Climbing again

Recently after a run of sport climbing, even up to the dizzy heights of -7!! wow big for me, I had this increasing urge to get back out and trad climb again. Finding the way up some stone, following just features, placing your own gear and then removing it is actually what I like most about climbing. sport climbing for me is just training and a bit of social. I am no sport climbing snob, its just trad route I remember and sports routes I forget very quickly.

Few days ago Jess and Karin joined me at short notice and we headed up to Liafjell on Sotra. This is home to traditional climbing in bergen and is a beautiful place. The weather was great, not to hot, not to cold, dry with a light wind. Thankfully the wind dropped when we got to the chosen route as it was a little sharp at times. I never really understand Norwegian grades, just this number which means very little so when i headed up Sydflakken the easiest route on this face at a grade 3+/4 I was a little nervous to say the least. From past experiences this route could turn out to be anything. Jess and Karin had not trad climbed before so I ran throw a few does and don't, the gear, what to do if this happens etc. and set off up the first pitch. It was awkward as granite can be but I told myself it was only 3+. Before the belay ledge was a smooth corner. One wall was smooth and vertical the other less vertical but still smooth. The crack at the back of the corner was positive, but this is supposed to be 3+ a 3 m layback for this level of route, hmm... I climbed up placed some gear, and expanding camming devise. It fitted well, but then i looked down and thought I hadn't talked about this stuff to the girls so took it back out and placed a wire. I tried to stand up again, and climbed back down, to a breath and headed up again, smearing on both walls looking for any foot holds. Some appeared but they were quite small for the grade. I sunk in a large bit of gear, and felt much better, and proceeded with very little grace to do a mantle-shelf move onto the ledge. That was a bit stiff I thought! I brought them both up, both found the corner tricky but I thought they just breezed it! The next pitch was delightful, the first moves involved a rockover move onto the slab, and again I thought well protected but awkward. I belayed about 20m up and brought them up and then we headed up the last pitch, which was just delightful slabs. Really great route, really enjoyable evening spent with friends. Just wonderful. There is so much climbing to be done on Sotra.

Rejuvenation

The snow in Bergen finally departed, thankfully while I was away in Mosjøen. It began again; climbing. During the week there was a couple of trips to Sotra again, the usual haunts and although a little shaky the winter training paid off, bagging as I went a couple of 5+’s and nice set of 6- and three 6’s. I rested on the last 6 as it was overhanging for most of the way. The weather has been up and down, some day’s lovely t-shirt weather sun and others back with the down jacket and shivers while belaying. A trip to Nemesis-veggen or as it is in the guide book Møtteveggen started with a fall, but I soon recovered and struggled up a 6+, followed by another 6+ with was being liberally doused with rain. The next day, post redundancies at work (12 of the 18 geo’s have lost their jobs completely now) I headed out alone. On the way to Nemesis-veggen, there are these outcrops or mini scarps rising between 4-8m from the ground. They offer good micro routes / highball bouldering. I needed some time alone, and so headed with bouldering mat to investigate. Awhile back a friend and I tried some routes on one of the crags and we felt they were of good quality and way easier than nemesis-veggen. Alone at the mini crag I set the boulder mat down, it looked really small and the crag quite high. Shuffling with the climbing boots and nervously committed to a line, and just started climbing up and down, trying to see if I could down climb if things got to scary high up. It felt free, extending slick moves, no hesitation just free. After awhile following horizontal breaks and a crack I made a tentative step some 6 m up to the left and topped out. I was walked back round to the gear, the ground was so water logged I had to take off my climbing boots and squelch back. The water was cold and my feet became numb, but it felt so refreshing. Back at the mat I dried my feet, I felt like a child again and looked at another line. It court my eye several time when passing, before on the way to Nemesis-veggen. fingery at first on horizontal break before a short crack more accommodating know brought me to a few high steps and a rock over and the top. Regeneration pulsed through my veins; I scampered back to the base of the crag, bouldered about for a while and decided on another line, steeper, maybe even overhanging for a short while. The start was fingery, the foot more precise, my arms felt stronger than before, I was scared but able to set that in a box to one side. Far from the road, off the beaten track nobody would hear me fall, hear my screams, but all that was in a box, like a film playing, partitioned to one side, I can see it but the sound is turned down. I needed to search, then a high step, then a committing steps onto the face, long reach to a horizontal break and rock over. Feeling a bit jittery I scampered back to the gear, traversed a few times until I am tired and bored and walked home in the evening sun. Rejuvenated like the old days, bringing back old memories of going out to Craigmor just outside Glasgow to solo autobahn, getting to the high point on the route, sometimes being able to commit to the move sometimes now and down climbing with the taste of fear in the mouth. Solo climbing rejuvenates the body, the sole anything else is just cheating.

The next day I went out again with Jess to Uteveggen, it was cold, really cold. We climbed some 5+ I nearly fell off on the lead, my hands were so cold. We tried another, I felt sick, and I fell off, my hands so cold. It rained, Jess struggled up but she gave up halfway when it rained too hard for her to see the way forward. Good effort all the same.

Hurrungane skiing

Anti and I went to the Hurrungane Fjells over Easter. It was a good trip but also very stressful at times due to the high avalanche risk. This year relatively little snow has fallen in the traditional places. This, coupled with long periods of settled cold weather, with little or no winds has produced a double whammy deadly snow pack! This is depth hoar and then facets! Shocking. Anyway... depth hoar (Begerkrystaller as it is called in Norway) forms between the ground and the bottom of the snow pack. Amazingly as it may seem even in cold Norway the ground under the snow pack does not freeze but generally holds around zero, and with a relatively thin snow pack a high temperature gradient (1 in 10) gives a good environment to grow depth hoar and facet crystal. With no wind and blue sky each day you can also get surface hoar, just a fancy name for frost. If this gets buried then you have the number one slippy death surface. One group of these would be bad news, but this year we have all of them! To add to this we now have a steady wind! And this blows snow into a dense slab that sits on top of all this naughty business. Hello white death.... This as you can imagine.... has been playing heavily on my mind. NRK the equivalent of the BBC has being telling skiers to stay on the ridges.



Day 1) Lauvnostinden. We started late and had to skin up the road to get to the start of the ridge. Ridges are the in thing with so much depth hoar about. Gullies are the place of the white death. First thing I noticed was how little snow there was, but I saw the avalanche debris so this focused my attention again. You had to pick a touring path at micro topographic level with care, turning this small depression or that slight steeping and head to the ridges or exposure of boulders (but being aware that triggering on depth hoar can happen near focus points like boulders or thinning of the snow pack. We continued... the ridge is actually a series of elongate ridges separated by flatter areas. Every-time I left one ridge and had to ascend to another by a small face my heart would start pounding away, and I would become hyper vigilant to my surroundings. We continued, the weather became poor and the visibility started to deteriorate. We started up the ridge, it became steeper, and I was hyper aware that it terminated onto another face, which we could follow to the summit. This face would make ideal skiing but in these conditions sitting at 30-40 degrees and being so open was completely out of the question. I agonized a bit... and then focused on a logical argument... a series of questions... are there weak layers, YES.... is facets observed... YES both depth and surface... weather.... Poor... poor visibility..... YES.... difficult navigation...YES..... Party..... Anti is a good skier but has no avalanche training with a transceiver... and I have very little..... Red lights, red lights sound general alarm all head to quarters. Once I made my mind up that was it I turned Anti and myself around and headed back skiing very defensively. We skied from boulder to boulder, one at a time, waiting and watching. We met two girls who were also like us getting very frightened by the conditions. We teamed up. As we huddled on a relatively flat section of ridge, the snow pack whommpped..... This focused my attention again. We made a plan, teamed up and played leap frog down the slope.... I was on alpine and somehow got lumped with leading the line. The poor flat light made it difficult to read the terrain and Anti and the girls who where on telemarks fell a lot while I on alpine skis had a more forgiving ride apart from one point when I fell over just standing still! On the last steep ridge I went first (I tried to get out of it, but there was no takers) and as I got to a boulder the ground whoompped again, and I heard a small crack whistle off.... about 30-50 above me the girls waited, Anti just below....and then suddenly I heard high pitched shouting SKRED SKRED...... SKRED..... by the side of the ridge was a cornice, the collapsing snow pack had triggered the cornice about 10m in front of them. Everything changed then... the ridge is supposed to be safe, it is, but we can remotely trigger avalanches from it.... I ski down... at each relative safe point I bring them down.... I look at each small slope and ask the question... if it goes what is the worst that could happen.... make my decisions… then go... to the left I see the debris of the avalanche we triggered.... large blocks, enough to kill a large party.... I feel sick.... the flat light, poor visibility and fear make my head swim but I focus and carry on, just two more slopes and the valley below. We getting better at this, we no longer speak and each slope is passed with no problems, but evidence of old avalanches are ever present. A good day, lesson learnt.... I understand Depth hoar better now... I understand it is possible with extreme caution to travel through complex terrain relatively safely if you play by the rules... I found out my Norwegian is good enough to lead a group down a hill in poor visibility through avalanche terrain.

Day 2) Dryhaugstinden.. We spoke to the mountain guide in Turtagrø Hotell and it would seem only 3 hills are doable with caution. There seems to be a lot of micro terrain navigation needed to keep safe. Well if the visibility is good we can go, but if it’s poor then we need to make changes to our plans. The weather is good, but the top of the mountain is in mist. We go... at first I am over eager and motor off and suddenly find myself on increasingly steep slopes (between 30-40 degrees), a stupid mistake by just following someone else tracks. I have to stop Anti and tell him I´ll go first on one section, the slope is steep and it’s a traversing line, I should know better. Why is the ego so large we find it hard to change our plans! If the slope goes, it will be a rough ride and on to rocks. I shout back to Anti to wait until I am off the slope. He follows when I give the all clear. The girls from yesterday follow and when they catch up they say what I was think about slope. They also point out this was roughly the route the guide told us to take the day before! Another lesson learnt. We push on, the slope is good and easy angled and we start the long drag up the North ridge of Dryhaugstinden. It’s a long drag, and after 2 hours we come to these two frozen waters. Anti asks the question I did not want to think about as I have been here two times before. I tell him, we have another 600m or so more vertical height to gain and we have only reached half way. Welcome to the Jotunheim, these are big hills. We push on, some snowflakes and poor visibility, but the ground is good. Some guys come down, one telemarker crashes, head over heels. We all laugh including him. We carry on and eventually reach the summit. We climb the last part to the North summit. I feel envious when I see two people come back from the true summit with climbing gear, but I have none so I must just hide my envy and turn to my skis for comfort. We start downhill, occasionally hitting some rocks through the Norwegian powder (light wind slab to you and me), but suddenly... I am into that zone... the twenty degrees slope is becoming increasingly orgasmic in condition.... I check Anti is following the visibility opens up, the sky is blue the sun low enough to give a good contrast.... and for about 30 mins of sweeping turns... I am supreme... and all worries are gone... and I am alive, with each turn brings another turn, the ground is soft, I drift from one turn to the next. The point when, is unknown, I stop thinking and just become.... I am.... and that is all is needed. We are in the moment. I am in the moment.


Day 3) I slept badly. The Lavvo tent was battered by the storm last night. We struggle to get it down and packed in the car. The road is almost blocked by wind blown snow. We drive home.

Movie of the moment

A Really cool movie by Petzl who make climbing gear!


Just cool

Motorbikes and Millie

Awhile back I wrote a series of articles about my grandpa who was part of the Bergers Climbing club based in Middleborough. It was a labor of love deciphering all the scribbles, mostly semi drunken scrawl in pencil in a small note book. But it was worth it. A real insight into a quiet mans life, the old man that lived next door. I remember I found his old rope in the barn at home and possible a very strange harness and proceeded to get myself tangled upside-down in a tree. The local farmer found me, and in typical dower Cumbrian shouted at me, but I turned down the help and eventually struggles free only to try again and end up in the same mess. Millie was grandpa’s wife and she was bit radical for the 1930. She wore trousers and rode a motorcycle. For ages on the cupboard in the hall they had this battered trophy. It was just inscribed Armystead Hanson, 1928 Gjers Trial and something about Middleborough Motorbike Club (grandpa was president from 1957-59). From the outside it would seem grandpa an MC trials however it turned out he did with a side car with Millie. However Millie actually drove the bike a bit as she thought Army was going a bit slow, but near the end the swopped round as they felt it would not be accepted as a win with a women riding the bike! In the club history in 1926 they had vote to allow women to have a half vote within the club, but it was turned down. Just before I moved to Norway I sent the trophy back to Middleborough MC along with some photos of Mille riding her bike. They seemed a bit bemused I would just give it to them expecting nothing in return but the way I see it is if you give a gift with strings its really not a gift at all. They told me they would award it to the best female rider each year. I think Mille would have liked that. It must have been so hard growing up in a world dominated by men, dictating what you can or cannot do. I think Millie would have liked Norway (she visited with Army just before the Second world war I think)
It interesting looking at the club history many names crop up who were members of the Bergers climbing club. I wonder if motorcycles and climbing go together. Anyway today I remember Army and Millie, they have been pushing up the daises for a very long time now and need remembering.

The Climbers of Middlesbrough - Bergers

Awhile back I wrote a series of articles about my grandpa’s who was part of the Bergers Climbing club based in Middlesbrough. It was a labor of love working out all the scribbles

The following three posts are associated with an article that was added to a web site called UKClimber.com, and was based on the following three articles I wrote. This is the full version, which I think is better but understand why UKC altered them to form a more Internet friendly version.

Part 1 of 3 - The First Belay
Part 2 0f 3 – The second Belay
Part 3 of 3 – The Third Belay

Feel free to comment.

The Third Belay

The following three posts are associated with an article that was added to a web site called UKClimber.com, and was based on the following three articles I wrote. This is the full version, which I think is better but understand why UKC altered them to form a more internet friendly version.

Part 3 out of 3

Oops! there is something a little wrong with the HTML code for this I'll sort it out latter!

The Third Belay

The Third Belay of the
excellent and original Bergernsteiners was held on Jan 12^th 1941 Jet
Miners, Broughton.

Present :

Otto Von Hanson, The MacDon, Chas B
(RAF), Bros (H.Pybus), Hon Musician (G.Hall), Chief Guide (A.Barker), Skim
Barker (?),Jack Gash, The MacTav (Stainthorpe), Archy Buckley, Chas Saunders

http://www.ukclimbing.com/images/dbpage.html?id=112681Through
the eye of the compass. Time stands still

A damp dismal morning saw 5 of
the more active Bergers assemble at the appointed spot and off they went to Clay Bank where they found at the top mist and snow. This did not dampen the spirit and the chief guide
dispatched himself on the detached pinnacle however his marvelous powers seemed on the wane and success was not achieved. They all hoped
this was a temporary phase. After this
brief try on the rock, surrounded in mist and snow, they had an
illustration of how easy it was to lose oneself in mist. One of the clan Berger persuaded the others to go
south and then ended up going north east. The navigation was heightened by the
proposal of a wager on his direction being still south. This cost the member two packets of fags and his honor! For the first time since 1939 we
hear about [the] Pillar Fiasco, & we all got very wet in reference to the weather being very similar on
this day. One member had
brought along spare socks, trousers and slippers, however the minute takers
says modesty forbids me to mention his name. It would appear that he intended getting
so wet inside that what happened outside was a matter of no importance. They moved back to the Jet Miners for 2pm, and soon
the wetness and cold outside was forgotten as they found a huge fire
and empty bar. By about 3:30 dinner had
been eaten and washed down with beer. The usual toasts were made to The
King and absent friends. One Berger
recited a poem in Yorkshire dialect, which focused on the genius of
each of the Bergers. Otto Von (Army
Hanson) told the members he had been invited by Bob Holmes chief of
the Lakeland Club, to their annual Hon Pro Supper. He had also been invited to do an impossible new pitch on
Gimmer. It would seem he wriggled
out of this one! Although it was felt the
fame and honor of the Clan Bergers was in tacked, and clearly growing.

Then suddenly the mood changes and
the question of the club name, Bergensteigern is raised and the association with the country they were at war with.
Frank B hands over a letter from a Patriarch, which contained a 10
shillings note towards funds. The letter outlines reason why the club should
change its name. As the note contained money, however, it was seen as a bribe
and deemed unfortunate. But clearly with war at their door step, any association with Germanic
words was distasteful and so the club voted to change the name Der
Bergensteigern to another. Much
lamenting went on about the good old days and what the club would
be called and why should the name change! The diary records; the Germans
had waged this war, the bombing of accredited neutrals and rather hideous
association of any German hand above our association must be removed. Then
suddenly G.Hall (hon Musician and seconded by Hon Sec) hailed we be
known in future as The BERGERS, as this
word was considered Nordic in
origin. This is rather fanciful
and the word Bergers is not Nordic, however this did not matter to the new clan
and with unanimous support and call from member; Den Bergensteigern is dead, Long live the Bergers! Otto von gave a speech, which the
minute taker admits the main gist
escape[s] him but followed
the rough lines of praising the late chief, and hoping the ongoing clan feud
between rival members (McDon and McTav) would now be over. This feud was
clearly healing as the McDon graciously praised the work of the McTav
air raid shelter duties. Following this
the McDon asked in future could Otto Von (Army Hanson) the newly appointed
Chieftain to provide words placed in their proper order when giving speeches. (Inset in Diary – “Otto
Von” this name has a horrible German flavor, this must be attended
to). The meeting finished at 8.30. It is
noted Stan Pearson could not attended as he could not get leave from the RAF.
His son Herbert also did not attend. The diary is signed The
MacNab.

http://www.ukclimbing.com/images/dbpage.html?id=79272MacTavish
(F.C. Stainthorpe) and James Hanson (Army’s brother) on Blavan

There are no more minutes in the diary
until a Tuesday in May. It was too wet,
and so a short walk was taken with minutes recording; seemingly these
short walks are becoming a feature of the Bergers nights. The minute taker tactfully forgot most of the
evening’s event but one. The changing of Otto Vons name as it
had a Germanic sound. They discussed a new name, and contemplated telling
Somerset House and the local newspapers – You know how it goes. A letter was received supporting the name change,
but this was imaginary along with a thousand others and postcards from all over the world some with lengthy epistles and other shorter with “my God why”. Only
one person wrote to challenge the
name change and that was Hitler.
It was decided Otto von would be called McNab, although he had been calling
himself this for some time. The minute taker writes; The McNab sits
in His chieftain’s chair slightly
corpulent me thinks, but nevertheless releasing in the arms of his ancestors,
Gentlemen, Long live the McNab. After this
McNab gave a new badge to the club and they fell into rebellious
talk, debauchery, claymores and so forth.

The following Sunday after the
Tuesday meet a run to the Wain Stones took place. Prompt start, was made, the usual men were in bed at the
usual time, the usual man being ready at the usual time, the chief guide
attempted, I say attempted, to belie his past errors on the Rocks by donning
rubbers, what in itself alone was an act of discretion to those rocks at least
in the eyes of his fellow Bergers.
Following the climbs; Purists in the gentle are of rock climbing
called at the Jet Miners and had beers and made a mess of the one o’clock news.

Meeting held at the Jet Miners
June 2^nd 1941. No activities this “do” was in honor of the visit of
our ambassador of Scotland, Doc Brown, looking as well as ever, with him a
gentlemen by the name Harry Farrow, now in the RAF, who according to the afore [Doc Brown] has worn boots on Squr n’an Gilean to
become an honored Berger. A story is noted
of a trip to the Lakes. The car broke down on the way, which resulted in
reaching Keswick at lunch, were they went looking for Mcnab who had been
holidaying in the Lakes. They went looking in Langstrath, but no McNab. The chief guide here attempted to condone his past
failures by a tricky ascent & descent of a protuberance in the valley. The minutes don’t record if he was success but
state; whether perhaps I am making too much of this effort remains
for the future to decide as his brother Chas elected to go to sleep, whether
through boredom or confidence I do not know as I forgot to ask Chas. This section of the minutes finishes with them flogged
the old iron (car) all the way
home; made it to Darlington by 8:55 and blow up again! This time the chief
guide showed interest holding the torch, or rather spent his time shaking it
about to get it to work. The minutes have been signed by The MacNab.

Meeting held June 28^th, previous
to the meal had the usual walk, which as now degenerated into a wild scramble
from the cars into the bar. The meeting
ensued, with interest but nothing written in the minutes.

The last meeting of 1941 was held
in jet Miners December 12^TH This was the reconnoitering party on
reconnaissance, who did their job with the usual Bergers dash into the bar. There is little of note, apart from the McNab (Army
Hanson) intends getting in touch with the Abraham of Keswick for a
picture for the menu card, his film and a quiz on the Lakes and other
mountains. My mother told me that Army had
once taken some pictures he took to the Abraham of Keswick for some advice and
came back right chuffed saying they had bought the rights for a few off him.

Fourth belay
was held Jan 11^th 1942 at the Jet Miners; the writing is difficult to follow. A preferred start at
10am saw us off punctually at 11pm. The
delights of the Jet Miners almost thwarted them, as the fire was lit and it was
cold outside; we sallied forth out into the unknown fastnesses of
Cleveland. The venture took them to the
Wain stones, where we spent an enjoyable hour scrambling among the
icy rocks. The Hon Sec found a rock on a craggy
perch and after climbing on to the ledge sent
the thing hurtling to its doom thousands of feet below. They returned to the warmth
of the Jet Miners at 4:30pm to eat. They toasted Mrs Bainbridge for her
fantastic food, even thought the meat was rabbit now. A letter was read
out by McNab from the Bob Holmes of Keswick, the leader of the Lakeland
mountain club, who was in the forces now and stationed in the south. Bob
Holmes letter was read out; though tampered with a very justifiable
grouse, to wit, lamentable occupation – tent – refraining… Well the Clan Bergers are displeased to see their
friend posted south, and think Whitehall have made a mistake of their Commando!
The minutes go on, it’s chaotic at best,
and they raise toasts to absent friends and the King and pay
great homage to Scotland with gusto. Games broke out, with two teams battling it out, songs were sung like “The
road to the Isle”. The minutes finish
with; thus, one of the happiest gatherings in the annuals of the
Clan. Signed The MacNab (Army Hanson).

And that was it;
there is a few more post, but just names, who attended meetings, nothing more.
Near the beginning of the diary in black elegant handwriting: Members Year ending Dec 31^st 1942, as page 1 and Stan Pearson, Archie
MacGregor, MacKay, Harry Farrow.

It is evident
the club existed, maybe more informally as early
as Feb 1936, when the clan was photographed on the ice of Stickle tarn in
Langdale, but after December 31^st 1942 there are no more entries.
War continued on, and I recall that my mother telling me that Doc Brown fell
ill in Glasgow, and needed penicillin, but all the stocks were needed for the
front line and so he died. She even told me that at one time the very stocks
of medicine he needed were stacked outside his hospital room.

http://www.ukclimbing.com/images/dbpage.html?id=78991Men
on ice Feb 1936 – Stickle Tarn

So what
happened to Pillar Rock! And was the
honor of the Bergers upheld after so many
Pillar Fiascos? There is no
mention in the minutes of success, however there is one un-dated letter written
by Army Hanson (The McNab), some twelve pages long, called “The
challenge of Pillar Rock”.

Its starts: For
some time now it has been apparent among the more self-respecting section of
the Bergers Clan, that the gauntlet will have to be thrown down with regard to
this business of the ascent of “Pillar Rock” in Ennerdale . Members had tried! But had been thwarted on the Old
West Route due to not being able to find
the start of the route due to few coils of mountain mist! Granted the mist was of a particularly vicious
variety worming its way into every crack – chimney – crevice
– and turned what were once good strong hand & footholds into
veritable slippery death traps! It
would seem the Clan Berger had on several occasions been forced to retreat off
the Pillar due to gusty weather
for which Army writes, By this I do not mean an ordinary steady wind, but
one that playfully pulls you off your footholds – gives you cowardly push
from the side, a suddenly blow the rope round you neck so you appear to be
strangled. The letter continues but it is clear only retreat and
not success bound their adventures. Army finishes by lamenting of what
could have been; and when at last & with infinite joy the “Burgers”
heave the final brink & behold with proud & haughty stance – the
prospect undoubtingly form “Pillars” lofty summit – they can
say – We the Bergers who have had the tenacity to essay this mighty Rock
of Pillar – have this day reinstated the flagging footmen of our great
tradition.

It is signed - Long
live the Bergers