TEAM BLOG
Lhotse Update
May 16, 2012 at 9:41 am | Bonita Norris, Expedition, Team | No comment
Ok do a super quick update: Acclimatisation Is pretty much complete- I’ve been up to 6700m, below camp3, turned back because of strong winds and inadequate clothing on my legs- a pair of leggings!!! In 50knot winds… Don’t worry I have proper cold weather clothing at BC. Now it’s the 1st May. Apparently at present (this can change at any time) there is no good weather (more strong winds) for the foreseeable future. So our team are deciding on what to do next. I personally am hoping for a trip to Sonams lodge in Pangboche (!) So what’s happened since my last blog: First rotation up to camp1 was combined with 2 nights straight after at camp2 (6400m) it was an uneventful few days- a quick descent back to BC did however see us pass a body (RIP)being readied for chopper rescue. A few minutes after we passed the rescue party in the western cwm we came across a crevasse covered in his blood. It was a sobering and rather upsetting day. Just before going back for the second rotation to camp3 a huge search fell and wiped out part of the icefall route. We watched it happen from the safety of base camp. Our Sherpas- true legends In this case- we headed down through the icefall and saw the serac, they knew it was going to go so went back up to a higher camp, made some noodles and as they predicted it fell a few hours later. Their judjement probably saved their lives and shows we are in good hands. The next day we climbed through the icefall over the avalanche debris and through to camp2 with no problems. It was the next day as we sat in the mess tent that we hear the most almighty crack- rushing out of the tent we saw a huge avalanche cascade right into the western cwm and as the dust cloud exploded we watched as people- little ants in the distance- became engulfed in white. I was sure I was watching people be buried alive. The dust cloud was so big It dusted us as camp2 and our friends down in the icefall probably over a mile away. Incredibly not a single person died. A miracle. It was 10am and so a busy time in the cwm- camp1 was obliterated but amazingly no one was there at the time. We assumed a mass grave. We still can’t believe that just by chance camp1 was unusually quiet. There was one casualty who was blown by the shock wave into a crevasse and got airlifted to hospital in kathmandu. Our Sherpas along with others found him and rob, our team doctor, was first on scene with medical help. After our jaunt up to the lhotse face in strong winds (I turned back pretty early from the winds) we made a safe descent back to BC (yesterday) and all feeling excited for what lays ahead. I’ll say again- I am prepared to Turn back at any moment if the route is not safe. And will not take any risks with weather- if a window doesn’t come then that would be pretty tough to stomach but if that’s the mountains then I accept that they don’t necessarily have the same agenda as I do! Lastly, our team is great- I’m in full health and everything is Going to plan. We just need the winds to calm and maybe then we can take a shot at the summit. Fingers crossed! We have to leave now and head back up from this little village with Internet access back to base camp before dark- thanks for all the messages of support. And family- if you are worrying please stop, as I keep telling you I am the most risk averse climber ever! If it’s not safe I am Not going anywhere.
Lhotse, pre-expedition thoughts
April 23, 2012 at 6:21 pm | Expedition | No comment
For the first time in two years i am about to attempt another 8000m peak, my third after Manaslu (2009) and Everest (2010).
Lhotse is the world’s 4th highest peak, and makes up a significant part of the Everest range- the famous south col route is the point where Lhotse and Everest join- as a result, much of the route to the summit follows the Everest south side route.
At 8501m it is a formidable climb- like the Everest climbers I will be using supplementary oxygen from above camp 3 (in the middle of the Lhotse face), down suit, high altitude boots and expect to be pushed to my physical and mental limits to reach its rocky and jagged summit.
Am I nervous? Yes. I know the route well and am therefore much more aware of the dangers. I am also highly aware of how quickly things can go wrong. Ignorance is bliss and I definitely do not have that on my side this time around- I have seen seracs collapse meters from me in the ice fall. I have past people who were one day alive and a few days later dead. I know how it feels to just try and *breathe* at 8000m. I know the suffering- the extreme weight loss, the exhaustion, the cold.
So why go back? Well, it wasn’t all bad. Everest was the most incredible experience and the best two months of my life (thank you VocaLink and Dream Guides/Himalayan Guides). I guess that part of attempting Lhotse is to re-live that experience. The ice fall is deadly but it is also like nothing on Earth- the most beautiful sight is this world of ice bathed in dawn light. The Western Cwm is breathtaking and the feeling of satisfaction at taking the last step into camp 3 after a long day on the lhotse face is indescribable- mainly because you are too exhausted to put the emotion into words.
The absolute best thing is a cup of hot grape Tang being pushed into your hand as you return to base camp after a few days up on the hill. You sit on a rock with the sun on your face, your thirst quenched and you are alive- life is good.
You get used to the cold, the routines of looking after yourself, being safe and as your body continually adapts you get stronger, faster and more psyched for the summit bid. By the time the weather window comes, you and your team mates know each other- you’re friends, you know their motives and what makes them want to climb- you want them to achieve their dream just as much as you want yourself to.
The stress of not knowing, and the physical stress on your body as you go through the summit bid probably ages a climber by a good few years. It is not until you take that last step out of the icefall, sit down and take off your helmet and crampons and look back Jo at the world you have managed to escape from do you realise just how much your body has been through. The wright lifted from your shoulders- the memories of the summit forever imprinted in your mind. A cup of grape Tang in your hand. And your thoughts can finally turn to home. The sense of relief is overwhelming.
Beyond that, lhotse is an entirely new challenge. After climbing AMA Dablam last autumn I realised that my technical abilities had improved, I was more skilled and confident and was (thankfully as always) coping well at altitude. Lhotse was now a realistic goal- the summit day is steep, very steep- following a couloir and then a rocky ridge to a tiny summit. It sounds scary, but it also sounds like an incredible climb- and I really want to give it my best shot.
Lastly, I cannot wait to be back in the company of those who make these expeditions possible: Kame Nuru, Padaua, Lakpa Onjchu, Dorjee, Lakpa, Jabu, Bhim, Pasang Temba and Henry and Rob to name but a few.
The risk is there. I cannot say that I have 100% accepted it, as after all- no mountain is worth dying for, and the chance of dying is probably quite significantly higher here than if I was to spend the Spring back in Wokingham. So how do you justify it? I am starting to think people will think I am obsessed with death- but actually, I am just trying to work things out in my head. The truth is- you can’t justify a climb like this, it is selfish and risky and a mistake could be finite. I will take each day as it comes- I am ready and willing to turn back at any moment. I know what I have waiting back for me In England- my family and friends, and that is more important than any summit. Staying alive is the most important thing.
For now I am in Pangboche village at Sonam’s lodge, aiming to be at base camp this weekend. We start our climb soon after, aiming to summit in one of the weather windows from mid-May onwards.
I’d like to thank karrimor for their continued support and for making this expedition possible, and for the kit that I will use throughout the expedition- including my X-Lite rucksac which has been on many expeditions with me now and is undoubtably the best pac I have used.
To Dad, Mum, Rob, Maggie, Nanny, Margot, Belinda, all my friends and family- love you and miss you and cannot wait for a summer of BBQ’s (why is it that I always crave a BBQ whenever I am out here?!). Love you all. Bxxx
Summitting Ama Dablam (6856m)
April 23, 2012 at 6:16 pm | Expedition | No comment
Having had a few days back in the UK I’ve finally had some time to digest what has been an incredible expedition to Ama Dabla, which was kindly sponsored and supported by Karrimor and Tag Heuer, and a trip that has never made me feel so alive and so grateful to be a mountaineer.
Ama Dablam is truly the most beautiful mountain I have ever seen, and being face to face with it- climbing that perfect Granite, was just WOW.
The trip didn’t really start off this way however!
After long delays in Kathmandu nerves were building, by the time myself and my team (emma, rosamond and tim) had made it into the Khumbu and were spying Ama we were absolutely terrified- looking at it, you’d think it was almost impossible to climb.
I said to myself again and again: “this will be the last, no more expeditions, just finish this and then get a normal job which has a higher chance of survival”
It made me feel better to think that I would never have to endure the suffering that was about to unfold again. I KNEW what was coming, i think that was the problem.
We finally made it to base camp and Ama loomed over us- at night it’s white flanks were illuminated in the moon light and the stars shone about it. It was always there. Even lying in my tent at night i was aware of its presence and was thinking: “will this be the one where my luck runs out?”
The route takes a never ending rocky ridge line up the the summit fields- where the angle is steep to the point of needing to front point on your crampons. The hanging glacier (dablam) sits precariously to the left, and the final top out is a straight push up steep ice and snow. The summit is crevassed and will one day collapse. The entire route is fixed with anchors which in the UK i wouldn’t dream of using as protection- the mushroom ridge for instance, boasting stakes wobbling like jelly in loose, sugary snow.
The day before the summit push i had a wash at basecamp, i emptied out the bowl of dirty water, turned around and saw a familiar face: “lakpa?” it was lakpa Wongchu! The climbing sherpa who had been with me on Everest summit day, without his help would i be here today? Not sure. I owe him and others my life. We hugged, and then i duly burst into sobs of tears. Nice.
This trip had made me realise just how much that day still haunts me- more than anything i wanted to climb this mountain to prove to Lakpa and to the people who helped me that day that i was capable of descending without getting injured. It’s a vulgar word but this mountain for me was about ‘closure’… putting an end to the demons that have haunted me ever since the 17th May 2010.
The real climbing on the mountain starts after camp 1. When it comes to expeditions i am very anal- if we say we’re leaving at 8am i am walking out of camp at one second past 8. Luckily, Lakpa Wongchu was also ready and thus we had a great head start on the way up to camp 3- nobody in front of us for the entire route, no waiting around at anchors. Just the two of us climbing in unison and moving quickly over the terrain that Lakpa new so well.
I said to Lakpa that if he took lots of photos he could have my cannon 500D, which he happily agreed to- so all these photos are his, and he did an awesome job.
The climbing from camp 1 to 3 is great fun- lots of rock, the most perfect granite i have ever seen and if this mountain was at sea level it would have some fantastic climbing routes on it in the VS to HVS range.
The route follows the jagged ridge line up to the bottom of the summit pyramid. Theres lots of traversing, short pitches of climbing and also the infamous yellow tower (HVS rock climb) and grey tower (scottish grade III gulley)both were exhilirating- especially the top of the yellow tower where you are presented with an overhang- i threw my hand over the top, found a hold and just hauled my body over onto the platform, thousands of feet of air and cloud beneath me- just wow.
The grey tower was more exhausting- by this point we had put on crampons and whilst this had its benefits it also made my intuition when trying to climb a little confused- anyway, i scratched my way up and used the jumar to ascend when i had the energy- though generally wherever possible on the mountain i tried to use my hands and feet to get higher- jumaring reguires far too much brute strength and i find that after 2 or 3 (sometimes 1) pull on it and i am gasping for breath- plus it aggravates my back, so i climbed as much as possible, using the jumar as a safety and anchor for resting on route- which is nice!
Throughout the trip i was using a karrimor X-Lite rucsac which was perfect for this terrain- the lightest pack i have ever used and very slim so that it didn’t get in the way of the climbing. I was also wearing a Karrimor baselayer (pink) which is quite a novel colour in the hills!
Finally made camp 3 and the morning dawned on summit day- we decided to leave at 8, and so we were- bang on. Lakpa and I moving at our steady pace, soon we were ahead and had nobody infront of us all the way to the summit- looking up, the mountain was all ours.
The climbing in the early hours was tough, the altitude (now above 6000m) was beginning to bite, and the blinding exhaustion as lactic acid builds up in your body after a few moments of effort started to become the norm. it was also very cold- but i had my headphones on (playing chase and status, naturally) and could see the halo of the sun up above me, I could also see the golden tint to the snow up ahead which signalled warmth- it drove me on, and i climbed as fast as i could until i was bathed in that beautiful sunlight.
At around 10am i got a call over the radio, Lakpa passed it to me. it was Henry from BC, he said: “Bonita, you’re about to pass a dead body. Please remember that there’s nothing you can do- the soul has gone. Stay calm and go past it, just stay calm. I’m here if you need me.”
I could see him up ahead, on the route, tied into the fixed lines. He had died 48 hours previously. All i could think was: his family. And then: ‘i want to speak to my dad. I can’t do this until i’ve spoken to him.’
Lakpa, patted my back and signalled for us to carry on. When we got above him at an anchor we both said a prayer and poured water into the snow as an offering. Then we carried onto the summit, i couldn’t stop crying.
Finally, we made it- Lakpa and I stook on the top of Ama Dablam at 11.45 on the 17th November 2011. We had made it 3.45minutes out of camp 3- a great effort, but in the back of my mind i was already thinking about the descent- we were halfway.
First of all we sat and ate chocolate, then stood up on the big, flat plateau that is the summit and took photos of each other. I put on my karrimor down jacket to keep warm whilst we weren’t moving so much.
When we sat down again we were looking at Everest. I said to Lakpa: “you saved my life over there, i know that” He didn’t look me in the eye, but nodded. It was closure, finally- exactly 18 months to the day since it had happened.
We descended back to camp by abseiling and arm wrapping in around 2 hours, and the next day back to base camp.
I came into base camp ahead of the others for no other reason than that i wanted to walk alone. When i arrived in the evening twilight Pasang Tempa grabbed me by the bum and lifted me in the air! Henry said to me: “Bonita, you’ve done a 360- the difference between this and Everest is a 360, well done”
That night i got into my tent and laid down on (wait for it) a thin tent mattress, karrimat and a thermarest- it was THE most comfortable bed i have ever lain on and as i sunk into it all the stresses and worries and doubts that you take with you on the mountain melted away. I was blissfully happy. it was a perfect ascent and i had Lakpa and Henry to thank for it. I thought about the man we had passed, said a prayer and then thanked God that i was still alive.
As we flew back to Kathmandu a few days later from Lukla I surveyed the Khumbu from above- this little known part of the world has become by chance the most important of places in my little life. I know i will visit again, many, many times.
I thought as we flew away from the Himalayas and back to the city- this trip, this mountain, this country- taking the risk, knowing that i could fail utterly- but getting to climb with Lakpa and thank him for what he did as we looked across at Everest from the summit of Ama Dablam- the whole experience has simply bought me back to life.
I’m ready and psyched for the future, my love affair with the hills has been re-ignited and I can’t wait to take on more challenges in the mountains in the years ahead.
Taking the risk on Ama bought me from the dark back into the light. Never give up on what you love. There will be good times as well as bad- and both are needed to truly live.
It begins again in the spring! Lhotse is calling.
Standing by for now…
Bonita
Bonita Norris Reaches Ama Dablam Base Camp
November 10, 2011 at 2:07 pm | Expedition | No comment
After delay upon delay due to bad weather over Lukla, my team and I (Emma, Tim and Rosmund) decide to charter a helicopter from Katmandu to a lower village in the Khumba. Reports are 300+ Trekkers and climbers stranded at both ends due to the stagnant cloud meaning that domestic flights are grounded. Today (9th) flights have finally resumed. We, the lucky ones, are now at our base camp at the foot of Ama Dablam (6812m). It’s a spectacular mountain- absolutely beautiful. Base camp is at 4600m and we’re all feeling great.
It’s fairly cold- I’m wearing my Karrimor down jacket, especially in the evenings. The sun disappears behind the mountains and a chill settles- the clouds fall and the moon rises over Ama Dablams left shoulder.
We’ve seen shooting stars and the Scorpio constellation (my birth sign) dominated the night sky. The days- we have high pressure so brilliant blue skies and little wind. The sun rises and finally tips over the peaks at about 8am and the air temperature rises rapidly. Last night, the first in my tent at BC, was particularly cold and despite my minus 40 sleeping bag I was kept awake by the night time freeze.
Today we had our Puja and went through kit for the hill. Things will start to move fast from now. I’m feeling strong- no coughs, colds or injuries yet and no headaches or altitude related problems so I’m optimistic about going higher. The route looks very cool, and nothing like I’ve seen before on Everest or Manaslu- so a whole new challenge awaits.
Bonita.
An Adventurous Summer
September 12, 2011 at 1:31 pm | Bonita Norris, Team | No comment
So September has crept up on us and another summer has come to a close,though here’s hoping for a few more days out on the rock before it gets too cold.
And what a summer it has been, for me it began after returning from the Arctic Circle and our team’s successful last degree expedition to the North Pole. We skied in average temperatures of minus 30 and the sun never set. Arriving home in May I pretty much drove straight to sea cliff climbing at Swanage (Hi mum! Bye mum!), had a bit of an accident descending into a route using a fixed rope and ended up in A&E with a very painful foot!
Days later I was back the airport on a flight to Toulouse for some hot rock in the Pyrenees with a climbing buddy, Rich. We were met at the other side by Rich’s friend’s Adam and Dawn and spent a great week driving around France visiting various crags, getting tanned and climbing pristine rock with the sun on our backs. I managed to onsight a 6a line and went home very chuffed considering that my foot was still swollen and didn’t really move much! Thanks Adam and Dawn for hosting us.
By June England had some hot rock of its own and some great weekends were spent down in Devon at Baggy Point on the 40m slabs that jutted out of the Atlantic ocean. A fun afternoon was spent with fellow Karrimor athlete David Pickford on the Promentory Slab getting shots for our sponsors. Nights were spent sleeping in caves at Hedbury, long evenings messing about on the boulders at Froggatt, days swimming in the River Test, some speeding across the Solent on a RIB and weekends bivvying on the summit of Mt Snowdon.
In between weekends of climbing work was super busy- i’ve been hot footing it between Leeds, Sheffield, Harrogate, Newcastle, Wiltshire, London- the list goes on. One minute it’s speaking at a corporate event in the city with spectacular views overlooking the London skyline, the next i’m kicking off my heels in the car and heading straight off for a weekend of sleeping in a tent. Sofa surfing and hotel rooms have become the norm and i’ve been lucky enough to meet some sporting legends such as Peter Shilton, Tim Henman and Graham Bell, who are also supported by Sports Direct, along the way.
Once July was out my work diary for August was a massive blank, with 4 weeks to play with this was quickly filled with trips abroad.
First up- some Alpine climbing for Trek & Mountain magazine. Accompanied by editor Chris Kempster i packed my rucsac and headed to Chamonix, where we firstly met with BMG Chris Ensoll and bagged a 4000m peak (the Weismeiss in Saas, Switzerland). I somehow managed an AD route called the Dri Hornli traverse with a raging hangover after the Les Houche pub quiz with the lovely Emma Jack, who was a great friend when we climbed an 8000m peak together back in 2009. We attempted Mont Blanc with IFMGA guide Tim Connerley but were twarted by the weather and only got as far as the Gouter hut- third time lucky next year i hope… check out Trek & Mountain magazine for the full details of that very sketchy 24 hours on the Blanc!
Back from the Alps and i was pretty much straight back to the aiport for a trip to Norway, again for Trek and Mountain Magazine. We spent 4 days being shown around the Fjords by the lovely Hanne- we trekked up a mountain, ate lots of good food and got to visit a UNESCO world heritage site. All i can say is: Visit Norway! It’s an incredible place.
Finally, 48 hours after getting off a plane from Alesund i was back at T4 pushing a huge kit bag through departures on my way to Africa- Tanzania to be precise, to attempt Kilimanjaro with a team raising money for the charity Cash 4 Kids through Radio Wave 105.
We trekked the Lomosho Glades route and were blessed with great weather. Summit day went smoothly and 9 out of 11 reached the sign on the edge of the huge crater which marked the summit. I’m psyched to be leading two teams out there next year on the same route, but very much missing the people i’ve spent the last 10 days eating, sleeping and experiencing such a beautiful place with, aawww!
Back from the mountain that day, a few of us summoned the energy to visit the infamous night club, la Liga, in Moshi. We partied until gone 2am, taxied back to hotel, woke the rest of our team and went straight to the aiport- no sleep! An internal flight, a 4 hour stop over in Nairobi and finally a last 8 hour flight to heathrow and we were home and straight out for drinks with the Reading Climbing Centre team (still no sleep).
And that leads me to now- sitting on my bed, uploading a summer’s worth of photos onto my computer and remembering some great moments but also planning some new ones for the winter. I’m hoping upon hope to get out to the Himalayas in November to attempt a peak just shy of 7000m, but for now its back to work with a very busy September of talks at schools and businesses across the country, including a 3 peaks challenge at the end of the month- can’t wait for what should be a fantastic weekend!
North Pole Conquered
May 12, 2011 at 10:23 am | Bonita Norris, Team | No comment
If there is a moment from my recent North Pole expedition that sticks out it is the moment I stepped off of the Oslo flight to Longyearbyen at 78 degrees North.I gulped down the fresh air as we were herded onto the tarmac- and it was that first breath that sent a shiver of fear down my spine. Like swallowing a thousand knives, the bitter air at minus 23C was a deadly comparison from the warm aircraft- I choked at the shock. Within seconds of stepping off the plane I felt I was in the coldest environment I had been in my life. Everest didn’t seem to compare.
My mind reeling, all I can remember thinking was ‘what on earth am I doing here?’ The thought of heading even further North onto the barren sea ice seemed ridiculous. Impossible even. But, it is testament to the human body- within a day my team of intrepid skiers and I were walking around town in ‘little more’ than thermals and Karrimor windproofs. We even began taking our gloves off! And yes- Everest reaches far lower temperatures but when heading into the death zone one is often more prepared for the cold than when stepping off a plane.
78*North is an odd place- the sun doesn’t set until 2am and even then leaves behind a scar of orange on the horizon. There are no stars. The community is even odder- it’s expedition season and so in every bar, every guest house and lingering in every aisle of the co-op is someone involved with or embarking on a polar trip of some sort. Gossip is rife, especially when a place like Longyearbyen becomes host to Prince Harry and the world’s media.
I even bumped into a Chinese chap in the equipment store who stood on the summit of Everest the same day as me. We had never met but had stood on top of the world together- and now again next to the jet boilers and sporks.
I was a member of a team lead by Alan Chambers MBE. Chambers was the first Briton to reach the North Pole unsupported from Ward Hunt Island in 2000 and his MBE is in honour of that expedition.
Our team was an eclectic mix of Brits all wide eyed at the prospect of reaching the top of the world. We waited with baited breath for the ice and weather to settle so that a camp and runway could be established at 89*N.
After a week the call finally came: ‘be at the airport tomorrow morning’. Not exactly a scheduled flight.
I wish I could say that the flight went smoothly, but it didn’t. The Russian Antanov plane crammed full of sledges and people was moving steadily towards to ice runway when just before the last ground checks were made the ice began to move and a 3 metre wide crack in the runway appeared- exposing the black depths of the arctic ocean beneath it.
The drama hit the world’s press and within hours the web was full of stories of the plane landing and nearly crashing through the ice. The flight onto the ice is the most dangerous part of the expedition and the media hype only served to make us more nervous.
A week later we finally landed safely at our start point. The Russian chopper lifted off in a whirlwind of white and then, quite suddenly, we were left in to survive in a silence like nothing that I have ever experienced before.
The expedition had begun. Within hours of skiing we were setting up camp- the sun was skirting around us, never rising or falling, just encircling us and offering little warmth as we struggled over the infinite white.
That first night must have been one of the coldest of my life. My sleeping bag simply wasn’t up to the job of keeping me warm- I didn’t freeze, but I didn’t stop shivering either. With my bobble hat pulled down tightly over my eyes and a hot water bottle I must have managed a few hours. ‘Man-up’ I can remember telling myself- though not really taking on the advice.
The routine of the day was always the same- breakfast, pack, tents down, ski, snack breaks, tents, food and then sleep. It can get monotonous. We were efficient- a ten day expedition was quickly reduced to four days as we skied for long hours, took few breaks and kept a strong pace.
The ice and weather had been good to us- by the final day it felt like we were home and dry, but like heading towards the summit of a mountain, I kept telling myself ‘it ain’t over ‘til it’s over’- anything could happen right up to 90*N, and in fact- it did.
At one point crossing a frozen over lead (channel of open water) a sickening crunch split the graceful polar silence. We froze in fear but the ice had begun to move. Water suddenly appeared- bubbling menacingly around my team mate’s skis. He was half way across the lead and the solid ice he has stepped onto was now morphing before our eyes to liquid.
We retreated as fast as we could on skis with heavy sledges. Looking back to where we had tried to cross the landscape has completely changed. This happened twice that last day to the Pole- we really were on thin ice as we covered those last few miles. The spring melt was on its way and where we stood would soon be ocean- it was time to reach the pole and get out of there!
The moment finally came after a long day- our team lined up on the crest of a small ridge and surveyed the flat plain of ice beyond us. I imagined all the lines of latitude gathering in this small area- this was the point where all time zones met, where you can ‘walk around the world’ in a matter of seconds and where for a moment or two you can stand with the entire planet beneath your feet. But first we had to find our goal of exactly 90 degrees North.
The sea ice was moving fast and so we seemed to skirt on the edge for some minutes- finally Alan got the exact reading on his GPS- this was it! We hugged, we cheered and I think some even got teary eyed. A toast was made and as the shot of cognac hit the back of my throat it burnt like fire- the liquor had almost congealed to syrup in the cold. I felt sick for a good half an hour.
The night was spent drinking hot chocolate and whisky and calling friends and loved ones on a satellite phone. One of our team mates nearly set his sleeping bag on fire in excitement and could have died in an inferno, which would have been quite ironic considering.
Back in the UK I am missing being on expedition already. These environments really are accessible if you can save hard, train hard and are willing to suffer a little. The things you see you will never forget- the sun surrounded by a halo of light, the infinite expanse of white and blue and the transformation in yourself as you adapt to life at minus 30.
For now I am back on the rock and looking forward to a summer climbing in the UK and in the Alps. That’s the great thing about these cold places: even England feels like the Caribbean when you return… for a few hours anyway.
Sheffield Adventure Film Festival
March 22, 2011 at 5:04 pm | Bonita Norris | 1 comment
For me, one of the most important things about climbing is the community that has spawned from such a complex and varied sport. From the highest mountains to the smoothest boulder, climbing takes us to environments that require every ounce of our being, but have so much to give in return. It is no wonder that people from all walks of life and of all different levels of experience feel a need to come together and be amongst those who cherish the adventure, danger and grace that makes climbing such a unique sport.
Every year across the UK various festivals showcase films, lectures, awards, outdoor retailers and competitions to celebrate mountains, adventure and get the climbing community together for a good party, the pinnacle of this calendar being the Kendal Mountain Film Festival in November.
When spring comes around it’s all about the home of the world famous grit stone. The Sheffield Adventure Film Festival took place from the 4th to the 6th of March this year and saw not only some amazing films showcase but also an electrifying bouldering competition which took place over two days at the Climbing Works.
Friday evening kicked off the festival with a hilarious talk from Andy Kirkpatrick. Andy manages to make his atrocious mountain epics sound side splittingly funny. He has been consistently trying to push the boundaries of big wall climbing with solo and winter ascents of some pretty big rocks- El Capitan and the North face of Fitzroy to name but a few. His talk was sold out, along with Kenton Cool’s, who was on stage after. It was in fact Kenton’s lecture about Everest at the Royal Geographical Society that first inspired me to climb the great mountain. I have since been lucky enough to climb that same hill with the man himself, so be careful if you’re seeing him speak soon- you might leave and turn your entire life upside down like I did.
The next two days were a whirlwind of films such as The Prophet and lots of short films from across the spectrum. Kayakers, cyclists, skiers, swimmers and runners all showcased breathtaking films and the screenings were consistently packed out despite the beautiful and tempting anti-cyclonic weather- perfect for an afternoon on the grit!
When not spell bound at the showroom cinema we were down at the climbing works for the qualifying round on Saturday and the finals on Sunday of the CWIF competition. The qualifiers saw over 300 competitors- some there to give it a go, some there to win. It was a great atmosphere climbing amongst some of Europe’s best. With 30 problems to get through the competitors had their work cut out- there was everything from technical slabs with almost non-existent holds to pumpy overhangs requiring almost impossible amounts of body tension.
Sunday loomed for all but the 32 semi-finalists with sore heads after a night at the showroom for the official festival party. Semi-finalists included Reading Climbing Centre regulars Jen Wilby and British bouldering team member Jon Partridge. Only six competitors from each category made the grand final which took place to round off what was a fantastic weekend long celebration of climbing and adventure.
I watched from the 200 strong audience as Katie Whittaker clinched the women’s title and the Slovenian machine Jernej Kruder flashed all but one of the four problems, which were set by Britain’s manliest man Jason Pickles.
By the end of the final the Works was so packed that people had to stand in the street and watch through the windows. It was a fantastic atmosphere and everyone came home with a humbling appreciation of the pressure that these climbers are under and the skill it takes to climb at this level.
With the last trophy handed out it was back south to another normal week. After a weekend of so much inspiration from the speakers, films and climbers themselves I am more excited than ever for my own projects over the coming year. That’s what it’s about I guess- inspiring yourself to be the best climber you can be- whatever being the ‘best’ means to you.
On that note- It’s time to go climbing!
Over The Top
February 11, 2011 at 11:37 am | Dave Pickford | No comment
I returned from 3 weeks climbing in Geyikbayiri, Turkey, at the end of January. Where else in the world can you go to the beach, go deep water soloing, then climb a world-class sport route – and then go skiing – all in the same day? There is no question that this relatively new climbing area will mature into one of the world’s pre-eminent limestone areas in the next decade. Exploring the valley to the south of Geyikbayiri, with its vast quantities of undeveloped cliffs and caves, tells as much as you need to know.
Whilst I didn’t find time on this occasion to climb any new routes, I did manage to claw my way to the top of probably the best hard sport route I’ve climbed to date, the awesome new addition to Sarkit: Over The Top (8b+). Taking the central and most impressive line on the region’s most impressive cliff, it has everything you could want from a single pitch climb. The crux comes right at the end, at circa 35 metres, and is made more entertaining by the fact that clipping the penultimate bolt is impossible (unless you have 8c + fingers…). Therefore several spectacular 10-15m falls from the top of the crag are likely to ensue before a successful ascent is made. My airtime definitely gave the local goatherds some light entertainment, temporarily silencing their ubiquitous curses!
Feet On The Ground
September 13, 2010 at 11:59 am | Dave Pickford | No comment
Hitting the ground with your feet running, so the cliché goes, is a favourable state of affairs. Considering the implications of hitting the ground with your head, feet are always my preferred choice, too. This seems like a natural, feline instinct – for a climber, surely a useful instinct.
I took off to Sweden at the beginning of August to investigate a secretive granite climbing area on the west coast: Bohuslan. What I discovered there was one of the best-kept secrets of European climbing, a world-class cragging paradise of fairytale cliffs and towers lost amid a miniature landscape of forests and fjords.
On the last day, I managed to complete one of the hard classics of the region: Electric Avenue (Swedish 9/ 8a+). This incomparable face climb is the best single pitch I’ve ever done on granite, and should be on the hit list of anyone operating at this level. It involves steady climbing up to ten metres, at the point where the big wall steepens. Then it’s all systems go: ultra-complex technical sequences of escalating difficulty culminate in a final, all-out punch for a horizontal break at 25m. But it’s not over – the seam the route follows continues on through the capping bulge, and a repellent layback on slopers and smears is required to breach this final obstacle. The last move is a bellyflop-mantleshelf into a holdless, water-worn scoop.
Back in the UK, I was soon back on the best sea cliffs in the world, luckily just two hours from my home. Pembroke is one of those rare climbing areas that just keeps on giving. Despite having done most of the better established routes there, I continue to find new ones every year, and at the same time, I’m frequently astonished to find unclimbed, hidden classics just metres from more popular routes. And, to go back to the idea of hitting the ground with your feet running, I’ve been wondering if successful climbing adventures are sometimes driven by increasing work commitments. I’m not sure if my success on the rock this summer would have been possible if I’d not had the time pressure element in play. Sometimes, the need to return to the office can increase motivation exponentially.
On the massive, leaning sheet of orange limestone that constitutes Keelhaul Wall at Bosherston Head, I noticed an intriguing, unclimbed seam running out left from the John Dunne classic The Big Issue (E9) and leading into the amazing traverse of Punks In The Tea Room. Could this be linked up to join Andy Long’s awesomely steep E6, Ocean Drive?
Sure enough, I found that after some very hard moves out of Big Issue, the seam did indeed allow better hold in Punks to be reached, and the whole thing joined together remarkably well. I climbed it in far from perfect style, practising the moves on a grigri and leaving some crucial gear in place on the crux, but I hope I’ve laid down a worthwhile challenge for stronger, more capable climbers to take on in better style. Pirate Punk (E8 6c) could definitely be climbed on-sight, ground up, by a really strong trad climber.
It was not as if doing the first ascent of this fantastic route wasn’t enough, but in late August I found myself back in Huntsman’s Leap – the best crag in Britain for high standard, single-pitch trad climbing – looking at the awesome unclimbed headwall between the Pat Littlejohn E7 Terminal Twilight and the still-unrepeated Gary Gibson route The Black Lagoon.
The line had clearly been tried before, presumably by Gibson himself or perhaps Martin Crocker, since several rusting pegs had been left in place. However, there was other, good gear in the headwall, rendering them unnecessary. The key to the line, I discovered, was an amazing cross-through move on a split pocket that allowed access to the weird, fluted crack system and impending wall above. The moves were hard all the way to the top, and I wondered how pumped I’d be by the time I reached the final tricky sequence at 45 metres!
I finally went down to the ‘Leap at low tide on August 31st, with Dan McManus, to try and lead the thing. A very dry summer had left the notoriously seepage-prone Terminal Twilight in remarkably good condition, so I set off with high hopes. Just the start of this route is hard E6 in its own right and I arrived at the strange hole at 2/3 height before its crux, and where my new line branches out, feeling pretty tired. After resting for at least ten minutes in the hole, I dropped down and set off into the crux.
The solution I’d worked out proved effective, and soon I was launching up the big, fluted crack, pumped, climbing half-in control, but knowing another good rest lay above. After placing the crucial cam 4 that protects the final section, I tried to rest by shaking out in the fluting, with only some success. When I’d recovered as much as I could, I lurched up into the big hole about ten metres below the top, and the final rest before the last crux at 43 metres! A crafty knee-bar in the hole proved a godsend, and I managed to recover just enough to get some life back into my exhausted arms. After a while, I stepped out of the hole and up into the final moves on the upper headwall.
Although not totally desperate (English 6b) these moves certainly don’t feel easy after over 40m of tough, pumpy climbing to get there, and I nearly slipped off an easy move right at the end. In fact, I don’t think I’ve put as much physical effort into any trad pitch in Pembroke, or possibly anywhere, as this one. As I collapsed in the soft grass at the top of the Leap, Dusk Till Dawn came into life at E8 6b/c (with the E8 very much for effort rather than danger) – and, more importantly than the grade, it’s yet another amazing modern classic on the best crag in Britain’s best sea cliff climbing region.
At the end of that day, as Dan climbed the ultra-technical wall of The Pulsebeat (E6) in the fast-fading late summer light, I looked back at the headwall as the tide began to cover the boulders under Terminal Twilight. It is surely a measure of just what an extraordinary climbing area Pembroke is, that a route such as this can still be unclimbed in 2010, with six thousand other recorded routes in the region.
Midsummer Limestone in the Pyrenees
July 26, 2010 at 3:20 pm | Dave Pickford | No comment
Northeast Spain has arguably more world class sport climbing than any other region on the planet, and includes many of Europe’s finest crags. With the prospect of a whole month to spend climbing in the region, my objectives were quietly ambitious, and my schedule refreshingly relaxed. At Siuarana, after warming back into the unique style of Catalan edge-crushing with a quick redpoint of Cop de Cigaro (8a+) at L’Olla, I turned my attention to what for me is the proudest line on the area’s most awesome wall: the soaring blunt arête of Dogma (8b+) at El Pati.
Climbing with my friend Adrian Baxter is often a humbling experience, due to the sheer speed and ferocity with which he crushes hard routes. Having just redpointed the awesome arcing line of Megrana Profundo (8b+) in super-fast time, I knew he’d send the much longer but less intense Dogma pretty quickly. Sure enough, he dispatched it the following day, having not even worked the final, sting-in-the-tail overhanging finger crack at 45 metres. Aid’s amazing performance in sending this massive line on his first redpoint, and onsighting the final crux of the route, must have inspired me – I managed to get it done the following day.
I’m naturally an endurance climber, and realising that Dogma had got my stamina up to perhaps the best level yet, as soon as we returned to Rodellar Adrian and I turned our attention to what is surely Europe’s finest 8b+ endurance pitch: Geminis, the epic line that slices through the heart of Mascun’s mighty central amphitheatre, Gran Boveda. It’s a route in a million, and Adrian again showed the way with an extremely stylish second redpoint on our first day back. The crux of the route comes at around 38 metres, where a mean tufa shaped almost exactly like a cobra’s head spits at you right between the eyes. To pull off the series of moves up to and past this venomous stalactite, you must remain extremely cool and keep the mega-pump at bay, remembering a very precise series of foot movements and body-twists that unlock the mystery of Gran Boveda’s apex. On my first attempt, I took a huge fall from the very last hard move. Now I knew I could do it – but how soon?
The psychological pressure of the looming redpoint that night was intense: we only had two days left. I think I’ve always thrived under pressure, and I clipped the chain the following afternoon after a surprisingly smooth ascent. Later that night, over the burble of the Mascun river and the chink of wine glasses at El Puente, I slowly came to terms with the best pitch of sport climbing I’ve encountered anywhere.
