​Monday and Tuesday I was assisting Gordon on some of his last few munros as he comes to the end of his campaign. We had fantastic conditions Monday on lonely Sgurr Mor, and even had a relatively dry tramp out into Glen Kingie and a trouble-free crossing of the burn - Most unusual! 
Tuesday was 'Conditions Normal' for Scotland in April, with gusting wind, rain, sleet and hail. Luckily we only had one of the group known as the Rough Bounds, so made a hit-and-run assault before it really turned nasty.
These hills are never easy, and require a lot of effort to get in and out of, not least the interminable Loch Arkaig road!
​Good luck on your last few Gordon, and see you at Cannich soon.....

​Jon and his gang had a great few days with me in Skye last spring, and asked me whether I could recommend a venue for a subsequent trip. I suggested Glencoe, based at the Clachaig of course. Being spring, I was hoping for some dry conditions, and maybe even a little snow to show the area off at its best, and I wasn’t disappointed – The late falls in March and the following cool temperatures meant that the higher hills looked positively Alpine. The challenge with that however was that few of the team had axe or crampon experience, so a little coaching was required.
 
For the first day we chose the two summits of the Buachaille Etive Beag, (the Little Herdsman of Etive), as they have good access, are lower than the Bidean massif, and therefore less snowy, and a good introduction to the area. We made quick progress up the good (though unfortunately eroding, given its age) path to the bealach, and then after plenty of photographs, (two of the guys are professional photographers), turned NE and up the rocky broad ridge to the first summit. The views were predictably fabulous, and much snapping ensued. It is always good to be able to sit back and let the vistas speak for themselves, rather than having to enthuse about their presence through a veil of mist or rain, assuring folks that it really IS breathtaking, if only they could see it! It was 360 degree mountain beauty. Wonderful.
 
The view SW was over to our second, more snowy summit of Stob Dubh, framed as it is to the eye by Loch Etive and Stob Coire Sgreamhach. This evidently called for some ‘skills’, and after descending to the bealach, we had a quick-fire session on step-kicking, self-belay and ice axe arrest, which the chaps literally threw themselves into with gusto. I was very pleased with their enthusiasm and quick-learning, so was happy to press on higher. The ridge to Stob Dubh is not terribly narrow, but under snow and old cornices it is sufficient to get the pulse racing on the last few steps, especially for those not keen on any exposure at all. Again, despite some wobbly knees, everyone made it up steadily and safely, their progress a credit to them.
 
After many, many photos, (and why not, it was worth it!), we made a pleasant and steady descent for a celebratory, ‘isotonic’ pint, dinner and then Saturday night in the Clachaig. It was packed as usual, but the duet were too quiet and genteel for the noisy chatting crowd, and it wasn’t until they ramped it up around 11pm that the usual jigs and reeling took place amongst the more restless. Still a good night nevertheless, but not up to ‘normal’ Clachaig standards I am afraid.
 
Sunday promised to be even better weather-wise, and didn’t disappoint.  We did the round of Coire Lochan, up the NE ridge, down the NW and into the coire. It was simply splendid. Alpine in feel, the deep spring snow readily avalanching on slopes all around us as we ascended safe from any danger, but adding some real frisson, especially as we saw several off-piste ski tourers make daredevil descents on both Coire Lochan and off Bidean nam Bian. The route narrows towards the top, and some careful down-climbing is required on a little notch, made interesting by the snow cover. We chatted to a chap descending, who had opted to bypass this, but I judged that to be more dangerous on the wet and loose snow and rock, so we simply cleared the snow, uncovered the holds, and made a textbook crossing.
 
The way is then steep but simple, and before long we were on the large and spacious summit. I will just let the photos speak for themselves rather than rattle on more.
 
The descent West was done through virgin snow covering boulders, and I had some fun slipping and ploughing through to clear a good track for the team. Once past the top of Broad Gully all difficulties cease, and it was just a case of chat, photograph, slip and slide down, photograph, photograph, chat. I knew I had a happy team!
 
An exceptionally enjoyable trip for me, and I do believe for the guys too. The weather, the conditions, the location, the company, the craic - Unbeatable all. Thanks for all being such sports, and see you next year in Kintail.....please bring the weather with you again!

The next instalment of Paul's 'Highest Points of Europe' campaign is also the highest in Northern Europe and Scandinavia in particular, the Galdhopiggen, 2469m. It is in Norway, the Jotenhiemen national park, 4hrs drive North East of Oslo, and access is from Spiterstulen, a cross-country ski centre at the end of a long unclassified rubble road which gave Paul some 'moments' as we slid and wound our way upwards. Once there, the Visdal valley opened out, with wonderful views Southwards.
The only other folks there were four skiers, and that should maybe have given us a clue as to what was to follow - Although we were well into Spring, Norway (like Scotland) had had a lot of late snow, and there was a very deep covering all around. We hoped the slightly lower temperatures over night would have frozen things up a little, especially as we had at the last minute decided against our snowshoes. Big mistake. Huge.
As we left even the car park, we were immediately in soft, wet snow over our knees, and soon to our waist. It was almost impossible to make progress, and I despairingly suggested we give up, and try to hire some snow shoes. The problem was the long road back to 'town', (nowhere is particularly heavily populated over there), even if we did find some, as well as poor weather coming in that evening. One of Paul's strengths is his eternal optimism, and he suggested if we persevered, gained height, the snow may consolidate. To cut a long story short, it did, very gradually, but only after much wading and floundering. Also, the weather closed in, giving whiteout conditions regularly. Luckily there were a good few cairns just when you needed them, and we slowly made our way to the ridge at around 2000m. 
The problem was the time it had taken. Only just over 2k, 900m of ascent in 4.5hours, and we still had 500m to go and we were rapidly running out of steam! Add on the zero visibility and things weren't looking good.
It's odd in situations like this, as sometimes what appears to be bad luck or misfortune actually is really serendipity. Paul suffered a strain to the calf, probably caused by him compensating for an ankle sprained a month or so ago. Add this to the exceptional effort required to make any progress, and we knew the game was up. Typically, we still stopped to eat and take on fluid, but within a very short time, we knew the only sensible thing was to descend. 
This time were assisted by gravity, and despite needing to be wary of plunging in deeply and twisting a knee, we make steady progress downwards. We knew there would be the opportunity for some good labour-saving bum sliding opportunities lower down, and as we came out of the cloud into sunshine once more, our disappointment at a retreat turned to enjoyment as we whooped and giggled down on our bottoms. We met two young lads, lightly equipped, who thanked us for our trail-breaking efforts. They were resting, and my gut feel was that even using our steps, their wet feet and trousers, coupled with the thick weather on high may have curtailed their efforts too, but we wished them well and continued downwards.
What had concerned us higher up was the effort we knew would be involved in descending too, and despite the welcome slides, we also had much floundering and wading. It was fun, but very tiring. We made it back to the car by 16:40, but having only done half a job, we knew we had made the right decision.
That evening we drove along deserted Norwegian roads to Andalsnes, entering the famous Romsdal and under the super-impressive Trollvegen, or Troll wall. Breathtaking. Immense, Awe-inspiring. How the early pioneers in the 60's thought that was a justifiable climb defies me. Hats off to them! We saw several avalanches and a huge rockfall in the short time we lingered underneath it's foreshortened immensity, enough to leave us cold.
Paul had to rest his leg the next day, so I chose an easy stroll up the Rampestrecken, an unlikely viewing platform at 530m above Andalsnes. Little did I know! In summer, I am  sure it's a steep yet simple bimble, aided as it is by some spectacular path-work built by Sherpas in the Himalayan style. I had to make a choice at one point, a Summer route, or a Winter? I reasoned that the residual snow determined Winter, but soon found myself on very steep terrain indeed, with large step-up moves protected by weather-worn fixed lines. I was in the no-man's-land between the seasons, and it was good value for what is ostensibly a tourist route! After rather more toil than I expected, I realised I had gone too high, and was above the ramp, on a route that turns into a via ferrata with some very exposed ground.
I descended quickly, using arm wraps to support me over the mini-bergschrunds, and as a consequence ended up with some nice weals for my trouble. So much for a tourist route :) The ramp was spectacular, and I regretted being alone, as it was a splendid photo opportunity.
The descent was more excellent path building, and the vertical drops explained why it wouldn't be a good route in full winter. I was soon down and showered and regaling Paul with tales of my derring do!
The rest of the trip was a boring drive along the NW coast, around fjords and mountains, over water by ferries and finally to Trondheim, where we saw the excellent Waterboys at the local Blues festival ;)
​OK, Norway is eye-wateringly expensive, and not everyone's cup of tea with its rustic charm and lack of night life, but if you add the breathtaking scenery and wilderness experience, I suspect we'll be back for more than just the elusive Galdhopiggen.

Matt and Colm booked a couple of days with me a good while ago, and we chose the Cairngorms. The hope was for Alpine-like Spring ascents, crisp cramponing maybe over the denuding snow fields. What we got was a full-on winter’s day of epic proportions!
Mr. Mountain Weather Information Service (MWIS) forecasted bluebird day, using words such as ‘certain’ when assessing the chance of a cloud-free summit, so we chose an ascent of Ben Macdui from the ski centre, the normal problematic winter navigation not looking like being an issue. What we got was total clag as we passed the foot of Coire an Lochhain, which set in until lunchtime. I would not choose to go so far onto the plateau in total whiteout conditions, and I had to concentrate very hard on my bearings. I had to walk for 4k from P1083 on dead-reckoning, as there was no features whatsoever.
We were in snowshoes, as there had been a serious amount of snow over the proceeding few days, and we took it in turns when possible to break trail, as even the shoes sank into the deep powder. It would have been simply impossible to cover the ground we did without them. I must admit to being rather pleased when we judiciously checked the GPS at the point I said we had reached to find that I was 100% correct – I do this navigation game so often, but I still get a feeling of sorcery when it all comes together!  The point we were at was at the penultimate steepening, just as you ascend off the plateau, and Lo!, the sun came out. Just reward for our efforts!
We marched happily to the summit, gawping and clicking our cameras at the now extensive views. Indeed, our exuberance with the views meant we took a detour to look over Loch A’an, which therefore resulted in lost height above Coire Domhain, a peek down the very steep and corniced Goat Track and finally a tired pull up the Cairngorm for Colm to bag the summit. Again, the views were spectacular, and wrapped against the cold NW we grabbed our last snack before the snowshoe-less descent down Windy Ridge.
A simply sublime day, with the unexpected poor conditions early on adding some frisson I suppose, though I was a bit miffed at the time. The longest and best day on snowshoes in the UK I have ever had. Tired legs all round in the pub!

A bit of a busman's holiday for me over the last few days, as my pal Steve (aka Begsy) came up for his first bothy trip. I took the opportunity of livening up an otherwise tedious track walk to a munro I needed for my second round by choosing Beinn Dearg, and then an overnight in the fabulous little All Sheicheachan bothy.
We set off from the Old Bridge of Tilt car park with enormous packs commensurate with the kit you need for a winter night out, the weight saved by having no tent more than replaced by the coal and fire logs we packed to ensure a cosy night. We chose the higher route to relieve the boredom of the traipse along the track, and had some fun practising navigation, especially as the estate had altered various tracks and fence lines since my map was printed. After what seemed a long time plodding through some residual snow fields on the track, we turned the final corner to see the splendid little bothy tucked in its wee valley. Home sweet home.
After a cuppa and some lunch, we dumped our excess gear and struck off for the summit of Beinn Dearg, at 1008m. The route follows a track, then a good stalkers path and finally in this instance a large snow field over what I presume is boulders to the summit. It was hard going, the snow just giving way enough to be toilsome, but Begsy is fit, so we got our heads down and made excellent time to the top. 
What views greeted us. A 360 degree panorama of mountains, from Schiehallion, past Glencoe and Lochaber, Ben Alder, Creag Meagaidh, Drumochter to the Cairngorms and Beinn a'Ghlo. Spectacular in the late afternoon light. We stayed on the top 35 mins, thankful of the light wind, as it was only just above freezing.
We made light work of the descent, startling a lovely mountain hare down on the track, and getting a great shot of him running, albeit a little blurred :) Then it was a case of settling down for the night. We had carried 3kg of coal and a fire log in, but we needn't have bothered...the bothy was chockablock with coal, wood, candles, gas and even wine! I have not been a fan of ever-increasing publicity for bothies, but if this is the result, I am all for it. We made use of what was there, and I may even have made rather too much use of the splendid cabernet shiraz alongside our own 'bothy tea' ;)! 
In the morning, we tidied up, filled two carriers with rubbish, bottle, gas canisters and used tea lights, and left the grate clean and ready for the next occupants. It always feels most satisfying to have a lovely cosy night, but leave the place better than you found it, and also well stocked with fuel.
The walk out wasn't too bad, given the terrain and endless track, and we saw some very large herds of deer to liven it up, testament to the successful management of the estate. We also had fun spotting the myriad animal and bird prints in the fresh dusting of snow.
Finally, we even resolved our only outstanding problem, as when we got into phone signal, it turned out Begsy's lost iPhone, driving license and credit card, (dropped on the walk-in), had been handed in by some kind folks who had managed to trace my number to let us know. Makes you feel good about us hill-types eh! :)
​A great couple of days, see you next time Begsy lad!

Last Tues to Thurs I was with Rob on his Winter Expedition Training. We had excellent conditions day 1, but rather less than excellent days 2 and 3, so after a really enjoyable camp high in Stob Coire nan Lochan where we practised lots of skills, we packed up and headed down for the valley. Our last day was spent on micro navigation before Rob had to get off to get his flight home, to a rather warmer Dubai!
Well done to Rob for hauling a large load up some steep terrain, and for keeping smiling as his boots let him down on the descent - Beware being sold fandango posh new boots that whilst being great for Ueli Steck, are no good for Scottish winter with big packs on!

I have just spent a very enjoyable three days with Kate and Chris camping up in the Coire and Lochain area of the Easter Mamores. Our plan was to experience cold weather camping, which we certainly did as the temperature dropped to -7c, and to gradually build on the guys' mountaineering skills ready for adventures further afield.
The wind was blowing cold from the East, and was initially gusting to 60mph on the Saturday. That meant our plan to camp in the high coire was shelved, as to haul our necessarily heavy packs across the narrow steep path in such conditions would have been difficult at best, and possibly dangerous. Also the coire itself would have been a maelstrom. We therefore elected to camp at 410m, and spent the late afternoon on boot use, axe use and step cutting etc.
Sunday saw us make our way into the snow-laden coire, and we made an ascent of Sgurr Eilde More at 1010m. It is normally a straightforward bouldery walk, but with the vicious and perishing cross wind, it was quite exciting. We kept to the rocks to minimise the effect of any slip, and the heavily rimed rock and hard neve made for very enjoyable climbing. The summit yielded fabulous views, and the team were really rewarded for their efforts to achieve their first Munro. On the descent we practiced more skills before dropping down to our warm sleeping bags and a wee dram to celebrate the summit.
Sunday night got colder, but the wind finally dropped, and Monday dawned bright and cloudless. After two very full days, we opted to spend the day practicing navigation, as we worked our way down towards Kinlochleven. In the Spring-like sunshine, we set up a rope in the woods and practiced the skills needed for ascending and descending fixed lines as our final session.
A very full three days, where we went to bed early due to darkness and cold, but rose early as a consequence and filled the days completely. The guys are planning an ascent of Elbrus and Aconcagua, and given that high-altitude mountaineering is 60% attitude, 30% skill and 10% fitness, I am absolutely confident that Kate and Chris will succeed in their objectives, as their attitude is faultless!! 
Thanks for sharing a great three days.

This winter has brought some challenges with the Easterly wind bringing snow and extreme conditions aplenty. One of the challenges was trying to execute a night navigation exercise without it turning into an epic, where battling with the snow and ice distracted from the initial learning curve of map and compass. There's plenty of time for that in later sessions!
Keith and I had been exchanging emails for months, setting dates that eerily seemed to perfectly coincide with the next roar from the 'Beast from the East'. We had to cancel at the last minute twice, and I was most appreciative of his flexibility, understanding and persistence when we finally met last night at Pendreich car park on the Sherrifmuir road out of Stirling! 
The objective was to hone some of the navigation skills the guys already had through years of hill experience. I think it's fair to say that most of us hill-goers by necessity have dallied with maps and the like, and most of us possess some skills and general map awareness. Keith, Douglas and John had various skills, specialities and techniques that we tried to bring together as a team. The trick is to use a system, a methodology that gives you confidence in what you are doing - 'I know that I have walked X distance, I know that it is on a correct bearing, I know the ground is doing what I am expecting it to do looking at the contour lines, and I know I haven't gone too far otherwise I would have encountered Y, so even though it doesn't look quite like I was expecting to, I MUST be here, at point Z'
Also, it is important to accept your fallibility - How often we ascend whilst contouring, how often our bearings are just a smidge off, how often we make assumptions on what things MUST look like. In the darkness, or indeed mist or whiteout, these are magnified, and believing in your ability, relying on the fact you have practiced the skills many times pays dividends. As Douglas so accurately put it, 'it's like a jigsaw', and you shouldn't try to make pieces fit. If they don't fit, something's wrong. Re-think, re-trace if necessary, review. You're probably just metres off, but in a whiteout and near a corniced edge, that's serious!
We had fun finding increasingly challenging 'features' in the darkness, planning strategies, executing them, refining them, and moving on. Working as a team, the burden of pacing and walking on a bearing was shared, and with some coaching, the guys located all of the objectives successfully, moving around unfamiliar terrain in darkness with increasing confidence.
We ended up with a walk to the summit of Dumyat, that unassuming peak so familiar to Stirling folk, and a great vantage point over the Firth of Forth, lit brightly as it was. The wind was fresh, so the photo quality is very poor I apologise! 
On the walk out, we reflected on our learning, and I made the point that confidence is gained through practice - Don't always go out in good conditions. Find an objective with relatively safe approaches, put the GPS away and nav! Test yourself. Gain experience, gain confidence. And suddenly the encroaching dusk and enveloping cloud will hold a little less consternation, the night a little less worry. You never know, you might even enjoy it....afterwards in the pub! ;)
Thanks to Keith for organising, and to Douglas and John for some great banter and enthusiastic participation. See you guys next time in the snow!

Frankie (my youngest son) and me had talked about a climb for as long as we could remember, and in fact the last time we had climbed together was doing the Boccette Way VF in the Brenta Dolomites, so it was high time we got something sorted. The forecast was for settled cold conditions, so Frank organised a day off work, and we chose to have a go at the Cobbler. It is low compared to most winter venues in Scotland, and therefore relies on you making an opportunistic foray to snatch the routes whilst they're in condition. We wanted to have a go at the short classic, Great Gully II**, but on the walk in, it was obvious that the sun would have been on it for far too long, with its Southerly aspect, so we had a look for the more esoteric and hidden Chockstone Gully II*, which is further to the East of North Summit, and consequently more shaded.
It was a good decision, and after some brushing up on crampon skills, axe use, self-arrest and the rudiments of belaying, we made quick progress up the easy ground to the first belay proper. The snow was encouraging, firm enough for good placements and footwork, and we expected it to be so as we climbed.
After a practice sling belay lower down, the first stance was at a bomber flake at the left side of the gully entrance. I set off on good snow, and soon got a nut runner and then a bomber hex in, so we were very well protected. What looked like the next belay was on a stance at an easing of the angle of slope, but the rock looked very friable, and despite having an inviting crack, I judged it to be too loose.
Pressing on almost to full rope length, I constructed a convoluted belay in some less-than-inspiring choss, but judged it safe enough. There was rock spike giving some protection from anything I might dislodge as I progressed too, so happy with the angle of pull, Frankie lay back and weighted the belay to keep it firmly home.
The last pitch promised to be the best, with some obvious ice to the right on the exposed slab, and the exit slope getting up to around 70 degrees. I set off with relish, but soon was disappointed. The snow had melt-water from above permeating through it, where the sun was on the rocks above. This meant it got less secure as I ascended. The ice we could see was a veneer of re-frozen melt-water from earlier that day, and it was now dripping. Drat! As I climbed, I hoped for at least one runner to supplement the one nut I had managed to place below. That would at least mean if I did set off a mini avalanche, I wouldn't go down with it on top of Frankie!
I gingerly climbed, ensuring each foot placement was as solid as I could, the rock roof above me offering the only chance of a runner. Meter after metre passed, and it looked like I was just going to have to chance it. Then, as trended left on even worse snow, I saw a crack above and to the rear of my left shoulder. A small No.3 nut went in at a perfect angle of pull, and I knew we were safe. I was able to then climb horizontally right and onto better snow and pop out into the sunlight rather more confidently. The snow required a full plunge of each axe to give any purchase and a hefty kick in, but the glide crack at the top that betrayed its fight with gravity to stay on the mountain was still frozen enough in the depths of the snow-pack to make it justifiable. 
I had some fun building a respectable belay on the mica schist, as it had few cracks, but after a few minutes, the call to 'climb when ready' was given, and Frankie ascended into the sunlight, enjoying every minute.
We then had a late lunch on a splendid viewpoint before gearing down and passing below Great Gully on the way down. We could see the corniced steepening at the top, and could assess from the slushy nature of the snow that we were on that we had made the right choice. In the right conditions it would be a great enchainment of routes though - One for the future! The walk down in big boots from 800m to sea level with the heavy packs was interminable as ever, but the views were good, and the sense of satisfaction of making and executing a plan well was palpable over a pint in the Ben Arthur, where we could see our day's work.
Til the next time son............ :)

Having only got back from three weeks in Argentina at 21:30 on the Sunday evening, at 07:30 on Monday morning I presented myself a little bleary-eyed for duty with the RAF at their excellent training facility at Grantown-on-Spey. I was working alongside a great team of instructors assisting a cross-section of RAF personnel improve their mountaineering skills and experience, gain some foundation qualifications, and generally prepare themselves for their forthcoming expedition to the Himalaya in August as part of the centenary celebrations since the forming of the RAF. The expedition is called the Himalayan Venture 18, and more information is available at https://www.facebook.com/raf100hv18/?hc_ref=ARSLOkNsbSnirSBtB1UCP12ZPZE4vBcCX9IDub6MTlkxKUQLtEmqn6rSKFVEyKv0Q4k&fref=nf

Over the week we had to be flexible with our plans as the Scottish weather was predictably changeable, as well as very wintry at times, with storm-force winds and heavy snow. Avalanche awareness was a very important part of the syllabus, along with the basic skills needed to move safely in the winter hills. The mix of personnel ranged from reservists and cadets, through regular ranks to even a full-blown Air Commodore, all of whom threw themselves full-tilt into the experience. We were supported by the staff at the Robson Resilience Centre who offered their expert advice, and also who fed us admirably.

We finished the week with a night out in the hills, after having practised some emergency procedures and snow shelters, and all returned tired but buzzing. A really enjoyable week surrounded by motivated and enthusiastic folk who were keen to learn in spade fulls. Fantatstic.

There is more training going on this week, but I was not available unfortunately, so good luck to everyone involved, and enjoy your experience in Nepal!!!