Upper Couloir of Stob Ghabhar ...

It had been a really feckin long time coming …

Joe and I having been talking about an ascent of the Upper Couloir on Stob Ghabhar for probably the best part of 8 years. For those who don’t know, it is a very tasty Grade 2 winter climb very high up on the mountain (in fact it finishes just below the summit). Each winter since the idea was first discussed, we always had a reason …either it was not in condition or work / family life etc …always got in the way and provided an excuse.

On Ben More the week before, I was very obvious that conditions were near perfect. Watching a steady high pressure sit over Scotland midweek, it became clear that this was our opportunity!

I picked Joe up late on the Thursday evening and we made our way north. By far the most dangerous bit of almost any hill day is the drive up and back again. We crawled up the Lomond side very aware of the ice at the edge of the road indicating low temperature. Turning left at Bridge of Orchy the road was white with snow – thankfully nice crusty stuff which provided something for the tyres to grip on. We laughed as the thermometer on the car dropped and dropped.
By the time we were parking the car, it was dipping between -10 and -11 …a perfect test for my new Rab Summit 1100 sleeping bag. A perfect clear sky was observed as we got the tent up and the stove on. Mint tea and Jaffa cakes were enjoyed as we made plans for the next morning. I snuggled down into the new bag (rated to -30) with only an icebreaker base layer whilst Joe wore most of the next days hill gear and two sleeping bags.

With the short daylight hours, we left the car just after 7am and headed up past Clashgour and onto the track which leads up Stob Ghabhar. With drifting snow sitting on the track, going was slow. With the heavy packs …very slow indeed. It took an age to get into the Coire but it was comforting that as we gained height, the snow got harder and harder. Just before starting to traverse in towards the approach slopes, we stopped to get the crampons and harness on.

The wind was blowing fairly hard at our backs as we picked a route up towards the start of the climb. We chose a line to avoid the lower crags and noted the old avalanche debris from an earlier cornice collapse. Thankfully the majority of the slope was solid with only pockets of unconsolidated powder …that was until we were directly under the upper crags where the snow got into that gut instinct “dodgy” category. We had been short roping but it was time for a belay and a traverse onto solid ground. Joe led off leaving me standing on top of a buried axe – not the best but sufficient. I could see he was heading for a patch of blue and a nice ice screw placement. Think we both happy to get an intermediate runner! With rope running short, I started across the slope and soon joined Joe at the bottom of the first pitch. The snow was nice and frozen perfect axe placements all the way up to below the ice pitch which forms the crux of the climb. Joe led off and got a nice ice screw in just below the ice bulge. The weather had now taken a bit of a turn for the worse with spindrift getting blow down the gully (and down the neck as well !!!). Joe shouted down to watch him on a move, I looked up and got a face full of snow – it could not have been nice for him trying to move upwards through the stuff. The next shout was that he was safe and to start climbing. Up at the bulge, I could see the trouble move – not the best axe placements and a high step left. I made the move … my left hand axe pulled and I stepped back down …quickly. A better axe placement was found and I pulled up and over (with the help of a rather loud grunt). We could see that the top pitch was fairly easy and rather than faff around sorting the belay, I led through. I had a fair idea that rope was running out when I found a tasty big rock to bring Joe up on. With no cornice to worry about we topped out …VERY happy. Big smiles and a short ramble to the summit – it had been well worth the wait!

The Big One(s)

So - it's been a while since anyone stuck anything down here so I'll post a relatively condensed journal of my recent ramblings.

NB - the tone of this post may seem a bit odd. See the last paragraphs for reasoning

The main thing I've been doing is trekking. Seems strange that a biker and paddler should dedicate their training to trekking, but hey. My car sadly died around about Easter time, so I'm biking the 6 miles to work everyday. Sleipnir has been resurrected as a fully rigid road/town bike (she gave up her bits to create Frankenstein, my new MTB). Spent the winter paddling rivers as always, but spring has been mainly trekking. Why? Read on...

The main reason is for charity's sake. A bunch of people from Npower (the people who very kindly employ me and keep me sustained with just about enough pennies to go play at the weekends) were doing the 3 Peaks Challenge for CARE International, and I was asked to be part of the planning committee because, frankly, some of the others couldn't find their backsides in the dark without using both hands. They needed some people with a bit of hill experience, so the drafted in myself, 2 Scout leaders and a TA officer.

I won't bore anyone with the details of the planning, but the hardest part was raising the minimum £5,000 sponsorship (per team - we entered 2 teams. You see where this got complicated?). But, by a combination of corporate hassling, bring-and-buy sales, betting, lotteries, fun days and car washing, we got there - and some. We actually took the prize for the highest fundraisers in the event, handing CARE a very nice cheque for £20,000. Thanks to the guys that sponsored us (those who didn't - it's not too late!!).

We'd done a LOT of practice walks, with various people from the 2 teams and sundry hangers on. We started with the Yorkshire 3 Peaks (which is about the area where I used to work) in the middle of a heatwave: 4 of us completed it in 9 hours, the others crawling in about 2 hours later, killed off by a combination of cramps, dehydration and general fatigue. So it kind of boded well, and kind of didn't.

I then wandered off to New Zealand for 3 weeks. The others had a recce and a practice up Scafell Pike while myself and my Mum had a very pleasant 7 hour hike over the Tongariro crossing in the mist and the wind. Thankyou to W.L. Gore and company for their lovely products on that one.

Not long after I came back it was time for the Big Ones. WE drove from Leeds up to Glencoe and I felt very out-of-place as we spent the pre-race night in a 4-star hotel. I love corporate hospitality... Ben Nevis was first up, after the customary safety briefing, and we set off, team 'Food' first, myself and team 'Urban' 5 minutes behind (names are CARE's radio call signs for each of the teams)

Now - the original plan was that 'Urban' would push hard to make the 3 Peaks in under 24 hours, as is the custom. Team 'Food' would aim just to get all 3 done, hang the time. Somehow it didn't work out like that. Halfway up the Ben you would have seen Phil, the TA officer drop to the back of the group to nurse one team member with cramps up the zig-zags, while I gravitated further forward, with another team member bungeed to me for a tow. He'd apparantly not realised "just how big Ben Nevis was...". So Food pushed for 24 hours and Urban went into survival mode and aimed just to get everyone up everything. Oh yeah, and I bumped into Anna from SALT, walking with her Dad, which cheered me up no end. But anyway, after 5h34mins we were back down and stocking up on food ready for the drive to Southwaite services, where we had a compulsory 'hold' stop.
We arrived, briefed, and headed off for some kip. More like an AR event I ended up in the 'fort' in the kiddies playground (the grass was wet!) for 3 hours, and very comfy it was too. Our support guys woke us at 3:30am with tea and cereal, and we pottered off towards Seathwaite to start Scafell Pike. Food again set off first, Urban 15 minutes back on them. We left the farm and got up past Stockley Bridge when we heard Dave (walk leader for Food) come over the VHF saying they were dropping a team member due to fatigue. We continued on where we found Sheridan, the lass they'd dropped, nearly in tears on the path. They others had been pushing at a pace that she just couldn't sustain, but wouldn't slow or stop when she asked, so she'd left them to it and started to walk off. We called into base and asked if it would be okay for Sheridan to join Urban, since we were moving at no great pace. They consented so the Team Urban roster went up to 7. We bimbled on at our only happy trot up to Esk Hause where we found my old physics teacher marshalling. Afte a quick natter and some food we pottered off to make the summit and met a very dejected and sore Team Food coming back down - Rob had been physically sick on the summit and couldn't keep any food down. Dave was also starting to suffer. So, while Urban were slow but happy, Food were fast but knackered.
We got back to Seathwaite to see not only our support crew, but also my Mum and Dad who'd driven down to see us in.

NB: The support crew seemed amazed that we'd picked up Sheridan and taken her with us, like it was a medal-worthy thing to do. I wandered off briefly to have a quiet word with Dad and he was surprised at their thoughts too. If you saw someone crying on the hill and you knew you could help them, you would. That's the way it works. Maybe modern business doesn't work like that. Is that a sad thought? To my mind, yes. That said, they had nothing but praise for us doing it, so maybe it ain't so odd.

Battering on down the M6 to Llanberis the walkers zonked out. Sleep was very much the order of the day. We got to the car park and prepped for the last time, strapping feet, vaseline-ing the chafed bits, slapping on the suntan lotion for the last grind. We headed out, the last team onto the hill, still as a very happy, cheerful seven. CP1 came and went without a dimming of the humour, a brief stop to buy everyone a choc-ice at Halfway House cafe and then CP2 at Clogwyn station. Then the last mile - the hardest. We were told that "if you can get up the climb from Clogwyn to the plateau without stopping, you'll be fine", so out came the bungee, the poles and on we went. At the summit trig we radioed in:
"Challenge Base, this is Urban, over"
"Urban, this is Challenge Base. Pass your message, over"
" (Cheers, yells, whoops, screams). Over"
"Urban, I'll assume that means you've reached the summit then?"

A photo, a group hug, some Haribo, then head out and off.

We passed 2 teams on the way down, then shocked the assembled crowd at the finish by running across the car park, up the stairs and onto the hotel lawn to the finish banner in a total time of 27:04, then had our photo taken, turned round and stayed put to cheer the last 2 teams home. Food had made 24:20, just missing out on their aim as both Rob and Dave had been sick (again) on Snowdon. Neither had slept, neither could keep food down, and carb drinks and gels won't sustain you for that length of time.

So - why is the tone strange? I guess it's a bittersweet/melancholy kind of thing. I'm really happy with the way our team performed. We didn't make it in sub-24. So? We walked every step as a TEAM. We crossed every start line and every finish line as a ONE UNIT. We joked, and laughed, and called each other "cads and bounders" all the way, and you know what? Sod the pain, we enjoyed it. For 2 experienced outdoors guys and 4 people who previously had no ambitions to climb even the smallest hill, we had an awesome weekend. I can only devote every ounce of thanks to Phil, James, Adam, Julian and David, and to our ever attentive and fantastic support team of Chris, Sarah, Ian and Steve. They went above and beyond the call of duty to ensure we got through it all.

What soured it was the way our other team behaved. Not for dumping a walker on the hill - sometimes these things happen. But for offering neither us, nor any other team in the event any support whatsoever. They'd come in off Nevis strung out, each walker 5-10 yards apart, heads down, hurting and sloped straight off to their vans - 15 yards from, and facing, the finish line. But did they clap us, or anyone else in? No. Two of their team were on a personal vendetta after they failed to make all 3 last year, and it marred the whole weekend. While their support came to the line to see us in, they hid in the vans and tried to pull themselves together. When we finished at Llanberis, only three members of their 10-man team were there to say 'well done' to the slow guys who'd been taking it easy all weekend (thanks Lawson, Laura and Paul) - the others had headed off to the hotel to get a shower and have their dinner. The misfortune for me is that one of these guys is my senior manager...

Thank you for your attention. May the next blog be a happier affair.

(a slightly cheesed off) Pyro

Midweek Mountaineering - Culra Bothy

Continuing the midweek mountaineering …

The Ben Alder area is both remote (in terms of distance to the road) and yet rather accessible (by mountain bike). I first explored the area on a mammoth winter backpack from Corrour over the high tops to the now long gone bothy at Blackburn of Pattack then over more tops before a long walk along the road to Tulloch. This was in the company of Paul Gillies and Alan Kelly back in 1987. Further trips included visits to Ben Alder cottage and Culra bothies.

With the Gnome sitting at 210 Munros and Shamir aboot the 137 mark, an introduction to this rich seem of ticks was needed. The idea grew until the team consisted of the Gnome, Shamir, Jim Riach, my Dad, Eric Hamilton and myself. Eric had to drop due to work commitments and following a rainy drive north my Dad headed …back south !

Following a feed at the Ballinuig Motor Grill, we finally loaded the bikes and started down the track along Loch Ericht at 21:40. Good time was made down the loch until the climb up onto the moor just past the lodge – the Gnome clutch was slipping badly. We regrouped prior to breaking east and the final section to Culra. One of the reasons the bikes were so heavy was we each had a “small” bag of coal.

Personally, I was really looking forward to the fire when the bike light beam hit the side of the bothy. Opening the first door revealed a goodly number of folks already asleep ! An attempt at room 2 was no better …Shamir had a wee “whit the f@ck” moment when the third indicated no room at the inn ! We headed back to room 1 and negotiated some space although the chance of a fire was gone. Turns out, there was some coast to coast challenge / ramble thing on.

Wet gear off and stove on. The Gnome is famed for “triple repacks” whereby he appears to have finished packing only to empty the rucksack and start again. Whilst the rest of us got comfy, had tea, passed the bottle about a bit …the Gnome seemed to be having a “triple unpack” – eventually he announced he couldn’t find his sleeping tablets and popped the cork on a bottle of 17 year old Glengoyne instead.

Next morning and the weather had got worse (I am sure my Dad was sitting rather smugly back in Glasgow). The top tickers decided to settle with Carn Dearg (1034m) which sits behind the bothy and Jim a low level option. In the event, the views across to Alder were fantastic. Regrouped at the bothy for lunch and chatted with a guy who had the largest German Shepard I have ever seem (appropriately named “Wolf”).

The bike back out was a breeze other than some loch side antics which I won’t go into …but in my defence … I “nearly” made it !

GL3D

The Great Lakeland 3 Day event gets billed as one of the harder tests in Richard Askwith’s excellent book “Feet in the Clouds”. As I sit with two black toe nails and bruised ribs (after another experiment with gravity and rocks) … I tend to agree. The event is organised by Joe Faulkner and is based around his experience of longer Mountain Marathons. The total distance is roughly 75 miles with each day being approximately 25 miles plus several thousand feet of ascent.

Unlike events such as the KIMM or LAMM, overnight camping gear is transported by the organisers (who also supply bread and milk each night) and you enter as a solo – although there is nothing to prevent you from pairing up during the race.

Fellow “Westie” Shona Robertson and I joined up with Robert Monro from Shettleston Harriers for the journey south on the Friday. Day one controls were issued at registration which ensured the remainder of the evening was spent marking up maps and route planning.

From the event centre at Rydal Hall just north of Ambleside, we went over Silver Howe before heading north to Sergeant Man and over to Esk Hause then Scafell Pike. Joe had thrown in the optional control of Scafell – it would have been a shame to ignore this as assuming we completed Day 2 & 3, inclusion would mean having traversed all the 3000ft mountains in the Lakes during the event. The “recommended” route down via Foxes Tarn was ignored for the time being and the direct line over Broad Stand was taken. Being a little short in the legs,(to reverse the move would of required a “droopy” down onto a slab which sloped the wrong way) I decided not to return by this route and came back via the Tarn – slow but safe. Back at Esk Hause it was time to check out with the marshal and commence the long descent into Langstrath. The next control was at the bridge at the end of this valley at which point it was time to start climbing …again. Passing by Blea Tarn, it was a long bog hop to High Tove and finally to the summit of High Seat where the last control for the day was located. With a number of possible routes to the camp (and finish of Day 1) runners seemed to head in very different and often conflicting directions. I chose a fairly direct line through bracken and to the main road. A short road run then led to Burns Farm and the Finish.

At the Day 2 briefing, we were treated to a free beer which was in keeping with the following day which was to follow the “Old Crown” round. Whilst being shorter than the previous day it had a fierce start – a short road / track run to the bottom then the climb up the track to the summit of Skidaw, A few brave souls (including Shona and Robert) did run for a good deal of the ascent …the rest race walked as quick as our legs would allow. Over the summit the route continued over to Great Cockup (wonderful name for a hill) then another high level bog trot to Carrock Fell. If the descent down to the manned control beside the River Caldew was fast …then ascent up Blencathra seemed to take forever (maybe due to my pace). The run along the summit ridge was fantastic as was the descent back down to the A66 and the finish / camp.

Another free beer and another evening spent marking up and pouring over the map. Sadly, the perfect weather that had been with us for the first two days didn’t last and we had rain overnight. Folks milled about until it was dry(ish) before starting Day 3. The route followed a north / south line over Clough Head down towards Helvellyn (where a few of us got caught in a rather sore hail shower). Navigation had been fairly straightforward until Fairfield – a direct line up the face meant it was hard to tell exactly where on the summit ridge you were. Robert had passed me on the climb so I was surprised to meet him coming up the ridge that I was descending ! Quick discussion and we agreed it was the wrong ridge ! On the way to the correct ridge we bumped into Shona. I decided to try and keep up with them was they shot off towards Dove Crag and the last control. With the last CP in the bag, all that was left to do was finish – a nice fast ridge led back to Rydal Hall …and lunch !

A fantastic event with a really friendly atmosphere – highly recommended. As this is posted no official results have been posted but I will add these once available.

Cathkin Braes - Bog & Burn Race 1

An urban hill race !

The first in the fantastic mid-week hill races which form the Bog & Burn series started from just below the car park on the high road over towards Rutherglen from Carmunock. Out of the field of 65 runners - 26 were Westies. Someone commented that represented the majority of active racers in the club. It certain made a great spectacle seeing the field dominated by the yellow vests.

The start is a slight downhill and felt fast ...too fast. A look to the left only to see Angela Mudge (similar to trying to keep up with Paula Radcliff in the London marathon) confirmed the pace was not sustainable and I pulled up a little to something more sensible.The early part of the course takes a line over fields down towards the edge of the braes before turning left and climbing towards the woods. The first hill was sore with a short transition from the long strides to short steps. At the top the pain was compounded by changing back to the long strides. The woods section was made "interesting" by some of the local kids heckling ...on quad bikes - not a place you wanted to stop. Cries of encouragement included "hurry up ...the guy in front is beating you", "whit ye runnin fae ya fanny" to a more abrupt "yir sh!te". The steep descent through the bracken took us just to the edge of Castlemilk before traversing a couple of hundred yards and the VERY steep climb up to the transmitter mast. The course continued through the woods back to the start where it was off for a 2nd loop of the circuit.

With the pack generally well split I found myself in the middle of a mini Westies race between Hamilton Semple, Murdo McLeod, Blair Millen and John Donnelly (with Helen Palmer and Martin Reid not far behind). It seemed like I was stronger on the climbs ...could just hold on with the level but lost heaps on the descent where the other guys were so much quicker. Nearly spewin ...I managed to get to the front but it was at a cost - wobbly legs and a sore gut. Just before the finish, Nigel Scott was walking back down the course (having already completed) and he confirmed that JD was close behind me. Thankfully one last blast kept the placing as we all crossed the line within about 90 seconds of each other.

32 Graham Kelly Westerlands M 0:45:30
33 John Donnelly Westerlands M40 0:45:35
34 Murdo McLeod Westerlands M50 0:45:42
35 Hamilton Semple Westerlands M50 0:45:47
36 Helen Palmer Westerlands F 0:46:48
37 Martin Reid Westerlands M40 0:46:56
38 Blair Millen Westerlands M 0:47:05

Easter snow showers ......

In an effort to keep the black dog away which seems to nip at the heels all too often, Shamir Naseem Mohamed (aka Stuart the Sweat Beast Ferguson) and myself are currently planning at least one midweek hill trip each month. We kinda cheated a bit this month and choose Easter Monday. The plan was a good one …high camp under Sgurr Eilde Mhor (up the east end of the Mamores) at NN 224 653 then maybe a moonlight ascent of Eilde Mhor before a good nights sleep then back over Binnein Mor & Na Gruagaichen.

Anyway …

17:30 – Shamir picks me up at Busby and we head north of Balloch (via the Erskine bridge now free of tolls).

19:30 – We stop at the Green Welly for some last minute provisions …it is raining.

19:40 – Heading through the Coe and it is REALLY raining …the wind is up as well.

20:00 – We are in the bar at the Mamore Lodge.

21:00 – We leave the Lodge (the rain is off) and walk 100yds before stopping to put waterproofs on (the rain is back on).

22:30 – The rain has stopped …to be replaced with snow !

23:00 – We are standing in a blizzard, trying to find a spot to get the tent up and get some shelter. The wind is ridiculous. Every so often all you can do is stand with your eyes closed whilst spindrift went everywhere (including up my nose and in my ears). Eventually, we find a spot as sheltered as we will get. Putting the tent up is like fighting one of those Chinese Dragons. Inner up – yipeee. A few minutes later and the outer is over the top as well …a few seconds after that and the outer is well … no longer over the top. Sustained pressure and much swearing later and we have shelter. Ice axes are used to keep the side of the tent taking the brunt of the wind fixed. Both getting too cold for comfort we dive inside the tent, strip off water proofs and get into the sleeping bags. Comfort at last. No sooner had Shamir’s head hit the pillow and all hell broke loose. Judging by the amount of snow driving through the inner mesh, it was obvious …we no longer had the outer tent protecting us. Seconds later, the main centre pole collapsed. First things first …get the warm gear back on quickly, add the waterproofs, keep the sleeping bag dry and then sort out the medium term. It took the best part of 15 minutes to get it all back under sensible control. Once packed (thankfully the outer was still attached to a couple of pegs) – the next decision was do we head of Meanach bothy or the car. Confirmation of the car being closer and we bailed in that direction. Once dropping below the snow line we were able to take stock …the weather if anything was getting worse !

01:30 – Back at the car …phew.

02:00 – Driving south through the Coe singing a selection of Kenny Rodgers and Glen Campbell hits – magic !

04:00 – Tucked up in bed ...wondering if the earlier part of the evening had been a dream !

Westies - the Campies by Moonlight ...the plot thickens

Well if the January moonlit run was to be eventful, March was no different …

Following the cancellation of Balloch to Clydebank half marathon (due to a huge dump of snow) a little snow sport was in order. A bunch of Westies (Trevor, Robert, Peter, John, Chris, Jane, Clare and myself ) met up at the Dumgoyne Distillery on what looked like a rather chilly evening.

Underfoot conditions were fine heading over the field but with fairly crusty snow became “interesting” the higher we climbed. The decision wondering whether or not to wear my older Walshes or newer and sharper Walshes was put into context by Peter – who was in road shoes. Still nae point on worrying about the descent whilst still going up …

Onto the summit, it looked as if we were going to see the moon. As we headed over towards Garloch hill it looked less likely. A fierce wind was making it feel colder than it should of and stopping for any length of time was to be avoided. The crusty snow was still with us and was sore …really sore. You would break through then your shin would cut through as you move forwards – ouch ! By the time we were on the summit of Garloch a team decision was in order …admire the view quickly then head back towards Dumgoyne. Bearing in mind the “interesting” snow conditions we opted for a traverse line before descending back to the distillery.

Everyone back safe and folks were getting changed, chatting etc …when the polis turned up. They looked at me and I quickly stuck my head in the van to try and find shoes (honest guv) …maybe a guy reaction to avoid talking to the gents in blue (or is it black these days) but why appear guilty of nothing when John Donnelly (Westies social secrtary) was only a few feet away. In the end the social sec was very social and discovered that someone had seen headtorches high up on Dumgoyne and called in. Pretty descent of the folks to care and the polis to leave the warmth of the station eh ?

With BST coming up, I suppose that will be the last of the night runs. If you haven’t tried them – get yirself oot there next winter …magic fun !