Craven Mountaineering Club
The BMC are inviting members to give feedback on their proposed Clubs Strategy….
We have launched a flash survey for members to quickly feed their views on the overall direction of the strategy. It consists of a short video outlining the strategy and the reasoning behind it, and a short 3 question poll. It should take members no longer than 10 minutes to complete.The flash survey can be accessed here: https://forms.gle/yEukbbGrqhwGqGup9
If you’re running out of stuff to watch or you’re fed up with Homes Under The Hammer then here’s a few short climbing films i’ve found on Youtube to watch from the TV series Lakeland Rock which was broadcast some years ago.
By Michael Faulkner
Back in the 1990s, I moved up from Manchester to Co Durham and was introduced to Tony. We made friends, and started climbing together.
One of Tony’s ambitions was to climb the Matterhorn. He and a bunch of mates had been several times to Switzerland, with a view to climbing the mountain. Amixture of bad weather, and probably too big a party of mixed ability, meant they never made it.
After yet another trip to Zermatt, Tony came back frustrated at spending time and money; and with an idea: the best thing was to wait for a weather window, and then just rush out there and do it.
So it was that on a Friday morning in August 1995, I left home at 9.30 (I had to wait for the morning post to bring proof that Tony was now insured to drive my car), and headed off to pick up Tony who then lived in Northallerton. Then it was onto the Ai and southwards to Dover. We’d thought about camping en route, but with the ability to drive alternately, we just kept going. By 7.30 on Saturday morning we were having breakfast ina lay-by in the Rhone valley.
An hour or two later, we rolled up at the campsite in Tasch, put up the tent, and had a sleep. The plan was to acclimatise Saturday and Sunday, and then climb on the Monday, so after lunch we walked up to Zermatt in perfect weather. A bit of a shock then when we went to the Guides’ Office, and discovered that the forecast had changed. Bad weather was due to arrive later on Sunday.
So our plans changed too: off to the station, train to Tasch, pack up the gear, back to Zermatt on the train; last cable car to Schwarzsee; and then trek up to the Hornli hut. At 3.30 next morning, we set off with a string of others to begin the ascent. I’ve never been a fan of climbing in crowds, but at least there was no problem route finding. To be honest, a lot of it felt like climbing a slag heap, and it was relief to reach the Moseley Slab and climb a bit of fairly solid rock to the Solvay hut.
On the platform of the hut we met a couple of German climbers. They were looking anxiously at some gathering cloud, but we decided to press on. Being totally unacclimatised, we were on the slow side, so on the shoulder above the hut we began to meet quicker parties coming down. On the fixed ropes and summit pyramid, there was serious traffic. But the upside was that when we reached the summit, we had it entirely to ouselves. The sun was shining and there was little wind, but cloud was increasing, so we didn’t stay long.
We rapidly got down to the shoulder, where the first cloud swirled round us. Even then it was light stuff, and not a problem. Then suddenly it changed. The cloud thickened and it started to snow. We abseiled down to the Solvay hut and thought about sheltering there, but pressing on seemed the better option. So far route finding had been no problem, but once we got on to the loose slopes below the hut, it was hard to be sure where we were heading.
Suddenly, out of nowhere came a most enormous bang and a flash. The ground fizzed under my feet. Tony was somewhere behind and above and I was sure it had struck him. For a few moments, I was sure I had a dead companion. Then he emerged from the mist, grinning as usual.
Fortunately the lightning seemed to have been an isolated bolt. We continued our descent through the soft snow, constantly feeling our way. If we’d had the acclimatisation day we had planned, we would have climbed the crumbly pitches above the hut in daylight to get the lie of the land. As it was, with minimal visibility, it became a slow and laborious attempt to descend safely.
When we finally reached the hut, the warden was looking out for us. We were the last of the people she had been expecting, so now everyone was accounted for. She pressed us to stay, but we decided to collect our passports and carry on down to Zermatt. That in itself is a long walk, especially as at a lower altitude it was now pouring with rain. It was a weary business, but we were buoyed up by the fact that we’d actually managed what we came for.
We caught a late train back to Tasch, had a long night’s sleep, and woke to a glorious sunny morning. After suitable refreshment, we packed up and got going. At 7.30 on Tuesday morning, we stopped at the Little Chef near Northallerton for breakfast, surprising Tony’s wife when we walked in a 9.00 in the morning.
Glad to have done it – but I wouldn’t want to repeat that particular adventure.
We woke before the dawn chorus had started to a dark grey sky which looked daunting with the project we had to complete today!
After a light breakfast we jumped into Antony’s superb little 2 seater white sports car (AKA the VAN ).Thirty minutes of marching up through the enchanted pine forest from THE NORTH FACE car park we found our way to the top of Allt a Mhuillinn.
As Antony vaulted over the double style like a gymnast he made a noise like a squeaky mouse where he now pointed to the patchy blue and grey heavens. With the twinkle of the night stars glistening in between the greys we saw a shooting star. Flying over our heads like a disappearing ptarmigan soaring over the craggy mountain tops. Soon after the wind and the rain slammed into our big bald heads it was like being stabbed by needles. This must be how a dart board feels. Two and a half hours after leaving the NORTH FACE the two of us were faced with a giant rocky buttress. IT WAS THE INFAMOUS CASTLE. The objective was to conquer the 275m castle wall and ridge. with brilliant technique and cunning tactics. This did not go exactly to plan ‘she’ (THE CASTLE) had other plans. I put on my leotard and Antony his suspenders and pointy things on our slippers and set off soloing the pleasant sugar coated rock gendarme. Soon after Antony set off up a short rocky corner with lovely torque placements he then got his axe stuck but managed to top out. I followed up to free it where I then got mine stuck in the same place (Stupid boy) after freeing it we continued up feeling very proud that we had climbed the hard corner solo. As we cornered a boulder the wind had roared up to blow snow into our eyes this is where the pride started to dwindle. Antony my right hand man must have seen my knees quacking where he had dove deep into the ruck sack to pull out the rope. .As i tied on, my chest grew bigger like a wood pigeon calling for his mate. I took my best piece of gear off my slinky leotard and began to swirl it round my head like David did to beat Goliath. As i let the 20 year old hex go (it was size 11) It disappeared into the weakness of the castle walls. I thought this was it, in a second or two me and Ant would be on top of the world. One last crooks but with no skill elegance or panache or even the style of a ballerina I had to give in and throw myself flat on the iced covered slab. My right hand was jamming in just above the Hex as I scrapped away at the ice with my axe. There was nothing It was like a slush puppy! Then with the grace of a centipede prancing over a leaf ‘or dad dancing in a night club on his belly’ I had found myself on top of the castle gates. With a little archery boy in my way the castles last line of defence, I passed the baton to Antony. Where he danced around the tilted pillow like Wayne Sleep. Within a blink of an eye we were stood on the top of the castle like Rocky Balboa holding our hands in the air when the blizzard hit!
Just before Lockdown, my friend and I decided that a long drive to Scotland to the Cairngorms to go winter climbing on melted snow might be a bad move. So we packed up our bikes and headed to Dent on the train. We then cycled 110km back to Bingley checking out the cafes and pubs on route over 2 days of cycling. I’ve made you a short video, it won’t make it onto the Banff Film Tour I’m sure, but it might interest you. Stay safe and healthy! Tim B
