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!!!

From Jan. 20th to Feb. 11th I was on expedition to the highest mountain in the world outside of the Himalaya, the highest in the Southern Hemisphere, and the highest in the Western Hemisphere. Aconcagua sits entirely in Argentina, close to the Chilean border, in the Andes. It is high! It is famous for strong winds and biting cold. We were lucky to experience neither, and had nigh on perfect conditions.

Our local guides Chicho, Maxi and Mauricio were perfectly acclimatised, fit and strong, and they helped us with the gruelling summit day with advice and encouragement as we battled with the lack of oxygen. It is a real toil at those altitudes, and I can only imagine what it would have been like in less clement weather! We did have an electrical storm on the descent to Plaza la Mulas base camp as we traversed the mountain, and that had our hair standing on end and our ice axes singing. Scary, especially when the thunder bursts around you!

It was doubly satisfying as we ascended the Vacas and Relinchos valleys, and descended the Horcones, thus making a full traverse of the mountain. If anyone ever tells you Aconcagua is just a walk, ask them if they have done it? Yes, it may not be at all technical, but the objective danger of rockfall is very real, as is the debilitating effects of extreme altitude. Add all of that to the fact that you have to load carry at height, and it is no gimme!

Well done to all the team who made the summit, and also well done to the guys who through one reason or another weren't able to do so - We know how hard that decision is to make. The mountain will always be there another day.