Martin’s much vaunted “meet Ben” expedition finally achieved lift-off with a decent weather forecast tempered by avalanche warnings. The principal aim was to introduce some of us who have never experienced winter climbing to the snow and ice experience so Jim, Craig and Diana were in the care of the very experienced Martin, Steve and Ben while Chris and Rhiannon were along to explore something more challenging.
Looking up at Tower Ridge from the CIC hut.
The six-hour drive chugged past, helped by monstrous portions of fish and chips at Penrith, though one of the more svelte members of the team (Rhi) opted for the small portion. Finally we were at our destination, a monstrous great pub filled with climbers. Shurely shome mishtake. But no, a few beers and we were back in gear and off to the Glen Nevis youth hostel where mein host, a cross between Rab C Nesbitt and Brian Blessed, had everything ready for us.
Up at six and making porridge and then off on the route up to the CIC hut by quarter to eight. Well, six of us did. At the North Face car park there was a brief discussion and, as the team of six readied themselves, Chris decided Ledge Route was no place for him. As Rhi had climbed it last season she needed no second bidding to catch the Aonach Mor gondola and see some new scenery. And borrow Ben’s car and Steve’s credit card, so they could buy in the supplies for the evening meal.
Rhi writes: “It was a strange experience ascending, in fifteen minutes, from the relative warmth and calm of the skiers’ car park through blizzards into a howling gale. The eight stags we observed on the way up were seeingly unconcerned by conditions on the hill, and they were right be so as the wind soon dropped as we walked in past the chairlift and descended into the glen beyond. The skies cleared to reveal ahead and high up on the left, a playground of buttresses and ribs of 500m in length to the summit, guarded by gendarmes of rimed ice amid banks of snow.
“We headed for Western Rib, the acknowledged Grade III classic, carefully negotiating the long snow slope to the base of the route. Chris set off up some steep ground and a section of vertical rock, setting the scene for a fantastic outing of mixed Scottish climbing. In places the wind had formed the snow into sharp edges with big drops either side, giving great exposure and atmosphere, the ascent made even more interesting by the sudden squalls of hail that intermittently battered us.
“As we approached the final pitches the blue skies above promised fine views, and indeed, once on the summit plateau we had sight of snow and mountains to the far horizon. We crossed the plateau, and after a short break for hot coffee and restorative snacks, headed down for a very civilised vin chaud in the cafe before descending.
“Special thanks to Ben for the loan of his car, and to for Steve for the loan of his bank card. Did we tell you we nearly used it to scrape the ice of the windscreen at the end of the day?”
Back on the Ben, the six of us trudged on in the wake of Diana who took advantage of the discussion to get a head start. As it turned out, the walk in wasn’t half so bad as feared, though, so we were all nicely warmed up by the time we got there. The plan was to go up Ledge Route in three groups of two as none of the gullys were safe enough. In case anyone was in any doubt about the danger or force of an avalanche we had to pick our way right over a recent example, a massive churned up heap of ice blocks at the bottom of Number Five gully that took more effort than the route itself.
Ben and Martin at the top of the first pitch
Once we’d got round this obstacle and were out of the path of any other potential avalanche we could start the climb proper. This was a complete delight. Although there was some powder on the surface, most of the snow was compact and solid so that when you drove in the shaft or point of your ice axe you knew that it would take your weight even if you missed your footing. The confidence of our leaders was also encouraging as Steve, Ben and Martin seemed happy to almost solo and were mainly placing gear to reassure the tyros among us. Altogether we cleared the bulk of the route in around three pitches, with seconds moving together with leaders where possible.
The route, a classic, was particularly popular that day as it was one of the few that could be climbed safely – though some climbers did seem nonplussed that we were bothering with ropes at all. Still, there were some sections that were a little awkward and required care, as they were right next to steep drops where an ice axe arrest would not stop you falling hundreds of feet so a rope was very reassuring.
Looking across to climbers on Tower Ridge from our position on Ledge Route.
Our inexperience probably showed in that we didn’t really appreciate how lucky we were to have such good visibility. The sun came out and the clouds cleared to give epic views of Tower Ridge and Carn Mor Dearg Arete to one side and right down to the plain and Loch Ness itself. The weather held for us with little in the way of snowfall – just a few wispy flakes every so often – as we neared the summit itself. As we summited we got a taste of what the wind could be like: keen and sharp, numbing any exposed flesh within minutes. And that was just a breeze. Apparently.
The final climb to the summit
Martin and Steve expected to ski off the mountain and entrusted Ben to guide us off, which he did with customary efficiency. On our way down we met a young American couple who showed us why mountain rescue folk have to be patient. “How far were we from the summit?” they asked. Strange question until we found that they had set off up the highest and arguably most dangerous mountain in Scotland without crampons, map or compass. “Well, we thought we’d better come down because we couldn’t really see too well and it was getting kinda icy,” said the male of the species.
We all felt very superior until me and Craig got separated from Ben and Diana and then missed the turning that led to the Tourist path and the hostel. Ho hum. Well, I did have a compass. Still, we got a map off Steve and Martin, who were following us. They were still looking for some sort of skiing experience despite having fallen over several times and were heading off to pick up the van. I reckon that if either Craig or I had known what a complete knee breaker the path was we would have gone with them.
After this we all showered, changed, complained about our aching limbs and relived the brilliance of the day’s climbing. And then we had a few quiet beers, followed by curry and several very noisy glasses of wine. At one point the police turned up so Martin amused them by walking past wearing fluffy pink slippers and making a great show of examining the post cards on sale in the foyer. Naturally the other guests – a singleton with a laptop for company and a quiet family with a young boy of ten – had retreated to their beds so we caroused with our host for the evening, Derek. Well, Martin, Steve and Rhi did.
The rest of us were so banjaxed we retreated like the refugees from a major battle and slept.
So now we’re gearing up for the Caingorms because the whole expedition was brilliant and every single ache and every single effort was amply rewarded.
The author savouring a moment shortly after the first “pitch”.
Words: Jim
Pictures: Jim & Ben