UK Winter Climbing Conditions for Beginners.

Lots of people post some very basic questions on social media about climbing conditions and they deserve helpful answers. If you are thinking about winter climbing for the first time then hopefully this post will give you enough information to start asking more detailed questions. If this post is too basic for you: Congratulations! You are ready for the next level, so go straight to the resources section at the end and enjoy your climbing.

Snow Gullies

Unknown climber on “Central Trinity”, Clogwyn y Garnedd, Wales. UK

Best conditions: deep snow, then a thaw with rain to soak the snow, followed by a return to freezing conditions. Two or more of these “freeze thaw” cycles are optimal.

Consequences of climbing in poor conditions: you rip up rare plants in the gully bed and get climbing banned by the UK nature conservation authorities (Natural England, Nature Scot, Natural Resources Wales). You trigger an avalanche which buries you or those following you.

Traditional Mixed Climbing

Chris Brook on  “Snowdrop” Clogwyn y Garnedd, Wales, UK.

Best conditions: like gullies – snow, then a thaw with rain to soak the snow, followed by a return to freezing conditions. Exposed turf must be frozen so hard that the pick of your ice-axe comes out clean and ice pitons (aka Warthogs) can be hammered in to create a solid anchor point.

Consequences of climbing in poor conditions: you destroy turf placements, wrecking the climb for future climbers and get climbing banned by the UK nature conservation authorities (Natural England, Nature Scot, Natural Resources Wales).

Here’s what properly frozen turf looks like:

Modern Mixed Climbing

The Pinnacles, Crib Goch, Wales, UK home of some modern mixed climbs.

Best conditions: Enough snow or rime-ice to make the rock look like it is winter.

Consequences of climbing in poor conditions: Too much snow or ice clogs up the cracks and makes it difficult to find placements for secure protection. You look silly climbing with ice axes and crampons on bare rock.

Pure Ice Climbing

Pete Frost, Krokan, Rjukan, Norway

Best conditions: Entire books have been written about this! Consistent freezing temperatures so the rock is cold enough for groundwater to freeze solidly on to it. Any temperature changes from day to night, or between days must be gradual. Temperatures which go from just above freezing during the day to just below it each night produce the best ice. Petzl have a great web page on ice conditions.

Consequences of climbing in poor conditions: the ice falls down with you on it.

Helpful resources

If you want to know more about winter climbing then hiring a UIAGM-certified Mountain Guide or a Mountain Instructor for some instruction will pay you back many times over in wasted trips and failed climbs.

A course at Glenmore Lodge will do the same.

Climbing conditions in the UK are fickle, but if you understand the weather and are prepared to travel at the drop of a hat, then you can get a lot of climbing done. Chasing the Ephemeral has shown lots of climbers what the possibilities are.

The British Mountaineering Council publish The White Guides which show where rare plants can be damaged by winter climbing and tell you what to do to keep them safe.

Thanks for reading this post. If you’re new to winter in the mountains what else would you like to know? Post your question in the “Reply” box below and if it’s legal, decent, honest and truthful I’ll see if I can find the answer.

PS to keep this blog free, WordPress sometimes insert adverts. I don’t get paid for these and I don’t endorse the products.

Magical Mystery Tour – climbing Spanish sea cliffs.

In December 2019 I climbed Magical Mystery Tour at Sierra de Toix on the Costa Blanca when I discovered a few things that might make it safer and more enjoyable. Read on if you’re considering climbing this classic route and want to know more.

 

This is regarded as an “easy” route and has been re-equipped with modern bolts but if you’re not used to sea cliffs or traverses it could go from a dream to a nightmare all too easily. This is a route to cruise when you’re confident climbing F5+, it’s not one to push your grade: – there are plenty of single pitch routes to build your strength, and lots of straight-up routes where you can hone your multi-pitch skills.

The final arête of Magical Mystery Tour.

 

The rappel/abseil starts as described in the RockFax guidebook and on UKC at an anchor made of three expansion bolts next to two metal rods about 60cm long. You cannot see the ladders mentioned in the guide until you start to descend. The two “staple” glue-in bolts about 75m south on the cliff path are where the route finishes, do not descend from those. The rappel/abseil is mostly free-hanging, so you’ll need to know how to use a prusik to safeguard the descent. It would be safer and more relaxed to learn how to do this before doing your first free-hanging rappel into the unknown!

Free-hanging descent past the old ladders.

 

The first pitch is a traverse to a cave which could be done without ropes by anyone used to scrambling (4th class terrain in US terms).

 

You then walk across the cave to the start of the second pitch. This pitch can also be done without ropes if the whole party is comfortable with scrambling. New, harder sport routes lead up the wall from the cave.

 

The third pitch is a short traverse around a rib/arête which does need a rope to protect – unless you enjoy solo climbing as much as the first ascentionist. Use a long quick draw on the bolt on the edge of the rib to prevent rope drag. Then an alpine-draw will reduce rope drag on the following bolt. Be aware that however you clip the bolts the second climber could still take a painful swing if they fall: that’s why this is a route for experienced climbers.

Climbing round the rib on pitch 3.

 

The route then stops traversing and the next pitch heads up and right, climbing above the rib of the last pitch. Long quick draws will again be useful to reduce rope drag. A sling and small to medium-sized nuts can reduce the run-out between the bolts if the second or the leader get nervous.

 

The final pitch is also bolted, but once again, long quick draws and nuts may be helpful to fill in between the bolts. On an easy section just before the final headwall there is a link of chain bolted to the rock in place of a regular bolt. Clipping this will reduce the run-out but it will introduce a lot of rope drag. If you must clip it, use a sling or a DMM Revolver carabiner to reduce the rope drag.

Close to the top of the route.

 

The final belay is on two glue-in bolts 75m easy walk from the start of the route, so there’s no need to carry approach shoes on the route.

The smile says it all!

 

On a sunny winter’s day this route is a delight for any team who are confident climbing F5+, so if that’s you, don’t miss it!

Crack Addict – resources for climbing cracks

I went to Indian Creek, USA in the hope of learning how to climb cracks better and I definitely succeeded. However, it was only after watching a load of videos during a rest day at the Lazy Lizard that I really saw any progress in my abilities. To save you the hassle of searching, here are some of the most useful ones I found. As a bonus I’ve added my top crack climbing lessons at the end. Learn from my mistakes and save yourself the pain.

Wild Country Crack School

Tom Randall and Pete Whittaker AKA the Wideboyz are the UK’s most famous (notorious?) crack climbers after snatching the first ascent of Century Crack, the world’s hardest offwidth, from the Americans. They recorded The Wild Country Crack School series of videos. I found episodes 3 Fist Cracks and 4 Offwidth Cracks to be the most helpful. Remember to watch episodes 7 and 8 for more advanced tips and hints.

Crack Climbing 101

This series of videos was filmed in a climbing wall in the USA which has one of the simplest and best crack climbing areas I’ve ever seen. Unless you have no crack gloves you can probably skip the first episode and go straight to episode 2 on Hand Cracks. The editing isn’t as punchy as Wild Country, but stick with it and you’ll learn some very good technique.

Leavittation

Offwidths scare the pants off most climbers but there’s a technique which will tame those which are too wide for fist jams and too narrow for arm-bars: Leavittation. Developed by Randy Leavitt and Tony Janiro to tame the hardest crack climb then known, this thigh jamming technique can turn a nightmare move into a hands-off rest. Like the video says, it is possible to get your knee stuck, but if you have a solid fist-hand stack then the secret is to pull up whilst relaxing your thigh muscle – it worked for me every time.

My top tips:

Footwork is key – jams hold you in place but footwork propels you up the route.

Use crack gloves. If you have to make tape gloves then remember to shave the backs of your hands first.

Matt Wharton-Lee depilates the backs of his hands.

Place your jams as high as you can so you can hang from them.

You can get more solid jams by reaching deep into a flared crack, but that leaves your arms horizontal and upward progress becomes impossible, so change up to the next size of jam as soon as you can (e.g. from fists to butterfly hand stacks) and get that jam as far above your head as possible.

Place your lower fist jam palm uppermost (like you would do a wrist curl) to give yourself greater reach.

If the crack leans to the left lead with your left hand in the thumbs-down position and follow with your right in the thumbs-up position. Think of how you would do a hand traverse on a flat ledge, then imagine the crack was that ledge, but rotated upwards.

Learn to Leavittate.

 

Up the (Indian) Creek without a paddle…

Six-Shooter Peak.

It’s like climbing on the set of every Western you’ve ever seen.

 

Newspaper Rock.

After the obligatory stop at Newspaper Rock to view the petroglyphs left by successive waves of visitors to this land, the vista opens up to reveal miles upon miles of walls of rock.

 

Rock which goes through all the earth tones as the desert sun moves across the sky,

Bridger Jacks.

and glows in the sunrise.

Rock, which on closer inspection turns out to be some of the finest Wingate sandstone.

This is where climbers from across the globe congregate to learn the subtle arts of crack climbing.

Luxury Liner AKA Supercrack of the Desert.

The protection is mostly spring-loaded camming devices which are easy to place in the even-sided, gently widening cracks.

But you need a lot of them.

Martin Koscis models the armoured kilt worn by crack-climbers.

Carrying multiple sets of cams up long talus/scree slopes to the more remote walls can be tiring.

The rewards of 30 metres of almost effortless climbing on perfect hand-jams make it worthwhile.

The perfect hand jam.

It’s a pleasure to share this environment with the local plants

and animals,

A male Tarantula in search of a mate.

some of which find rope-bags a nice place to sunbathe.

Quid pro quo for climbers’ favoured place in Moab to take rest-days away from the heat of the sun and the cold desert night.

The Lazy Lizard Hostel in Moab.

 

Although camping in the clear desert air gives amazing views of the night sky

Bridger Jacks campsite.

and a moon so clear you can count every crater,

Moonrise over Needles Overlook, Canyonlands National Park.

before the sun rises and it’s time for another desert day crack climbing.

Staying alive on super-cooled ice.

Standing around at minus 30 degrees Celsius is cold, and climbing frozen waterfalls at that temperature is not recommended, but in February 2019 I found myself doing both those things as the Polar Vortex broke, sweeping the Canadian Rockies with frigid, Arctic air.

We who seek pleasure in the high mountains know that climate change is real and we know that these events will become more common; either freezing us way below normal, or bringing us turbo-thaws that melt the ice before our eyes. There’s not much we can do about a thaw, but as I learned this year, when you’re unexpectedly flayed by a polar blast, you can still get out and learn more than if you had been climbing plastic “Hero” ice at minus five degrees C.

Here are some things I found out the hard way:

Wait

Ice gets really brittle at those temperatures, shattering and taking a lot of effort to climb safely, so seriously consider doing something else for a while if it’s predicted to warm up soon. One poor guy got frostbitten fingers on his first day in-country and that ended his two-week climbing vacation. You’re going to be super keen to climb after travelling a long way, but it’s better to lose a day or two than to lose your whole holiday. Try cross-country skiing, snow-shoeing or even seeing a live hockey match instead.

Play it safe

If it’s going to stay cold for most of your time in-country, then pick your venue carefully. Brittle ice means lots of flying debris so avoid routes which can traditionally take more than one party. My mate needs a new helmet after a direct hit when he was overtaken at Lake Louise Falls. 

Consider routes that will be in sunshine when you climb them. That’s normally asking for trouble, but at extreme temperatures the rules change and the weak winter sunlight may be just what’s needed to keep you and your belayer warm enough to climb. Be very wary though, get advice from the locals and heed the warning signs of potential avalanche all the time.

Take care of your extremities

Normally, if you keep your core warm, your fingers and toes do just fine: but not at these temperatures. Boots that sometimes feel a bit chilly at minus ten C will lose you toes at minus 30. If you get enough warning before you travel then pack your high-altitude, plastic double-boots, or borrow a pair. If cold strikes when you’re in-country then you have to get creative. Alpine gaiters can help keep your calf muscles warmer and that can help get warmer blood to your toes. You can also try putting warming pads inside your gaiters to keep your calf muscles warm.

If you lace your boots slightly slacker it may also allow more warm blood to your toes. Try toe-warmers – putting these thin heat-pads on top of your toes, rather than underneath them will enable you to walk and climb more comfortably as most boots seem to have room above your foot. The lack of air circulation in your boots will limit the amount of heat these pads generate, so if you put them in for the walk-in, then try allowing some air in to your boot as you re-lace it ready to climb.

If it’s safe to do so, take off your crampons when not climbing – that metal clamped to your boot is conducting heat away at light-speed. If you’re belaying on easy ground, maybe even consider wearing “street crampons” like Yaktrax to give you traction and change into your climbing crampons only when you are about to climb.

Thick gloves and ice-climbing don’t mix, so try getting some silk or silk-weight liner-gloves and sticking a toe-warmer onto them just behind your knuckles before sliding your regular, dextrous ice-climbing gloves over the whole assembly. Toe-warmers are thinner than hand-warmers, and they not only provide heat, but insulate your hand just where it touches the super-cooled ice when you’re hanging on your tools. The adhesive on the toe-warmers I used needed to be warm to work, so you may need to put them on to your inner gloves before you start your walk-in.

You can get away with a bit of snow in your belay mitts at normal temperatures, but when Arctic air comes calling, you must keep them dry by either putting them in your pockets, or by using the hanging-loop to clip them to your harness, finger-tips upwards.

A face-mask, scarf or neck-warmer is essential for protecting your airway, nose and cheeks on the walk-in. Goggles are probably going to fog-up because they are designed for skiers whose forward motion keeps air flowing through them. Try sunglasses instead.

Regulate your temperature carefully

In extreme cold you may find yourself walking-in wearing your belay jacket so adjust your speed to avoid sweat soaking your base layers. You will freeze later if the rest of your clothes get damp, so slow down.

If you always change into dry base-layers after the walk-in, then consider bringing an emergency shelter to use as a changing room.

When you finish belaying you will be cold and you probably won’t want to take off your belay jacket to climb, but it will probably obscure your gear loops and maybe even your view of your feet. If it has a popper/press-stud at the lower hem by the zip, then consider unzipping the front of the jacket and wearing it like a cape with the popper done up at the small of your back to prevent the sides of the jacket getting in the way.

Try some new kit

You’ve spent a lot on travelling and accommodation, so why not invest in some specialist gear to save the trip? Insulated belay-trousers, neoprene boot-covers, or even heated insoles could rescue your holiday, so check the local gear shops and ask the locals for ideas if your kit isn’t working.

Stay hydrated and properly fed

Cold air can’t hold much moisture, but when you warm it up in your lungs it absorbs lots, so you breathe out far more moisture than normal in extreme cold – watch it condense on your face-mask and jacket. Water bottles will freeze at these temperatures so a vacuum flask is essential. Instead of a flask of coffee, why not make up some sports rehydration drink with warm water? It tastes like cordial, replaces essential salts, is more palatable when it starts to cool down, and you can start drinking it sooner without scalding your mouth.

Women: you need to stay hydrated to climb effectively and that means developing a method for urinating when required. Going without drinking because you’re too embarrassed or too cold to pee is not healthy: the first British woman to climb K2, Julie Tullis developed a kidney infection on one expedition because she kept holding back from peeing when needed. If you plan to use a funnel device like a Shewee you need to practice in the shower first: it sounds disgusting but it’s the only way to avoid disaster later. You could also train your group to stand like a wall to shield you from prying eyes, it’s in their interest because they can’t climb effectively without you. We all need to take a leak and you have the same right to a healthy, comfortable climbing experience as any man, so claim that right. 

Sandwiches are bulky, they freeze and they can be difficult to manipulate with gloved hands, so investigate what hill food works best for you. Be aware that cereal bars, energy bars and even chocolate bars freeze too, and in extreme cold you can break your teeth trying to pry pieces off of them! Food bars need to be kept in pockets close enough to your body to keep them soft enough to eat. Please note that all food wrapping is really hard to manipulate with gloved hands and you need to be extra vigilant to avoid littering.

Monitor your energy levels and if you start yawning, start eating: tiredness and low blood sugar levels have similar symptoms. In extreme cold you probably don’t want to stop for too long to eat because you’ll cool down, so learn how to eat at belays. If you eat more than about 400Kcal at once, your body will divert blood from the muscles to the gut to help digestion, so consider eating little and often instead. In extreme cold it’s well worth heeding the advice normally given about eating a mixture of fast and slow-digesting carbohydrates while you are working.  When you return to base after climbing then consider eating balanced meals which include fats, protein, vitamins and dietary fibre.

Some people like to eat fried breakfasts rich in protein and fats, however if you’re going to be travelling for less than two hours before you start your walk-in, you may wish to consume a mixture of slow and fast-digesting carbohydrates instead to avoid diverting blood from your muscles to your digestive system. Porridge isn’t compulsory, but it seemed to work well for my team.

Learn

Super-cold ice will show up every deficiency in your technique and your gear: treat it as a master-class and you’ll come back a better climber. 

If your axes keep bouncing off, or always create huge dinner-plates then check how sharp they are and examine the profile of the tip. Do some research on the internet about the best way to shape and sharpen them, then work on them until they work better. 

If things still don’t get better, work on your swing. Line up your shoulder, wrist and axe, twisting slightly toward the ice, and then “sight” along your arm before you strike. We all have a dominant hand, but did you know we all have a dominant eye too? If the sharp axe in your non-dominant hand keeps bouncing off or missing your intended strike point then you may be “sighting” down your non-dominant arm with your dominant eye. Use your left eye to sight your left axe and your right eye to sight your right axe – close the other eye if it helps.

Keep your crampons sharp, and if you’re not using mono-points, see if you can set your crampons up as mono-points: on steep, cold ice you will be amazed at the improvement. Work on your kicking technique too: aim carefully with the eye on the same side as the kicking foot, and adjust your hips so your crampon point hits the ice dead-on. Hard ice will be merciless with those who don’t kick straight.

Sharpen your ice screws because cold ice will reject any hint of bluntness. If a screw fails to start, or just spins in the hole after starting then remove it immediately and try another. Only the sharpest screws work in super-cold ice. Put the non-starter on a gear loop out of the way and be sure to sharpen it later. I use a Petzl LIM’ICE device; it also works with non-Petzl screws but takes a bit more time to grind them to the Petzl profile.

Protect yourself

Shards of ice are razor sharp: walking down Rjukan high street a burly Polish climber asked my mate “Ice, or bar-fight?” when he saw the large cut on his cheek. A visor which attaches to your helmet can help deflect some of that shrapnel. Even plastic visors fog-up in extreme cold, but they still offer some protection to your face and eyes if they are adjusted upwards from their normal position.

The best way to avoid injury from falling ice is not to be in the way. Always belay to the side of a climb, preferably in an ice-cave, below a rock-roof or beneath a bulge. In extreme cold, falling ice is a fact of life and you need to be where it isn’t.

There’s normally so much ice flying through the air that most climbers don’t bother to shout unless it’s really serious. If you do hear someone scream “Ice!!!!” then get into shelter or suck yourself into the ice and do whatever you can to protect your head and shoulders. Ice bounces and spins so be aware that it may come at you from the sides too.

Cold makes klutzes out of the best of us, and metal objects like ice-axes, screws and karabiners may also rain down from above. Elastic leashes for axes won’t save you from a fall, but they do save axes from getting lost, or embedded in other climbers. I’ve found plastic ice-screw clippers to be very unreliable, especially in cold conditions, and now I use metal attachments like the DMM Vault. These don’t come open when twisted, and sit firmly on my harness so it’s easier to clip the screws in first time and harder to miss-clip and drop them. 

Bulky clothing makes it hard to see gear loops, ice-screw clippers and even belay loops, so double check everything and get your mate to check both your harness and your knot. It’s also worth both of you attaching to the rope at the same time when abseiling/rappelling (a technique known as Stacking) so you can both check your belay devices are properly attached.

We all know that damp skin freezes instantly to cold metal, and we’ve all touched cold metal with bare skin at least once. In normal conditions you can get away with it without injury, but in extreme cold it’s not going to end well. Get used to wearing silk-weight liner-gloves at all times: use them to tie laces; attach crampons; tie knots and do all the other jobs you’d normally do with bare hands in warmer climbing conditions.

Dial it back

If you have read this far then you’ll have formed the correct impression that super-cooled ice is not good for pushing your grades. If avalanche conditions permit, use the opportunity to do some of the easy, classic routes you’ve been saving for your retirement. You may actually find them sufficiently challenging in extremely cold conditions.

After a “turbo-freeze” ice will be colder on the outside than it is on the inside and hitting it will cause the taut outer layer to shatter. That’s bad enough on a uniform sheet of ice which is frozen to the rock, but imagine what that means to a curtain, a pillar or a free-hanging icicle. Or maybe don’t, it could give you nightmares. Admire these free-standing features from a safe distance, but if you can’t avoid climbing them be extremely gentle and make every use of all the hooks and features you can find. The Art of Ice Climbing has some great information about how ice behaves at different temperatures.

Finally, remember the three rules of expedition climbing: Come back; Come back safe; and Come back friends – everything else is a bonus.

Success doesn’t happen by accident.

When I was learning to fly they warned us that accidents always have many causes. You don’t crash just because you stall the plane: you stalled the plane because you mis-judged the speed and you mis-judged the speed because you were tired. You were tired because you didn’t sleep after an argument with your girlfriend when you forgot to pick her up from work, and you forgot to collect her from work because you didn’t set the reminder on your phone. They teach you to have safe systems for everything, so you can break the accident chain at multiple points and stay safe.

So if that works for accidents, why don’t we flip it on its head and make it work for climbing success too?

I used to fail on hard routes because something went wrong: it was too wet, I went off route, the route didn’t suit me, my partner wasn’t up for the route, or I just wasn’t feeling it. The list went on and on. Now I try to bias everything in my favour so I can’t help but succeed.

Here’s my system for success on routes at the limit of my ability:

The week before my trip I:

• Check the weather forecast and pick the best locations for the likely conditions 
• Check the guidebooks for routes in styles and grades that appeal
• Discuss all that with my partner and confirm our preferred options 

The day before I:

• Check the forecast is still the same (I live in Wales and the weather forecast here changes more often than most people change their socks)
• Reconfirm with my partner about the venue, ambitions, gear, transport, pick up time and place and return time
• Pack my crag bag with the right gear, guidebooks, maps, clothes, and snacks 

Before leaving I:

• Check the weather forecast again, just in case!
• Give myself enough time for a relaxed start
• Pack any fresh food and hot/cold drinks 
• Leave word about my destination and return time

At the crag I:

• Do dynamic stretches as my warm up routine – it prepares my body and gets my brain into “climbing mode”
• Check that the route matches the description and is in condition (no wet streaks, vegetation or dirt etc. I’ve even been to crags where the route has fallen down!)
• Set up any abseil/rappel or belay as needed (we have lots of brilliant sea cliffs which require access by rope)
• Rack the gear the way I like it
• Flake the ropes the way my belayer likes them and tie on
• Clean my shoes until they squeak under my fingers 
• Confirm signals and procedures with my belayer (what happens if they can’t hear me from the top, will I re-thread the chains or just lower straight down etc)
• Buddy-check: knots, harness, belay devices
• Read the route, looking for gear, rests, landmarks and crux
• Open my chalk bag and climb
• Do an easy warm-up route whenever possible to get a feel for the rock

On trad routes I:

• Place a multi-directional runner and DMM Revolver ASAP so the gear won’t be “zippered out” if I fall high on the route 
• Place gear to protect me (and my second) from hitting ledges and obstructions
• Ensure gear accounts for rope stretch and slippage in the belay system 
• Place two pieces before the crux – to give me rock solid confidence 
• Read the crux, look for the next rest and gear placement afterwards
• Remember the options of down-climbing, hanging on the gear, aiding or using a skyhook as a last resort if the pre-crux gear isn’t confidence-inspiring.
• Evaluate the risk and either back-off, or commit 100 percent and go for it
• Place gear soon after the crux
• Complete the climb, protecting it safely in case there are more difficulties or the unexpected happens 
• Place gear to protect the top-out, especially if there is grass or loose ground before the anchor
• Relax for a minute and if possible, eat something sugary before building the belay anchor – this replenishes the blood sugar burned during the climb and allows me to think clearly, avoiding simple, fatal mistakes. 
• Build the anchor and secure myself 
• Triple check the anchor 
• Contact my belayer and continue with our plan. 

We’ve all sketched our way through dodgy situations, forgotten gear, gone off route and had epics of biblical proportions. Those days leave us, or our rescuers with some of the best stories and are a great source of type 2 fun (fun that’s only fun when you talk about it afterwards). Personally, I prefer type 1 fun, and stacking the odds in my favour with this system has helped me have so much more of that recently!

What system do you use to avoid snafus and achieve success?

 

When is a Nut a Bolt?

I was the most unsafe climber in the world. When I started I had no idea about what a solid nut placement looked like, I just put them in and hoped. I knew you had to use quickdraws but I had no idea why, and I still remember nuts pinging out and tinkling down my rope to rap my belayer on the knuckles because I hadn’t thought about rope drag. Somehow I survived, but I never really understood how good trad protection could be, I just lived by the rule that “the leader never falls” and on the few occasions that I broke the rule, I felt like I only just got away with it. No wonder I never climbed harder than a couple of semi-bolted E4s!

Then I read about the “rule of twelve” for belays – the pieces of the belay had to add up to a total score of twelve in order for it to be safe (https://www.climbing.com/skills/learn-this-the-12-point-trad-anchor-rubric/ ). It opened my eyes: it gave me a way to objectively judge how safe each piece of gear was. No longer was I psychologically soloing every route. Now I could run it out or retreat for a good reason.

Here’s my system for assessing gear placements. I’m not an instructor, so I don’t recommend this as safe practice, I’m just describing what works for me and I hope you find a system that is safe and works for you.

I split my system between passive pieces (nuts and hexes) and active camming units (Friends, Dragon Cams etc).

For nuts and hexes that break at 7kn or above (e.g. DMM Wallnut 1) I give 1 point for each of the following:

• Good contact with the rock – the gear fits the placement like a glove;
• The wire or sling points in the likely direction of the load (usually downward and slightly outward);
• There’s a constriction below the piece so it can’t pull out of the placement; and
• The piece is deep in the rock so it can’t break the rock when loaded.

When a piece scores four points I treat it as a bolt and climb on with a smile on my face. 

I discard all the points and find a new placement if the rock is:

• cracked;
• easily broken; or
• loose. 

For camming units that fail at 7kn or above (e.g. Totem Technical yellow) I give 1 point for each of the following:

• All the lobes are in the first third of their expansion range;
• the stem points in the likely direction of the load (usually downward and slightly outward);
• The placement has parallel sides, or the rock “cups” the piece like a pea in a pod;
• The piece cannot “walk” out of the placement due to the rope pulling it around as I climb.

Four points means that I treat these as bolts and climb on, grinning from ear to ear. 

I discard all the points and find a new placement if:

• the placement is in cracked or easily broken rock;
• one or more lobes is loaded much less than the rest;
• The cam could lever the placement open;
• one or more lobes is close enough to the edge of the crack to risk fracturing the placement;
• The placement is icy, or covered in a layer of mud, soil or slime;
• The placement is obviously flared.

If a cam, nut or hex scores less than four points then the risk of death goes up so I always look for another placement nearby which does score four and which I can use to replace the low-scoring piece. The sensible option is always to retreat if there is a chance of hitting something like the ground, a wall or a ledge when I fall and the low-scoring piece fails. Swinging falls can be even more lethal than ground falls because the impact is directly on your torso where many vital organs live, and there are no legs in the way which can absorb the impact. So now I always pay particular attention to protecting traverses, for my own safety and the safety of my second.

If I can’t replace a low-scoring piece then the risk of dying goes up. If I feel prepared to take the risk then I consider the following options to manage the risk in roughly this order:

• backing up a low-scoring piece with an adjacent piece or pieces until I judge that this mini-belay scores four;
• tying the low-scoring piece to another piece* to hold it in the correct place so it scores four;
• using two or more pieces which each break at less than 7kn (micro cams, DMM Imps etc), but which each score four and collectively add up to a breaking strain of at least 7kn, then equalising the load with a sliding X*;
• reducing the impact on the piece by getting my second to put tension on the rope and trusting the piece only until it is at my waist, then placing a new piece;
• using a sliding X* to equalise the load between two low-scoring pieces then placing another piece as soon as possible IF the moves to the next placement are reversible, AND the piece below the equalised pieces scores four AND there is no chance of hitting anything on the way down when the low-scoring piece fails;
• climbing on and placing another piece as soon as possible IF I can see an obvious placement AND the moves to the placement are reversible, AND the piece below the low-scoring piece scores four AND there is no chance of hitting anything on the way down when the low scoring-piece fails!

If you decide to use the techniques marked with an asterisk* then get proper instruction and practice in a safe place before you trust your life to them. 

Most ropes will stretch about 30% or more in a fall, so I have to build that into my calculations about what I might hit on the way down.

Even if my placements all score four, I still have to use quickdraws or slings to reduce rope drag or my rope could get cut by the friction created from sliding across the rock when I fall. I’ve still got an old rope with a VERY furry sheath where it got dragged over a rounded edge after a hold fell off and took me with it. Had I extended the cam properly I would have been much safer. 

In the old days I treated all gear as a ticking time bomb, but now I can distinguish between bombproof placements and booby-traps. That really helps me to relax and saves my mental energy, enabling me to have a lot more fun instead of climbing with a nagging doubt about each piece. Importantly, it also helps me focus carefully on identifying and managing the real risks.

So that’s my system: four points equals a bolt and a very happy leader.

Not saving the world…

In the action comedy “Men In Black” Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones are secret agents charged with saving the world from the worst scum of the universe. On Smith’s first mission he starts shooting at the bad guy with a tiny pistol that turns out to have the firepower of a howitzer: trucks explode, holes get blasted in buildings until Jones screams at him to stop. Smith is confused: “but there’s an alien battlecruiser about to destroy the earth unless we stop that guy!”, and Jones replies that there’s ALWAYS something about to destroy the world, and the whole point of their job is to deal with it secretly so no one need worry.

When I was a kid the environmental movement was in full swing, Rachel Carson had published “Silent Spring” and the ban on DDT was starting to lead to an increase in bird numbers. Greenpeace were busy saving the Whale and everyone else was out wearing badges saying no thanks to nuclear power. In my youthful ardor I thought I’d save the world, then go and live happily ever after on my organic farm.

So I spent years as a volunteer and then a professional conservationist, repairing nature reserves, building paths up mountains and training new volunteers. Eventually I became a specialist in urban conservation: moulding national policy to make towns and cities better places for people and nature. I travelled all over the world speaking at conferences, brining new learning back home and trying to convince politicians that we can build the promised land right here, right now.

I’ve been at it for three decades and there’s no organic farm in sight.

It’s starting to dawn upon me that there might have been a fundamental flaw in my youthful self’s logic, and that Tommy Lee Jones was probably on to something big.

The Dalai Lama is probably the happiest person on the planet.

Which is odd, given his professional circumstances: he’s the exiled leader of an occupied people whose cultural heritage has been either demolished or turned into a tourist attraction. Countless of his people have been tortured, killed or driven into exile and it’s quite likely that when he dies, the Chinese will attempt to kill his successor and install one of their own in his place. Yet he still keeps laughing.

He’s either one Mani-stone short of the full Stupa, or he knows something that we don’t.

What do the most revered spiritual leader on the planet and an imaginary, black-suited action hero have in common? They both realise that we are in it for the long game: great problems have arisen and been solved in the past and long after we have gone great problems will arise and be solved.

Change is the only constant. Once change stops, so do we. It’s an inevitable consequence of the laws of thermodynamics, the fundamental rules of the universe, that the same chemical and physical processes which gave rise to us will cause conditions to change until time and space have no meaning. It’s physically impossible to save the world. Whilst we are dealing with climate change caused by burning fossil fuels we’ll have to deal with new diseases which will inevitably evolve in an increasingly crowded human population. When we’re patting ourselves on the back about solving those things we’ll have to re-build cities in the developing world to bring decent living conditions to the billions who live there, and at the same time we’ll have to produce enough food for everyone. Whilst we’re at it, we’ll have to maintain the natural world, both for its own sake and for the genetic treasures it holds. Then there’s rogue asteroids, earthquakes, tectonic drift, and eventually the sun will start to fizzle out. It never ends.

We can either be overwhelmed by the tsunami of challenge, or learn how to ride it with a smile on our faces, like the Dalai Lama.

In our own life, the lives of our family, friends, communities, nations, species, and world there will be constant change. If we give up, we will become extinct as individuals and as a species. But if we relax and realise that we are a link in a chain from the past to the distant future, then suddenly our perspective changes.

Maybe that’s how the most compassionate man on the planet can remain happy and optimistic whilst horror takes place every day: he knows we were never meant to save the world, we’re just supposed to keep steering toward a future that’s a bit brighter than the past.

If everything changes and always will, then there’s always hope that we can change it for the better. If we know that as individuals we can never save the world, but we can help nudge it in the direction of hope, then we can smile at anything. We can tackle the unimaginable with a light heart because we know that’s what our species does. We don’t have to get it right, just get it righter. We don’t have to run until the finish line at the end of time, we just have to keep going in the right direction as skilfully as we can so we still have a baton to hand on to those who will come after. So they can do the same. And again. And again, without end.

So, less Will Smith, more Tommy Lee Jones. Less despair and more Dalai Lama: laughing as we do our best to keep things heading in the right direction ready for generations to come to do the same.

(see the original image and learn about the film on IMDB http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119654/ )

Death on the Mountain

On Saturday 17 February 2018 as Chris Brook and I finished a beautiful climb on Snowdon a walker fell to his death only a few hundred metres away, hidden from us by the bulk of the summit. As we descended, unaware and pleased with our accomplishment we saw the Llanberis Mountain Rescue Team working below the cliffs of Clogwyn Coch. We speculated idly that they were perhaps training: we had no idea that they were actually recovering a body.

Later, as we chatted to a couple of walkers a rescue helicopter flew overhead toward the local hospital, and they told us how they had seen someone fall from the track of the Snowdon Mountain railway to disappear over those cliffs. Sick realisation dawned that something had gone badly wrong.

A report on the rescue team’s Facebook page confirmed the worst and I messaged Chris: “Yeah” he replied with a weeping emoji “no way anyone was going to survive that”.

I tried to make sense of it but couldn’t.

The same snow conditions which made our route possible had turned the railway track into a death-slide, but why would anyone choose to walk on that track? Why wouldn’t they walk down the Llanberis path like us?

Someone who should have been at home, like me, enjoying the memories with his loved ones, was dead, needlessly so, but who was to blame?

On my way down the mountain a few nights later I ran into a mate who said the dead walker had been wearing simple traction aids on his boots. On a frozen street these bite into the frost and help keep you upright, but on a mountain they don’t slice into ice, nor stick into frozen snow. Wear these on anything other than an icy road and you are very likely to fall. That might only mean bruised pride at the après ski, but above a 240m cliff it is deadly. So was it the shop assistant’s fault for failing to tell the walker the limits of the product? But what if the traction aids were a gift, a purchase in a charity shop, a prize, a find? I’d seen other people wearing these and none of them had died. Sure, some had been slipping and sliding all over the path – but that was the Llanberis path, not the railway. Maybe it wasn’t the footwear that was to blame?

Back in the 1980s when I was repairing the paths there always seemed to be a warden from the National Park Authority about, talking to people and even suggesting they turn around if they were badly equipped. Once the wardens clocked-off for the day there were the posters at the start of all the trails, showing the kind of clothing a well-prepared walker would need – including ice axe and crampons. We still saw people pad past in training shoes and sometimes even in flip-flops, and we tut-tutted knowingly, pretending experience that we hadn’t yet earned, and maybe never would. Fast forward to today and the posters have gone. There are whiteboards by the trailheads with conditions reports, but you could blink and miss them as they call out that crampons are essential. Or you might ignore them as the wearers of 1980’s flip flops did the posters. There are no wardens at weekends now, no one to sweep up the stragglers, no one to drop the less than subtle hint that bendy, summer walking boots are as helpful as a chocolate fireguard when kicking steps in steep, hard snow. I haven’t seen a warden on the mountain since I can’t remember. But in 2009 when three people died in a single winter on Clogwyn Coch, there were wardens and even a report of one telling people to turn back before the danger become too great. So maybe the absence of wardens isn’t to blame?

Searching for answers, I returned the next weekend to climb again. Conditions were lean, snow had shrunk, ice had been chipped away, but there were still routes in condition. The remaining snow had been soaked by rain and crisped by sharp frosts a thousand metres above sea level. It was chalk-hard, the front points of my crampons bit into it fiercely: my entire bodyweight held by spikes of metal only two centimetres long. On the descent I asked my climbing partner if he’d take an avoidable risk with me to see why so many people had come to grief above the red cliff, Clogwyn Coch. He said yes, and we descended the one route I swore I’d never walk.

Strangely, the Llanberis Path seemed to veer uphill as it parted from the railway, which carried on gently downwards. The tracks were just visible in places, black steel snaking into white snow, glaring in the brilliant light. Out of the cutting wind that had kinfed us on the face, it felt relaxed, like a holiday stroll, but we were walking down a line that had killed and killed again, and that felt surreal. There were notice boards asking people to look both ways and take care when crossing the line to avoid the trains that would not threaten until the spring. There was even a board asking us politely, please not to trespass upon the railway. There was a red board with white writing a couple of yards down the track and I almost went past it, until I saw the title: Clogwyn Coch. Beneath this in perfect Welsh, and lower down in good English it explained the danger of a fall from the track. I held my axe carefully, and walked on in the sunshine, crampons biting into perfect nevé, the like of which most people will only see on a groomed piste beneath their skis. No sign of railway tracks, just a slope of that snow-ice, with the remains of a surface crust which would have been like a skating rink the weekend before. The closer we walked to the top of the cliffs, the steeper the snow bank became, totally filling the railway cutting, replacing the space with solid water until the spring and the trains came to claim it back. Even with mountaineering gear it felt too easy to trip and slide. We stepped onward, carefully, ankles canted, aching at the unnatural angle forced on us by the crampon spikes. As the Llanberis path swooped down to join our line, just before the bridge at Clogwyn Station I turned back and looked upwards. The railway seemed so innocent. The curve of the slope hid the cliffs below it, and the snow shone in the afternoon sun. The path reared up to my left, climbing steeply, furrowed by the footsteps of those who had toiled up, and the tracks of the arses of those who had bum-slid down before the last freeze, whilst the railway eased up into the sky, promising the summit just beyond the horizon. What person in their right mind would walk up a steep, icy path when everyone knows that a train has to take a more reasonable gradient? Surely any sane person would think it safer to walk along a trackbed? If I didn’t know the mountain, and was trying to get down wearing inadequate footwear, wouldn’t I ignore those polite entreaties not to trespass and set off down the dormant railway line? If I had never heard of Clogwn Coch, if I couldn’t speak Welsh, would I have paused to read the red sign that must surely be for the engineer, to remind him of some technicality on the coming section? What if I didn’t read either Welsh or English, what then?

But Google rules, and a search reveals the names and numbers of those who fell before. Wouldn’t a reasonable person seek details of the dangers? The people Chris and I spoke to as we watched the helicopter were seasoned walkers, but were chastened because they had left their crampons and axes at home. Even with their experience and hill-sense they hadn’t expected snow. They were not alone. So many people were stumbling up the paths in summer boots, training shoes, canvas sneakers even. We were in a minority with our boots, ice-axes, ropes, helmets and all the armaments of the modern ice-climber. Who were the reasonable ones? So many people must have slept in ski resorts higher than this entire mountain. Who amongst them would have thought that such a lowly peak could serve up such hazards, perhaps an entire kilometre lower than the cafe where they sipped over-priced coffee and contemplated their next red run.

So who was to blame? Thousands of people struggle up Snowdon each year. For them, it’s a walk, a long walk, a steep walk, maybe the only walk they will do that year, but it’s a walk up a path to a summit and a train goes up it too, so it can’t be impossible, can it? We could argue that anyone going up the mountain should do their research about the kit to take, but if we can’t even vote for the right politician because of fake news, how can we reasonably be expected to find the right crampons? There are warning notices and conditions reports by the paths, but you have to realise what those are and why they are important. Blink, and you could miss them. Maybe a word from a friendly warden would give people an extra chance, especially when conditions are bad, but even the best funded National Park can’t put a warden at the start of every path 24/7. Barriers above and below the dangerous section of railway track might do the job – especially if engraved with the names of previous victims as a memorial and warning. There will always be those who deliberately ignore any warning, but for most, a simple barrier with a danger symbol will cause pause for thought – whatever language they might speak.

So I don’t believe anyone was totally to blame: the victim was following a reasonable course and had traction aids for his shoes – which is more than most people did; the National Park had warning signs – even if they didn’t stand out – at least they tried; and on their sign the railway asked us politely not to trespass on the tracks. But the truth is, we could all do more. My contribution starts here. Maybe it will persuade others to make more effective ones of their own.

There’s a railway under here – somewhere.

It looks so innocent….

The Rules

Cyclists have the Velominati, the keepers of the cog, upholders of the sacred rules of cycling [http://www.velominati.com/the-rules/], but an even more secret society, the Verticati, the keepers of the cam, uphold the sacred rules of climbing. My life now hangs on a slender Perlon thread because I have dared to reveal their existence to you. Learn the Rules well, spread them far and wide so all who venture into the vertical world may benefit from this arcane wisdom.

1. There are no rules.

2. We are not the grades we climb.

3. Want to do the route, not to have done it.

4. Climbing for anyone but yourself is a recipe for misery.

5. Soloing for anyone but yourself is a terminal velocity trip.

6. Dying on a climb invalidates all your previous ascents: it shows you climbed them by luck, not skill: Don Whillans.

7. Love the rock – it is what separates us from mere gymnasts.

8. Do not buy expensive rubber and climb on sheep shit: Ron Fawcett.

9. Love the move – it is what separates us from mere steeplejacks.

10. Your life is worth more than a sling or a cam: bail safe.

11. A lid won’t save you from a TV set, but it will save you from a golf ball – think about it while your head is still intact.

12. Good climbers pack out any trash they find, along with their own.

13. If you really hate climbing at that crag then go ahead and piss-off the landowner so no one else will get to climb it either.

14. Wear sunscreen.

15. Get potty trained or leave the crag.

16. The climb is more than the rock: take time out to enjoy the scenery.

17. Top ropers give way to leaders.

18. Abseil where no one climbs.

19. Everyone’s “trade route” is someone else’s nightmare.

20. Grades are all subjective.

21. Objective dangers really are.

22. For a long, stress-free alpine career: never climb a route put up by the Japanese or Polish.

23. If you can’t see your face reflected in the holds of a three star route then you are off-route.

24. Checking your mate’s harness and knot is a sign that you respect them enough to want to climb with them again.

24a. Check your own harness and knot.

25. The only person who ever knew if that piton was any good was the person who hammered it in.

26. All styles of ascent are valid – as long as you tell the truth about the one you used….

27. All styles of leg wear are acceptable as long as the crotch and seat are in good repair.

28. If you can’t climb the route without altering the rock, then leave it for someone who can.

29. Thou shalt not bolt a climb which has been freed.

30. Crag swag and lost property are two different things: learn the difference.

31. The technical term for a helmetless winter climber is “a casualty”.

32. Thou shalt only place a piton when wearing crampons or standing in aiders.

33. Rescue is a bonus, not a right.

34. Climbing a solid 6a / 5.10 inside does not make you an E1 / 5.10a trad leader outside.

35. Trolls belong in Scandinavia, not on Internet climbing fora.

36. Light is right: Mark Twight.

37. Fun doesn’t have to be fun to be fun: Mark Twight

38. Strength is no bad thing to have in excess: Mark Twight

39. If you can’t reach the holds you’ll just have to climb up to them: Don Whillans.

40. The best climber in the world is the one having the most fun: Alex Lowe.

41. Active and inactive seracs are likely to remain so.

41a. You will never know when an inactive serac will become active.

42. For a long alpine career get moving early and keep moving.

43. Use your time in free-fall to contemplate the time you saved not tying a prusik.

44. The climb isn’t over until the first drink back in the valley.

45. The load expands to fill the pack available.

46. A metal file in the pack saves an unplanned alpine bivouac.

47. Fixed protection often isn’t.

48. It is far easier to die on a sport route than you imagine.

49. Gravity sucks.

50. Check your harness and knot -again.

51. When in doubt, think it out.

52. If you can’t find a hand hold, look at your feet.

53. Breathe, smile, relax and….CRUSH.

54. If you like climbing on chalk, go to Dover, otherwise, use it sparingly.

55. Denigrating someone who climbed that route won’t help you get up it.

56. Celebrate success, don’t disparage failure.

57. If you aren’t failing then you aren’t trying: if you don’t fail you won’t succeed.

58. Every solo is an exam: the pass mark is 100%, there are no re-sits and no appeal process.

59. Observe Frost’s 3 laws of soloing: 1. Don’t solo. 2. If you must solo, only do routes you can climb in boxing gloves and roller skates. 3. Don’t solo.

60. Climbing partners are a bit like lovers: build them up, don’t bring them down. Good  ones can take you places you never dreamed, bad ones can set you back for years.

61. Muscle pain is weakness leaving the body; joint pain is weakness moving in. Know the difference and learn how to train.

62. Hidden crevasses are predators which hunt the unroped and untrained.

63. Speed comes from slick ropework, not quick climbing.

64. Check the mountain weather forecast because a lightning strike could ruin your whole day.

65. Practice BEFORE the excrement hits the air conditioning.

66. A spare battery for your head torch weighs less than bivi gear.

67. Climbing at night is preferable to falling through snow bridges in the afternoon.

68. A kilo of body fat weighs as much as a kilo of cams: decide which you would rather carry on a route.

69. Unless you can swim with half a ton of aluminium alloy clipped to your waist: learn to read tide tables.

70. A lightweight windproof on the back of your harness can improve your performance by two full grades.

71. Never argue with a compass: it is always right – unless your hydration hose is fixed with a magnetic clip….

72. Five minutes reading up on the descent route is worth five hours thrashing around in the dark.

73. Rock shoes stick to grass like ice to Teflon.

74. Sea cliffs are steep, intimidating and unforgiving: just like their grading.

75. Fulmar puke will NEVER wash out: respect bird bans.

76. Ropes always tangle in the middle of a sketchy crux: sort them BEFORE you leave the belay.

77. Ice axes do not come pre-loaded with self arrest software: make sure your brain does.

78. Respect John Wayne: he showed us how to walk in crampons.

79. It takes five times longer untangling ropes mid-abseil than it would have taken to coil them properly beforehand.

80. Learn how to say “please” and “thank you” in the local language.

81. Pronounce place names correctly: you might actually end up where you wanted to go.

82. Shiny new gear does not make you a better climber.

83.  If a climbing partnership isn’t working, have the grace to end it before the fighting starts: you both stand to lose more than the TV or the dog.

84. Check-in your prejudices before you go out climbing.

85. Personal demons always climb one grade harder than your max.

86. Before pointing the finger of blame at your belayer, consider the climber at whom the other three fingers point.

87. If someone you loves dies climbing, do not blame climbing for taking them from you, celebrate that climbing made them the person that you loved.

88. Obesity, inactivity and kitchen accidents cost society more than rescue services ever could.

89. Sounds warn us of danger: lose the headphones.

90. To learn what a rock does when it hits a face: look up when one falls down.

91. Climbing can bring us fulfilment, but it can take everything from us including our lives: accept this without reservation, or find another sport.

92. Find out about local customs: pleading ignorance will rarely save you from a kicking.

93. The rope goes THROUGH the chain, not over it.

94. Accidents when lowering and abseiling are nature’s way of chlorinating the gene pool.

95. Sea cliffs and mountains can be noisy: learn rope signals.

96. Rocky places eat GPS and cellphone signals: take a map and compass and know how to use them.

97. Deliberately mis-grading your new route merely results in your stupidity being published to a wider audience.

98. Ropes don’t snap, they get cut: extend runners clear of edges because a broken ankle is preferable to death.

99. Winter climbing is always sweatier than you imagine, and winter belays are always colder than you imagine: invest in a belay jacket or suffer accordingly.

100. Check your harness and knot once more.