete essay on this climb.
Where that went I don't know, but I suspect it was on my old hard-drive, which in April/May 2007 died before I'd had a
chance to back up many files. It was a bit of a loss.... Considering I don't have any chance of retrieving that
some old files, here's a shorter version of happened.
I'd been rock climbing for a long time. It was indoor but I was wildly into the idea of mountaineering at the time.
I had an old friend Jamie who I've mostly lost contact with (as of Feb. 2009), but I wanted to expand into ice climbing having
been on artificial walls weekly for many months. I'd saved a bit of money, and each of us put in £45 to pay for three hours, between
12 and 3pm as I remember. My parents made a small day of it and they gave us a lift to Kinlochleven (!) which lies 100 miles away
from Glasgow.
With everything arranged, we booked it only a few days before and everything fell into place very suddenly.
On the 2nd of October, we travelled up to Kinlochleven. On the way up, the weather was dreadful,
especially driving through Glen Coe where the showers were torrential. I re-write this as of
February 2009, but remembering back to the drive I suppose an observation is how much I seemed to
appreciate the landscapes around about. I find it hard to put what I mean into words, but
Richard Jeffries, a Victorian-era writer on rural England sums this up well: "No
one else seems to have seen the sparkle on the brook, or heard the music at the
hatch, or to have felt back through the centuries; and when I try to describe
these things to them they look at me with stolid incredulity. No one seems to
understand how I got food from the clouds, nor what there was in the night".
That was best as I can put it, but I suppose an easier way to sum it up was the
way everyone was looking at the road or a book while my face was plastered
against the glass, looking into the unknown above where the heights of the
mountains towered into mists. I've had these sensations as long as I've been
able to comprehend the concept of the mountain and I still do it today. Hanging
out of my window, I still look through the night towards the snow covered
plateaux of the Campsies as they stare back through the darkness. There is
something deeply moving about such things, but why do I care
so much? It's a question I wouldn't mind having an answer to
myself...
We arrived at The Ice Factor in Kinlochleven where the rain spat down, but we
wouldn't be out in it today. I brought boots in case we need to supply some
gear, but they covered that. We began the session at midday (if my recollection
is correct) and spent time learning how to use axes, crampons, etc. It's quite
amazing the facility they have at the Ice Factor - a giant freezer with ice
walls up the sides, essentially - and after some learning we went in and began
climbing. We started off on easier slopes, I was getting used to these new
feelings. Unable to feel comfortable, I clutched onto the axes for grim life and
exhausted myself, but asides that I was having a blast and enjoying this new
form of climbing. I could barely believe that what held my body onto this sheet
of ice were 6 metal points which themselves barely penetrated the ice. There
wasn't the relative security of the indoor rock wall and such a feeling unnerved
me the most.
After Jamie climbed the wall, we went on to climb a second. Once we'd both
climbed this, with time running short we finished by tackling one of the full
sized walls. I went first and already exhausted, pushed and pushed to climb
higher. I'd spent 10 minutes or so climbing but couldn't get up without time
running out for Jamie who also needed to climb. He went for it to but none of us
succeeded before time was up.
On the drive home, the weather was clearing up. We stopped in Glen Coe where dad
went to do some photography. The landscape was astounding. We had parked by Loch
Achtriochtan and Jamie and I climbed the hillside with the Aonach Eagach
towering above; gloomy in mist and shade above but with colour and sunlight
below. We ended up at a river where I sat looking west where sun spilled
sunlight throughout Glen Coe. This is another example of what I was speaking of
earlier, where a moment in time in nature grabs you and you try to sit and take
it in. It was a beautiful evening and I wanted to stay badly, but we had to go.
The late afternoon sun continued to shine on the journey back to Glasgow but I
was exhausted with the days events, and slept some of the way. Sadly I wouldn't
climb on ice for the next four and a half years, but as of Feb. 09 I'm now
beginning to experience walking through the Scottish mountains in snow and ice.
Perhaps during some winter to come I'll be able to climb those routes that I
stared up at in wonder many years before.
Profound, eh? First written: October 2007 |
