Lament to lost activities: mountaineering

Alternative title: Life.turns 7, where did you get those salopettes?

Despite this latest absurd life.turns photograph from the garden studio, the tone of this narrative is consciously more reflective than the flippancy of the others. Blipping helps you to see the alchemy in new and previously unnoticed things, I have certainly found that. But maybe it also helps to rekindle enthusiasms that inevitably get blunted with time. This entry is about mountaineering, not so much a lament to lost activity as a resolve to do more again.

When I first moved to Cumbria 19 years ago after 6 years in lowland Kent, I left behind my life there without regret, and amongst the lakes and mountains of Cumbria I truly felt I'd been reborn. I went to the Lake District every weekend, and after a few years I began rock climbing and then spent as much time as possible clambering on the crags.

In May 2001, my friend Simon and I went to the island of Skye in North West Scotland. The objective was to enjoy climbing and scrambling on the bare, impossibly rugged peaks of the Black Cuillin mountains. The prize if weather permitted was to traverse the Cuillin ridge, the most challenging ridge walk in Britain that involves seriously exposed scrambling and 4 graded rock climbs. The day we arrived the weather forecast for the following day predicted something highly unusual for this notoriously wet part of Scotland: a day of perfect sunshine.

We resolved to make the most of it, get up at 4 in the morning and walk the 5 miles from the campsite in Glen Brittle to the far end of the ridge at Sgurr nan Eag. The ridge traverse is about 8 miles of walking, scrambling and climbing with a total ascent of 10000 feet, plus the walk in and longer walk out at the far end. The original plan had been to have a few days building fitness and scouting some of the more difficult part of the route, we would have also cached water and food along the way. There is virtually no drinking water on the ridge, and we did not want to carry too much. We would ideally have bivouacked at Sgurr nan Eag the night before to get a head start in the morning. But this day, the weather provided an opportunity that couldn't be missed, so there was no time for such preparations.

The truth is that I wasn't fit enough for the ridge at that time. I had been ill for a long period and had had only a couple of months to regain my strength. But we were there, and the day was perfect, cloudless and wind free - we had to go. We went well up to and beyond the ascent of the Inaccessible Pinnacle, we all but ran up the edge of this shark's fin of a peak, overtaking a couple of climbing parties that were labouring up with full climbing gear. It was not long after the abseil descent though, that I ran out of fuel, all blood sugar and glycogen were exhausted and my energy flatlined.

By this stage we had run out of water and were resorting to mouthfuls of ice from snow beds. The only food left was boiled sweets, and I was surprised that one of these would give me enough energy for 15 minutes of walking.

I was, though, getting slower all the time and it was becoming apparent that we were not going to manage the final climb up the Basteir Tooth in the state I was in. So in the end we bivouacked uncomfortably on the top of Bruach na Frithe. I fell asleep exhausted, my head literally on a pillow of rock. In the morning, we both felt stronger and determined. We finished the ridge quickly and began the long trudge back to the campsite.

It's pointless trying to describe the feeling that followed and has stayed with me ever since. We had a few more good days on the Cuillin that week, including climbing Pinnacle Ridge on Sgurr nan Gillean on Simon's birthday, and being presented at the very top with a brocken spectre.

The subtext of this blip is friendship, companionship in difficult situations that bonds you for life.

So, mountaineering, yes, I need to do more of it. And take the camera...I didn't have one on the Cuillin ridge and all I have is memories. Doing a couple of the blips of the monitoring days on Scafell reminded me what a beautiful place the Lake District is, and that there are blippers who are interested to see it. So perhaps less Arnside and more beyond?

If you have read this far, thank you. If I am to complete my virtual zoetrope then I need to do at least two more life.turns entries before Thursday next week. The good news is that last night's frogman entry to life.turns has been accepted, so I won't have to subject myself, the neighbours or fellow blippers to that again.

Note the salopettes, I bought these some years ago in a climbing shop, they were in the Sale, I wonder why?