A Mountain to Climb

A Week in the Alps (part 4)

Sunday 20th June 2010

The day had almost arrived. The plan remained to attempt the summit of Mont Blanc, Western Europe’s highest peak, tomorrow. First up we had to reach the Tête Rousse hut which sits nervously on the edge of the Mont Blanc massif at 3167m.

After a restless nights sleep I rolled out of bed at 8am. Shower, breakfast and kit preparation. I was keen to travel as light as possible but, given that we could be in the mountains for 3 days, my bag still felt quite heavy.

Our guides (Eric and John were joined by Mikael and Stefano) at 9am. Our first stop was Les Houches cable car station which we arrived outside at about 11.30am (we’d stopped en route for food and to allow a few of the group to sort some last minute kit issues). A quick ride up saw us at about 2000m with a good days walking ahead of us.

After working our way around a scenic, green, alpine path we quickly found ourselves on the other side of a valley, and the weather changed almost instantly from clear and overcast, to cold, damp and foggy. We followed a train line up for a good hour, snow building constantly, before stopping for lunch at a cafe.

From here on things got a lot more difficult, and it was the next few hours that ultimately cost us a shot at Mont Blanc.Immediately after leaving the cafe the conditions worsened. The path became steeper, the group spread out and visibility dropped considerably. The wind was picking up and the snow started to fall heavily.

After an hour or so of walking we stopped to put our crampons on. This is easier said than done when your hands are freezing cold, but I managed eventually and soldiered on.

The path got steeper, the snow got heavier and the wind stronger still. I pulled my hood right over and zipped my coat as high as I could. At points it was like being in a sand storm. The snow lashed the exposed parts of my face but all the while I plodded on, following the footprints of the guy in front.

I remember passing a memorial which obviously represented the point where someone had been killed. We were on a particularly steep, rocky section and, at points, a metal wire was in place to aid walkers as the climbed higher. At one point I was holding the wire tightly but suddenly realised that the footprints had disappeared. After a few more steps forward I heard a cry from behind – ‘ED!!!, this way man!’ Eric had spotted me and, fortunately, I was back on track. Close call, though.

After what seemed like an age the hut appeared from the gloom. What a welcome sight! That last 3 hours had taken not just me but the guides completely by surprise. An immense amount of snow had fallen (and still continued to fall). In to the hut we went, taking off our boots, crampons and gaiters. It was an amazing place. Very basic, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciated it. Beds had been reserved for us so we dumped our bags and prepared for dinner.

The hut gradually filled up throughout the day. By about 6pm it was heaving with hungry climbers. The three course meal, packed full of all the energy and nutrition needed, did not disappoint. Beef stew with pasta. Wolfed it down in record time.

After a few more games of cards I was ready bed. John gave us the brief for the following day. You could hear the doubt in his voice. The forecast for tomorrow was still great, but so much snow had fallen he knew things would be tricky higher up, especially the infamous Grand Couloir which awaited us just minutes from the hut.

Still, we were advised to set our alarms for 3.45am. Breakfast would be at 4 at which point we would analyse the situation. I hit the hay at 9pm for what was yet another sleepless night. What did tomorrow have in store for us?

Monday 21st June 2010

My alarm didn’t even have a chance to sound. I was awake all night and switched it off at about 3.30am. Upstairs in the communal area there were a few climbers sleeping on the floor. We skilfully negotiated them and had breakfast in near-silence.

The weather was clear. I stepped outside in the pitch black and saw three incredible sights that I’ll never forget. The first was the faint outline of the huge mountain face before me. I’m a fairly small chap anyway, but I’ve never felt so tiny. Secondly, I noticed the stars. The Plough was right above and the perfectly clear, ice cold skies glistened. Finally, way, way up near the top of where we were due to climb was a wonderful sight – lights! Moving lights! Evidently some had made an even earlier start than us and had made great progress.

This final sight was relayed to John Taylor. It was obviously a good sign for us as it meant that the route could be attempted, at least to the next hut – the Goûter.

Within half an hour we were outside the Tete Rousse and ready to go. Rob and I were paired up with Italian guide Stefano and set off up an initially gentle slope. The light was just starting to appear. We were way above the clouds now, and the immense slab of rock we were about to climb could now be seen clearly. It was an incredible daunting site.

The first tricky section was the Grand Couloir. A couloir is a deep gorge or gully formation found on the side of a mountain and this one is particularly deep. We had been warned about this short, 30m section many times in the build. Today, however, we were in luck. Usually, it is dangerous due to rockfall, forcing walkers to zip across as quickly as they can. There had been so much snow, however, that the mountain (at this point at least) was relatively stable. We clipped in to the handy wire that spans the section and walked across, careful not to slip.

The next 2 hours passed in a haze of breathlessness and discomfort. It was by far and away the most physically demanding 2 hours of my life. The climb to the Gouter hut was very steep, with almost no let up for almost 800m. Stefano was a hard task master and only allowed Rob and I one proper break. On more than one occasion I found myself off balance, slipping down a steep rock face. Thankfully I had Rob behind me, and Stefano up ahead to keep me going (and, if need be, pull me up!).

Progress seemed painfully slow. I remember stopping and looking back at around the half way point. The Tete Rousse hut was miles below, which made me feel like we’d made good progress. Then I turned around and looked skywards. The Gouter was an equal distance away!

My lungs were having to work harder than they ever had done. Each step seemed harder and, with the ‘top’ only 20m away, I ploughed on. Those last few yards were so hard! The feeling upon reaching the hut was one of pure relief. It’s amazing what 30 seconds of heavy breathing can do though and, composure regained I allowed myself a small celebration.

The view was staggering. The sun had just started to illuminate the peaks around us and, almost 4000m below, you could just about make out the valley floor. I’ll never forget that moment.

Inside the Gouter hut the mood was a sombre one. Though it had not yet officially been announced we all knew that the decision had been made to abort the summit attempt. It was easy to see why – huge amounts of snow were stacked up on the slopes, just waiting to fall. The chances were that we would be fine but it wasn’t worth the risk. The Mont Blanc dream, for now at least, was over.

We spent sometime behind/above the hut and got an amazing view back to Chamonix. The guides did their best to keep spirits high by trying to create a few mini-avalnches (with some success!). Hopefully the photos I took say more than I ever could about the majesty of the scene up there. At just shy of 4000m, this would be as high as we would be going. We were just a 3 hour hike from the summit but it wasn’t to be.

The less said about the journey back down, the better. It was horrible. Slipping and sliding, we edged our way down. Even now, 3 weeks after, I can still feel the tension in my knees from the awkward descent. After another 2 hours we were back at the Tete Rousse in the glorious sunshine. Looking back at what we had just climbed gave me a great sense of satisfaction, though of course it was tinged with disappointment.

Lunch at Tete Rousse then home. We were back at the cable car by around 3pm and in the chalet now too long after. Everyone in the group was quiet. The guides had plans for the now useless following day, but all I wanted to do was go home (or drink).

The following day was spent on a via ferrata in Passy. As it turned out, it was a fantastic afternoon’s climbing and both Rob and I were glad we chose to head back out in to the hills, rather than wallow in the valley.

The following day I was back in sunny England, just in time to see the second half of England’s final group game. Missing a chunk of the World Cup was actually a massive blessing! My week away, despite the obvious disappointment, was one I’ll never forget and easily ranks amongst the most incredible experiences of my life. Mont Blanc isn’t going anywhere and I’m sure future opportunites to return will present themselves.

I’d like to also quickly say a massive message of thanks to all who sponsored and supported me in my quest to climb Mont Blanc. I will return!!!

***** Still think my efforts were worthy of sponsorship? Visit my JustGiving page to find out more about my chosen charity and to donate *****

A Week in the Alps (part 3)

Day 3. Saturday 19th June 2010.

A good nights sleep does wonders for the soul. England had drawn against Algeria the night before (luckily we weren’t able to see it as it wasn’t on free-to-air TV in France) but I couldn’t have cared less.

Today was all about acclimatisation. After breakfast we set off on foot to catch the cable car to 3842m. The view was abysmal aside from the final 42m which rises almost vertically, with the rock face of the mountain within touching distance. After hopping out of the car we walked down a series of tunnels and up a flight of stairs to the cafe.

Our guides (still John and Eric) informed us to get comfortable – the chances of getting out on the mountain today were slim. I ordered a coffee and sat down. This time I could definitely tell I was at altitude. Nothing too serious but the feeling was akin to being slightly drunk.

For a couple of hours we sat and talked about mountaineering, roping techniques and many other things. Impatience was growing and I think the guides could tell. John and Eric headed downstairs to take a look outside, telling us to be ready for the call down.

Remarkably, it came. In seconds the cafe was in turmoil as we all reached for our bags and equipment and shot downstairs to the mountain ridge exit point. We would be going in two groups, of which I would be in second, so Rob and I had another 10-15 minutes to get our harness and crampons on. Before long Eric had returned from the mist and we were on our way.

Now, this ridge is supposedly quite hairy on a clear day, with serious drops either side of a narrow path. Thankfully I was totally unaware of this. Visibility was about 10 yards so I might as well have been walking pleasantly along the beach. After 10 minutes or so of plodding along (I was at the front) we reached the rest of the gang.

Everywhere was white. Occasionally another group of climbers would lurk into view, only to disappear again soon after. Very eery. We made our way across col du Midi in search of the Refuge Cosmique. The pace was leisurely and we stopped fairly regularly to discuss the area we were in (which was, of course, littered with dangerous crevasses which our guides seemed to know the location of, thankfully). After around half an hour we arrived at the hut, de-booted and stepped inside for lunch. The hut was well stocked and the menu was tempting but I had a mountain of food in my bag so I got to work with that.

After around an hour, with the snow having started again, we got ready and headed back in to the wilderness. The glacier seemed much busier now and we followed a number of groups back to our starting point. We arrived back at the Aiguille du Midi hoping for a quick getaway but found the cable cars stranded – the weather deemed things too rough to head down. Thankfully the huge wheels started moving again after about 20 minutes and we were soon back down in Chamonix again.

What followed was arguably the most exciting point of the week: the guides now had to make a decision about our Mont Blanc summit attempt. The weather reports had been too-ing and fro-ing all week. One minutes things looked good, the next we seemed to have no chance.

Back at the chalet we all gathered in the communal area and switched off the television. John and Eric sat huddled over a mobile phone which was reading them the latest forecast. Everyone sat silent. It was in French so I hadn’t a clue what was being said and our guides didn’t give anything away. The report finished and they muttered to each other, quietly making a plan which would either make or break our hopes.

John looked up. ‘Right everyone,’ he said straight-faced, ‘I’m sorry to tell you but we’re going to have to climb to the top of that bloody mountain.’

Cheers filled the room! We were genuinely ecstatic. I’d tried to stay as hopeful as possible during the past few days but had always had that nagging feeling that we wouldn’t be getting anywhere near the top. Of course, events would transpire to deny us an attempt at the summit but for now I was deliriously happy.

Dinner, a glass of wine, then bed. I didn’t sleep well at all as the possibilities of the next two days played over in my head.

***** Still think my efforts were worthy of sponsorship? Visit my JustGiving page to find out more about my chosen charity and to donate *****

A Week in the Alps (part 2)

Day 2. Friday 18th June 2010.

I awoke before my alarm, which is always annoying. The sound of my fellow climbers shuffling about in the dorm was too annoying to ignore (plus, I didn’t want to look lazy) so I jumped down from my bunk, pulled on my head torch and prepared to face the day.

It was still pitch black outside, but I could just about make out the shape of the surrounding, jagged peaks. I was one of the first downstairs and, after a quick trip to the freezing toilet, sat down for breakfast. A bowl of muesli was washed down with tea, bread and cheese. Just the job. The group (guides included) gradually began to wake up and discuss a variety of issues (the weather, lack of sleep and the surprisingly good taste of muesli were top of the agenda).

We filled our bottles with a special ‘Cabane d’Orny’ mountain tea, checked our kit, booted up and headed outside. The sun had made excellent progress from behind the Swiss Alps and it was clear to see that the weather forecast had been spot on – we were going to have at least 4-5 hours worth of clear skies.

When all were ready (and finished having our photos taken in front of the Swiss flag, we set off. After about 20 yards we stopped, breathless (joke!). It was crampon time. I, like most of the group, had never walked/using crampons. After clipping in we spent 10 minutes or so walking on a variety of surfaces; up and down snow and ice. A little strange at first, I soon got the hang of it and we headed off across the fresh snow.

After our first day of walking in wind, rain, snow and mist, the difference was spectacular. The sun (and bare in mind that it was about 6am) blasted us from the East. As we zig-zagged our way up a steep slope the views got better and better. We were way above the clouds and off in the distance huge peaks burst through the incoming weather front. Despite the cold, the temperature inside my multiple layers was, at times, unbearable.

After just over an hour of steady uphill walking we arrived at a ridge. We had put our harnesses on earlier and were now told to add our helmets to the impressive mountaineering ensemble. An hours rock climbing then began. We split into two groups, each of which had a guide at the helm and four amateur climbers roped in behind (at 2 metre intervals). The going was relatively easy as we worked our way up, aside from the odd section where I’d have to search for a decent foot/hand hold. Great fun.

We reached the summit and settled down for lunch. At 3300 metres, sandwiches have never tasted so good. Over my shoulder was a sheer rock face of approximately 1000m. I remember wondering if anyone had ever come up that way? Probably.

Eric and John, our guides, were concerned that the weather could change soon, and with a few more items on their training agenda we were hustled back down via a different route. The technique for descent was much more straightforward – run. Summer holidays on the Northumberland now came in handy as the snow behaved in much the same way as sand.

At the bottom we adjusted the rope length to about 5m as were about to get our first taste of walking on a glacier. A huge expanse of snow lay in front of us as we trekked into the unknown. In the distance I could see another group of walkers, but aside from that it was a complete wilderness.

To our left there was a steep face of ice and we headed for it. It was time for a bit of crevice rescue training. I could try to explain it but you’re much better off watching the video below, which shows Dominic being ‘lowered’ off the edge before being yanked back out.

This lesson over, we headed home. We had been due to stay another night in a hut further across the Orny Glacier but for some strange reason the owner had decided to shut up shop for the day so we were forced back to Chamonix. The hike back to the ski lift seemed to take forever. All in all we had walked for almost 8 hours and by the time we reached the van I was ready for a glass of wine. The ski lift down gave amazing views of the Swiss Alps (according to Rob anyway – I had my bag in front of my face the whole way as I suffer from vertigo).

The van failed to start again, and we had to ask around for jump leads to get the bugger going, but by 4pm we were on our way. Dinner and an early night lay in store. Set my alarm for 8am and slept blissfully for 10 hours. It had been an amazing day.

***** Still think my efforts were worthy of sponsorship? Visit my JustGiving page to find out more about my chosen charity and to donate *****

A Week in the Alps (part 1)

I awoke on the morning of Wednesday 16th June in Islington, London. The previous night I had travelled from Liverpool by train to stay the night with my climbing partner and long-time friend, Mr Robert Bence.

The travelling had only just begun. From Rob’s home we jumped the tube to Victoria, followed by a further train to Gatwick Airport. Our EasyJet flight then hurled us across the Channel to Geneva where we hitched a taxi to Chamonix.

After months of building up to the moment of entering this famous mountain town, dreaming of seeing the famous Mont Blanc massif before us, we were sorely disappointed. Rain greeted us in the Alps and little could be seen bar the lower tip of a creeping glacier.

Wednesday evening was spent in the company of our climbing group. In total there were eight of us, all with varying mountaineering and life experience. ‘The Castle’, our home for 4 of the 7 nights away, was surprisingly cozy. After initial introductions we then met with John Taylor, a British mountain guide and Director of MontBlancGuides.com.

We were shown a short DVD presentation which showed us what the week would likely entail. We were also informed of the grim news that the five previous groups had all failed to reach the summit due to poor weather. This was, according to John, the worst start to a climbing season he had ever experienced. Still, there was still every chance that things could change so I went to sleep full of anticipation.

Our first full day proper in the Alps began at 7am. After a shower and food we were asked to present our kit to Eric Dumerac, a Canadian guide who would be joining us for the first few days of training. I was lacking in a few little essentials (water bottle, extra gloves and hooded coat) so, after spending yet more cash in Chamonix’s second least expensive clothing store, we were on our way.

Our first few days were scheduled to be spent acclimatising in the Swiss Alps. We jumped in an old van and off we went. Notable incidents en route to Switzerland included Eric banging wing mirrors whilst creeping through a village, and the starter motor failing due to a flat battery at a service station. One push start later and we were up and running again.

We arrived at the lofty town of Champex at around midday. Ski lifts would take us to an altitude of around 1800m (I’d never been on a ski lift and can confidently say that I’m in no rush to go on another). At the ‘top’ we marched on into the hills, quickly reaching our first glimpse of snow as we twisted round the narrow mountain path.

It was cold, wet and a little windy, but as long as we kept moving then the going was good. Eric’s shout of buying a coat with a hood was a good one.

The higher we got, the more snow we encountered and the poorer the visibility became. The group quickly spread out but a good trail of foot prints made it easy to follow.

After around 2-3 hours of hiking a beautiful site emerged from the gloom. Shelter! The Cabane d’Orny was our home for the night. A statue Ibex stood outside the front door which we quickly photographed before heading inside, leaving our boots in the ‘foyer’. Inside was basic but strangely welcoming. I guess after hours spent in the wind and snow lowers your standards, but I remember thinking how wonderful the place was.

We were treated to a three course dinner which I promptly devoured, going back for three helping of the main course of gammon and vegetables. After dinner a few of us played cards, before John advised us of the plan for the following day. The weather looked good early on so it was to be an early start.

Just before we went to bed the clouds, which had constantly obscured our views, parted briefly. I ran outside to take a few pictures. The moon could be seen about the jagged mountain face in front of the hut. Amazing.

One by one the group headed upstairs to the dormitory. Apparently it can get fairly busy in there during peak season (which should, actually, have been now) but tonight we had a dorm to ourselves.

I grabbed a spare pillow, set my alarm for 4.50am and shut my eyes. Nothing happened until about 2am when I finally managed to get to sleep.

***** Still think my efforts were worthy of sponsorship? Visit my JustGiving page to find out more about my chosen charity and to donate *****

Photos/videos from my trip

I finally got round to uploading photos/videos from my time in the Alps yesterday. Here is a selection of my favourites. To view the complete set please visit my Flickr gallery and my YouTube channel.

A Mountain Missed

So, as you may or may not have heard, my goal of reaching the summit of Mont Blanc was not achieved.

I returned on Wednesday from one of the most incredible weeks of my life. A week in the Alps does wonders for the body and mind. Despite missing out on my target, I can confidently say that it was a week well spent.

In the coming days I will be journaling each of my days away, but to begin I want to explain why it was that we couldn’t make it.

Training went well. I quickly got the hang of using crampons and an ice axe. Roped in to a guide we spent time climbing in the Swiss Alps and traversing glaciers (stand by for a great video of one of my fellow climbers dropping himself over the edge of a glacier before being pulled out by his team).

We were all set for the main ascent. The weather looked favourable (despite the previous FIVE groups not being able to summit) and we set off, in good spirits, for the Tete Rousse. En route we encountered an unexpected sight – poor visiblility, a blizzard and strong winds (-15C estimated).

Over a metre of snow fell in 12 hours. We awoke to blue skies on Monday 21st June but the damage had already been done. The risk of avalanche was too high. We bravely climbed to the Gouter Hut, at close to 4000m, but could go no further. There was just too much snow.

I’ve had an amazing week, met some wonderful people and learned a vast amount of new skills. Mont Blanc won’t be going anywhere soon and I will return, confident that I’ve got what it takes to reach the summit.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all who sponsored and supported me in the build up to, and during, my challenge. Physically speaking, the week has taken my body places that I didn’t think it was capable. I’ll be back for another shot in the future, you can be positive of that.

BBC Radio Merseyside, Sunday 6th June 2010

On Sunday June 6th 2010 I was a guest on the Roger Lyon Show on BBC Radio Merseyside. It was surprisingly good fun, though I never realised I talked with such a strong scouse accent (not that there’s anything wrong with that!).

Anyway, here it is. Enjoy:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Thanks to the station for letting me use this, er, without permission!

Snowdon Day 3

Last Wednesday I awoke bright and early for my third successive stroll up Snowdon.

‘Bright’ isn’t quite true, actually. I’d had a restless nights sleep and, when alarm sounded at 6.30am, my legs were not really in the mood for another 5-6 hours of steep, rocky walking.

Still, after a few light stretches and a cup of tea and I was ready to go. Today I would be walking alone. I had some work to do later in the afternoon so wanted a much earlier start.

After zipping down the A55 I was back in the now familiar Llanberis. I (cheekily) parked right at the foot if the path outside a very kind residents house. Many thanks to her for allowing to stop there, toll free.

I started at quite a pace and was keen to keep it up. I set myself a 2 hour target to reach the top (previous days had taken closer to 3). I quickly found myself at the Halfway Cafe (Halfway House?) in less than an hour which was a great start – though the two, far steeper, sections lay ahead.

My legs were feeling great. The weather was cloudy but the rain had so far held off. The peak was well out of site and, as I neared the the top, visibility dropped to about 10-15 metres. Other walkers would occassionally lurk into my sight, only to disappear again shortly after.

I reached the peak some 1 hour and 45 minutes after starting, meeting a train load of older guys in the cafe. I stopped to send a few emails and updates, grabbed a quick coffee, then headed back into the clouds for the descent.

As had happened yesterday, the rain started falling soon after. Stopping briefly to put on my waterproofs I continued on. An hour and a half later I was back at the car and on my way home.

My three days out have (hopefully) prepared my body for Mont Blanc. After hours of pushing my legs both uphill and down I came away with just one blister – on my hand, getting used to walking with poles is something I hadn’t accounted for!

That evening my legs/knees were sore but by the following morning I was almost back to my best. Excellent.

It’s Monday 14th June. In two days i’ll be in Geneva looking up at a mountain some four times as high as the one I visited three times last week.

Snowdon Day 2

I awoke bright and breezy on Tuesday morning, ready for another walk up Snowdon.

This time my climbing buddies were my able-bodied brother and sister. Thanks to both of them for the company (and for making me look so fit and healthy as I left them for dust!).

Bad weather was predicted but was nowhere to be seen for the ascent. After getting lost (again) at the foot of the mountain we set off in ernest at around 11am. The walk up was long, but I definitely felt better than the day before. We went up via the same route as I had chosen the previous day as well.

The summit of Snowdon was out of sight – hidden by clouds for the entire walk. Again, the Mountain Train passed up by time and time again, making it’s way slowly up the trail. The peak slowly came in to view as we neared the top – covered with people who had either walked or been pulled to the top.

We spent half an hour or so texting and emailing in the cafe before heading outside for some lunch, nestled comfortably amongst the rocks. As we packed for the descent the rain began to fall. Within minutes it was bucketing down. Luckily we were all fairly well prepared. Waterproofs are essential in this part of the world.

By the time we were half way back down the rain had stopped and I had stripped down to my lightweight hiking gear. We made it back to the car park in Llanberis at around 4.30pm. A good days walking. Tomorrow I’d be back, ready for one more climb up Snowdon.

More photos can be seen at my Flickr Photostream.

Snowdon Day 1

With France but a week away, I needed to get some serious training in. With that in mind, I’ve set myself a challenge – head up Snowdon for three consecutive days.

I’m fortunate that I live within 2 hours drive of Snowdonia; the UKs most popular and challenging mountain range*.

An early start on Monday saw me joined by pals Paul, Craig and Dave for a stroll up one of the highest peaks in Britain. True, it’s not a patch on Mont Blanc, but it’s about as close as I can get for now.

We decided on the Llanberis path (one of the most straightforward, but tough none-the-less. The path follows that of the famous railway. The smug looks from with the carriage as it passed us did nothing to knock our confidence.

A couple of very steep sections pushed us all pretty hard but the stunning views and ever-closer summit kept us going. The sky was virtually clear so our time at the top was spent taking in some breathtaking scenery. We dropped in to the cafe (which is a stunning bit of architecture/engineering) before taking lunch outside, near the peak.

We returned via the same route (adventurous, aren’t we?) and returned to our car. The walk must have been a good 8 miles and, from start to finish, we were out for a good 6 hours.

A great day. Same again tomorrow, this time with my brother and sister in tow.

*Probably