As I approach the end of my second round of the munros, I find I can maximise my time by reconnoitring alternative routes for clients, and/or finding out what has changed on the ground to the maps. When it comes to hill tracks, I am finding an awful lot.
On Tuesday I chose Beinn a'Chaorainn and Beinn Bhreac, as there was a good forecast for a long day, and I hoped to shorten it by cycling up the long track to Derry Lodge where you leave the bike. What was I thinking!? Of course, it was frozen solid, and there were treacherous stretches of frozen water run-off everywhere waiting to upend the unwary cyclist. Indeed, I was wearing the same trousers that had been repaired since my last such foray up this very glen 12 months ago, when my pal Sean and I had abandoned the bikes after only a kilometre or two en route to Derry Cairngorm, but then tried to at least ride the last bit back, in the dark to boot. The repair on the expensive Mountain Hardware trousers was worked miraculously by my trusty Polish tailor in Stirling (she's excellent...and indeed trades as Excellent Tailors, so give her a whirl, you won't be disappointed), but my unceremonious get-off also cost me a nice gashed knee through said hole. Ouch.
So as the painful memories came flooding back, the route was quickly changed for Carn Bhac, which is also normally cycled up Glen Ey, as far as Altanour ruins. I was walking this time though! I spotted a nice ridge on the map, (and after a detour to check out the 'Colonel's Bed' gorge), I noticed a new track going that way, over Carn na Seileach, so with the hard frosty ground, I left the track and struck off up the hill to cut the corner to the upper track. It was great, soon lifting me up to take in the views of the Southern Cairngorms, coming and going as they were through the cloud, resplendent in their coats of fresh white snow.
The track peters out at the foot of Carn Creagach, but the obvious way is to contour to the high bealach at the head of the Allt Carn Bhathaich. The ground here is wet and peat hag ridden, so though I benefited from the frozen ground, I suspect this section is the route's bad bit as it were. It is short-lived however, and I was soon plodding up the crisp and snowy flank of Carn Bhac to the summit. Of course, as I arrived, the cloud closed in, and though I waited as long as I could in the cold, I had to set off down before it then inevitably cleared again. Grrrrr!
I chose to go back the same way, and on foot, I definitely think this is the better way. But if cycling, I would maybe go for Altanour. Indeed, if you were a good MBKer, you could ride the higher track, and then enjoy an exciting descent! A lovely day out, and I also noticed that the Fife Arms, the big hotel in Braemar is to open on the 10th December at long last, so hurrah to that, (though it did look awfully posh!).
Today, with another good forecast, I decided on a wee look at Invermark castle, and to check out the track along the Water of Mark to the Queen's Well for my more genteel clients. Then I would also nip up Mount Keen of course. After what seemed an eternal drive due to traffic and a holdup for a crash on the A90, I eventually arrived at the very frosty glen at 10:30am, quite late for a winter's walk. It is a very beautiful drive along Glen Esk. Pheasants abound, and the Aberdeenshire countryside still has a wild and remote feel despite its relative low levels, rounded hills and agriculture.
The forecasted change to a southerly air flow was coming in early, and the hills were swathed in low cloud. I skipped and dodged along the track, once again eschewing my bike as the ice was everywhere, and apart from a wait at the Glenmark lodge to let a sheep gather go by, I made short work of the ascent. The track, though ugly, allows for a rapid ascent, and I was soon at the point where the track becomes two paths on the map, one across the mounth, and one to Mount Keen. Except it doesn't. They now continue as one, in the form of a very good sandy path in the same direction. All traces of the old path have been removed by the builders to ensure we take the new one. After not too far, it does split, and then with a couple of steeper sections makes a bee-line for the stony summit.
It got a good bit windier up there, and the sub-zero temperature along with the moist air left rime ice all over the rocks, and indeed me too. It was very cold in the breeze, so I rushed my snack and high-tailed it down. I did take one slip on an icy boulder lower down, the ice being coated in rain now too, doubly slippery, but apart from a jarred elbow and a bruised ego, I was fine. It does annoy me when a momentary lack of concentration allows such things to happen, and the air was blue! I made the car just before darkness, wet through as the rain had come on in earnest, signalling the end of the cold settled weather and a return to Atlantic lows for a while, Booo!! 
Winter will be back, and I will be ready............

Today I thought I would grab the chance to get out before the weather completely spams out with the deep low arriving imminently. I need Beinn Mhanach (Monk Mountain) for my second round, and I also wanted to recce the easterly approach from Glen Lyon, as the approach from Auch is characterless in my memory, and has troublesome repeated fording of the burns, irritating at best, in spate, impossible.
I had always wondered if an approach up the 'longest, loneliest and loveliest glen in Scotland' (Walter Scott) would be better? Thankfully I didn't need to drive all 34 miles of it, but did have to cross from Killin to the Bridge of Balgie over the high pass that is the Lawers access road. This ascends to over 550m, and can be very troublesome in winter conditions. I took my 4x4, and though it was icy and covered with a light dusting of snow, it was fine, taken slowly.
Eventually, (this route may be short and sweet, but the drive isn't), I arrived at the far end of the public road, just below the dam and hydro station. Parking so as not to block the narrow road or any gateway, I set off on foot up the track on the north of the loch. I had read that you can use a MBK for the 6k ride to the fording of the Allt Meran, and now having walked it both ways, I would recommend doing so - I was just too lazy to dig out the bike, load it up, and moreover clean it afterwards, so taking to Shank's pony, I marched it in about 75 mins.
The stepping stones over the one and only burn crossing, the Allt Meran, are excellent. Real big ones, testament I suspect to how high the water can get. I would think if it was ripping through and you were teetering on the boulders, a good set of poles would be more than welcome, probably essential. 
From then on, it was just follow my nose up. I had spotted on the map a nice easy to follow burn, and that did have the least-wet ground. It was easy-angled, but relentless, and totally off-piste. Typical Scottish terrain, boggy and strength-sapping. As I got higher, the snow increased, and freezing level was around 800m, where the snow was like icing on the grass.
As you approach the summit, it narrows nicely, with a lovely coire to your right, so is a much better ascent than the featureless slog from Auch in that respect too. There were cornices building on the leeward lips of the coire, and it had a really wintry feel up there. I waited a few moments hoping for a view, but it was cold, so I made short work of the descent, back the way I came. The soft ground made it very quick indeed, and I was soon back at the burn.
After a snack and a tea, it was just the tedious slog back, (I detest track walks out, but what can you do?). As I said, a mountain bike would make it a lot easier.
​A nice day out, a nice tick, a nice recce, a nice alternative route. And back in time for my dinner.....what's not to like?

So said the famous mountaineer George Mallory, when asked in 1923 by a reporter about why he wanted to climb Mount Everest. He couldn't think of a better reason. My objectives are usually rather more prosaic in comparison, but the urge he so aptly described is probably the same I suspect - I mean, why would I choose to get up at 5am, drive 120 deer-dodging miles in the rain and dark, spend all day slogging up a boggy mountain for zero views, get wet, cold and footsore, then drive home again? Why, if not compelled to do so?
Well, I often ask myself the same thing, but there is never one answer. 'Because it's there' does encapsulate one urge - that to 'compleat' the munros a second time. Why do I want to do that? Well that's another essay I'm afraid. But it runs deeper than that. I NEED the hills, and it isn't important which ones usually. I am in a slow period in a mountaineer's season. There's not really any winter conditions yet, people are thinking of Christmas and the like, the nights are long, the weather usually unpredictable, so work is thin. January kicks off the Winter Skills training, so I will be very busy, but for now, I need to keep my fitness up and mojo honed by such days.
Of course, doing recces on hills I haven't climbed for decades is always useful, and it is entertaining to read my log from previous ascents. I think I remember so much, and yet I don't. Memory is an odd thing. I may remember a particular rock or view even, but the human aspects of the climbs are lost in all but my few words in the log. I found this a slog yesterday, and I did 13 years ago. I had a sore ankle yesterday, I did 13 years ago! I still came back. I still enjoyed it.
My pint last night tasted all the sweeter as it always does after a hard day. Had I stayed at home, despite always keeping busy chopping wood, doing long-neglected maintenance and more often than not fixing Lambrettas, I would not have felt the same. I get stir-crazy, my Rousseau-esque needs can only be satisfied by the outdoors, by adventure, by toil, by sweat.
Gulvain is set in wild and remote country, a finger of land stretching north from Loch Eil to Loch Arkaig, not often crossed by the public. It is 'dah dah daah' Tick Country as so amusingly but helpfully posted by the estate at the entrance marker post. As a solitary hill, not easily climbed in the pleasant circular trip that satisfies the senses, it requires a long walk (or rough MTB ride) in, and then a hard 850m straight up, before the same effort out. Purists and masochists only. But it ticks the boxes. It IS there :)

A totally frantic weekend of riding 1960's Lambrettas 550 miles to and from East Yorkshire, followed the next day by a 405 mile drive up to Cape Wrath and back down to Fort William is not really the best way to prepare for a 'demanding day on rough terrain' promised by the munros north of the Glenfinnan monument, (and the now exceptionally popular tourist attraction of the viaduct, thanks to JK Rowling and Harry Potter). But, my friends Stew and Hayley Webb and Loki the dog were embarking on a barking mad November attempt on the 230 mile Cape Wrath Trail, and needed to leave a car up north, so what could I say? I collected them from the ferry point, and after a night of luxury in a B&B in Torlundy, we set off at 08:15 from the car park adjacent to the Glenfinnan Monument. They had provisions and kit sufficient to get them to Kintail, and I to get me around the two munros, so our rucksacks were rather different!
The route starts up a fine tarmac drive, and just after the viaduct, we stopped to chat with Alistair, the estate manager, who was a breath of fresh air. He was interested in where we were going, what we were doing, which way etc, and we in turn about the developments on the estate since the Harry Potter phenomena. So different to the usual at best indifferent and at worse hostile reception you so often get from estate workers if you're a walker, and a fine ambassador for the estate.
We parted company at the stalker's path that cuts up the side of Sgurr a'Choire Riabhaich, and I watched the figures get smaller as they entered the wild country of Gleann Cuirnean en route for A'Chuil bothy. 230 miles seems an awful long way!
I made rapid progress up the ever more frozen and ever more rough ground, but there was a decent trace of a path most of the way. It is likened to the Rough Bounds of Knoydart on these two hills, and I concur - Much up and down over rocky knolls and peaty bog in between, made all the trickier by the abundance of much ice. Never enough for crampons, but requiring care. The drop and re-ascent to Sgurr nan Coireachan is irksome and bouldery, but the views from the summit were spectacular. Winter is definitely here.
The long broad ridge on to Sgurr Thuilm seems to take a long time as you wind amongst little knolls and crags. A nuisance in dry conditions, challenging in the ice, especially on a couple of little steps early on. Eventually you arrive at the broader final ascent to the summit, and the going gets easier. I passed two chaps all day, one with a very skittery greyhound on a lead who was most definitely pleased to see me, so we didn't chat long! Again, the views from the summit were wonderful, and I lingered as long as I could in the cold, taking pictures as the sun struck a distant Ben Nevis.
I decided to cut down the west flank of Druim Coire a'Beithe rather than stick to the ridge to avoid the rocky tops, and the softer ground was welcome, my knees feeling the frozen and rocky terrain previously. I must admit I would have chosen to cycle in the the bothy at Corryhully as I dislike road tramps, and the surface is so good, had I not been with the Webbs, and I was ruing the decision as I started the long walk out. Then I came across some grand stags who posed for photos, the very pleasant Alistair again, and finally despite the location, had a phone signal so was able to while away some time chatting to my daughter, so it soon passed!
A splendid couple of munro ticks, great weather, wonderful views, and nice to see off the intrepid duo. Almost worth all the driving! :)

Working for Steven Fallon Mountain Guides this weekend on the Mamores above Kinlochleven. The pictures speak for themselves for the Saturday....the rest of the long weekend trip wasn't quite so pleasant, but what views/light to begin with eh?! Full blog at ​https://www.stevenfallon.co.uk/blog.html

I have just got back from a really good trip to Ecuador. Our intention was to acclimatise by climbing a succession of ever-higher volcanoes, culminating in Chimborazo, at 6310m, the highest mountain on Earth due to the Equatorial bulge. (Google it!)
Ecuador has extremely changeable weather, and you really do get to experience four seasons in one day...one hour even! This meant we had a very exciting thunder storm on Rucu Pichincha, our first target at just under 4700m. A couple of the guys were suffering from the altitude, so half of us turned tail just before the summit, and I am glad we did, as the storm that we were in/under was quite something, with hail and deafening cracks of thunder, lightening striking all the hills around. We had to take shelter off the ridge line, but the nature of Ecuadorian weather meant it passed within an hour or less. Phew!
We had a more gentle day on Pasachoa 4200m, and had a lovely surprise as we reached the summit ridge and the collapsed caldera - Pasachoa did not erupt upwards, it sank, leaving a distinctive valley formation that looked spectacular from the summit.
Next was the rocky Ilinizas Norte at 5116m, on which we managed to get to around 5000m on a lovely clear, cold but windy day, before having to descend. A good night in a traditional mountain refuge aided acclimatisation despite our not making the top.
Then it was off to our first glaciated mountain, Cayambe 5790m. Different rope teams made it to between 5300 and 5600m before the deep fresh snow and altitude beat us back. Again, at least we were getting acclimatised.
We were luckier with the weather on the famous Cotopaxi, the highest active volcano in the world at 5897m. I made the summit, along with guides Pancho and Miguel, and clients Magda, Darren and Leanne. A great day out, starting at just after midnight, and summiting at 7am.
Our final and biggest challenge was Chimborazo, nearer to the Sun than anywhere else on Earth. It had changed considerably recently due to volcanic activity, and the PD grade given for the normal route involves a lot of loose ground, then scrambling, followed by some very steep ice indeed, needing ice screw protection. Two ropes had to turn back in the early hours, reaching 5600 and 5700m respectively, due to altitude, cold and fatigue. One other rope party of Pancho, Darren and Magda made the summit, and were were all really proud of them as it was a tough pull.
The Ecuadorian volcanoes are often advertised as easy high-level mountaineering, but I would challenge that. Yes, it is fantastic to be able to sleep relatively comfortably in great refuges, easily accessed, and this certainly enables you to climb higher than would otherwise be possible. But, (and it's a big but), the weather is notoriously unreliable, and extreme cold, poor visibility, difficult route finding and the effects of altitude make them serious propositions despite the touristy feel. I and the rest of the team really enjoyed the food, hospitality and organisation of the local guides, and I hope to go back one day to summit those peaks we had to miss out on. I certainly won't underestimate them though!

​It is my wife Tracey's Big Birthday Year, (decency and fear prevents me from revealing which), and like the Queen, she has had several trips to celebrate. This trip was the final birthday treat, with a planned hut-to-hut walk in the Brenta Dolomites along with our youngest son Frankie. We flew into Bergamo, and after a hotel night there, drove up to Madonna di Campiglio after buying provisions for our lunches for 4 days. There we had to arrange to follow a shuttle bus up the very tight road to the Vallesinella hut and car park, as passing is very difficult so cars are limited by attendants each end.
 
After some final kit-sorting, we abandoned the car and set off in the late afternoon for a 700m ascent to the Graffer hut. It is a lovely walk up a typical wooded Alpine valley, getting ever more rocky as we passed the 2000m tree line. I had only ever taken the cable car to the Passo di Groste en route to harder Via Ferrata routes, so this was a treat. The Graffer hut didn't disappoint, with excellent food and wine and a private room, albeit one with a leaky roof and noisy plumbing which kept the birthday girl awake :(
 
In the morning it was get walking in earnest. The plan had been to climb over the Groste pass, on to the Malga Spora bivouac, a descent of around 700m, then and up to the Passo di Clamer and down to the Rifugio del Croz D'Altissimo, a longish day of probably 8hrs. Unfortunately we realised that the challenging path 344 would be too much for Tracey, who did not want any exposure or via ferrata, so we had to take an even longer path over the Passo di Lasteri. This was steep and loose, with only a little exposure, but it is fair to say it spooked her. After the pass, Frankie and I took a short scramble to the summit of the Cima Croz d'Altissimo 2338m whilst Tracey waited, luckily shrouded in mist so she couldn't see the exposed ground we ascended! There was then a really interesting descent through giant boulders and dwarf pines that felt very atmospheric in the encroaching grey skies. The rain and hail forecasted finally came on as we negotiated the narrow ridge down the senterio 344B, and being tired and fraught with the added serious feel, she finally cracked as she negotiated the steep slippery tree roots and wet limestone. Frank had to carry her bag, and there were a few tears.
 
Eventually, soaking wet, we got to the new option of the Rifugio Montanara, which was being renovated and looked closed. With trepidation I went in, praying we didn't have to walk down another 1000m to Molveno. It was open, and we were the only clients apart from another couple. It was hotel quality, the room being brand new pine-clad and luxurious, the food excellent, but of course with prices to match. Worth it after our challenging day of 9.5hrs though.
 
Next day started wet as forecast, and after me descending and re-ascending by chairlift and cable car to Molveno to get cash, (as someone had left it in the car, doh), we set off over the Bocchettina del Piz Galin. Tracey was concerned about her strength and courage, but we assessed the route, and I promised a less-challenging itinerary. It was. It  was a treat, chamois everywhere, and once the weather dried up, a joy, with fabulous views of our previous route to spur us on. The planned stop was the Malga Spora, which is listed as a bivouac, but think posh bothy like the Alltbeithe in Scotland. It is very basic and rustic, and again, apart from two Canadians who arrived late, we had the place to ourselves. The food was all fresh, home-churned butter and cheese, home-brew beer, fresh eggs from their chickens etc. Excellent, and welcome in the torrential rain that arrived overnight.
 
Next day dawned fresh and sunny, and was set for the rest of the trip. We rose early and we set off for the Rifugio Tuckett, back over the Groste pass. The problem was, so did 700 fell runners in the Dolomiti di Brenta Trail Race. It was a nightmare of tailgating and stepping aside, with not a lot of good manners in my opinion. Frankie had had enough, and strode off, keeping up with them on the ascent whilst Tracey and I continually had to stop/start. It probably took a couple of hours before we made the pass and they went off in a different direction thankfully. At the Rifugio Stoppani we had a nice radler (cloudy lemonade shandy, a treat when thirsty walking), and Tracey started worrying about the path again. Although I had walked it before 7yrs previously, I couldn't remember it in detail, so I was relieved when it was a wonderful ramble through a quarry of gigantic limestone boulders, like an enormous prehistoric giant's quarry. It looked impossible, but meandered delightfully down initially, and then climbed gently to the hut.
 
The Tuckett was rammed full, and I was glad I had reserved beds as people were turned away. The good weather, weekend and proximity to all the famous via ferratae routes meant it was a very popular place to be. Also, the race passed through as a checkpoint, so it had a real manic atmosphere. Indeed dinner time was a case of squeeze in and hope you got served. It was a shame, as my memory of that hut had been fabulous food and great service, but I fear it is a victim of its own success. Still, we did get a good dinner, and as we were only descending the next day, we had a nice drink and a late night (in hut terms, 9pm). The walk down to Vallesinella via the Rifugio Casinei was lovely, albeit against the heavy traffic of climbers, ferrataerists and walkers, it being such a lovely Sunday morning. Italian walkers are even more friendly than in the UK though, so all morning was a stream of smiles, 'Salve's, 'Buongiorno' and the like.
 
We had then booked a flat in Riva del Garda for some even better food (if possible) and some of the dolce vita, where Tracey could relax, read, sunbathe and paddle in the lake. Frankie and me however also did the VF della Amicizia, 1200m 3C, which we could walk to from the room, and is right above the town, offering incredible views of the lake and town, a ladder-fest of a climb linking exposed loose paths and wooded terraces. A great end to the trip - Tracey and Frankie really enjoyed it, and Tracey explored her boundaries, only struggling on that one day, getting fitter and stronger by the day. My 6th time to the Brenta, and unlikely to be my last.

Sometimes a plan going awry can lead to an almost better alternative. Paul and I had planned on another attempt to summit Triglav in Slovenia this week, after having had to back off due to avalanche activity previously, but the flights were messed up by the booking company, so we had to cancel. As a consolation, I wanted to bag some munros for my second round, and on this pretext were drove North on Weds night and settled into a very nice lodge in the Old Town, North Ballachulish. The problem was the evening view - the whole of Beinn a'Bhethir (said Ben a Vair) was framed in the lodge window, resplendent in broody late summer light, and Paul hadn't done it yet. Over a drink we soon changed the plans, especially knowing the arcane local saying -
"If anyone should sup from a cup of ale, yet eschew the view for the sake of another, then he shall be damned to forever walk in the shadow of the midge", so the Mamores were shelved for a traverse of Beinn a'Bhethir (AKA the Ballachulish Horseshoe).
OK, I made the last bit up, but it did look so inviting that I was prepared to accept my tally wasn't going to increase by the planned three, only two, but did suggest a FULL traverse, up the cracking Schoolhouse Ridge from Ballachulish, over Sgorr Ban, Sgorr Dearg and Sgorr Dhonuill, but then descend into Gleann a'Chaolais, to which Paul readily agreed.
The forecast was for a damp morning, slowly improving, with brooding views and little rain. We even hoped that despite the lack of wind, the prolonged dry spell would mean few midges as we traipsed up through the bracken and heather on the lower slopes of the ridge. Wrong! The wee blighters were waiting in gangs, getting in our ears, throat and drowning in our sweat as they clamoured for a bloody snack. This spurred us to move quickly, and once we got to the scrambling sections, there was thankfully enough breeze to keep them down.
The scrambling is never hard, always a little loose, but great fun as we gained height to where the N ridge adjoins onto Sgorr Ban, and there is then an elegant sweeping ridge onto the first munro of Sgorr Dearg at 1024m, where we stopped to take in the views and eat some lunch. We then descended quickly to the bealach at the top of the 'normal' ascent route to P757 before making the final ascent up the increasingly rocky Sgorr Dhonuill. When I first climbed this 16 years ago, I came up Gleann a'Chaolais, and up the final red scree-filled coire wall, and I wanted to go back that way to refresh my memory. The path in the lower reaches of the glen has been greatly improved, but the scree slope is still for connoisseurs only, and Paul was very careful after having only just recovered from an ankle injury! ;)
The car was parked strategically at the end of the long fire road by the church on the A82, so after a visit to the Laroch for a pint of shandy, we were soon back at the lodge for a welcome shower after the midges.
Today was to be a short day, and I had planned a solitary munro on the way home, but the law of 'climb what you see' was invoked again, and as Paul hadn't done the shapely Sgorr na Ciche, or Pap of Glencoe, that was the chosen target. We ascended up the very eroded (but drier than normal) path that branches off to the end of the Aonach Eagach ridge, and once we got to the bealach, we took the decision to spice things up and scramble directly up to the summit. Again, it is loose at times, but the rock was dry and warm, and in the sunshine it was a joy. The views were grand, and we shared them with a pretty American hill-runner who arrived just as we got up to leave, muddy and breathless but happy with her work.
To keep to the trip's ethos of circular routes, we went straight off the nose, due West, down some great little rocky terraces that would be interesting in the wet, but handily marked with wee cairns. Once lower down, it was a mix of steep peaty grassland and bracken, and once we crashed out onto the track I was careful to brush off the half a dozen ticks I expected and found on my trousers. Paul had none, apparently due to the fact insects don't like the toxicity of Teeside blood! ;)

Two great days on the hill, whatever the objectives had been. That's how to deal with disappointment or unplanned change - Do something else. Above all, enjoy it!

Was working in deepest Glen Affric last week for Steven Fallon Mountain Guides. A great three days, full blog at http://www.stevenfallon.co.uk/blog.html

A very experienced high-altitude mountaineer once said to me that summit success was '60% attitude, 30% fitness and weather, and 10% luck', and I completely agree. My recent trip to attempt Peak Lenin in Kyrgyzstan, 7134m ended in an early retreat, and the numbers above wavered due to various influences as the trip progressed.
We had a very successful early acclimatisation, with the long walk-in to Advance Base Camp from Ashik-Tash basecamp going smoothly, followed by an ascent of the North ridge of Petrowsky as far as the non-technical ground extended to 4150m. Then, after a rest, it was up to summit Yukin Peak at 5140m, which was a fantastic viewpoint for the whole route. It is there that we started to get an appreciation of the scale of this massive mountain.
Nothing in the Alps compares to the immensity of the Himalaya, and this area, the Pamirs, is no different. The standard convention of not ascending more than 3-500m per day simply will not allow sufficient progress here, and the camps are strung out in 'safer' areas on the mountainside with around 1000m of ascent each time. This, along with the fact that you carry loads above ABC mean that the days are physically challenging, and acclimatisation is at a premium. Finally, as there are various commercial companies operating on the mountain, the bottleneck that is Camp 2 has become an unsanitary and rather sketchy place to be or longer than necessary.
My 10% luck really ran out on the day we were due to do our first load carry when I came down with diarrhoea. This meant another rest day and plenty of antibiotics. It is always important to follow stringent camp hygiene, and I have always been fastidious with washing, eating and drinking, but unfortunately here you are somewhat at the mercy of the camp cooks etc, and stomach upsets were rife around the whole mountain, let alone at our camp. 
I felt a little better after 48hrs, and managed to eat, so we set off at 2am, the first party to do so. We made good time across the moraines and up the glacier, tackling the crevasses and ladder steadily and safely. We were in no rush, as we would be able to cross the 'Frying Pan' (where the snow and ice reflects the UV light and heat and provides exceptionally hot temperatures and debilitating levels of UV) to Camp 2 before it got really hot. Unfortunately, as each hour went by, I got weaker, the lack of food and rigours of the illness telling on me. We slowed, and eventually got to C2 by around 1pm. We had to find and erect the tents stored there by the porters amongst the relative chaos of far too many people, in various states of exhaustion through heat and effort and of course the altitude, as were were at 5400m by now.
The only place we could pitch was right at the top of a steep stony area, exposed to rockfall, but 'thankfully' close to the melt-water supply and the precarious balcony path to the quite disgusting latrine area. I would need to make countless visits during the night, tottering along the icy, gravelly path in the dark, and could keep no food down. It was pretty miserable and very difficult to remain hygienic, so the decision was made to descend the next day, which we did.
I did feel a little better with the drop in altitude, but the lack of sustenance in over four days was telling, and so we knew we had to rest more days. The problem was that the weather window was slipping by, and to make things worse, there was a guide and his client killed in an avalanche just above C2, a Swiss climber found dead on the summit ridge and various parties missing/trapped up at C3 and C4. All of this affected the 60% factor, that of attitude. We assessed our options, and contemplated getting a local guide to assist, but the weather, the fatigue, the interrupted acclimatisation programme and the ever-increasing serious nature of the mountain was nibbling away at our resolve. After a lot of debate and mulling over our options, we decided to abandon the trip.
It is/was very disappointing and sad, but it's all part of mountaineering. A 7000m summit is a real challenge in itself, without some of the other physiological and psychological issues we were facing. You need to be in prime physical and mental condition, otherwise the higher you go, the more dangerous and consequence-ridden it all becomes. Peak Lenin truly is a wonderful mountain in an outstanding area, and more than lived up to my expectations. Some of the conditions on the mountain not so.
But it is huge. It is very high. It does not suffer fools. Everything needs to be stacked in your favour, otherwise things can become very serious indeed. The nominal success rate is between 20-25%, and anecdotally we had it suggested that this year it has been in single figures - That was certainly reflected at our camp.
You win some, you lose some. Yes, We were very disappointed, but all of us know we made the right decision. Will I be back? Certainly a possibility.............it's a cracker of a mountain!