A few weekends ago I journeyed up to Scotland to scratch the surface of winter mountaineering. With a few weeks of reflection behind me, I am now hungry for my next winter mountain and fully entranced by the possibilities of high-altitude climbing.
Motivation
I’ve spent a lot of time hiking. Much of this has been in the UK, with Wales taking the main stage. Occasionally I have ventured further afield to Slovenia, Indonesia and New Zealand. However, most of my experience has been non-technical summer hiking.
In 2017, I got my first taste of high-altitude hiking/climbing with a winter ascent of Mt Toubkal, the tallest mountain in Northern Africa. Toubkal stands at 4167m altitude and although the Sahara desert can be seen from its summit, during winter the mountain is dressed in a thick white layer of snow and ice. The climb is not very technical, however, it provides a perfect introduction to winter climbing, with ice axes and crampons being used by most who reach the peak. Having never been in high-altitude mountains up until that point, I spent the whole trip in awe of the beautiful snow-clad peaks which towered around me. The sense of insignificance, vulnerability and remoteness was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The feeling was both terrifying and exhilarating.
I often wonder what adventure means to me. Personally, I think a balance of four elements creates the perfect building blocks to form any adventure. These elements are;
- Challenge
- Wilderness/Natural environment
- Risk
- Meaning/ Reflection
Different adventures can have varying amounts of these four factors. For the LEJOG cyclist the risk may be low but the challenge high. For the climber who seeks out first summits of 6000m+ peaks, whilst all four are certainly in play, the risk is clearly one of the most significant.
How much risk I want to include in my own adventures is a question I have not quite settled on yet. I am not destined to be the world’s most dangerous alpine climber. However, the allure of those mysterious peaks is undeniable. A mix of fear and wonder keeps them forever in my mind. And so I continued the journey I started in 2017, into the world of winter climbing, with a trip to Scotland, to learn the arts of this terrifying and beautiful sport.
Winter Skills Course
The course was run by Simon Stokes from Peak-Outdoor. Simon was a fantastic instructor whose knowledge and understanding of the mountain was without question.
The 2-day course gives an introduction to winter skills and mountaineering. Both theory and practical skills are covered over the weekend. With regard to theory, Simon emphasised the importance of planning and preparation when undertaking a winter expedition. The risks which are present in these environments are vast. Cornices, avalanches and myriad other risks threaten the safety of anyone who is exposed to the winter mountain landscape.
Throughout the course, there is a fine balance between awareness and confidence. As my awareness of the risks increased, the Scottish mountains began to feel far more ominous and dangerous than I had at first given them credit for. However, these at first seemingly unpredictable geographic attacks can begin to be understood and avoided with the correct preparation, appreciation and comprehension. As the course continued I began to learn the language of the mountains, and whilst I remain far from fluent, I now feel far more confident to spot both the hazards and opportunities.
The theoretical understanding of the mountains was complemented by two full days out on the hill. The course took place in the beautiful Cairngorm mountains. Over the weekend we focused on the use of ice axes and crampons for winter mountaineering. Despite the near vicinity of the Cairngorm Ski Resort, the landscape felt raw, remote and powerful. As we climbed up a 40-degree aspect of Cairngorm, the snow-filled cloud encapsulated our party and the bottom of the mountain face could not be seen. Whilst the consequence of a fall here was not major, the experience felt real and visceral. However, whilst the course was controlled for learning practices, the horror stories reeled off by Simon painted the Scottish mountains in a stark deadly light, with often fatal incidences happening close to where we trained. My respect for these mountains continued to strengthen as my capability and awareness of their risks grew in tandem.
