Fiacaill Coire an t-Sneachda at Sunset

This is the third year that I’ve travelled up to the Cairngorms in February for winter training from John Lyall. As I’ve mentioned on previous occasions, John has a passion for the mountains that is both infectious and to be admired. His training is informative and to the point. On safety his philosophy is simple, ‘don’t get into any situation that requires you having to haul a body out of a crevasse or avalanche. The key is, planning, but most importantly learn to read what the mountain is trying to tell you’.

Two Climbers High on Fiacaill Ridge

After saying that, it’s still useful to know how to self arrest a slip or pull someone out of a crevasse or avalanche. So day one was about self arrest. We threw ourselves down a slope forwards, on our stomachs, on our backs, head first and then upside down and head first. It’s not easy turning upside down on your back and then launching yourself down a 30º slope and not being able to see where you’re going! It also doesn’t come naturally. We’re told that any reaction to a fall has to be instinctive, which only comes with practice. It is, of course, very easy to do this in a controlled situation. If it ever happens it will be without warning and probably on a steeper slope of hard ice, but hey, at least I would know what I should have done as I’m hurtling over the edge of a cliff…I should have assessed the slope and come to the conclusion that I probably shouldn’t have been there in the first place! But, hey, life can be a bitch.

Cairngorm Summit Plateau

The weather was abysmal in the morning but cleared up after lunch, (as well as the Scottish weather ever clears up) so we decided to climb Fiacaill Ridge, a classic winter ridge climb, leading onto the Cairngorm Plateau. Then wandered along the plateau rim and back down to the Ski car park. A useful day.

What I should have said about the weather is that it rained, not snowed most of the previous night and all morning. This had the effect of washing away much of the loose lying snow but consolidating the underlying snowpack (this makes it less prone to avalanche). This combined with the high winds and cold temperatures of the previous week meant that much the recent snow had been blown off the summit plateau into hollows or the surrounding forest. So the rocks in the Northern Corries were laid bare, rather than covered in ice, which made the climb on Fiacaill Ridge very much a mixture of rock and ice.

Fiacaill Ridge Climb

The next day’s forecast was good, the reality, however, was not. Windy, misty and cold. So we found one of those hollows, where all the snow had blown and practised crevasse rescue. Again the lesson was don’t get into the situation where a rescue becomes necessary! But we had a great time while Andrew and James dropped each other off the rim of the hollow to then perform a crevasse rescue, while I took photographs!

Snow Cave

Inside a Cornice

Wednesday, was forecast wall to wall sunshine and that’s exactly what it was! The Scottish weather tends to be like the Scottish Midge, mean and unrelenting in its ferocity! (For those of you that have never heard of the devil, that is the Scottish Midge…Google it) But today the Scottish mountains proved that not every Scottish Midge is evil! We woke to blue skies and no wind. The plan today was to do an ice climb. John chose one called Fiacaill Couloir, off Fiacaill Ridge a 175m gully that led to just below the top of the plateau.

Girls Just want to have Fun!

John appeared to want to race to the crag, sprinting past all the groups heading for the Northern Corries. When we got there I could see why. It was like Trafalgar Square on New Year’s Eve…packed shoulder to shoulder with climbers jostling to get to their preferred climb. We did however just arrive first at the start of ours, with only one other couple wanting to do the same climb, so we geared up and powered on up to the start.

Fiacaill Couloir is a  grade II winter climb, which in the scheme of things very easy. The Scottish grades go as high as grade XII, that just gives you a little clue as to the difficulty of the one we were trying. Powering up to the start of the climb was ‘interesting’, a 30º – 35º slope of compact snow, not particularly steep but gave some cause for concern if your thoughts wandered to the possibility of a slip. Whilst desperately searching your mind for all those lessons learned only two days previously.

James Seconding the First Pitch

All four of us were stood on a kicked out ledge of snow anchored to a small outcrop. Andrew was seconding John, whilst James and I were partnered up, with me taking the first lead and James then following through onto the next pitch. I haven’t led a climb of any sort since my school days. This would be a test of confidence and I have to admit I was somewhat apprehensive! The first pitch led out onto a 45º slope, this was made up of hard packed snow and short stretches of ice. The first placement of protection was a relief, all of a sudden the prospect of a possible 30m to 40m fall was reduced to just a couple of metres. Let me put this in perspective, though. John was effectively soloing the climb as he was not being belayed by Andrew nor did he have the luxury of any protection and was, in fact, placing my protection for me, while I followed just a few metres behind. Confidence is a fickle thing, I could quite easily hang from a rock face a couple of hundred metres up whilst securely tied on to take photographs, but to climb to that position, whilst leading and putting in my own protection is now probably beyond the confidence that I would feel comfortable with doing. So this lead was a big deal for me and I was determined to conquer and compartmentalise any fear. ‘Fear is the Mind Killer’ (Frank Herbert, Dune)

James at the Top of the Gully

Andrew at the Top of the Gully

This first lead was a run out of approximately 50 metres, at this point I was still too busy squaring my position in my mind, so as to fully enjoy the climb. But as I belayed James up I looked around and was stunned at the view and perspective that this stance gave me, a view reserved for just the few people who are mad or stupid enough to climb these rock faces. James followed through the lead and led the crux of the climb. I have to admit I’m glad it wasn’t me that led this pitch! This time, I followed through up to the top of the couloir and sat astride the apex. I came out of the shadows and onto the sun, both metaphorically and literally, the view opened up to the near vertical shadow rock faces of the Northern Corries and the summit of Cairngorm. The weather was perfect with no wind and the sun lighting up the mountains as it reflected off the snow. With one more pitch to go James completed the climb onto the top of the Fiacaill Ridge and the Cairngorm plateau. Before I followed I savoured the view from this unusual position, high on the headwall of this once glaciated corrie. The experience was exhilarating, especially with all the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. The fear stayed compartmentalise, only occasionally trying to break free. It was enjoyable but I think I’d still want a more experienced climber with me, to give that little bit of extra confidence if and when I try it again.

Cairngorm Sunset

The climb had taken approximately four hours to complete! 175m in four hours. That was height gained, distance travelled was probably only a matter of metres, but we still felt that we deserved a hot cup of coffee in the cafe at the top of the ski lift. So we sauntered up to the summit of Cairngorm and idly made our way down to the cafe. The funicular railway looked a tempting way to descend to the car park, but as climbers, we weren’t allowed that luxury, it’s reserved for skiers and day trippers and we were neither, we were now, hardened climbers!

Cairngorm Sunset

As always John was instructive and informative, especially with his stories of mountain rescues that he has been on. I understand that he has been a member of the mountain rescue team for many years and as a regular walker, it’s comforting to know that the men and woman of these voluntary groups are there if required. (That’s a plug for all readers of this blog to give generously to their funds http://cmrt.org.uk/ ). He has hopefully given us the groundwork required for our forthcoming trip to Mont Blanc in June.

View from the Summit of Mera Peak of Five of the Six highest Mountains in the World!

I’ve been writing this blog for exactly five years, changing the title according to the walk or climb I was about to do next. It’s a record of my thoughts, opinions and aspirations before and during whatever trip I was about to embark on or just returned from. It was meant for my use and amusement, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how many people appear to have read some of it. For me, it’s a diary, a place to look back, a place for me to see what state of mind I was in and whether in hindsight I could have made different choices. It wasn’t for me to learn from any of the decisions that I made as those were always right at the time and I have to look at them that way. I wrote the blog purely to see how I was feeling and why at the time.

The 2am Early Morning Starts

Writing this reminds me of a quote that I commented on in 2015, from an outdoor magazine that I was reading on the way to Kathmandu,  ‘What we are encouraging you to do here is to leave your comfort zone behind, move beyond the boundaries of your known experience and challenge yourself in a field where you are less sure of yourself, of what you are capable of and of how you will cope’ I said at the time ‘what a load of crap’ and three years on I have to say, that I feel exactly the same. The other quote regularly shoved down our throats is ‘Life is a  journey, not a destination’ (Ralph Waldo Emerson, probably a very misused quote as he was talking about his faith)…surely life is what you want it to be and on many occasions, the destination is extremely important. You try telling a climber on Everest that the summit isn’t important! His journey is ALL about the destination. For me, as important as the summit is, enjoyment, pleasure and the scenery is what really matters. The summit is a place to aim for but not, for me, the be all and end all. The Blog’s title change is to reflect that thought. I don’t consider the mountains a challenge, I don’t want to be at odds with them and fight for every foot gained, I just want to enjoy the many moods and the serenity that they offer, without a thought of any destination or journey!

Again the Early Morning Starts – but Wow…Everest and Lhotse in the centre

Good grief, that was a bit serious!! Anyway, Carolynn and I are off to meet Andrew, Caroline and Lottie in early February, as we continue our quest to complete the South West Coast Path. 150 miles or so completed and I don’t do long distance! And Carolynn has rarely walked more than a few miles in a day since we got married over 30 years ago…to say that I’m impressed is an understatement. We’re starting from Padstow this time and hopefully, I’m back making up the famous five. My plantar fasciitis is improving but is being annoyingly stubborn. My bum is sore from training on a bike and I’m looking forward to getting back on my own two feet. I have to wonder at these top cyclist, like Bradley Wiggins, numb balls, sore bum…not at all comfortable or pleasurable!

The Cairngorms – Stob Coire an t-Sneathda

The SWCP aside, there is one trip already booked and contemplating another. The first is to Mont Blanc in early June and a practise session with John Lyall a British Mountain Guide, in the Cairngorms at the end of February.

The other trip is a little more contentious! While there have been no deaths on this mountain and the success rate is fairly high, with over 200 climbers having reached the summit and with a height of just 4,892 metres, it is in one of the most remote places on earth. A place that is still pristine and where at the end of every expedition ALL waste is removed. Sitting just 600 miles from the South Pole lies Mount Vinson, the highest mountain in Antarctica. Technically it’s not a difficult climb, but the extreme weather can cause problems, with temperatures as low as -30 degrees and wind chill taking that down even lower. It is the coldest of major summits.

Rim Ice on the edge of the Cairngorm Plateau

Icelandic Mountain Guides, who I used for the trip to Greenland, recommended Adventure Consultants. A New Zealand company who have had many years experience in expeditions in many of the greater mountain ranges and the only company to provide three trips a year to Mount Vinson. Aaron at Adventure Consultants has, after looking at my climbing CV, given me the thumbs up. The expedition would mean about five weeks away from home, that’s three weeks on Mount Vinson and a further two weeks climbing little or unclimbed peaks in the Ellsworth Mountains, which the Vinson Massif is part.

Park House Hill in the White Peak area of the Peak District

On the plus side, it’s a place that is still unique in a world that has few really wild places left and a place that appears to be calling my name! And would it not be a real test for all my photographic equipment?

A More Unusual View of Snowdon from Moel Ellio

The photographs for this blog are from the High Himalaya to the beautiful snowy tops of the Scottish Highlands the larger than life hills of the Peak District and my favourite haunt, Snowdonia.

A Sunrise view towards Yr Aran from Yr Wyddfa (Summit of Snowdon)

The final day was 1,000m of descent down a steep mud strewed path through tropical rainforest to the Moshi Gate a rather unimpressive end to a classic trek.

I’ve not mentioned the people of this trek. There were no constants as the mountain provided so many routes taking different days to complete, that friendships were hard to strike up. There were no means of talking to fellow Kilimanjaroist (made up word, but you get my drift) after the sun went down, as mess tents became porters sleeping quarters and the nights were too chilly to stand and chat. The tent and the comfort of your warm sleeping bag became the place to retreat once dinner was eaten.

One of the Porters

The main character in this tale is Colin Zee, who I first met in 2007 on the Annapurna Sanctuary trek, a friendship grew during that trek that has endured over the years. Evan though he moved to Singapore with his wife Maury and baby daughter Chloe in 2011. Only after a month there, to join Matthew and me back in Nepal to climb Island Peak. Kilimanjaro was on his ‘Bucket’ list so persuading him to do one more high altitude trek was not difficult. In fact, he booked his flight before I confirmed the dates, which put me into panic mode as it did Ann, at Trek Mountains, who organised the trip.

Colin Painting in the Coolness of the Late Afternoon

Colin is a Chinese Scouser, proud of his roots and heritage. He’s a great front man and charmer, knows what to say and when and had our team eating out of his hand from the start. This could well be our last trip together as he wants to finish each day’s Trek with a shower and a drink, from now on! Something that I don’t think an expedition to Mount Vinson would likely have! Over the week we sorted America, North Korea, and Brexit out, we didn’t need any Hydrogen Bombs, Fake News or blonde wigs and I don’t think we Tweeted once! We discussed democracy and the merits of benign dictatorships, but most of all he’s fun to be with.

The Hero’s – Not us the Porters

Colin aside the other main characters were the team of 18 porters looking after the pair of us! Yep, 18! Imran and Francis being the two guides. Imran took life very seriously and ate with us every meal time and double checked every detail, while Francis was more fun loving knowing that he hadn’t got the final responsibility that Imran had. He was inquisitive about all aspects of our life. Politics was a favourite subject, which normally ended with me dismissing all politicians as liars, cheats and that they were only there for their own gratification and power. I don’t think he understood my total and utter cynicism of all politicians, but I have definitely got overly cynical as I’ve matured, and I think the debacle that are today’s politicians bare me out. Moses was Imran’s right-hand man or I could call him our manservant. He served our meals and generally made sure we had all we needed, from hot water for washing to drinks and food. There were two unsung heroes As always, the porters, but more importantly a man neither Colin or I ever saw. The porters do all the real graft, leaving after us and arriving before us, tents, mess tent and kitchen all set up before we get to camp. The other hero is ‘portaloo’ man, like our tents it was at camp when we left and at camp when we arrived. A job, I believe deserves a medal at the very least.

Now for the other trekkers. On the first day, it was clear that we were the slowest party, taking a snail’s pace of eight days. All the others on that day were to take six or seven days. The first two that stick in my mind were two young lads, one British living in Japan the other Russian. I assumed they were good friends, apparently, though they met only that morning. They both had a zest for the forthcoming adventure, sure of success, and failure was not even contemplated. The other couple that stood out was an Italian man and French woman, married I assume, but lived in Sydney, Australia. They were taking a slightly different route around the north of the mountain. They hoped a quieter route and I’m sure that were right as only they peeled off to the north on day two, all the others carried on to Shira II… except for ourselves who stopped at lunchtime, and didn’t move from Shira I until the following morning!

Kilmanjaro Express

Shira II was full of strangers, it was a melting pot of converging routes and there was no interaction between the groups. Walking past mess tents with laughter and whispers floating out, but there were no hearty welcoming voices making their way to any passerby. It was a shame that there appeared to be no way of socialising. The camps were well organised with a Rangers Cabin, out of bounds to us mere trekkers. A tea room or meeting room would have made all the difference, but instead, we were left after our evening meal to talk among ourselves and then encouraged to retreat to our tents as the porters wanted the mess tent to rest and sleep in.

By now the route was getting busy and the Barranco camp was extremely crowded. Here we did meet a Mother and daughter. The Mother was born in the shadow of Kilimanjaro and her parents owned a farm. After independence enforced repatriation meant losing the farm. She always dreamed of returning and climbing the creator of that shadow she lived under as a child and she summited on the same day we did. I remember seeing her on the summit and her remark was ‘I thought the Barranco Wall was my summit, but now I realise that the summit day push is far harder but more rewarding’. I believe that a few tears were shed with her daughter, that day.

Our Final View of the Mountain

The only other group that stood out were a group of youngsters, well in my eyes anyway, who chatted to me on the summit and at the last camp. They were on a charity walk, six days from start to finish. Surprisingly they all summited, although they did look the little worse for wear. When I told them we were on an eight-day trek, they all looked and nodded at each other and said, ‘that’s why you look so fresh’! Of course, it had nothing to do with their fondness for partying! But what a fantastic and friendly bunch and their joy of reaching their goal was spontaneous and genuine and put many miserable looking middle-aged, grumpy old farts to shame.

I know I’m known as the miserable old git, but Colin has enough social and cheek for the both of us, so it seems a real shame that the different groups didn’t intermingle, but I believe this is partly the fault of the system used and insisted upon by the Park Authorities. They appear to be only interested in getting people safely to the summit, with little or no thought that the trekkers are human beings and that interaction would promote the trek and be a better advert than just the success rate of the summiteers!

The dust was the only ever-present and loquacious amoeba on the mountain. Loquacious may seem like a strange metaphor, but believe me, it nagged and frustrated you more than any woman ever could (I’m in trouble now). Amoeba, because it was single-minded in its ability to totally envelop both your body and mind. It was like treading in finely sieved flour, it lay covering the path in a fine layer that puffed into the air when stepped in, only to settle waiting to catch the following person unawares! Dust, of course, is harmless, but like that fine drizzle that temps you not to put on your waterproof, it slowly penetrates to the core, ending up with dirt in clothes and parts of your body not normally exposed to such things. Two showers and two clean towels and clothes that having been washed two or three times and are still not clean, is the result.

Reflections, a beautiful mountain, and superb walk. A walk that I would have never done if it hadn’t been for my cousin Jane. I have a couple of gripes as you would expect… Health and Safety! Walking at altitude is inherently dangerous, in different degrees, depending on the individual. We all have to assess the dangers and decide whether the risk is within our capabilities and if not whether we should take that risk anyway so as to improve and move forward. Failure is a lesson that can create success. We were on this walk wrapped in cotton wool, all decisions made for us, routes planned out not to be deviated from. I understand the thought process, but part of me wants to scream out and say ‘No’ what’s happened to my individuality and relying on my own common sense. Death, of course, is bad for business and the Tanzanian Government rely heavily on the tourist industry and I’m sure Kilimanjaro, with such hefty Park Fees, brings in much needed foreign currency… but there needs to be some risk to the adventure.

On the way to the summit, we passed a number of people who had started a couple of hours before us. The guides were coaxing them up. As I said in the last paragraph, walking at altitude is inherently dangerous if not treated with respect and affects everyone in different ways. It doesn’t care if you are fit or not, or whether you’ve been at altitude before. The people we passed were obviously sick, struggling with every step. I saw one of the strugglers on the summit. What would she remember, did she enjoy the spectacular view and the high of reaching the summit or would she just remember the pain that the beginnings of either HACE or HAPE bring. There’s acceptable risk and there’s stupidity!

I’m used to summit days starting early i.e. 3am, but never Midnight! Sure enough at 11pm Imran shock the tent, a sure indication that he expected us to get up, from the warm and cosy confines of our sleeping bags, on what was a very cold night!

You might not be, but you might be interested, anyway below is what I was wearing:

Trekking shoes (as Colin had my boots)
One pair of thick socks
Thermal leggings (Max Wall variety, just like Uncle Les’s)
Thick winter walking trousers (for any Americans readers, trousers = pants, if you’re not sure, look it up in the Oxford Dictionary!)
String Vest… I can already hear laughter, but I will turn the other cheek. It is the warmest base layer I have ever come across.
Yak wool full sleeved crew.
Mid-layer fleece with hood.
Lightweight down jacket, with hood.
Thermal Bandanna, around my neck. This can also be pulled up over my mouth to warm the air as it passes down the throat. This stops the very dry, cold air from causing coughing fits, affectionately called ‘The Khumbu Cough’.
Suunto Peak watch and heart rate monitor (if it’s that cold that I’m not sure which side of life I’m on then I can check).
Windproof gloves

Backup:

Extra fleece
Down-filled mittens

Not much backup, but you can probably assume that I was expecting it to be cold. And it was.

A midnight start along with 100 or so others. Fortunately, we started with only a few in front and it wasn’t long before we were leading the main groups. It’s a lot easier to be the pacesetter, rather than pace follower. The moon lit the bulk of Kilimanjaro as a snake of single lights wound its way up the mountain. At around 3:30am the moon set and the sky lit up with millions of bright stars. In a place of zero light pollution, the array is magical as stars flicker into life as others die in a timescale that is almost incomprehensible.

400m below Stella Point and the terrain steepened and our breathing becomes seriously laboured. Every step is hard and the breaks taken every few metres are welcomed with a sense of relief only found when you gulp in a mouth full of air after holding your breath underwater as long as you can. Maybe a little dramatic, so let’s just say breathing was damned hard work. Imran and Francis appeared not to be affected by this lack of oxygen, which was just a tadge annoying and I would have said so, if I could have caught my breath!

We reached Stella Point at 05:50, leaving just enough time to reach P Peak before sunrise at 06:34. A little precise, I know, but the geek that I am, I bought an app that every photographer should have, The Photographers Ephemeris! Shows the time when the ‘golden hour’ is in any location in the world. Stella Point to Uhura Peak was an easy stroll, compared with the path up to Stella Point.

Sunrise

The sunrise was amazing with the shadow of Kilimanjaro touching Meru Peak 20 or 30k away. The massive crater filled with a golden light and the glaciers turned an orangey red, within minutes the golden hue turned to a brilliant yellow as the sun rose rapidly, shedding its now harsh light over the whole mountain.

Kilimanjaro’s Shadow stretching to Meru Peak

We, of course, took the obligatory photographs on the summit, with a queue rapidly building as the hordes of Kilimanjaro summiteers reached the top.

The Obligatory Photograph

The top is a desolate place, with the rapidly shrinking glaciers revealing the barren nature of this once active volcano. The glaciers are different to any I’ve seen before. They appear to be placed on top, sculptured individually, lifeless, dying slowly year by year. A glacier is metaphorically a living entity, moving gracefully down to point where it reveals its next stage, the essence and giver of life… Water. These glaciers seem to have given up, retreating within themselves and giving nothing back, in return.

Down, it was time for Kilimanjaro Skiing! The volcanic dust gives the either brave or stupid a rapid means of descent. In the UK we call it Scree Riding. You run, digging your heels into the dust/scree and let the momentum take you down. Takes a certain amount of confidence, praying that you manage to avoid any solid rocks. The consequence of hitting a solid rock tends to be a fall! What took six hours to get up, took Imran and me only two hours to descend. Colin was not so confident and took the more traditional way of descent, walking down the path. Takes a little longer, but you tend to come away with fewer bruises!

We reached the tent just after 10:00am, brunch was prepared, but neither of us was hungry. Colin, suffered in my boots coming down. As I said in a previous blog they were a size too large and his toes had banged against the front of the boot on the way down, causing some bruising. We still had a further 2,000m of descent to M camp. He decided to walk the next seven kilometres in his sandals! We rested for a further hour, packed and headed to M camp, where the ‘O’s’ would be more numerous. Colin’s progress was slow as North Face were once again, being verbally abused with every step he took.

Francis and I went ahead of Colin and Imran arriving at M camp an hour ahead. The sandals caused blisters where the straps went over the top of his feet, I can feel a compensation claim coming on! However, Summit day was now over after 15 hours and a night sleep lost. Nothing though can dull the memory and delight at summiting the largest free-standing mountain in the world.

Besides summit day this was the day I had been waiting for…. The Barranco Wall. As today was a short day we were allowed a lie in, so instead of spending 10 hours in our tents, we got 12, whoopy doo. The reason, to let the other groups that were going onto base camp rather than stopping at the half way point, Karanga camp, as we were, get a head start. The initial 100m of the Barranca Wall is probably a grade I scramble ( the easiest scrambling grade) and deserves that grade purely for the exposure. The scrambling itself is fairly easy but a mistake in that first 100m could have serious consequences.

I enjoyed every single metre of it. The only thing that was testing was when you had to make a series of sustained moves and the altitude took your breath away, forcing a rest to recover. There was a further 185m of The Wall, but that was just a steep path, with no real difficulties. Once at the top the view was breathtaking, looking down the valley to the plains of Africa that was obscured by low cloud and a dusty haze.

The rest of the walk to Karanga camp was just a few up and downs and then the camp came into sight, wow that was easier than I thought. Was there a sting in the tail… you bloody well bet there was. What wasn’t apparent from where we stood was a valley that was a perfect ‘V’ in shape and steepness, between us and the camp. The way down was on the finest sieved dust I’ve ever come across, it made fine baking flour feel coarse. Treacherous to say the least, it could have been a very quick way down, I believe they call it Kilimanjaro Skiing! I tried very hard not to partake. At the bottom, to Colin my surprise two of the porters had scurried down to take our packs from us, as a near retired OAP I accepted their offer without any guilt, especially when we passed those poor Europeans/Americans struggling up with their own packs on. I can’t think of a better occasion for winding people up and I took the opportunity in both hands, it seems they were all too out of breath to make any snide comments back!

Summit day is calling. Tomorrow we move onto Barafu and prepare for the midnight start to the summit.

Day five, finished at 10:30am. A very easy walk up to Barafu @ 4,692m, so now it’s just a waiting game until Midnight. Sleep, eat and unwind for the next 12 hours… then upward bound.

All the people that summited early this morning are arriving down for brunch, rest, pack up and head on down to Mweka Camp @ 2,750m and at last a decent amount of ‘O’s. and then there are the people arriving, like us ready to make their once in a lifetime attempt on the summit of Kilimanjaro. Just to put that in perspective our guide, Imran, has summited 11 times, this season!

You could see the end of day three from our camp at Shira I, which was the end of day two. I have to admit I find that a little disconcerting as it never turns out to be that simple and this would turn out to be no exception. Basically, we were walking on the floor of the caldera hemmed in on all sides by its steep walls. We were heading in a straight line towards tonight’s camp at Shira II, when for some inexplicable reason we diverted off the main path onto a side track. This track did not appear to head towards our next camp and low and behold I was right, it didn’t. It headed instead towards Cathedral Point on the rim of the crater.

What a detour. The clouds stretched out below us, with its tentacles probing into each fold of land, pushing and testing to see whether it could spill over the top of the caldera. Turn 180 degrees and the enormity of the caldera was spread out before us. It was then just a shortish walk to Shira II camp site.

Day four was an 800m climb to Lava Tower, then a 600m descent to Barranco camp site. I’ve ascended far more than 800m in a day on many accusations, but we were now at an altitude of 3,850m going up to 4,650m. Oxygen is taken for granted by most people and in a day to day situation, they don’t give it much thought. But once you get above 3,000m it then becomes just a little more important. The simple act of breathing and moving at the same time becomes somewhat harder and as an oxygen breathing mammal, I find that disturbing. It’s not only disturbing but more importantly, it is debilitating, this is when you realise that the phrase ‘ Pole Pole’ (slowly slowly) isn’t so stupid after all. And it is the main reason I chose this route, an eight day route gaining height slowly so Colin and I could acclimatise.

The 10km walk took us six hours and 45 minutes including an hours lunch break. So a breakneck pace of 1.5km per hour! The walk was through a lava strewn wasteland, with little or no vegetation, with the exception of three plants. One that appeared to be clumps of daisies, one that looked like a pineapple and a tree that grew with anything from one to five branches, each branch taking 20 years to grow. I was told the name of all of these plants but surprise, surprise I can’t remember any of them!

We finished the day at Barranca camp and when the cloud clears at sunset the full extent of the climb up The Barranca wall became apparent.

I think it’d be fair to say that Colin does not suffer fools gladly and he’s not afraid to tell people if he thinks they are wrong. Forgetting work, these two traits are not obvious and are performed in such away as normally not to cause offense.

This is only true up to a point. The manufacturer of his boots, I think has driven him beyond that we’ll mannered, gentlemanly like person that he is.

Although the boots are about two years old, I think I’m right in saying that they were until July, in pristine condition. In July this year, while he was in Spain, he broke them in, ready for the trip to Kilimanjaro. They are a popular boot, I assume designed for such terrain that Kilimanjaro will throw at them by a manufacturer that has been synonymous with the outdoor industry for many years.

On day two I noticed that, while following Colin the heal was starting to come away from the sole of his left boot. Colin didn’t appear overly worried as he was convinced that the guides would be able to fix it. I wasn’t quite so optimistic and by the time we got into Shira I camp the whole soul had come away. Colin was still optimistic about a repair, but by this time was cursing the manufacturer uphill and down dale. I have to say I 100% agreed. ‘Not fit for purpose’ sprang to mind. The terrain in no way has been difficult.

Day three saw the situation get worse. One boot was sole less and the sole on the other boot started to come away. By this, his normal gentleman like behaviour had slipped into of torrid of abuse and he was planning his letter to the CEO of the manufacturer, he was going to find out where he lived his personal email address and his personal phone number. I’m not sure these details could be obtained legally! This continued on and off all the time we were walking.

Then the boot with no sole started to split at the toe… this CEO is in for some letter from Colin, most of which I can’t print! Imran was only walking in a pair of trainers and had his boots in his rucksack, so lent Colin, just the one boot that was split. He was able to make Shira II camp in reasonable comfort with odd boots! Fortunately, I took a pair of boots for summit day and a pair of trail shoes for the rest of the trek. My boots are a little bit big but nothing an extra pair of socks hasn’t cured. Colin has worn my boots all day today, which has been the longest and hardest day so far, hopefully, all is well with them

The manufacturer of Colin’s boots…..NORTH FACE

Famous amongst climbers and walkers alike. It’s been a meeting and social gathering place since 1978. A place where climbers record new routes, which then get written up by local activists. Most of all you feel at home and happy to sit the evening away, checking out the photo wall and listening to other people’s conversations!

There’s a group of oldies ordering the Allday Breakfast, it’s 6:30pm. Posh totty and her Mother, both throwbacks to the 60’s, that to this day are still to be found in Kathmandu, polishing off an enormous mixed grill sitting in the middle of the cafe having a conversation that everyone can hear and I think even tempted to join in. Another couple site in the corner, a Mother and Daughter, I think, eating with quite contemplation. And there’s another sad old git like me sat on his own waiting for a meal.

I’ve ordered a ploughmans, the healthy option… or so I thought, until it arrived. There must be a pound of cheese and ham along with enough salad to keep a rabbit alive for a year! I suppose it will make up for the lack of breakfast when I set out at 3:30am tomorrow morning! The posh totty and her Mother leave, all has gone quiet in the cafe, everyone hurriedly looks away, slightly embarrassed at how obvious the posh totties conversation had, had the rest of the cafes patrons enthralled.

Glamping, here I am now sitting in a Yurt, with a double bed and a fan heater on at full blast, drinking a Costa coffee. Yep Glamping is what I’m doing. Do I feel ashamed? No. The sun is beginning to set to the East of Snowdon and from where I’m sitting I can see the suns warm light bathing the summit as the temperature outside rapidly decreases. I can see the one path that I’ve never taken to Snowdons summit, snaking its way up the mountain, running parallel to the Snowdon Mountain railway.  Tomorrow at a time not usually frequented by myself, or many others for that matter, I should be walking up that path to catch the sunrise. The weather forecast is exceptional for North Wales. I do have a grumble, though, a few clouds would make the sunrise more spectacular than just a clear blue sky… There’s just no pleasing us photographers! Looking forward to the walk, though, as it’s been a long time since I managed a day out and Kilimanjaro is looming ever closer.

The Yurt, home for the night

More importantly, my bed for the night! I like this Glamping.

I am going to have to say a few words about the camp site. It’s on a working farm and probably not the tidiest farm, I’ve ever come across. The reception area was unique as far as receptions go. It’s got a certain ‘Character’ like many working farms. Machinery appears to be randomly dumped, abandoned vehicles are dotted about the place and what appears to be numorous unfinished buildings. A working farm indeed and one that ouses ‘Character’ and warmth that only a British hill farm can. The reception I got was warm, friendly and made me feel at home, straight away. It reminded me of the welcome I get when I’m in Nepal from the local farmers and villages. And the Yurt is spotless and the view, as I’ve already mentioned, spell binding.

A working farm!

The Snowdon Massif

The Cairngorms

John has a love for the Scottish mountains that is both infectious and enthralling. I envy his ability to have chosen a life devoted to a passion which is so obviously deep routed within himself. He talks of the Snowy Owls and of the Golden Eagles that inhabit the high and remote Cairngorm Plateau with passion. He spots a Snow Bunting standing perfectly still and perfectly camouflaged from 75 metres and takes us to one of his favourite viewpoints overlooking Loch A’an. A view of nature in its most raw yet beautiful state.

John Lyall – Mountain Guide

From working with the Forestry Commission to becoming a respected mountain guide. Guiding in all the Greater Rangers, the Alps, but I think most importantly, to him, in recent times, the Cairngorms. And one of the team of unsung heroes, UK wide, that are the Mountain Rescue. We all have that choice to follow our own passions, but very few are brave enough to do so… John is one of those who is and has.

Four of us arrived at the SYHA hostel at Glenmore, just outside Aviemore on Friday evening for three days training with John Lyall.

Day one, crevasse rescue. I believe I can sum up John’s training for that day in one sentence… ‘Understand the glacier, rope up correctly and you will avoid requiring a crevasse rescue’. Great advice, but I was expecting a little more. Seriously, that advice is all you should need to know, but it would be nice to have the knowledge to rescue someone else, who didn’t have the benefit of John’s wisdom!

Glacial Training

He taught us what to look for in a glacier, the danger signs, the correct rope set up and when to turn back. I’ve discussed turning back before, a sticky subject and knowing when and if you should is the ‘Holy Grail’. No one wants to ‘admit defeat’, do I really want to ‘return up the glacier’, to ‘going around this could take hours’ or ‘the group in front walked across OK’. I’m not going to preach, we’re all guilty and most of us are lucky.

Lesson two, prusiking and hauling, both extremely hard work, John’s initial advice… hammered home!

Prusiking out of a rock crevasse!

Day two, was spent reinforcing the lessons learned on day one. Learn to read the mountain. Avoid having to even attempt a crevasse rescue or be benighted and have to dig a snow hole. Believe me, digging a snow hole without a shovel was slow, sweaty work. Not to be recommended when you are probably exhausted and disorientated. Like the answer to most problems in the mountains… if at all possible DESCEND!

Probably not the best Snow Hole ever built!

We were taught how to read the snow conditions for an ice axe or rucksack belay and how to make a belay from a snow bollard. You think snow is that fluffy white stuff that falls at Christmas, its strength when the conditions are right is uncompromising and not only can it be one of the most destructive forces, its forces can also be used in a very positive way.

Day three, was all about the Cairngorms, we climbed an easy unnamed route in the Northern Corries on what turned out to be a nearly cloudless, windless day in the Cairngorms… practically unheard of!

Unnamed Climb

After a fairly heavy snowfall the previous night, the ice wasn’t at its best, unlike last year, but the Cairngorm plateau with a fresh fall of snow is one of the most wonderful places to be. From the plateau the view was unparalleled, Ben Macdui (the highest mountain on the plateau) Glen Avon and Loch A’an and even the southern Nevis range.

Glen Avon and Shelter Stone Crag

Back home, once again contemplating the trek up Kilimanjaro in August and to walk a few more days of the South West Coast Path…

Spindrift

I’ve just watched on Youtube a number  of videos on the ascent of Kilimanjaro. It brought back to mind a previous blog I wrote in Muscat, on my way to Mera Peak in the Himalaya. I was reading an article in a walking magazine which started with –‘What we are encouraging you to do here is to leave your comfort zone behind, move beyond the boundaries of your known experience and challenge yourself in a field where you are less sure of yourself, of what you are capable of and of how you will cope’ – I said at the time, ‘balderdash’ and I very much stand by that comment. Many of the videos contained the same or similar sentiment, sometimes religious and self-centered. I find it strange that so many people believe that climbing a mountain, or for that matter, take on any challenge and you will find the answer to ‘Life the Universe and Everything’ and those of you that are of a similar age to myself, know that the answer is ’42’! So why bother looking for an answer that already exists. To climb Kilimanjaro or any mountain has to be because you enjoy walking, to marvel at the scenery, to enjoy either the solitude or the company, but most of all you have to do it for yourself. By all means raise money for charity or pray for guidance if that is your bent, but if you do it only for those reasons, I believe the experience will totally pass you by.

What can compete with that view?

Booked… for 25th August – 4th September, I will be in Tanzania climbing Kilimanjaro with a man, who I have now done a couple of treks with since we first met in 2007 on my first jaunt to the Annapurna Sanctuary in the Himalaya. We kept in touch after the trek and four years later he came with Matthew and me on a magical climb to conquer Island Peak. A month before the trek to Island Peak he moved to Singapore, which I know was a little sooner than he initially anticipated and even now I struggle to understand how hard it must have been to up root your family to the other side of the world and then a month later leave for four weeks, to honour a commitment given a year earlier. It’s now been another six years since the Island Peak trip, in that time we’ve emailed occasionally, messaged each other on Carolynn’s Facebook and made the odd phone call and tried to meet up when he’s returned to the UK for a visit.

All I did was mention Kilimanjaro to him about three weeks ago, and within a couple of weeks he had agreed to come and booked his flights to Kilimanjaro International Airport. I’m very much looking forward to walking with Colin again, taking the micky out of Matthew and his kettle and Stephen and his hats!

Colin Zee

Started training, unfortunately my long time companion, Uncle Les has stopped walking and has been concentrating on his cycling. I’ll very much miss our chats, The world will be a poorer place without the Saunby, Masters rants! He did, however, pass his mantle over to Mike Brinkworth, who, as you already know came with me to Greenland last year.

Sunrays

We still head for Snowdonia as first choice for our days out, but I do have to admit that the early starts are hard work, but once up and on our way, it’s all worthwhile. I have become a fair weather walker and we pick our days according to the weather forecast, Mike and I are very fortunate, in that he’s retired and I pretend I am. So, the days are generally good weather wise and the walking delightful. Probably doesn’t prepare me properly for Kilimanjaro, but hopefully I know what to expect.

Snowdonia – Bera Mawr and Dramatic Skys

As a small aside Carolynn and I are starting a walk, a walk of some magnitude, very unlike me I know. Even more surprising is that I’ve persuaded Carolynn to come. The South West Coastal Path (1014km) the longest trail in the UK. I hope Carolynn isn’t expecting to finish the walk in the three days that we will be there next week, as I’ve allowed 2 to 3 years! There is another couple that are going to come with us, Andrew and Caroline. Andrew is a friend from school and our past experience of long distance footpaths does not bode well for either of us to complete this one… but I know we’ll enjoy trying, which is all that matters.

Enough waffle for now. 

I very rarely post a blog when I haven’t got a trip planned, and that tends to be every couple of years. Two years has now passed since I went to Mera Peak and Baruntsa so I thought that writing this blog might give me the inspiration needed to get together another expedition. Some would say that I manage to sneak in a mid term trip to Greenland last summer, but I generally manage to get away to the Dolomites or similar in between expeditions. Why haven’t I organised an expedition for this year? Well, the Greenland trip, although short, made me once again, realise why I’m drawn back again and again to the mountains,

“Peace, Solitude and Tranquillity”

And Greenland is where I wanted to go back to.

As I’ve aged my appreciation for the creativity of Mother Nature has made me realise how lucky I’ve been over the years to see some of her most amazing and forever changing landscapes. I have also come to appreciate how fragile, destructive, yet most of all how constructive nature can be. Those of you that know me well, know that I’m no raging environmentalist and although Man, undoubtedly has had an effect on the climate, in my humble opinion, his influence has accelerated the natural cycle. I still believe that the climate has over the millennia heated and cooled many times without the bad influence that Mans economic growth is having on the present cycle. But over the last ten year’s my travels have made me realise how quickly this change is occurring, non more so than the expedition to Greenland.

Rope Work

Although I believe that nature is, at present, in a process of natural heating in the climatic cycle, Mans need for a materialistic and leisure orientated life style is increasingly speeding the process up. The world is growing, metaphorically, increasingly smaller and climatic change is getting increasingly faster. If we sit idly by, then many of nature’s most beautiful creations will be lost in the next couple of generations. It would be a great shame if these were to be lost before nature, herself would naturally cast them aside as the cycle forever renews itself. My expedition to Greenland brought it home how rapid this change is, with the obvious glacial retreat and lack of sea ice.

The Greenland expedition excited a passion to explore these wild cold areas while it’s still possible. Before the sea ice and glaciers retreat too far and the largest ice sheet outside of Antarctica begins to withdraw into Greenland’s vast interior. Greenland’s landscape still has that virginal quality that much of the Alps and Himalaya have lost. Before anyone says, “hold on, there are still many unclimbed peaks and undiscovered valleys in the Himalaya”, I know, but Greenland offers a time going back to the 1920’s in the Himalaya. When they were unexplored and the mountains were sacred to the indigenous Sherpa and Tibetan people and heroes emerged such as Mallory and Hillary, who became synonymous with the region. The mountains of Greenland haven’t got either the height or vastness to compete with the greater ranges, but as with the Himalaya of the 1920’s Greenland’s wilderness is as inhospitable and hard to reach as it can possibly get… that is, at a reasonable cost. Which means that the area is visited mainly by the hardened walker and climber out to explore unchartered territory. That’s what I want to do! And that’s what I was hoping to plan for this year, but the cost and the falling pound have conspired against me this time. But I WILL return.

Panorama from the Summit of Qaqqar Aoife

Snowdonia, is where I am now, in the YHA at Pen Y Pass. The rain is falling and like else where in the world, the temperature is rising, and the snow is melting. I can only hope that it’s freezing higher up. I’m here with James and my Grandson, Rhys hoping to walk up to the summit of Snowdon in the morning.

Snowdon View Nov 2016

Snowdon is one of those mountains that I both hate and love. I come back and walk up it, probably four or five times a year. I never get bored of the walk up or the view from the summit. It’s both gentle and harsh, with an easy walk up from Llanberis to the scramble of the Crib Goch, which in winter turns into a grade I traverse. With the seasons the Snowdon Massif can change from a gentle summer saunter to an all out winter epic, with gale force winds and arctic temperatures on the summit. It’s one downfall is the 400,000 walkers and 100,000 visitors who reach the summit by train every year. I have only ever had the summit to myself once and that was when I walked up at midnight to watch the sunrise one July night. Even then there were two other people on the summit by 6am!

My trip this year looks as if it could be Kilimanjaro, but Snowdonia will always be one of my favourite places and as we proved last week you can still walk all day, in what I believe to be, one of the most amazing landscapes in the world, without seeing another human being, yep, even in North Wales I can still get that “Peace, Solitude and Tranquility”. I’m not saying where just to make sure I don’t bump into anyone there!

Solitude and Tranquility

PS my nine year old Grandson, Rhys, summited on 15/01/2017… he loved the snow, but hated the gale force wind on the summit ridge. He still manged a smile on the summit Trig Point! The view, unfortunately, was WHITE!

Rhys on the Summit Jan 2017

The day had arrived, the reason I had booked the trip in the first place. To stand on the summit of an unclimbed peak, to be where no one else had ever walked before. We’d picked the target peak from the summit of Paarnartivartik two days earlier. From that summit we had picked out the most likely contender.

The climb started with an easy glacial walk up to a Col at the start of the 500 metre long ridge. The ridge appeared razor sharp with a couple of secondary summits before loosing height to a low Col then rising sharply to the main summit. On arriving at the first Col, to our surprise the ridge was not razor sharp at all, the other side was a massive boulder field, although steep in angle was easy to walk on. Maybe I should rephrase that, as boulder fields are never ‘easy’ to walk on and are potential ankle breaking as boulders which look secure suddenly slide from under your feet. Instead of keeping to what we thought would be a razor sharp ridge line we walked on the easier angled boulder field up to the secondary summit.

On reaching the secondary summit, we looked on the remaining section of ridge with dismay and our hopes of a summit died. The ridge was both narrow and had a number of long vertical sections that would require a very competent level of rock climbing. Mike and I, decided that it would be beyond our capabilities, the other two along with Bj thought that they would go and have a look. Mike, Leifur and me settled down to a long lunch break. Boots off and a lie in the beautiful sunshine, admiring the view of Greenland and the Ice Cap. I will just point out at this point that we were all tied on as the secondary summit was not exactly the largest place to sit and rest, lets just say that three of us on the top was extremely cozy!

The young guns returned after 45 minutes having not even completed the down climb to the second Col as the arête that ran across the Col was both sharp and consisted of loose boulders, too dangerous even for Bj.

So our attempt was over. A new route is fraught with unknown difficulties and in this case they were not to be overcome. Disappointing.

The guides though were upbeat and were not at all surprised that our first attempt ended in failure. However from our lunch spot the next days quarry was scouted, photographed and the game was back on.

Early start this morning, you know, eightish, there’s a few out there shouting ‘that’s not early’. What you have to remember that there is no such thing as late here in Greenland. As the sun sets at 23.45  and rises at 02:30, but it doesn’t get dark… Hence the reason that there is no such thing as late, as you will see.

We are climbing (I put the word climbing in there intentionally, as in no way did it resemble walking) Paarnartivartik, apparently only climbed about three times before. It guards the entrance like a great white sentinel to a corrie of about ten peaks all but three unclimbed! The walk in takes about three hours with terrain ranging from hidden green meadows with a slow meandering river winding its way through, to dam great bolder fields and loose scree. We start to climb the ridge on dirty horrible loose scree, but that then turns to massive slabs of glacier smoothed granite, which zig zagged up for 400 or 500 metres. Then came out the rope and for the last 300 metres we climbed up to the summit, which looked over the magnificent corrie below us and the mountain ranges which appeared to go on up the coast for ever, whilst the great ice cap dominated the inland scene.

We were, of course only half way and we’d been on the go for over seven and a half hours, doesn’t bode well for getting home by tea time! Well in the end we missed both teatime and supper and in stead had a midnight feast of Sirlion Steak, stir fry vegetables and rice… a me to die for.

We had been on the go for a little under 14 hours and walked 13km. Not a good average speed. Just to digress a second, but approximately five weeks ago I tried to walk with a couple of very good friends 50km, from Staines to Henley, after 40km I decided I’d had enough. I just wasn’t up to it, it was too far for me, I just don’t like walking long distances. Caroline and Andrew went on to complete it and I have nothing but admiration for their determination to complete the walk. One day I’ll come back to this point as for me it shows the very essence of why I walk. Back to Greenland, I was buggered, there was no doubting it, as I walked into camp five minutes after the rest of the group, but I was also elated and high with what has to be one of the greatest mountain days I’ve ever done… and that steak made the physical pain disappear with every bite!

An early start for the speed boat that will whisk us to our Base Camp. We race down the Ikaasatsivaq Straight, past the remnants of a few icebergs. Allow me this one aside, the owner of the boat had been scouting one of the large flat top icebergs for Tesla the car manufacturer, for a photo shoot. Unfortunately the berg split into two making it too unstable. Shame it didn’t have the car on it at the time, then hopefully it would have ended up where all Tesla’s belong, at the bottom of the ocean!

We were dispatched on to a rocky outcrop and spent the next four or five hours moving equipment and setting up Base Camp. A beautiful Base Camp in a cove by the sea, surrounded by jagged peaks reminiscent of Patagonia.

The rest of the day was spent rather aimlessly, taking a short walk in the afternoon and then James and I taking a dip in the sea, with a mean temperature of just above freezing. You won’t be surprised neither of us stayed in long and for some reason the other four were laughing and taking photos of us!

An important but not an overly exciting day, just necessary. The excitement starts tomorrow!

I’ve not walked with many professional mountain guides, Ann Foulkes is one who I have been away with a couple of times to the Dolomites,  John Llyle in Scotland (recommend by Ann) practising for this trip to Greenland and now Leifur and Bjorgvin. I have to say that without any of these guides I would not been able to climb or walk with such confidence that I now can.

Leifur and Bjorgvin are both involved with Icelandic Mountain Guides and there very different characters brought a very rounded feel to the mini expedition. Leifur was unfortunate enough to land the two oldies, Mike and myself. Leifur is pragmatic and knows the mountains and their dangers like the back of his hand with experience that I could only ever dream of.. Everest, North and South Poles and the Seven Summits just to name a few. While Bjorgvin naturally migrated towards the two youngsters, James and Dave. A professional photographer and a very hard rock and ice climber. His résumé is not yet as varied as Leifur’s, but then his expertise is in Hard Rock and Hard Ice, where the public recognition is not as high but the rewards for the individual are.

Both guides have been a mind of information. Our safety and enjoyment has all along been their priority. They have been willing to change any part of the itinerary to accommodate us, as Ann has when we’ve trekked with her. Although this has been one of the most challenging trips I’ve been on, with adrenaline pumping highs, it’s been one of the most enjoyable.

Firstly I’d like to thank Ann of TrekMountains for organising this custom trip and to the two guides who have really made this trip, I believe for all four of us.

Firstly I’ll mention the weather, cloudless  and hot, I mean Mediterranean hot. Ironic, some in the group have spent hundreds of pounds on cold weather gear. Me, I’d already spent that money for the Himalaya trips. The temperature should be no more than six to seven degrees in the day and just below freezing during the night. I can hear you saying that’s great that’s warmer than expected, me I say bugger that it’s far too hot to walk comfortably in.

Secondly the Mosquitos, they swarm onto every part of exposed skin in seconds. The Scottish Midge’s have a bad reputation, although if you speak to any Scot he’ll deny they exist. Greenland Mosquitos are nearly as obnoxious as Scottish Midge’s! James is the only one they don’t seem to like, he’s got good blood running through his vains, so I don’t know how he gets away without being part of the Mosquitos diner!

Anyway, The Horseshoe, proper name Qalorujooneq, a mere 680 metre mountain or in England it’d be classed as a hill. Well let me tell you here and now size DOES NOT matter. The ridge went from being broad and fairly easy going to ‘interesting’. Leifur the guide that seemed to allocate himself to Mike and me, seemed to like the more ‘interesting’ route finding. The ridge then turned into a flat stone summit, with views of Kulusuk and more importantly Greenland’s Ice Cap in the distance. I’m finding the words to describe the scene extremely difficult. I hate to say it, but it looked like one of my Mothers Christmas cakes, she always described the icing as a ‘snow scene’, an excuse really to make the icing all higgled piggledy. The only higgled piggledy bit about the ice cap are its edges, the top looked just like a big neverending dome. My Mothers Christmas cake might not have looked as good as Greenlands Ice Cap, however they did taste extremely good!

The descent off the summit from this ‘Hill’ i.e the other half of the horseshoe was definitely not possible to walk down and I pointed this out to Leifur he disagreed. And he, of course, was correct, but then there is always a way down, it just depends on how you feel about life and death. It seems that L has a different feeling than me concerning both of those issues. We did as Leifur said we would, managed to walked down the ridge, what more is there to say, again it was ‘interesting’ in places, but that made it all the pleasurable, in a way!

The walk up this Hill took us just over eight hours.

Once again as we fly in, I feel honoured and profoundly lucky to have seen some of the most beautiful landscapes that nature has seen fit to create.

The plane lost height, the cloud dispersed and parted to reveal a landscape of jagged razer sharp peaks with rivers of ice flowing indiscernibly towards the sea, which was dotted with the calvings of melting icebergs. The plane appeared to dodge and weave in and out of these great white sheets of ice towards a short gravel runway that was perched on the only flat bit of land in sight.

We had arrived. It’s called an International Airport! Strictly speaking that’s an accurate description, it’s just not the size of say, Heathrow. We disembarked onto the gravel standing and wondered around the plane into the arrivals lounge, my mistake, the only single roomed building there was, which served as Arrivals, Departure, customs and passport control. I have to say it was the quickest I have ever been through Customs and baggage retrieval. The baggage arrived around the corner of the main building on a bucket of a JCB!

We then had to walk 40 minutes into Kulusuk along one of the few roads in Eastern Greenland to the Kulusuk Hostel. The luggage, I’m pleased to say was driven there on a trailer towed by a Quad Bike.

The town of Kulusuk, population approximately 240, is a town reminiscent of a long abandoned Midwest mining town in the  American West. It’s a dying town, surviving only because of the Airport. But we were made very welcome as we wondered about, firstly going to the state run shop and then on to one of only another two buildings that were in reasonable repair the school and of course the church. After saying all of that the small colourful houses were, without being patronising, were quaint and practical.

Leifur, one of the guides, has been a font of information and described why the population was dwindling. The youngsters moving to Tussllic, a much larger town just 40 minutes by boat or 10 minutes by helicopter or even as far as Nuuk on the West Coast, where over half the population of Greenland live. The town will probably survive while ever the Airport is there and as I’ve already said, it’s the only flat bit of ground for hundreds of miles, which is why the Americans built it during the Cold War.

Anyway, enough of the history, that’s not why we’re here. The weather on arrival was a little mixed i.e the coastal fog, that had delayed our arrival,  had not completely dispersed and Kulusuk town was still engulfed, so the views that we had on coming into land were just a memory! But we stuck to the itinerary and after settling in we went climbing, the two youngsters went off with B to do a couple of harder routes while Mike and me were treated to a more gentle climb. For those that are interested it was called Huey and was a 5a. Great fun if a little harder than Mike and me are used to. James and Dave stayed and played while us oldies sloped back to the hostel.

I contacted Nick Farr of trekclimbskinepal.com.au in Australia the other day to ask him a question. It’s a question that’s been slowly festering at the back of my mind for over a couple of years and bit by bit making its way forward. A question that has been ever present, lingering in the background, waiting patiently and unasumingly for the right time to emerge . The answer, I know, could make me depressed, worried, lonely, knackered, cold and homesick, but most of all elated, happy (a most under rated emotion, I find) and inspired. Could ‘the answer’ be the closure I’m looking for, I doubt it, if it is I probably shouldn’t be asking it. I should instead be sitting in my rocking chair with pipe and slippers reminiscing of the ‘good old days’. I want to create those memories and not die with dreams.

But the answer comes at a price and is it worth paying. Anguish, selfishness, doubt, tears, fear and pain, both physical and mental are all part of that price along with awe, comradeship, memories and an inner joy that’s impossible to convey. But still those negatives loom high, constantly battling for that centre stage. Maybe I ought to analyse the negatives: –

• Anguish: to suffer or acute distress, is that what makes ‘the question’ so appealing in the first place – no, as no one actually wants to suffer or cause themselves acute distress, but then, isn’t the hardship that ‘the question’ implies, part of the joy that comes with the memories?
• Selfishness: concerned, primarily with one’s own interests, I believe that there is some of that in all of us, but that takes me back to the anguish ‘the question’ might cause to the people who I love and love me. Selfishness is a hard one and a difficult one to justify.
• Doubt: a feeling of uncertainty, I’ve always believed that it’s something to be overcome and to be used as a positive rather than a negative.
• Tears: grief and sorrow, homesickness is what I suffer from most. It’s a very strong emotion, for me dwarfing doubt and fear and I know that ultimately ‘the answer’ will cause that gut wrenching feeling that only homesickness can bring.
• Fear: a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined. Interesting definition. One thing always springs to mind when this emotion takes hold – Dune and ‘Litany Against Fear’. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. ‘Frank Herbert’. For me it’s the simplicity of the litany that is so appropriate.
• Pain: a physical or emotional suffering. I’m not keen on either, but that’s life.

So that’s analysed the negatives, my conclusion, more thought and discussion is required.

Do I need to analyse the positives, no… that’s why they are called positives and positives are indubitably good!

I can hear you saying ‘the question’, for goodness sake, what was the bloody question?:

On the Summit of Mera Peak – Everest in the background

Hi Nick ‘ARE YOU ORGANISING A TRIP TO CHO OYU IN THE AUTUMN OF 2017?’