Andy Clarke1965
Scottish winter climbing is where it all started for me back in the late eighties, inspired by the writings of such legends as Patey & Macinnes, this led me to be drawn to Glencoe & The Ben. At first camping next to the Clachaig for weeks at a time, hitching to the Fort for messages and the Ben when it was in nick. Later a group of us including F'ing George from Glasgow & Garry from Sheffield shared a winter let on the shores of Loch linnhie for a season. Garry seemed to know everyone in the climbing scene, traveling up from sheffield with his massive teapot to play mum to us all, with the catchphrase "more tea vicar." Horizontal rain was pretty much the norm so a lot of tea was consumed, George was barred from most of the pubs in the area, I really can't think why!.We did climb, the modern classics were ticked off, soloing a pristine Astral Highway when George twisted his ankle in the bottomless bog of the Alt a mhuillin was a highlight, marveling at the wind sculpted rime formations like gargoyles watching your every move, it was otherworldly. Gemini with John was character building, walking across the golf course wearing balaclavas in driving snow, large sticky flakes settling fast, then ploughing up to the bottom of Carn Dearg thinking this isn't happening, but what an adventure we had, picks hitting rock on the ice smear, John in his element being bold. More soloing antics ensued Orion direct at night was memorable, moving unencumbered was such a great feeling.
As Tom Patey once said "in winter the leader must not fall, so take away the rope," on a solo mission to Meaghie the Pumpkin felt easy Smiths Gully less so, it was addictive. By mid April conditions were still prime high on the Ben, just one more climb. Approaching the mosaic of snow & ice on Indicator wall, we secretly longed for the warmth of the sun that etched out the cornices above, it didn't take much to convince John to solo Psychedelic wall, the detached ice on the crux slab groaned a little as we delicately tiptoed up finding the grooves above filled with bomber snice, like moths to a flame we headed for the light .....I spent about ten years in Lochaber chasing the ephemeral, these formative years were some of my best.
Location
Cockermouth
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