Alpine Videos

Just thought I'd upload some alps videos onto the web. Quality is a bit rubbish as they're from my digital camera. Favourite one is probably Konrad sticking lukewarm waterbottles down his pants...


The Aigle Hut before the storm arrived


How to cook bivvy pasta in a Gordon Ramsay stylee


View from the top of the Grande Casse after climbing the North Face


Beer and Bru after the Paroi de Bazel

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The north face of the Piz Cengalo (3370m) is supposedly the largest in the central alps at 1100m, we’d come to climb the classic Gaiser-Lehman route on the NW pillar, which was climbed exactly the same day in 1937 as Cassin and partners were setting out on their epic 1st ascent of the NE face of the Piz Badile. The route takes some initially broken ground before a fine series of clean slabs sweep for about 600m to the broken summit ridge. Although the climbing is not as hard as on the Cassin, the Cengalo definitely feels more committing, remote and is a more intimidating objective. The route finding is far more complex and vague, there are no amenable bolted belays, not a great deal of fixed gear, you have to carry big boots, crampons and an axe for the heavily crevassed approach and it’s necessary to continue up over the summit and down to Italy on the other side. This means you don’t get the crowds that flock to its illustrious neighbour. Whilst we were climbing we counted 15 people strung out over the Cassin whilst there was no one else on any other of the routes on the face and only us on the Cengalo. It looked a bit riduclous with a 3 hour queue at the crux and acres of empty rock either side. As a comparison, when Konnie and I climbed the Cassin in early July 2005 we were the only people on the whole face, I reckon if you’re keen on doing it then go early season and avoid weekends like the plague.



Another early start saw us trudging down under very bright moonlight to the moraine and then up the well-frozen Cengalo glacier, a recce the previous night had shown the best line to be up under the Badile, followed by a traverse and then a descent to the start of the route, avoiding the heavily crevassed central section of the glacier. Even so, there were still a few sizeable jumps over big holes and a precarious move over the rimaye to the start of the rock. The first few hundred metres were fairly easy and we moved together, initially too far to the right, before snaking back left to the start of the difficulties. From here the route just flowed up the wonderfully clean granite of the slabby crest, taking corners, cracks flakes, frictiony bits, never too hard but often enjoyably run-out. Soon we emerged into the sun and all too quickly we reached the shattered rocks of the final ridge that we followed for a couple of hundred metres to the top. Sitting on the summit in the midday sun, I reflected on the fact that it was one of those days where everything seems to go right and the ingredients of partner, fitness, weather and line all gel perfectly and you smoke the route. The views were pretty awesome as well, on one side the vast sweep of the Badile's slabs with the Oberland and the Mischabel chains behind and the on the other the Piz Bernina, the most easterly of the alpine 4000ers.




The plan from here was to amble down into Italy, spend two nights at the Gianetti hut in the upper Val Porcellizzo to climb a couple more routes before heading back over to the car in Switzerland. When I arrived at the rifugio I bumped into Luca Maspes who I’d climbed with on the BMC international meet in early March. He was helping out in the huts above his home in the Val di Mello in order to maximise his time putting up new routes on the surrounding cliffs. The two freebie beers on arrival were gratefully received. With the climb in the bag so surprisingly quickly a pleasant afternoon of sunbathing and sleeping followed before a dinner which was very tasty if a bit on the small side.



The next days route was the Spigolo Vinci (TD/TD+) - not named after Leonardo, on the Punta Angela, a subsidiary summit on the Cengalo’s south side. I can’t praise this route enough and looking back it now I think its certainly the best climbing I’ve done in the alps and the last five pitches the best in a row I’ve done anywhere. We inititally tried the integral of the ridge but the rock on the first tower was very lichenous, dirty and gritty so we abed off after a couple of pitches and walked up to the normal start. Its quality also ensures its popularity and it was by far the busiest route we climbed with about 10 people ahead on the ridge. However, our faff meant we were way behind the rest and we decided to move slowly up the initial easy section to avoid waiting. The first hard pitch is the crux, a layback crack up the slabby ridge crest, given Fr6a in the Italian guidebook and VII in the AC one, but certainly not feeling that hard at the time. After this followed airy traverses on chicken heads, steep bridging corners and more laybacks, all on the world’s best rock, in warm sun with cracking views. At one point I was enjoying myself so much I decided to throw my camera off the ridge, so all the photos here are courtesy of Konrad. Unfortuately we caught up with some very slow Italians (the first on the route in the morning) on the penultimate hard pitch, a slippery layback. Their leader had more gear strapped to him than Rob Reglinski would take on a big wall (I’m not actually joking here) and he placed around 15 cams in the 12 or so hard metres of the pitch (we clipped the two pegs and placed a wire). His two seconds then proceeded to haul themselves up on the cams, making no attempt to climb, even on the easy (VS max) top section. Now my ethics aren’t as strong as some and on longer alpine routes I have no qualms in the occasional bit of French free or maybe hooking a wire when seconding in winter. However this did take the piss a bit and Konnie and I suppressed giggles whilst watching them, but on a more serious note you wonder whether they should’ve been there to begin with and what would’ve happened if things turned nasty…



After an interminable wait for two pitched we skipped past them on the last and then slightly rudely barged in front for the abseils. This was fine until on the third one the rope would not pull at all. This coincided with a particularly uncomfortable hanging stance and we waited, and waited and waited. Eventually one of them appeared and communicated to his friends the problem and they helped us free the rope. It then transpired that the rope wasn't jammed at all, but the maillon that we had threaded it through was too small and was creating too much friction to pull the rope through. Despite our pushing in front, they couldn’t have been more friendly and patient and I was thankful they were a team of Italians not French. We finished with no further mishaps and I quickly ran around to look for my camera on the other side of the ridge to try and get the memory card. No luck unfortunately and the rest of the evening passed in haze of red wine and freebie liqueur.



The last route of the trip was the airy 400m Spigolo Mauri (V+) – the south ridge of the Punta Torelli (3137m), the sun/shade line in the photo. As we geared up we saw a mountain goat begin to climb some slabs opposite, at first they were easy angled but got progressively steeper. He kept on moving carefully up ground which most climbers would've found tricky until he reached the ridge crest! The first 120m of our route were fairly straightforward slabs so we soloed up to the foot of the two crux pitches. The first was airy and delicate the second a little thrutchy with sinker jams. After this, the rest was fairly straightforward and we topped after two and three quarter hours with plenty of time to get back over the two cols and down to Bondo. The walk back isn’t a great deal of fun, 4 hours of scree hell in the hot sun, I’m undecided whether abbing the North ridge of the Badile is less faff and easier than walking round the back. Anyway, Konnie bravely offered to walk the 45mins or so from the Sasc Fura hut to where our bivvy kit was stashed. I have to say I felt about all of about 10 seconds of guilt as I tucked into my rosti and beer while waiting for him but that soon passed…




When we got to valley the forecast everywhere in the Alps was pretty dire for the rest of the week so we decided to pack it in and head home a bit early. The next morning we drove to Cham, which we’d managed to avoid till now to meet up with Duncan and pick up some stuff for Chad. The weather was truly dire, non-stop heavy rain – our first for three weeks, and low cloud. Still in 12 hours we managed to tick off most of the fleshpots: Poco Loco, Beluga, English bars etc. Duncan cut his trip short and drove back with Konnie and I As all French cars have their home department on the numberplate, we played excellent game of trying to spot every one and by the end we’d managed to tick off about 70 of 95. There was particular excitement when we got 2A – Corsica, but unfortunately the big ticks of 64 – Pyrenees Atlantique and 29 – Finisterre (2 unconfirmed sightings) eluded us. Before we got on the ferry we made a detour via Ypres, visiting the Tyne Cot cemetery and then the Last Post, which is sounded at 8pm every evening at the Menim Gate. Tyne Cot is a very moving sight, it’s the largest war cemetery with 12,000 graves – many unknown, and a further 30,000 names on tablets of those who have never been found.

All in all an excellent trip, we managed 15 routes of over 10 pitches, 10 of which were high-mountain ones in three and a half weeks. I'd also drove about 2500 miles at an average speed of 41 mph and fuel consumption of 44.6 mpg (I love the computer in my new car). By the end I was exhausted and pretty climbed out, definitely in need of a break. I also found out some fairly sobering news when I returned home; 3 climbers had been killed by serac fall on the normal route on the Barre des Ecrins. We'd descended under these same seracs twice in the last two weeks and at the time they looked fairly stable, but... This sort of news does throw you a bit, especially as even the most solid looking ice cliff can collapse with no warning. You can minimise risk and climb as safely as possible but if you're unlucky enough to be under them when it occurs there's nothing you can do. Terribly sad news and condolences to all their families and friends. Doubt I’ll get much climbing done in the next couple of weeks as I’ve got lots of work to do and the weather looks complete pants. Still, the joys (???) of Edinburgh in the festival...



All Photographs courtesy of K.Rawlik

Beau Temps

Beau temps, all the time beau temps. The sun never seems to stop shining in the Ecrins, it actually gets a bit tiresome after a while, as there’s never any excuse not to go climbing. In two weeks we’ve had one evening thunderstorm and an afternoon and night of snow up high. It’s all change now as we’ve moved a few hundred kms East to the Val Bregaglia in northern Italy and I’m quite enjoying the rumble of thunder as a storm rolls its way up the valley from the plains.

Another aspect of the Dauphine is the long walk ins that you have to endure, no scenic telepherique rides to soothe the legs here. The grind from La Berade at 1800m up to the Promontoire refuge at 3100m is certainly one of them. The mountain festival of the village was taking place when we arrived and we had to drag ourselves away from delicacies like roasted Marmot although I was particularly sad to miss the competition to determine La Berade’s largest goitre. Just before we left, my brainless co-pilot piped up “Sam, how much money have you got?” Now, we were planning to climb the Meije in style, staying one night at the Promontoire and the next night at the Aigle hut, mainly because we didn’t fancy lugging bivvy equipment up the Pierre Allain route and then along the ridge crest. Obviously refuges and meals cost money, but Konnie (bless his first in maths and special university prize) only had the princely sum of €20 with him, despite the fact we’d passed at least 5 cashpoints since Briancon. It hadn’t crossed his mind that he needed any cash ??*&%$£???? The nearest one was now 30kms away, the carpark was full and I wasn’t driving back, “looks like you’re sleeping in the snow or doing the washing up then…”



The Promontoire hut is placed right underneath the sizeable bulk of the Meije’s south face and the couple that run it are, to borrow a French phrase ‘super sympa’. Unfortunately after telling us for week that Monday was going to be a great day, the evening forecast was predicting very high winds and an afternoon blizzard. Not being French super-alpinistes there was no way we’d be down much before dark so after a bit of umming and ahhing we decided just to do the voie normale (AD+) to the Grand Pic, followed by the traverse of the highly crenellated summit ridge (D-), still a good day. Luckily the refuge wasn’t busy and only two other pairs were going for the traverse the following day. No one feels like breakfast at 3.30am and after losing a couple of fillings trying to chew the hut bread we set off behind the other two teams. This worked rather well, as out in front was a guide and client so we didn’t really have to pay too much attention to the complicated route finding in the dark. Nowhere is the climbing very hard, probably about severe at most, but it is long – 800m, and we moved together in big boots the whole way. At the hanging Glacier Carre about ¾ of the way up we passed the other two teams and went in front for the last 150m. By now it was seriously cold and windy, balaclava and warm jackets were donned and we battled up to the top. It was too baltic to enjoy the view on the summit at 3980m and there were some menacing looking clouds surging in from the west, so we quickly found the abseil anchors and began the traverse. The only really tricky section of the crest is turning the spectacular 1st ‘tooth’, the Dent de Zigismondy. However the nice French mountain people have put a huge wire all the way round it, so you clip in and it becomes a sort of high altitude via ferrata. It was still very icy on the north facing side of the tooth but mercifully out of the wind. After this section you stick to the very airy ridge crest itself, meandering up and down the various teeth with drops of hundreds of metres on either side. By the time we reached the end we’d been engulfed in clouds and were pretty happy to tumble the shelter of the Aigle Hut just under eight hours after we’d set out.




The Aigle is the most atmospheric refuge I’ve ever stayed in, it’s a small tin box strapped to the ridge at 3450m (the highest in the Ecrins) with a row of bunks down one side and a table and bench on the other, with a little room for the guardian at the back. We debated descending to the valley but the car was parked 60kms away on the other side of the range where we’d started and we didn’t fancy spending the night in the rain by the side of the road. Konnie managed to sweet talk the guardian into letting him pay for his stay when we got down to the valley so he didn’t have to test out his washing up skills (something he seems to have avoided in two years of living with me as well…). The storm arrived a few hours later the hut groaned in the wind as the snow began to fall. Dinner was top notch and in the morning there 15cms of fresh snow outside. The initial part of the descent isn’t easy and we needed a couple of locals to point out the correct ledge we had to traverse in the fog. After a long wind down to the road I had to begin the task of hitching back to La Berade to pick up the car, luckily I did it in two lifts and only waited 5 minutes for each one.



The weather was now clearing up and with a good forecast we decided to head up somewhere that evening. After trying to find some food in La Berade (don’t bother the shop’s crap) we had to drive all the way down to Bourg des Oisans to find a supermarket. We settled on the striking granite spire of the Aiguille de Dibona (3150m) as the next days target and walked up to a bivvy site by Soreiller refuge, arriving just after dark. The Dibona is bit of a honey trap, with lots of routes (many bolted) on a distinctive mountain with excellent rock. Luckily the previous days bad weather seemed to have scared most people off and the mountain was relatively quiet – when we got down in the afternoon there must’ve been at least 40 people around the hut and a further 20 walking up to it… The routes start a lazy 200m above the refuge and we watched the early starters freeze in the shade, wisely waiting until the sun moved round and started to warm the rock. We climbed the classic ‘Fissure Madier’ (TD/6a) which is sportingly bolted, taking an obvious fault line up the south face before the ‘highlight’ of the graunchy ‘fissure’ itself. The rock is excellent, knobbly granite, reminiscent of Chair Ladder in Cornwall, just a bit bigger and busier. Konnie got to lead the fissure itself, which succumbed to some sustained grunting, probably only VS on grit and we were soon down by the hut, basking in the sun with omelette and beers. A good day out but a bit akin to high altitude cragging and slightly tame…



With beau temps on the forecast for the foreseeable future, I decided we needed to get on something hard and committing (insert appropriate innuendo here…). The original plan was the Gervasutti route (TD) on the north face of the Olan, but supposedly most of it fell down in 2003 and it’s now a suicide mission. Instead we went for Gervasutti-Devizes (ED-) on the Ailefroide, this is an 1100m pillar on the North-West face often referred to as the “Walker Spur of the Ecrins”. The guide mentioned icy chimneys, verglas and rockfall potential amongst other things, certainly sounded like a ‘classic outing’, perfect. The route is pretty remote, requiring a 4 hour tramp up Glacier Noir, underneath the imposing nordwands of the Pelvoux, Sans Nom and Ailefroide, then climbing a loose couloir with a river running through it to a breche (definitely one for the connoisseur of Scottish gully climbing), before reaching a good bivvy site. We looked up the wall, my inner hope was that it would be too snowy to attempt but no such luck, so the alarm was set and we turned in.


Until I learnt that it was much better to stay relaxed and enjoy yourself, whenever I used to play cricket at school, in the hours leading up to the match I used to have a really tight knot in my stomach and all I could hear was the sound of broken wickets in my ears. I get a similar feeling now before I do a route that I’m not really sure I should be attempting, the sound of being bowled is replaced by the noise of ripped belay anchors and the sudden plummet towards the ground. As you can imagine I didn’t get much sleep and just after daybreak we began moving up the initial part of the route. The first 400m or so are slabby and no more than IV so we easily moved together to foot of the steep central pillar. The next section is probably the crux, 9 pitches up the well-defined crest. At about one, just as we reached its top, the sun hit us for the first time. Despite enjoying the warmth it also created a few problems. After the pillar, are the grey slabs, often wet or vergalssed, in addition they can be threatened by considerable stonefall as the sun loosens the rocks in the icy upper reaches of the face. Fortunately this didn’t affect us too badly, I got one direct hit from a pebble in the middle of the helmet and few glancing blows on my shoulders but nothing serious. The slabs are fairly compact with some mind focusing run-outs, I was very glad to fiddle in a dubious wire after particularly exciting one of 10m or so. The last and easiest pitch actually turned out to be the most serious. It was soaking wet, covered in gravel and it finished on an icy ledge line, I didn’t really enjoy it. At the top it took me a good while to construct what I thought was an acceptable belay, the main component of which was a flake with a sling around it. I brought Konrad up and directed him to some pegs I’d spotted further left and we proceeded to change into big boots and crampons, a fiddly task on a hanging belay. Once set, I told Konnie to lead off and lent back fully onto my belay, at this point the whole flake began to rotate and pull out. Needless to say I wet myself and decided to go instead. The next 80m were terrifying. The terrain was easy, an icy ledge sloping at an angle of 45 up to 65 degrees but the rock on either side was like weetabix and eventually we had to move together up the ice and gravel slope with one dubious cam between us until I reached the safety of better rock.



The next pitch looked vile, an icy chimney gully with a river flowing down it, luckily we could outflank it on the tower to the right and we were soon faced with next obstacle, an gully plated thickly with ice. It turned out not to be too bad, the ice was good as were the runners and as it was now about seven thirty we began searching for a ledge for the night. Eventually we found a fairly poor one, I hung on a downwards sloping ledge with my feet dangling over the void whilst Konnie wedged himself between some rocks. The night actually passed fairly comfortably despite my partner dropping the sauce for the smash and we set off around eight the next morning, more icy chimneys were dealt with, delicately bridging up them on the rock embedded into their surface and at midday we pulled over the summit crest, 23 pitches and 400m of moving together since the leaving the ground. The descent was fairly non trivial, a delicate ridge traverse, followed by 250m of vdiff/severe down climbing and a couple of abseils before reaching the worlds wettest glacier. After wading down it, were faced with hundreds of metres of scree followed up by a decidedly dicey traverse/downclimb on a path that even mountain goats probably turn their noses up at, I think it may have been some bad French joke. Having gone down it, I can’t see any redeeming features to the voie normale on the Ailefroide and wouldn’t consciously recommend it to my worst enemy. We finally rolled into Ailefroide village at eight thirty and had a well deserved steak frites before enjoying the band that was finishing up the last night of the bouldering festival. As we went to sleep under our boulder in the wood, I think both of us were relieved but pretty elated that we’d managed our most serious route in the mountains.



For our last route in the Oisans we were going to try the Voie Giraud (TD+) on the south face of Les Bans. We knew it was a bold and serious route and were all set, but I got cold feet however after reading about long passages with no runners, poor and hard to arrange belays and tricky route finding as well as the assertion not to bring any wires as you couldn’t place them. I felt a bit pathetic and I suspect that Konrad probably thought so as well but I think it was the right decision, no point ending up as a statistic on holiday. Instead we chose the 450m South Pillar (TD) of the Barre Noir (3770m). Despite a guidebook description that bore little reality to the route itself, it was an excellent climb on great rock with extensive views from the summit north to Mt Blanc.



Once we’d got down we decided on a change of scenery and we headed for the Bregaglia on the Swiss/Italian border, a few kilometres north of Lake Como. We’d been here a couple of years ago when we climbed the Cassin route on the Piz Badile and the area’s perfect granite had drawn us back. On the way we stopped off in Pavia which we quite like, especially the 12th century Church of S.Michele and Lugano which we thought was a bit of a hole. Yesterday we managed a 400m 6a+ on the Spazzacaldera in the Albigna valley, which finished with a climb to a small rockfang and tomorrow we’re off to have a crack at the 1100 N.face of the Piz Cengalo (TD).