EGCC Newsletter Fourty Two
LAST YEAR'S STUPIDITYEach year I tend to have a little think about the stupid things that I have got away with in the past 12 months. Highlights from previous years include: Being struck by a falling climber in a gully on the Ben and landing 150 feet lower down in a nice soft snow drift (oh, when we were very young!). Soloing a steep route on limestone (none too smart to start with) and grasping the jug at the exact moment that the last hold came off in my hand. Taking the well-worn path in the snow, instead of the less worn one. The wrong path is of course the well-worn one, because everyone has walked out and back, whereas the correct path is only travelled once. Done that one several times. Descending a 3,000 foot ridge in cloud in the Rockies, and failing to notice the gentle curve to the right. Instead of a nice friendly valley, over a hundred miles of desolate icefield emerged out of the mist. A 10 foot step in the ridge a long way back separated us from the gentle curve to the left. Now THAT is geographically embarrassing. Placing a peg on the first belay of a route on the North Face of Mount Kenya, and watching the head of the hammer detach itself from the shaft. Never did set foot on that route. Glissading in Green Flash tennis shoes on névé in the Alps. Not recommended. Some would call it falling: I still hold that it was glissading, but I won't try it again. Getting caught in a blizzard half way up a route at Tremadog (Belshazar, I think). Not good. Lending a good ice axe to someone who believed that striking rock as hard as possible would secure a good placement. Leaving my boots under the flysheet in the Rockies. A porcupine ate the lining for the salt. It also ate the canvas back of my mate's rucksack as a side salad. Substituting women's tights for long johns when ice climbing and very poor. They work really well, except when you want a pee. Not funny in a howling gale at minus eight. Letting a friend who couldn't speak French buy the food in Chamonix. Our diet was one kilo of garlic sausage and muesli with water. Forgetting the food altogether on another trip to Mount Kenya: our diet then was one small scrounged loaf of bread drizzled with paraffin – between four. This year's efforts include failing to fasten a heel crampon strap on the big pitch of Hadrian's Wall on the Ben. I noticed it 60 feet up, and managed to pull it through. 30 feet further up I saw that it was about to fall out again and managed to fasten it. Now, you try fastening a buckle on your foot, one-handed, with gloves and a dangling ice hammer, with the other hand above your head holding the ice axe, while standing on the front points of the other foot only. Of course, I was completely mad by this stage, having convinced myself that if the strap were lost the crampon would hurl itself off into the void and me with it. Then there was the Swanage stationary prussic incident. Others include venturing into Bandit country with Mark and his bouldering mat and getting a taste for soloing sandstone. That was OK, but going back again without the mat was a bit thick. The third time was asking for it. I was quite surprised that my foot wasn't as bruised as I thought it would be. And finally, the reckless frittering away of hard-earned Brownie Points on a week-end in the pissing rain in the Peak. Bitter? Who me? So what has this year's collection of follies taught me? Check your gear before you go – haven't heard that one before. There are no bad solo climbers. Re-read 'Modern Rope Techniques' periodically. Weather forecasters foretelling universal downpours and floods are generally indicative of bad climbing conditions. Adrian. The 2001 KIMMThe Karrimor International Mountain Marathon is an annual event organized in a remote corner of Britain to test navigation, endurance and survival skills. It could be described as a giant 2 day orienteering event where you have to camp overnight and be completely self sufficient. As regular readers will know, Derek and I are addicted to the event and have competed (fairly unsuccessfully, but heroically) for the last 4 years. The KIMM always takes place on the autumn weekend when the clocks change. We were entered into the medium score category. This entails having 6 hours on the first day and 5 hours on the second day to collect as many points as possible by visiting as many controls as possible with a fixed start and end point. Each control is worth a different number of points, the ones furthest away from the direct line between the start and end point generally being worth the most. There are about 25 possible controls on each day and they are typically 2 or 3km apart. A sound choice of route is very important to getting a good score. There are other KIMM categories for people whose masochistic tendencies exhibit themselves in different forms. This year the event was held at Clyde Muirshiel, just 35km south west of Glasgow city centre but offering 260sqkm of very sparsely populated, wild and hilly country. There were very few paths with the terrain predominantly being heather moorland and grass heath. In recent years the event has been to Kielder, the Howgills and Cowal. Ranulph Fiennes, the polar explorer, was a fellow competitor this year, although we didn't see him for dust once the event started. As regular entrants we had gradually amassed a selection of lightweight gear and our rucksacks weighed about 7 ½ kg each including a tent, sleeping bag, waterproofs, cooking gear and food and drink. A certain level of kit is compulsory, with safety being a key factor. The main non-compulsory item we were each carrying was a ¾ length sleeping mat. Some hardy competitors were just carrying a roll of bubble wrap. The big pre-event debate for us this year was whether to take a GPS. Coincidentally we had both bought one and found it a comfort when munroing the previous week. We decided using a GPS would rather go against the spirit of the event, something that was more of a problem for Derek than for me. In the end we decided not to take a GPS. The morning of Saturday October 27th saw us arriving at Muirshiel in plenty of time for the start. The start is just like an orienteering event start. Once given our map we quickly worked out the best route, or at least the best start. We used a string with knots for every hour. This way we could quickly check out different routes for distance and points. In the 2000 event we had a problem with this strategy, the string wouldn't even join the start and end points on the first day! The visibility was good and we found we were covering the ground faster than we expected so after a few hours we extended our route. At one stage of the day Derek memorably commented that he was almost enjoying himself. The Muirshiel moors easily swallowed the competitors with the nature of the score category ensuring we were never part of a "crocodile". Indeed, for the majority of the day we could only see other competitors on the horizon, usually heading on different bearings to us. We ended the first day without any time penalties and lying 74th out of 240. The night was very cold with a clear sky and lots of stars. Some of the ultra light teams with single season sleeping bags must have regretted their choice of gear, the extra hour from the clocks change adding to their discomfort. The Sunday was again clear and we again made good progress, although tired limbs took a bit to warm up. Our route choice was OK but perhaps not as good as on Saturday. We ended the event 90th overall, a satisfactory result. We had qualified for a certificate for the first time in 4 years despite finishing in our lowest ever position. Now that we have a certificate, our original aim in taking part, it will be interesting to see if Derek tries to persuade me to take part in 2002. Sandy Harrisons Happy Hangover
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