Bottled Happiness

I probably always rant on about how good such and such a view is or how Scotland is clearly the most beautiful place on earth, but then sometimes you get a day where you walk around with your jaw dragging along the floor, open mouthed at everything and buzzing like Amy Winehouse after a quiet night in. Anyway, Tuesday in the Cairngorms was one of those days. If that sounds like ridiculous hyperbole then you’ve got to understand that I’m writing this in the fairly grim surroundings of the Weatherspoons at Terminal 4 at Heathrow and the few light ales that I’m drinking to stave off the impending twenty four hours of travel are beginning to kick in.



With the deserts of Rajasthan providing sub-optimal conditions for winter based activities in the next few weeks, the prospect of warm, cloudless and still weather was enough to send me haring off up the A9 at stupid o’clock once again. Jones had bravely volunteered to accompany me on a potter across the plateau to Ben Macdui for her first ski tour and she probably couldn’t have picked a better day to do it.



Although the snow line was fairly high, we didn’t have to walk for too long with our skis on backs before we could start skinning up one of the drag lift tracks in Coire Cas towards the summit of Cairngorm, a mountain I’d always managed to avoid walking up, the thought of a warm car being much more of attraction after a day in the Norries. I guess it’s normally covered in fat punters making the short trek from the top of the train but was deserted as we arrived at sunrise and I savoured the ‘endless vistas’ (can’t be arsed to provide the reference but you know who you are) on top of my 50th Munro (not that I’m a sad bagger or anything…).



For future reference the ski straight south from the summit holds more snow than a line towards Sneachda, but after a bit of rock hopping we enjoyed a decent run down. Although hard packed, the snow was surprisingly grippy and good to ski on. I could describe the skin across the plateau but I reckon the pictures say it all, it really does feel like the artic up there.



The only two people we saw all day were two walkers leaving the summit of Macdui just before we arrived, but apart from that we were completely alone, revelling in the silence as we easily glided across the plateau on snow custom made for touring.





The panorama from top of Macdui was awesome, in the foreground Ben Avon, the huge corries of Braeriach (still holding quite a lot of snow and much more wintry than the elsewhere) and slightly further away Lochnagar. In the distance, the view stretched from Ben Wyvis, the Fannichs, Torridon, Kintail to the high peaks of Lochaber, with southern highland giants like Ben More and Ben Lawers poking out of a cloud inversion in the south.



Happiness in a bottle? Or am I just getting spiritual on y’all (wink).



Not much else to say except we skied back, wicked day. Roll on India.



On another exciting note the photos I took of the Secret the other week have been picked up by climbing websites in the US, Germany, Italy, Austria as well as loads over here (and possibly Climb as well), pretty chuffed about that, just wished they paid me…

Blue Skies On The Ben

I reluctantly got out of bed at 3.20 in the morning, seriously debating whether it was worth it, but we were rewarded with a blue sky day, frosted cliffs and some fantastic mixed climbing...



It's quite a long way to walk up into Coire na Ciste but as we approached the CIC you could see that 3 Gully Buttress and the crags at the top of the Ciste were enticingly white in the dawn light.



There was quite alot of snow around the hut and on the way up, but luckily a trail had been blazed by the party ahead, the crack team of Andy Turner & Steve Ashworth and (ahem!) Viv (more on that story later). Conditions on the crag looked and were perfect, any turf around was well frozen, every inch of rock was covered in a liberal coating of rime and the cracks weren't too icy.



Konnie and I did the 'modern classic' Gargoyle Wall (VI,6) on Number 3 Gully Buttress, which fully lived up to its billing. Whilst not taking the most direct line up the crag, once your on it it's very logical and provided (for us at least) a nicely sustained day out.



The first pitch was probably the most serious, being fairly icy and thus quite tricky to protect. The hardest section was pulling over a roof in a narrow chimmney with your axes embedded in what you hoped was good ice above.



The crux pitch are the Gargoyle Cracks, ably dispatched by Konnie. These cracks split a 10m vertical wall and look fairly intimidating from below and although the footholds are good, the hooks for axes are by no means perfect slots and position is intimidatingly exposed high above the gully bed.



I decided to throw myself off the first section of the next pitch whilst on some rather easy ground (grade IV max). One of my crampon points become stuck in the strap of the other one and with both legs tied together I bounced down a couple of snowy ledges, no harm done though and the rest of the pitch to the passed without any more drama.



The 360° views from the plateau were stunning, a reminder why the West Coast is superior in almost every way to the East, with snow topped mountains illuminated by the afternoon sunlight receeding into the distance in every direction (it was even quite warm in the sun), those who thought Tuesday was going to be the better day missed out...



Darth Vader also got an ascent by Kenny from the ice factor (cheers for the lift down) and it look an amazing line, just need to get a bit better now.



The main event of the day however was what was going on opposite us - the first ascent of 'The Secret' by Andy Turner (seconded by Viv and Steve Ashworth). This takes the soaring crack line that splits a very steep wall to the left of Cornucopia and all I can say is that it looked bloody hard. Andy led the route onsight and from afar it was an incredibly controlled, fluid and impressive feat of levitation. For most of the crack he appeared to be standing on nothing, holding onto nothing and it was a privilege to have a ringside seat in the evening sunlight on the Number 3 Gully Buttress viewing platform, all that was missing was cold beer and some pork scratchings.



When we met up the others at CIC, the difficulty of the route and just how much of an impressive achievement it was were confirmed. A whole array of weird mixed moves were employed and the result was quite possibly the hardest onsight winter route in Scotland to date. Awe inspiring stuff.



We had a quick stop at Banff Crescent (doss to the stars) on the way back that turned into a rather longer stay than was planned. The Rob Jarvis media machine had been cranked up to the max, blogs updated, pictures swapped, UKC informed etc. I then got flashed doing 70mph in that short section of 50 on the way into Edinburgh on the M9, bugger, points and fines for me.
Ps Big thankyou to Chris for finding my glove.

And So

Good to get out for the first time this winter yesterday, made a last minute decision on sunday evening and managed to persuade duncan and konnie that it was a good idea. Coire an Lochain was in great condition, well rimed although the weather was fairly filthy all day and snowing quite heavily as we walked out. I imagine that most of the snow is now probably heading very rapidly towards the river Spey.





Did Savage Slit which was fairly straightforward for the grade, good kit all the way and some enjoyable thrutching. Watched Ian Parnell do a new more direct start to prore and then piss up the rest of the route, making it look very easy. Forgot my jacket and ended up getting slightly damp and cold in the blizzard.






The heavy traffic on the A9 on the way home (especially the lorries) gave me some seroius road rage. Roll on more northerlies... (hmmm)

Carlsberg Don't Do House Parties...

I guess Saturday night will go down in legend as the 'baby oil party'. It was my flatmate's Chad 30th birthday so I suppose extreme wastageness was always fairly likely but I think this surpassed most expectations. Being Chad we had a week's worth of him bounding around like an excited puppy whilst he sent out various emails and facebook missives telling us the exact schedule for the weekend's activities. Things weren't looking good at about 2am on Saturday morning when he was sprawled on the bathroom floor spewing after a session at Cloisters but Chad rallied manfully and put in a sterling performance at the party.



Now there probably ought to be a rule about whatever happens in the Towers stays in the Towers but in the best traditions of tabloid gossip columns, I reckon the dirt needs to be dished. We probably should've realised things were taking a turn for the sordid at the volleyball game on Saturday afternoon. At this point I better explain that the party was a Tom Cruise theme one, so volleyball was being played in homage to the most homo-erotic movie scene ever - the game in Top Gun. This resulted in the rather incongruous scene of Viv, Kiwi Steve and Chad on one side, topless except for dogtags and a liberal coating of lube (and with Steve sporting a fine tache especially cultivated for the occasion) playing playing volleyball sober at 4pm on Bruntsfield links. This actually attracted less strange looks than might be expected but by the time bad light stopped play about 40 mins later the first baby oil bottle was alarmingly half empty and proceeded to be drained further in a congratulatory lube and beer session back in the towers. The slightly worrying thing is that most of the photos below were taken fairly early on in the evening before things really kicked off and most of them feature Kiwi Steve in some disturbing pose or other.



When you're hosting a party there's always that alarming moment early on in the evening when nobody's there and you're starting to realise that nobody either likes you or is coming. Luckily this moment normally passes and between 10 and 12 (the first complaint) the party was really rocking. The living room was already descending into the post-apocalyptic gay disco hell that it would become, Rik was doing an admirable job mixing cocktails, Chad's parents were getting down with the best of them and the flat was packed. Some of the younger lot in attendance were shocked at the hardcore level of partying that the oldies were capable of, admitting it put their own efforts to shame and TOG was heard to utter that he'd never seen so many oiled up people in one place before. At this point the mandy began to kick in and everything became a little bit more hazy. The council noise officers turned up at around midnight and Mrs Leith made her first appearance of the evening. This was largely because the flat next door was having a party as well and had come up with strange idea of filling a room with about a 1000 balloons and then running into the room to pop them at some point. This resulted in most of the balloons cascading into the stairwell and being burst by various people which sounded like rockets being let off, aroused the wrath of most of our neighbours and resulted in a slightly wires crossed scuffle (Russell looked very worried).



After a while things settled back down again and the vibes returned. I spent most of the time in sanctuary of my room or the kitchen, the strange topless goings on in living room being slightly too much at this point, I can remember helping a worried Kiwi Steve locate a new (half litre) vat of baby oil which I'm sure went down well with Chad, Huw, Viv and Duncan. I did pop in to watch a rendition of YMCA - which may have scarred me for life (available in video form on Raph's facebook). At about 2.30 Mrs Leith came up and properly blew her lid, being very scared I hid in Chad's room and left others to deal with her, thanks Susie, Alice and whoever else intervened. I think this was a result of enthusiastic dancing in the hallway that convinced her that her ceiling was close to implosion and the resumption of the party tunes probably didn't help either, nor the roof malarkey.



Things began to settle down bit at this point, Will and Russell indulged in some quality loved up 'your my best mate' action and Russell had the great scheme of coming to the party, putting his girlfriend to bed in my room ,getting fucked and then getting her to take him home at the end of the night. Nul Points to Helena and Clare for making me (and others) feel more self conscious than I thought was humanly possible (although they weren't the only ones...). Kiwi Steve got himself full marks for disgracefulness when whilst talking to Konnie he managed to perform a full length dive through my bedroom door (probably grease assisted), cut his head on impact on some ice screws and then vom all over the floor. Duncan 'the drugs don't work' Steen (only cos you're a reet fanny). Viv popped in every now again looking more and more like a greasy guido and I'm sure I had some funny chat with Jones and Gaz (fresh from his tasty vodka, raw egg, olive oil and tabasco cocktail with Chris) at some point, it's all a bit fuzzy.



Sunday morning was spent in very pleasant manner whilst we listened to the rest of my flatmates get involved in the cleaning up and at about 4 O'clock we emerged to find the place lookin pretty spotless. Cleaning up Steve's vom was a bit more grim and Chad and I had a half hour chat with Mrs Leith who'd calmed down from the night before and was suurprisingly understanding about the previous night's shenanigans. Top Gear, Ewan Macregor's motorcycling thing and the footie highlights provided excellent sunday evening entertainment for my fragile being. The thirty pound parking fine I got this morning was less cool. All in all a top quality evening, the best (and probably last) party we've ever had here, met some cool new people and saw some things involving baby oil that will stay with me for ever. It's awesome when a plan comes together and loads of your friends are all having fun together in the same place (that sounds uber cheesy but I'm still enjoying the glow of an awesome evening).



A new mix online as well, this one is spacey disco thing that has my three current favourite tunes on it, the Lindstrom remix of 'Just an Illusion', the Tim Goldsworthy Maps remix and the 'Still Going Theme' plus LCD Soundsystems 'Someone Great' - best tune of the year? Get it here!
Tracklisting
1. Weirdo Police - Full Moon & Thunder (Wolf Den Mix) [Redux]
2. Holy Ghost - Hold On [DFA]
3. LSB - Original Highway Delight [Eskimo]
4. Magnus International - Kosmetisk [Full Pupp]
5. Michael Mayer & Reinhard Voigt - Transparenza [Speicher]
6. Still Going - Still Going Theme [DFA]
7. Lindstrom - Breakfast In Heaven [Feedelity]
8. Audiofly - Miscalate (Partial Arts Remix) [Rekkids]
9. Peter Visti - Dolly [Mindless]
10. Randaberg Ego Ensemble - Vestamaran (Prins Thomas mix) [Full Pupp]
11. LCD Soundsystem - Someone Great [DFA]
12. Imagination - Just An Illusion (Lindstrom Vocal Mix) [Juno]
13. Maps - To The Sky (The Loving Hand remix) [Mute]
14. Hatchback - White Diamond (Prins Thomas Miks Del 1 & 2) [This Is Not An Exit]




Most of the photos here courtesy C.Harrison & R.Bleakly

Underground Misery

I've not been terribly pysched to get out climbing since I got back from Alps, I was enjoying the warm glow from that for a while and its got to that time of year in Edinburgh when the drinking season starts in earnest and the thought of rock climbing doesn't really feel that appealing. Maybe I just need a sunny day down in the county to sort me out? However, the long range forecast charts have been suggesting some fairly interesting weather for the end of this week and next, the gimp suit has been taken down from summer storage and my picks are quivvering in anticipation...



Anyway, this weekend was the misery meet and for once the weather was ok and the walk in and out was just about bearable. Duncan came up with the cunning plan of getting the bus to drop us at Bridge of Orchy where we got the train to Corrour (the station at the end of trainspotting that is only accessible by rail). We had to leave Edinburgh promptly at six, which led to a few comedy moments mainly involving Mike having to chase the coach down Lothian Road on his bike on the way back from work. Getting a train doesn't have quite the holiday feel of a ferry but was still pretty cool. On Saturday I walked up quite possibly the most boring Munro in Scotland - Beinn na Lap, its only redeeming feature being that it was about an hour and 45mins round trip. General banter was had on Saturday evening at Staoineag bothy, mainly involving finding out what made people tick, some tribal drumming on the walls at 3am to try and rustle up some more booze, a broken (fucking) hippy's drum and Wallbank's frankly disgraceful behaviour involving a sealed bottle and the fire. On Sunday we walked 16kms to Kinlochleven in the drizzle.



A couple of weeks ago I went and saw Underground Resistance live in Manchester at the warehouse party thing under Piccadilly train station. UR are a sort shadowy, militant Techno collective formed Mad Mike and Jeff Mills in the late '80's and who emerged as part of the '2nd wave' of Detroit (where it all began) artists in about 1989 - the first wave being Derrick May, Juan Atkins and Kevin Saunderson. They're fairly ideologically driven and espouse a lot of political rubbish (the quote below is their 'creed' from their webpage) but have made some outstanding, genre defining and technologically mindblowing music. The best things to listen to to get a flavour of what they're about is Interstellar Fugitives (an album from 1998) and the Galaxy2Galaxy compilation which contains most of the classic early hits. I've got both so if you're interested...



Underground Resistance is a label for a movement. A movement that wants change by sonic revolution. We urge you to join the resistance and help us combat the mediocre audio and visual programming that is being fed to the inhabitants of Earth, this programming is stagnating the minds of the people; building a wall between races and preventing world peace. It is this wall we are going to smash. By using the untapped energy potential of sound we are going to destroy this wall much the same as certain frequencies shatter glass. Techno is a music based in experimentation; it is music for the future of the human race. Without this music there will be no peace, no love, no vision. By simply communicating through sound, techno has brought people of all different nationalities together under one roof to enjoy themselves. Isn't it obvious that music and dance are the keys to the universe? So called primitive animals and tribal humans have known this for thousands of years! We urge all brothers and sisters of the underground to create and transmit their tones and frequencies no matter how so called primitive their equipment may be. Transmit these tones and wreak havoc on the programmers!



Back to the night, Francois K was on first who is a legendary DJ from New York, I reckon he's probably awesome if you see him on his home turf at his night Deep Space in NY but was pretty average the other day, basically playing a 'top 40' of techno set although it was cool hearing Groove La Chord out on a big system. UR were bloody awesome, a great mix of techno/electro with loads of classics thrown in. My major gripe was that they didn't do 'Amazon' or 'Jupiter Jazz' my two favourites. We left half way through Jeff Mills who wasn't as good as the last time I saw him at the End in London (a proper six hour stomp) but he did play some riduculous sounding full on monster as we left. The train journey down to London at 5am was interestingly messy...

Also got a new mix online, you can get it here (October 07)

1.Steve Bug & Cle - Behind the Curtains [Poker Flat]
2.Moonstarr- Detroit [Sonar Kollektiv]
3.Tony Allen - Kilode (Carl Craig Remix) [Honest Jon's]
4.Hercules - Classique #2 [DFA]
5.Phuture - Rise From Your Grave (Tiefschwarz Remix) [Strictly Rhythm]
6.Sascha Funke - The Acrobat (Efdemin Remix) [Bpitch Control]
7.Simon Baker - Confused (David K Remix) [Infant Ltd]
8.Roland Appel - Dark Soldier [Sonar Kollektiv]
9.Kevin Saunderson - Till We Meet Again (Carl Craig Remix) [Planet E]
10.Einzelkind vs Meat - Words from the Front Line [Get Physical]
11.Cybotron - Clear (Cobblestone Jazz Remix) [Juno]
12.Redshape - Unifinished Symmetry [Present]
13.Taho - The Hybrids [Ovum]
14.Kiki & Sasse - Grand Cru [Mood Music]

Weekend Alpinism

Wednesday Morning – walking across the meadows to George Square
“Do you fancy going to the Alps for the weekend? The weather forecast is good and I’ve heard the Droites is in good condition.”
Konrad doesn’t need much persuading.



GBH Party – Thursday night, 11.30pm
I push my way through the body painted mass of the EUMC and head for the door, having felt slightly old and self-conscious whilst clasping a cup of tea for the past half hour. I pass Konrad dressed in a wedding gown and remind him of the ten to five alarm call in the morning.



Car Park of the Grands Montets Telepherique, Argentiere, Friday 2pm
“Have you got a lighter Sam?”
Cue frantic search of pockets followed by a hurried drive back down the road to Chamonix.
One hour later back at the car park, I pull my boots out of the car and suddenly remember the broken lace on one. Another trip down the valley is needed, delaying the walk in by a further hour.




Argentiere Refuge, Friday 8.30pm
The long slog up from Argentiere is a drag, four and half of walking and 1500m of height gain drains the legs, especially in the knowledge that we have to get up in four hours time. Still, the autumnal trees were pretty and the setting sun turning the Aiguille Chardonnet and Aiguille d’Argentiere blood red was a memorable sight.
First glance at the face in the fading evening light worryingly reveals ice in all the right places, no excuse now and the knot in the stomach tightens further.




Bergschrund, Saturday 3am
We left the refuge an hour and a half ago, the whole situation feels increasingly bizarre considering we were at the GBH party 24 hours ago. The 1000m of La Ginat (ED1) lies above us, 500m of 60 degree ice slope, followed up an orion face (harder on the day) style headwall tacked on top and then 100m of easy ground to the breche, just what my unacclimatised lungs called for. No moon tonight and the ‘schrund rears suddenly rears out of the slope, a quick ferret around reveals an improbable way through on the right but fears are assuaged by the reassuring squeak of perfect neve.
We continue up into the darkness, moving easily together over the lower icefield, the only respite for burning calves being the occasional pause to place a screw.


Headwall, Saturday 8am
A cunning sleight of hand (and a rather strange decision by Konrad to stop 50m below the steepening) gives my partner the first pitch. He pulls it out the bag on the unconsolidated 80˚ wall, no decent runners for 25m with the consequence of a slip unthinkable for both. The next five pitches fly by, most of them more than 60m due to a magical extending rope.
The wall is plastered in Styrofoam, a pleasure to climb but yielding mainly ‘sub-optimal’ screws. We climb up in virtual silence, the need for conversation negated by the practised efficiency that comes from the cumulative hours spent climbing together (plus Konrad’s chat stinks). The spell is broken on the last steep smear. I get halfway and begin to wobble, worn out by 900m of ice below and the thin air around, with my calves on fire I manage to traverse a little left and belay. Konnie doesn’t fancy the last 30m either and we manage to avoid the meanest looking bit by some steep mixed climbing to its left.





Breche des Droites (3950m), Saturday 3pm
The view of Mt Blanc and the Valais is breathtaking, but this is maybe down to the last 150m of deep, soul-destroying powder in the final gully coupled to my unacclimatised lungs straining for oxygen. The view of the gully we have to abseil down is less pleasant. Five hours later we’re sitting on a small ledge, its dark, getting cold and I’m certainly exhausted. The rap down the gully was worse than it looked. Both of us managed to narrowly avoid being squashed by huge falling blocks, the ropes got repeatedly tangled thanks to the shallow angle of the couloir and to top it all off I ran out of water about two hours ago.

Rognon de Talefre, middle of the Talefre Glacier, Saturday 11pm
“Konrad, I can’t go any further lets just get out of the breeze behind this rock and spend the night here.”
I eventually stirred from the small ledge and we completed the last rap to the glacier, the bergshrund was hard to cross and we blundered about in the dark for a while. By the time we reached the middle of the glacier I was completely spent, my fuel tank was pushing empty and the lack of water was contributing to a very dodgy head gasket. Even though the Couvercle hut was only about an hour further on, reaching it would involve traversing a very crevassed area or a considerable descent and re-ascent. I was spending the night here.



Couvercle Refuge, Sunday 8am
I’ve had better nights but also worse. It can’t have been colder than about minus two and you can get surprisingly warm in a bothy bag, I also managed to resist the dubious pleasure of spooning with Konrad…
The stove was on at the Couvercle when we arrived and after draining enough water to cool Sellafield, I was revived by soup and smash that’d been meant for the previous night.



Montenvers, Sunday 1pm
Always a nice feeling when you’re down safely, wasn’t looking forward to the final slog down to Cham because the train was closed but the tingly glow of success was beginning to flow to my weary extremities and the thought of a 'special' at Poco Loco drove me on.



Micro Brewery, Chamonix, 7pm
Beer!



Edinburgh, Monday 1pm
Mission Accomplished. We made it back on schedule despite a very blonde morning that involved me losing my wallet twice, once in Geneva airport and once on the plane (got it back though).
Weekend Alpinism certainly beats vegetating in the Burgh. It was knackering, but nothing equals sitting in the sun at around
4000m on a Saturday afternoon with a 1000m ice face below you feet and the whole of the Alps spread out on either side.