On The Road

Sarah and Stefan's Fontainebleau ticklist

2010-05-06T09:59:00.003+01:00

..ok, so this is a bit train-spotty, but here's our little diary for our bouldering trip.


when    who    area    prob   grade  name

12/03   Sa St  95.2    b16    5B
        Sa St  95.2    b18    3C
        Sa St  95.2    b19    4C*
        Sa St  95.2    b20    4B                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b21    3C                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b22    3B                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b23    4B                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b24    4B                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b25    4A                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b26    3C                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b27    4A                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b28    4C                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b29    4B                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b30    3C                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b31    3C                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b32    4B                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b33    4B                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b34    4C*    L'Ectoplasme                                            
        Sa St  95.2    b35    5A                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b36    3C                                        
        Sa St  95.2    b37    3B                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                
        Sa St  95.2    b38    5A                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            
        Sa St  95.2    r37    5A*                                                            
            
13/03   Sa St  95.2    b1     4B
        Sa St  95.2    b2     4B
        Sa St  95.2    b3     4C
        Sa St  95.2    b4     3C
        Sa St  95.2    b5     4C
           St  95.2    b6     4C
        Sa St  95.2    b7     3B
        Sa St  95.2    b8     5A*
        Sa St  95.2    b10    4B
        Sa St  95.2    b11    3C
        Sa St  95.2    b12    4B
        Sa St  95.2    b13    4C*
        Sa St  95.2    b15    4B                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            
        Sa St  95.2    b17    4B        
        Sa St  95.2    r28    5A*

That kind of concludes the 95.2 blue circuit. We skipped number 9 as we could't quite work out the intended line, and number 14, a pointless 3 over a poor landing. Sarah declined number 6 as the crux was a massive span over a poor landing. We intended this to be our 'warm-up' circuit for this trip, but it was actually top quality. We also did two very nice problems from the red circuit as recommended by Will - will go back and try to do the whole thing. I had a couple of goes on red 47, but took the long fall twice from the top mantle. Awesome problem though - an unfeasibly long reach from a shitty one-handed undercut, and a slopey, swimming finish. Quintessential Font.


15/03   Sa St  95.2    r1     4A                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
        Sa St  95.2    r2     4B                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
        Sa St  95.2    r3     4C
        Sa St  95.2    r4     4B    
        Sa St  95.2    r5     4C
        Sa St  95.2    r6     4C
        Sa St  95.2    r7     4B
        Sa St  95.2    r1     4C
        Sa St  95.2    r11    5B*
        Sa St  95.2    r12    4B
        Sa St  95.2    r13    4C
        Sa St  95.2    r14    4B
        Sa St  95.2    r15    4C*
        Sa St  95.2    r16    5A
        Sa St  95.2    w11    5C*
        Sa St  95.2    w12    5C*
        Sa St  95.2    w13    5B
        Sa St  95.2    w15    5A
        Sa St  95.2    w16    5B

Glorious sunshine day! Started on the reds, and with a few whites that took our fancy thrown in for good measure. We didn't manage to locate problems 8 and 9. Pick of the bunch probably red 11 with some good sloper slapping, and white 12, an infuriatingly technical slab. We're starting to know 95.2 now, probably one more day and then move on somewhere else.


16/03   Sa St  95.2    b17    4B
        Sa St  95.2    b16    5B
        Sa St  95.2    r17    5C*
           Sa  95.2    w7     6A
        Sa St  95.2    b16    5B
        Sa St  95.2    w8b    6B+*    La p'tit toit
           St  95.2    r20    4C
        Sa St  95.2    r23    5A
        Sa St  95.2    w3     5C
           St  95.2    w30    6A*
           St  95.2    w31    5C

We were climbing tops off - very pleasant and sunny, car thermometer on +15C. Set about trying to finish the reds, but got distracted by the overhanging prow of off-circuit "La P'tit Toit", a traverse on slopers to a hard top-out. We'd seen a French team on it yesterday, failing miserably. We both got it, much to our own surprise. Some of the reds have been lost to the erosion cordons, and some of the remainders looked overgrown and with iffy landings - we carried on with the whites instead. It seems like most people just hover up on the top of the hill and ignore the boulders lower down. Had a couple of goes on "Le Kilo de Beurre", white 1. Need considerably bigger balls before committing to that top-out; proper high-ball. Feeling royally trashed.


18/03   Sa St  BoisR   o14    3A
        Sa St  BoisR   o15    3A
        Sa St  BoisR   b12    4C
        Sa St  BoisR   b15    4B
        Sa St  BoisR   r22    6A*     Le meilleur des mondes
           St  BoisR   r23    6A+*    La theorie des nuages

Bois Rond - after some easy warm-ups, Sarah had her mind on "Le meilleur des mondes" which she'd not quite managed last time we were here. A fine problem indeed. This time she dispatched it without too much trouble. We then moved around the boulder to the overhang of "La theorie des nuages" which had had the better of me last September. It took some working to find the right sequence, but eventually it fell. Sarah came very close, to her credit - not her usual favoured style of problem. She'll have it on the next visit. We then tried our hands (and feet) at the technical wall of "Little Shakespeare" which proved too hard, although Sarah came close.


19/03   Sa St  BoisR   b2     5C*
        Sa St  BoisR   b9     5A
        Sa St  BoisR   b11    4B
        Sa St  BoisR   b21    4C
           St  BoisR   b30    5A
           St  BoisR   b31    5B
        Sa     BoisR   r7     6A*     Little Shakespeare
        Sa St  BoisR   r10    5C*     Objectif grand angle
        Sa St  BoisR   r21    5B

Second day on at Bois Rond, and Sarah had a very good day. Impressively, she finished "La theorie des nuages" on her fifth go, pulling through the sloping finish. She also tip-toed her way up the technical "Little Shakespeare" right at the end. I spent most of the day failing on "Constellation des Amoureux" making precious little progress. It was 19 degrees when we left the camp site in the morning, and just as we came back in the afternoon it started raining. Good job tomorrow is a rest day. Grades at Bois Rond felt very.. traditional. Current thinking is to head for Isatis next.


21/03   Sa St  Isatis  b9     5A
        Sa St  Isatis  r17    5A        
        Sa St  Isatis  b18    4C
           St  Isatis  w4     6C*    Composition des Forces
           St  Isatis  w10    6A     Le Statique
        Sa St  Isatis  w16    6B+*   Buerre Marga
        Sa     Isatis  w18    6B     La Zip Zut
        Sa St  Isatis  oc11a  6C*    Little Karma

Franchard Isatis, top quality just outside the car. It was touch and go if we'd be able to climb given how heavy it'd been raining during the day and night (fortunately on a scheduled rest day), but the rock was dry. I'd not been able to touch "Little Karma" last year, but this time it went, second go, albeit with a somewhat undignified belly-flop finish. Very pleased with that. Sarah had her eyes on the most excellent, but deceptively tricky, "Buerre Marga" (still a sandbag at 6B+), which at first proved stubborn, but when she finally managed to work out the starting moves it went smoothly. I repeated it - with difficulty - for good measure. It really is great. We finished on "Composition des Forces", a recommendation from Will. To my own surprise, it went second go, and Sarah came exceedingly close - one for next visit. Another very good route, and for me, the best day so far.


22/03   Sa St  Isatis  b4     3C
        Sa St  Isatis  r11    4B    
        Sa St  Isatis  r4     4C
        Sa St  Isatis  r5     5A
        Sa St  Isatis  r7     4C
           St  Isatis  w8     6A    
        Sa     Isatis  w4     6C*    Composition des Forces
           St  Isatis  oc     6C+*   Surplomb de la Coquille
           St  Isatis  w19    6B*    L'Envie des Betes            
           St  Isatis  r15    5A

More Isatis, and the sun's back in force. Sarah easily traipsed up "Composition Des Forces" first go, after which we went to seek out "Surplomb de la Coquille". Steep, and as it turned out - hard. In fact, it felt utterly impossible to start out with, but gradually the moves slotted into place, and after countless goes I managed to pull over. Sarah got most of the moves wired. Feeling rather spent, we had lunch and then ambled back down to find another of Will's recommendations, the undercut marbled wall and prow of "L'Envie des Betes". Technical, slappy and strong, this proved hard-won, especially for tired arms. In fact, every single move felt hard. Again, Sarah worked out how to do each move, but lacking a few inches every move of mine turned into three for her. She will undoubtedly finish it at a later visit. We seem to have taken a step up in terms of grades, which is always pleasing. Sarah considers "Buerre Marga" to be the highlight of the last two days, and for me it's probably "La Coquille", given how hard I had to work for it. Isatis is an amazing venue.

            
24/03   Sa St  Isatis  b1     3B
        Sa St  Isatis  b6     3C
        Sa St  Isatis  r1     4C
        Sa St  Isatis  r3     5B
        Sa St  Isatis  w1     6B*   L'amoche doigt        
           St  Isatis  w40    6B*   L'angle de serac

Sarah wanted another stab at "L'envie des Betes" and I had planned to try the arete of W40 and perhaps a wee look at "El Poussif", for me a major challenge at 7A+. We ended up on w1, "L'amoche doigt", an innocuous-looking slabby arete that turned out to be a matter of inches. I could reach the crucial hold, but Sarah could not, at least not using the sequence I used. It was unlocked for her by a local Bleausard who demonstrated a tiny change in foot placement, and it all went. We then went back to "L'envie des Betes", but the crux go-again move still eluded her. Some lunch, and we wandered up to the rather shapely arete of white 40. Time for the Katanas for this one - not much in terms of foot holds. It took a while to unlock the sequence, as usual for aretes. Balance is it. Eventually it came together with a long, insecure stretch for the top. Sarah tried the same sequence, and got desperately close; so close, in fact that her spotter had already started the top-out celebrations when she grabbed the top jugs - and peeled off. As did the skin on her fingers. Will had recommended a look at "El Poussif" and we chatted to a couple of Brits who'd eventually managed to crack it. I had a couple of goes, but this really felt beyond me in every way, at least trying their beta. I might come back later on and try a different method.


26/03   Sa St  Sabots b24     4C
        Sa St  Sabots b25     3C
           St  Sabots r19     6A+   Les joyeuses de Noel

        (rain stops play)

Rained off yesterday, and dodging showers today. The showers arrived with us in the morning, and turned into a proper downpour by lunch, when we gave up hiding under a surplomb. We went home, had lunch waiting for it to stop, which it did. We waited some more for things to dry out and headed back, and we managed three warm-ups before it started again. Disappointing, but our first day lost to rain for two weeks which by anyone's standards isn't bad going. Roche aux Sabots is another excellent venue, and the home for one of my main objectives for this trip, "Graviton", which I failed on last September. A lot. We also have a long list of recommendations from Will that we are itching to have a go at, as soon as it dries out.


27/03   Sa St  Sabots b37     4A
        Sa St  Sabots b38     3C
           Sa  Sabots b36     4B*
        Sa St  Sabots r1      6A*   Les saute-montagnes
        Sa St  Sabots r4      5B*   Dalle de Cristal
        Sa     Sabots r19     6A+   Les joyeuses de Noel
        Sa St  Sabots r26     5A    Le gout du jour
           St  Sabots r9      5B    Little Crack
            
29/03   Sa St  Sabots b37     4A
        Sa St  Sabots b38     3C
        Sa     Sabots b36     4B*
        Sa St  Sabots r3      6A*   Le surplomb a coulisse
           St  Sabots oc33c   7A*   Graviton
           St  Sabots oc33b   7A    Gravillon
            
30/03   Sa St  Sabots r7      4C*   Le mur badaboum
        Sa St  Sabots r6      5C*   Le porte a faux
            
        (rain stops play)
            
31/03   Sa St  Sabots b30     3B
        Sa St  Sabots b28     3C
        Sa St  Sabots r30     5B*   La barquette de beurre
        Sa St  Sabots r27     5C*   Crosse en l'air
           St  Sabots r28     6A+*  Servis compris

Due to the weather, our schedule has gone to pot, but we've persisted between showers. We worked and, based on the original beta, failed miserably on Graviton. A bunch of Norwegians showed us a different method (wild heel hook up right) which finally saw me top out, which was one of my most coveted objectives of the trip. Sarah came exceedingly close and will carry on as soon as the weather will allow. I also took advantage of the number of pads and spotters about to do "Gravillon". On Sarah's birthday we resorted to covering the route with a tarp to protect it from the rain, but in the end we just had to concede defeat. We also spent some time on "l'angle de Jean-Luc", which feels super technical and hard - it's currently winning. 6B is laughably off the mark. We saw one of the Norwegians (Robert) cruise it effortlessly - twice, as it were, following Will's beta to the letter. We still couldn't do it. One of the French guys working it with us had been trying (and failing) it for 10 years solid, he claimed. Sarah's getting closer though. I spent (too much) time working "Jet Set", but getting absolutely nowhere from the take-off. I then tried the similar, but more amenable "Servis Compris" immediately to the left, which has roughly the same air miles, but off a better left-hand hold. I failed on that for a long time, too, until I eventually latched it. Apparently, not very good at dynos. There are some very good problems on the red circuit here, and trying to do reds 1, 2, 3 and 4 in succession is a bit of a shock to the system.


02/04   Sa St  Sabots b2      4B
        Sa St  Sabots b3      4B
        Sa St  Sabots b4      4B
        Sa St  Sabots b5      4A
        Sa St  Sabots b6      4C
        Sa St  Sabots b7      4A
        Sa St  Sabots b8      3B
        Sa St  Sabots b9      4B
            
03/04   Sa St  Sabots b10     3C
        Sa St  Sabots b11     3B
        Sa St  Sabots b13     3B
        Sa St  Sabots b14     4A
        Sa St  Sabots b15     4A
        Sa St  Sabots oc17b   6B*   L'Inversee Satanique
        Sa St  Sabots oc17b   6C+*  L'Inversee Satanique Directe
        Sa St  Sabots r29     6B*   Le mur a Michaud
        Sa     Sabots oc33c   7A*   Graviton
        Sa     Sabots oc33b   7A    Gravillon

Another soaked day saw us abandoning play after a few easy, but nice, blue warm-up problems. The day after we met up with some guys from Bristol here for the Easter bank hol, and for a while it looked like the rain would come in again, but we ended up having a fab day, culminating with Sarah cruising "Graviton" first go, and then doing the same to "Gravillon", thus achieving her stated goal for the year - twice over - to boulder V6/Fb7A. There always seems to be a great party atmosphere around "Graviton" and "Smash", the big 7B dyno opposite, with lots of pads and willing spotters from all around the world. I carried on my to date fruitless work on "Jet Set", and came close on "Jeux de Toit" (7A+) after some useful beta from Jim. One to come back for with fresher arms. "Le mur a Michaud" (red 29) is a very nice problem.


04/04   Sa St  Isatis b7      3C
        Sa St  Isatis r1      5A
        Sa St  Isatis r1      5A
        Sa St  Isatis r1      5B
           St  Isatis w1      6B*   L'Envie des Betes
        Sa     Isatis r1      5A
           St  Isatis w4      6B*   L'Angle de Serac
        Sa St  Chien  b48     4B
        Sa St  Chien  b49     3C
        Sa St  Chien  b50     4B
        Sa St  Chien  r2      ?
           St  Chien  r3      ?
        Sa St  Chien  r9      ?
           St  Chien  r10     ?*
        Sa St  Chien  r20     ?

Rained off at Isatis, but sat it out and drove over to Cul de Chien and ended up having a fantastic afternoon in the sun. Great sport was had on red problem 10, a sort of mini-Graviton with countless comedy falls from the top by the whole group. Before walking back, we attempted the great roof, but no one managed to do the crux. But what a route..


05/04   Sa St  Cuis   r1      4B
        Sa St  Cuis   r2      4C
        Sa St  Cuis   w3      4C
        Sa     Cuis   w3b     5A*
        Sa     Cuis   w45     4C
        Sa St  Cuis   oc35a   6C*

Glorious blues, finally, and although tired after some three and a half days on, we couldn't not climb. Cuisiniere was the aim of the day, and an amazing playground it is, too. We started easy but soon got distracted onto a bis-version of white 3 - an innocuous-looking short slab of amenable grade. This is of course usually a big, red warning sign to steer well clear.. I couldn't touch it, but Sarah eventually managed to work it out and tip-toed her way to the top. One of the unique things with the forest - 7A one day, utterly humbled on a 5A warm-up slab on the next. We went looking for a problem called "Impasse du Hazard", but it turned out to be aptly named, and we declined to try it. Ian suggested a go on a 7B he'd done previously, "Pensees Cachees", which turned out to be a steep, undercut arete - butch stuff. We worked it for a good while, but never really got very far, and by now my arms were starting to ache rather worryingly. One of the problems both Sarah and I wanted a re-match with since the last trip was a nameless 6C on boulder 35 - a top-out swim on slopers that we'd got nowhere with before. This time we both made short work of it, and it felt like a tangible token of progress in our climbing. The rest of the day we worked various sit-starts to nearby problems but all of us were tired in arms, and worryingly thin-skinned on the finger tips. We retreated to a bar in Milly to say farewell to the Bristol boys and to celebrate a good couple of days of bouldering.

            
07/04   Sa St  Cuvier b22     5B    La Fissure
        Sa St  Cuvier b40     5B
        Sa St  Cuvier r21     6A*   La Nescafe
        Sa St  Cuvier r22     6A*   La Marie Rose
        Sa St  Cuvier r38     5C    La Bicolore    
        Sa St  Cuvier r25     5C    L'Angle Rond
           St  Cuvier r39     5C    La Clavicule
           St  Cuvier r24     5C*   La Troisieme Arete

Rain overnight, and a wet morning saw us leave late for Bas Cuvier. Hot and humid. We both repeated first go both "Nescafe" and "Marie Rose", which had taken persistent work on the last trip. Will had warned us that the arete of red 24, to the left of "The Joker", would feel hard for the grade, and he was not wrong. Perhaps the grade would be appropriate if you're 6ft+, but for me it took an all-out jump to reach the crucial bulge, and for Sarah even this was not possible. I think that 6B is more realistic if you can reach with a jump, and more like 7A if you actually have to climb the blank middle section on nothings. Sarah had a rather frustrating time on it, but arrived at a plausible method for a future return. We then moved onto "Duroxmanie", a 6C+ towards the Rempart area that I'd got nowhere on on the last trip. It's a high, slightly overhanging patina shield on crimps and pinches to a slopey finish. I managed to do the whole problem to a point where I had both hands on the top, just needing to mantle it out, but pumped out and took the long fall. Twice. Hopefully it'll go next time. Sarah surprised both of us by cranking through all the strong-arm moves - a few more attempts and she'll get what would be a very credible tick.


09/04   Sa St  Cuvier  b8     4A    La Poulet                
        Sa     Cuvier  r8     5C    La Vire Authenac
        Sa St  Cuvier  r7     5C*   Les Frites
        Sa     Cuvier  r24    5C*   La Troisieme Arete
           St  Rempart oc8c   6C+*  Duroxmanie
            
10/04   Sa St  Sabots  b40    4C                
        Sa St  Sabots  b41    3C
        Sa     Sabots  r8     5B    Beuf en Daube
        Sa     Sabots  r9     5B    Little Crack

Back to Cuvier, and I had my mind set on finishing off "Duroxmanie". Glorious day again to boot. We started on some 'easy' reds and blues - "Les Frites" in particular felt hopeless until a local Bleausard in typical style sauntered up it showing us how it's done. Easy when you know how. Gotta love Font. Sarah also did the neighbouring slab, equally cryptic, after which we went back for her to have a go at finishing off "La Troisieme Arete" that had eluded her the other day. She staticked it with an improbable sequence - at least 7A.. and so we wandered over to Rempart for another bash at "Duroxmanie". A crowd of Brit students were gathered there already, and it was a positive vibe - we sat down for a while and watched, and had some lunch. I felt strong as I pulled on, and it went without a hitch, first go. Very pleased with the tick. Sarah's turn, and she linked all moves to the top, but with arms too tired to commit to the top-out mantle. Definitely next time. We ambled back to the main area to have a look at "Cortomaltese", "Charcuterie" and a few others, but it was warm, and slopers slimey, so nothing was succeeded on, and everything felt hard. The following day we were supposed to meet up with Annabelle and John on their way back from a bolt-clipping trip down south, so we'd agreed to meet at Sabots, as it's convenient access from the motorway. Unfortunately, they called around lunch time saying their car had been broken into, so they wouldn't make it. I was feeling rather worse for wear, with every tendon in my arms and shoulders aching so I wasn't really climbing. Sarah carried on her work on "L'Angle a Jean-Luc", but no topping out yet.


11/04   Sa St  Sabots  b39    3C
        Sa St  Sabots  b42    4A
        Sa St  Sabots  b43    4A
        Sa St  Sabots  b44    4A
        Sa St  Sabots  b45    4C
        Sa St  Sabots  b46    4B
        Sa St  Sabots  b35    3C
        Sa St  Sabots  b31    3B
        Sa St  Sabots  b34    4A
        Sa St  Sabots  b33    4B
        Sa St  Sabots  b27    4C*

Mileage day at Sabots, trying to finish off the blue circuit on our third day on. Some real gems here, especially number 27 which felt high and scary especially for Sarah with a long stretch for the less than ideal top holds.


13/04   Sa St  Cuvier  o50    3C*   La Prestat
        Sa St  Cuvier  r29    5B*   Le Reveil Matin
            
        (Rain stops play)

The plan was to warm up, and then head up to Rempart for Sarah to do "Duroxmanie". Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas, and after the classic highball of "La Prestat" and a neighbouring challenging red, we had to head for the car. We had a look at "La Stalingrad" next to "La Prestat", which Will had suggested with a wry "..if you have the balls.". We clearly don't. Proper Bishop territory.


14/04   Sa S   Isatis  r23    4C
        Sa St  Isatis  r24    5B
        Sa St  Isatis  r25    4B
        Sa St  Isatis  r27    4C
        Sa St  Isatis  r28    5C
        Sa St  Isatis  w40    6B*   L'Angle de Serac
           St  Isatis  oc51a  7A+*  L'Angle Ben's
        Sa St  Isatis  r33    5B
        Sa St  Isatis  r32    5A
        Sa     Isatis  r31    5B
        Sa St  Isatis  r30    5B

Main task of the day was for Sarah to finish off her work on "L'Angle de Serac" which she'd got rained off the other day. Whilst warming up we ran into Paul and Beccy, a couple of climbers we know from Bristol. Sarah ticked off her project first go, and mostly for a laugh we shifted our attentions to the significantly harder right-hand side of the same arete, known as "L'Angle Ben's", weighing in at 7A+. The wall is so blank it looks like a slab of marble. With Paul, me and Sarah all working it we started to make some progress, and I finally managed to latch the top, with Paul soon after. Sarah was again to her frustration unable to use the same sequence, as she couldn't reach the crucial hold from the foot placements that me and Paul had used. She's working a different sequence and will be back for another bout before long.

            
15/04   Sa St  Cuvier  b1     5A    Les Sans les Mains
        Sa St  Cuvier  b2     4C
        Sa St  Cuvier  b3     5A    Le Surplomb Nord Ouest
        Sa St  Cuvier  r2     5C    La Goulotte Sans la Goulotte
        Sa     Rempart oc8c   6C+*  Duroxmanie                        
        Sa St  Rempart oc18a  5C*   L'Angle Allain
        Sa St  Rempart oc18a  6A*   L'Angle Allain (left)
        Sa St  Rempart oc18b  7A*   Laser
        Sa St  Cuvier  r4     6A*   Le Trou du Simon

Awesome day in the forest for Sarah - "Duroxmanie" falls first go, as does her old bugbear "L'Angle Allain", both left and right, and a quick dispatch of the technical 7A wall of "Laser" to the left. My dispatch of the same wall was somewhat less quick.. We then walked back to the car, did a team ascent of the magnificent party trick "Le Trou du Simon" and drove home via to Sabots as Sarah was "in tune with her balance" - maybe "Jean-Luc" would go too? She held the finishing rail and was about to move up, but her foot gave. Heartbreakingly close to ticking three projects in one day - but she goes home with another seventh grade route to her name, and a very credible tick in "Duroxmanie".

            
16/0    Sa St  Aprmnt  r34    5C*   Le Science Friction
           St  Aprmnt  bw10   6C    La Lune (left)
           St  Aprmnt  r8     5B    Le Triste Portique
           St  Aprmnt  s15    5A        
           St  Aprmnt  oc22c  6C    (Zone B)

We met up with Paul and Beccy again, this time at Apremont where we'd never been before. The classic, and elegantly named "Le Science Friction" slab problem is the traditional start here, and every Font climber owes it to themselves to do it - it's a great introduction to the Art of Footwork. Sadly, Sarah managed to split an already sore finger tip on her successful attempt, which stopped play for her after the first route. Apremont is a big, sprawling maze of jumbled boulders. There's clearly a lot of potential here, but simply learning to navigate the place is a task in itself. Paul and I had a few token goes on the slab-dyno of "Medaille en Chocolate", but it was full on in the sun, and neither of us got anywhere at all on it.


18/04   Sa St  PBois   b20    4A    Pour les Mains
        Sa St  PBois   b21    4B    Blockage
        Sa St  PBois   b21b   4A    Des blockages
        Sa St  PBois   b22    4A    Derapage
        Sa St  PBois   r11    ?        
        Sa St  PBois   bl9    6A    Remise a alure
        Sa St  FSabl   r1     5C    l'accroche doigt
        Sa St  FSabl   r2     5B    la reticence
        Sa St  FSabl   r3     5B    le passe plat
        Sa St  FSabl   r4     5B    la promptitude
        Sa St  FSabl   r5     5C*   la derobade
        Sa St  FSabl   r6     5C    morsure aux doigts
        Sa St  FSabl   r7     5C*   les racines
        Sa St  FSabl   r8     5B*   saccage au burin
        Sa St  FSabl   r9     5B    les chien assis
           St  FSabl   r10    5B*   l'arete de poisson

One problem on my list was "La Baleine" at Petit Bois. From pictures it looks stunning, and Will had heartily recommended it. Petit Bois is a little bit out of our way, and the trip was made worse by the fact that due to a loca bike race the most convenient roads were closed off, and we found ourselves being diverted around in circles. At Petit Bois we warmed up, and I had about a dozen goes on "La Baleine" - it truly is an amazing problem, but sadly it wasn't to be. I got to a matched position on the rail on the lip, but unable to find it in me to stick the slap for the top holds. Sarah declined to attempt it. Also had a look at "Big Jim", but after my beasting on "La Baleine", I didn't really fancy a highball number with the crux at the top. Petit Bois isn't a very popular crag, and as a result it's still a bit green from the winter. We decided to head back towards Franchard. Being a sunny spring weekend, the main crags would be heaving, but Paul and Beccy had recommended the red circuit at Franchard Sablons, the less popular neighbour of Isatis. We barely managed to find a parking space, yet Sablons was pretty much deserted, and we set about the red circuit, which in our guide has only 20 problems on it, primarily in the fifth grade. We did the first 10, and it's a very well balanced circuit, certainly no pushover. If you think the fifth grade is below you, you should have a go at doing this circuit - ego-bruising guaranteed.


19/04   Sa St  FSabl   r11    5B    la traversee
        Sa St  FSabl   r12    5A    le nez
        Sa St  FSabl   r13    4C    l'accalmie
        Sa St  FSabl   r14    4B    mise en train
        Sa St  FSabl   r15    5A    coup de cannon
        Sa St  FSabl   r16    6A*   la dalle a clemont
        Sa St  FSabl   r18    4A    la dalle bleue
        Sa     FSabl   r19    5C    prise de tete
        Sa St  FSabl   r20    6A*   dalle funerarie
           St  FSabl   oc28a  7A    sale affaire

We carried on with the remainder of the red circuit, the latter half being more delicate and technical than the former. Ran into Neil of Maison Bleau fame, who was out furthering his quest of filming himself on every dyno in Font 7A or harder. He pointed us at a near-by boulder housing the problem "Sale Affaire" which he suggested might be 7A, rather than the 6B suggested by the guide, and a 7B. Sarah and I set about trying these with Neil offering beta advise and a strong pair of spotter's hands. "Sale Affaire" is a very nice problem, requiring some surprisingly subtle technique for something so powerful. From not really being able to even get my feet off the ground, I before long found myself at the top, using Neil's helpful beta. Sarah (perhaps to her own surprise, given the style of the problem) successfully managed to do it in two halves, but failed to link the whole thing. It will go next time. Although Franchard Sablons clearly isn't an "in" crag, it's awesome - pristine rock, solitude and although perhaps not the spread of classics like its famous neighbour, there are clearly enough test pieces for the intrepid forest explorer to seek out.


21/04   Sa St  Isatis  r26    4C
        Sa St  Isatis  b18    3B
        Sa St  Isatis  b17    3A
        Sa St  Isatis  r29    5C
        Sa St  Isatis  w40    6B*   l'angle de serac
           St  Isatis  oc51a  7A+*  l'angle ben's
           St  Sabots  rw7b   7A*   jeux de toit
           St  Sabots  rw23a  7A*   jet set

It's mop-up time for Sarah, and we headed for Isatis to work one or more of "L'Angle Ben's", "L'Envie des Betes", "La Surplomb de la Coquille" and "Sale Affaire", with "..Ben's" highest on the wish list. We warmed up on "Serac" which now feels comfortably wired. For "..Ben's", Sarah still needed to work out her sequence, her feet popping off when stretching for the high rail crimp when using the foot placements I used. Also, the moves off the rail to the top needed attention. She got closer, now able to do the problem in two halves, but not quite linking the whole thing. We walked over to Sablons for Sarah to have another couple of goes on "Sale Affaire". After three quality goes she came within touching distance of the top holds, but the day had taken its toll, so we walked back to the car and drove to Sabots. I'd planned to have another go on "Jeux de Toit" which I'd got rained off some time back, and maybe another few goes at "Jet Set" after Will kindly had texted some advice. "Jeux de Toit" is a butch little overhang and a slopey arete top-out, with a cheeky high heel-toe wedge massively easing things. Other than that, no real mysteries other than bearing down. Although a bit scrabbly at the top, once you have the arete latched, it's all over. And so for "Jet Set", which I so far had gotten nowhere with, to my disappointment. Previously, I'd focused my attention on leaping up to the apex with my right hand, using a wide grip, as this seemed to be what most people tried. I found it desperately hard to get any power from my legs. Will suggested a narrow grip, and only left foot on, and leaping up with the left hand, slightly to the left of the apex. Small adjustments to my sequence, but a massive difference. On my third attempt I latched and held the top. So pleased was I that I nearly wobbled off the top whilst doing my customary top-out dance. Sarah had a handful of extraordinarily close goes on "..Jean-Luc", now repeatedly holding the top rail, but it wasn't to be, and she was a bit disappointed going home with all her projects still remaining projects, even though she'd made progress on all.

            
22/04   Sa     Sabots  b16    4C
        Sa St  Sabots  b17    5B
        Sa St  Sabots  b19    4B
        Sa St  Sabots  r12    5B*   l'angle a gilles
           St  Sabots  r11    5C*   l'arrache-moyeu
        Sa     Sabots  r25    6C*   l'angle a Jean-Luc
           St  Sabots  rw23a  7A*   jet set
        Sa St  Sabots  rw7a   6C+*  anglomaniaque

Back to Sabots, and this time it was siege tactics for Sarah on "..Jean-Luc". And suddenly, it all came together! A blind move of the left foot up from the half-moon edge to a smear and a finger nail pull with her right hand allowed her to shift her centre of gravity to the left in order to move up, and she was done. Everyone was clapping. A capital tick, and the 6C grade belies the extraordinary technical standard of this route. Kudos to Sarah for doing the time, and she was happy and relieved in equal measures. I kick myself I didn't have the camera out for the successful ascent. I repeated "Jet Set" to show myself it wasn't just a stroke of luck, and then Sarah and I set about the roof of "Anglomaniaque" to round off the day.

            
24/04   Sa St  Isatis  b31    3B
        Sa St  Isatis  o?     ?     Orange left of blue 33
        Sa St  Isatis  b32    3B
        Sa St  Isatis  ?      ?     Arete left of blue 32
           St  Cuis    ?      7A    Bizarre Bizarre

Quick warm-up at Isatis, and Sarah set about "l'angle Ben's", next on her project hit list, fresh from her success on "...Jean-Luc". She soon found that her sequence needed tuning, and the temperature wasn't ideal. We wandered up to Cuisiniere and found a problem called "Beatle Juice" that we both had liked the look of from pictures in the guide books - a kind of cratered beach ball hovering in the air. It has a kind of not that interesting 6A from standing, but a much more fun-looking sitter weighing in at a for us mighty 7A+. Good holds it has, but distantly spaced. We spent some time working the sequence, one powerful move at a time. Uncertain if this will go, given the time we have left. After a while we walked up to the main bit and tried "Haute Tension", a 7B recommended by Will. A vertical wall with a long stretch from undercuts up to various nothings. Didn't really make much headway with this. I also tried the arete of "Bizarre Bizarre" (on the "Karma" boulder), which I managed to unlock successfully.

            
25/04   Sa St  Canon   sb1    5A+*
        Sa St  Canon   sb2    4C
        Sa St  Canon   sb3    5A
        Sa St  Canon   sb4    5C*
        Sa St  Canon   sb5    4C
        Sa St  Canon   sb6    5B*
        Sa St  Canon   sb7    4C
        Sa St  Canon   sb8    5C
        Sa St  Canon   sb9    5B
        Sa St  Canon   sb10   4C
        Sa St  Canon   sb11   5A
        Sa St  Canon   sb12   5B*
        Sa St  Canon   sb13   4C
        Sa St  Canon   sb14   4C
        Sa St  Canon   sb15   4B+*
        Sa St  Canon   sb16   5B+
        Sa St  Canon   r18    6A

Mileage day at a for us new crag, Rocher Canon, a bit further on from Cuvier. Another scorcher, weather-wise. Big, sprawling place, but quite nice for a chill-out day; a little bit polished in places, but not unbearably so. Quite a lot of circuits here, and we'd decided to seek out the 'Sky Blue', and it took us a good while to find it. This seemed to match what would have been called a red circuit in most other places, grades wise, with mainly fifth-grade problems. And very nice they were, too. Good slabs, with the easy-angled, 4B+ number 15 an amusing acquaintance. Maybe a clue was in the name "Dalle a Marbre" (Marble Slab)? Fun was also to be had on number 4, an undercut slab requiring a high heel and palm to get off the deck.
27/04 (Isatis, Cuisiniere) Ben's, Poussif, Beatle juice, La magnifique, Excalibur, La Mur Cordier..

A long, hard day, with little to show for it :). Sarah put in some more work on "..Ben's", and on one go actually got her fingers over the top jugs, but to her frustration didn't manage to latch on. At least a confirmation that she's got the sequence sorted; now we just need to find optimal conditions. The problem is so marginal that with the current heat wave, it's difficult to get many quality goes in during a climbing day. She was distraught. I had a few goes on "El Poussif", but it feels that this is not something I'd be able to complete on my own without help from some guru who can show me what to do. To top it off, one fall saw me grit-rash my lower left leg, knee to foot, so I suffered a temporary humour by-pass. We walked up to Cuisiniere to carry on playing on "Beatle Juice". We met an American guy, Zach, who is spending 6 months in Font whilst his dad is on an academic exchange working with the top French business school, which apparently (and conveniently) is located in the town of Fontainebleau. Zach showed us some beta on "Beatle Juice", and we also had a play on the neighbouring "Excalibur". A bit later we all walked over to the main bit of the crag to have a look at "La Magnifique", but this felt disproportionally hard, and both Sarah and I soon came to the conclusion that our fingers in their current state aren't up to sharp crimps like that at the moment. On the way out we had another look at "La Mur Cordier", but it still seems utterly improbable.
28/04 (Isatis, Cuisiniere, Sablons) Ben's, Beatle juice, Sale Affaire..

Sarah carried on working "..Ben's" whilst the temperatures allowed, but no top-out as of yet. The accumulated load over the trip is starting to take its toll, and we both feel fatigued, thin-skinned, and battle-worn. Sarah soon felt that this wasn't going to be the day, and that she might benefit from a light day, and with tomorrow's scheduled rest day, focus on maximising her chances after that. We wandered over to Cuisiniere for me to have another play on "Beatle Juice". This problem has caught both of our imagination, and one of the few we've seen so far where the sit start seem to really improve the problem. It's probably the most powerful problem we've attempted with five or six very strong moves in a row before things ease off. Curiously, the crux is not at all where one would be led to assume from inspection. It seemed to us that the crux ought to be the long stretches between poorish holds whilst still in the horizontal, but instead we found ourselves stumped on the move leading from the sit-start extension into the standing start 6A version - this whilst established on perhaps the two biggest hand-holds on the whole problem. No useable feet, and with a growing pump in the arms built up from the previous moves makes it harder than it looks. I came close, but didn't manage to link it this time. It feels as if it will go with some added rest day power in the arms. Sarah found it difficult to sit it out, itching to get on. As we walked back we decided to pop into Franchard Sablons for Sarah to have a quick look at one of her other remaining projects, "Sale Affaire". She had a couple of exploratory goes to fine-tune her sequence, but this will definitely require fully loaded arms for a summit push.
30/04 (Isatis, Cuisiniere, Sablons, Haute Plains) Ben's, Beatle juice, Sale Affaire, Coquille..

A similar pattern to our previous climbing day, although today we'd decided to try to catch slightly more optimal conditions, and we parked up at Isatis around 9:30am. Temperature a reasonable 13 degrees, and with a cloud cover, if things stayed this way, this could shape up to be a great day. Sarah ran around a now familiar warm-up circuit of blues around the "..Ben's" boulder, with an ascent of "..Serac" to finish off her warm-up routine, and to get into the arete-groove. Two false starts were followed by a super-smooth, perfect send, caught on video. Another awesome achievement, and she ups her grade again to V7/Fb7A+. My go next, and soon I was sat under the bulging overhang of "Beatle Juice" again. I should have this licked. Last time I repeatedly dispatched the horizontal bit, but failed when pumped to pull through the crux. I thought that with some rest day power, this would be a formality. It was not. Time after time I failed to latch and hold the three finger pocket, the first of the five hard moves. I must have stuck this ten times on the trot the day before yesterday. A small alteration in how the pocket was latched turned out to be the issue, and on my fifth go, I held it, but failed to do the crux pull. Sixth attempt was a false start, but on my seventh I topped out with a somewhat scrabbly mantle that made the camera woman nervous. Always curious to find that micro changes on a single hold can totally change the outcome, even on something big & butch. And so, the ball's back in Sarah's court, and we walk over to Sablons - we're starting to get quite familiar with the various crags in the Franchard gorge. "Sale Affaire" time. Although Sarah had dispatched "..Ben's" quicker and easier than she'd feared, she was worrying that psyching up again after such a high might be difficult. Moreover, her finger skin is still rather dodgy. At least the air was still cool, and she had a handful of goes, but still not really managing to grab the arete with her left. We sat down on the mats, had some lunch and a quick snooze to recover. We were actually about to pack up and go home when Maison Bleau-Neil appeared, funnily enough at the same problem we'd encountered him before. We chatted for a good while, and he suggested that Sarah had another go, which she did. This time, she latched, and held the arete and would probably have finished it off had she known how to do the top. Psyche was back, and she decided to have a good rest and a final go. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be this time, and we wandered up to Haute Plains to have a look at "Coquille" again - I'd found this hard in our first or second week here, and I was curious to see if it felt any easier now. Sarah had been keen to do this problem, but it had always been overshadowed by other things on her list. Unfortunately by now she was rather spent. I found it much easier this time.
01/05 (Sablons, Haute Plains) Sale Affaire, Some Random 7A crimper wall, Lapin ou Canard..

Got the going home blues. Sarah carried on working "Sale Affaire", and this time managing to get both hands on the top, but still no get. I worked a 7A wall a bit further down, but didn't really make much progress. Wandered around looking for "Lapin ou Canard", but helpfully there are TWO yellow circuits at HP, and we followed the wrong one at first. Eventually we found it, but wtf? Should know by now that grades are all over the place, but I got nowhere on this.
02/05 (Sablons, Haute Plains) Sale Affaire, Surplomb de la Coquille..

Last day! Sarah effortlessly cruising "Sale Affaire" on camera, declaring it a path. Walked up so that she could try "Coquille", but third day on etc it will have to wait until the next trip. And so the time has come to depart. Font really is an amazing, magic place, and it's been a privilege to spend such an extended period of time here, really getting into the Font way. Sarah's gone from having previously climbed a single V4 to solid V6 with a classic V7 as the icing on the cake. I wanted to climb the classics that had eluded me on the last trip, and to do ten seventh grade problems. I came close. The only question is - when can we go back?

Font update

2010-04-17T15:20:00.001+01:00

Convenient internet access is hard to come by here, hence the rather sporadic updates from your intrepid Bleusard wannabes, but here goes. Our days follow a now familiar pattern: eat, sleep, climb, and when Sarah lets me, a rest day to recover muscularly, and dermatologically. Skin-wise, we've actually not done badly. Sarah had a small split in her right index finger yesterday, but apart from that we've been fine. We've managed to tick off quite a few of our projects, but also gained a few more, and still failing on a couple of stubborn ones. Both me and Sarah did "Graviton" and also "Gravillon", equalling my previous personal best, and sending Sarah's quite a few notches up. Both of us also succeeded on the amazing "Duroxmanie" - I'd gotten nowhere on this last September, and a very credible ascent for Sarah, as this is muscle beach territory. I shot a video of Sarah on her successful attempt. Sarah also managed to remove another thorn in her side from last trip, the classic line of "l'angle Allain", this time also doing the left side variation for good measure. We also managed the technical wall to the left, "Laser" - more Sarah's bag than mine, but eventually I wobbled my way up it, too. We've run into quite a few of the Bristol crew, which has been nice. In fact, when Sarah did "Gravition" it was a bit of a party atmosphere with Ian, Dean, Chris and Dave successfully grovelling over the top not long after Sarah. Always a big crowd gathered around "Graviton" and the neighbouring big dyno "Smash", with a good vibe, plenty of willing spotters and stacks of pads. Sarah is still working "L'angle a Jean-Luc", and she can't really get any closer without sending, but the last inch is proving irritatingly reluctant. Back at Isatis, Sarah went back to finish off "Angle de Serac", which she previously got rained off. This time it went first go. We'd run into Paul and Beccy from Bristol, and we then moved around the corner to try the considerably harder right-hand side of the arete, "L'angle Ben's". It's perfectly blank, and I've had a handful of plays on it before without really getting much off the ground. With me, Paul and Sarah working it, we somehow started to make some tangible progress, and suddenly I found myself crimping for dear life on the only hold on the whole route trying to psyche myself up for the slap for the top - and missed. A few goes later I stuck it, and this is my hardest problem to date. Paul topped out soon after, and Sarah - her diminutive altitude unfortunately playing to her disadvantage - was forced to explore a different way, unable to reach the crucial crimp from the foot holds that Paul and I had used. Last day with Paul and Beccy saw us for the first time at Apremont. Amazing as the place is, with a proper maze of boulders scattered over the largest area of all the Font crags, to make much headway here will probably require a significant investment in terms of time to learn to navigate the place. As our third day on it was intended as a chillout day, and we started as is traditional with an ascent of the ultra-classic, and most excellently named blank slab of "Le Science Friction". It's a kind of rite of passage for several generations of aspiring Bleusards. Sadly, some moron with a chisel has 'improved' some tiny flaws into useable holds which now has to be avoided at all costs to preserve the original experience. It's been done hands free, bare footed, backwards etc, but many strong, indoor-bred climbers accustomed to cranking heaps of grades harder are also frequently seen failing. Or flailing. Strength counts for precisely zero here. If you haven't done it, you owe it to yourself to try it, and keep trying it until you get it. This is an essential introduction to the footwork skills that make the locals look so bloody effortless around here. Unfortunately, Sarah managed to split a tip on her ascent, which forced her to abandon climbing for the day.

And so we're rapidly approaching the end of our stay in the forest, with barely two weeks to go. Climbing three days on, then resting one is our absolute max, and we still debate if the extra few days gained this way is worth the inevitable dip in performance on the third day. What has been nice this trip is to actually be able to spend some significant time working a few harder (for us) projects, rather than trying to cover the maximum amount of ground, like you probably would if you're here only for a week. We feel we have especially Sabots and Isatis pretty well covered, and we'll probably try to explore some of the lesser known areas a bit during our remaining time, but with a few excursions back to the handful of projects we're still working. I still have "Jet Set" to finish, and Sarah would be devastated to leave without sending "...Jean-Luc". Climbing-wise, both of us are now in the shape of our lives, and it will be interesting to see if this translates at all to the route climbing season back in Blighty once we get back.

Crimpy crimpy

2010-03-30T11:15:00.001+01:00

IMG_0886
Originally uploaded by hvs

Bouldering Font

2010-03-30T11:13:00.001+01:00

Fontainebleau is a magic place for climbers. In fact, it's a rather improbable location for a climbing area, given how incredibly flat it is around here, with nothing but endless fields and lush forests as far as the eyes can see. However, the forests hide a wealth of large sandstone boulders which turns out to be an ideal playground for boulderers. Rarely too high to be uncomfortable, and more often than not with flat, sandy landings, and with an endless variety of moves. Someone called Fontainebleau a "laboratory of movement", and that epithet is apt - subtlety often gains you more than the brutishness that's rewarded in many other bouldering areas. Bouldering was kind of born here nearly 100 years ago, initially as a training "gym" for those destined for the alpine ranges, but it soon evolved into an activity for its own sake and merit. For reasons I can't quite understand myself, I'd actually never visited Font before last September when we came in a large group for a week and had a cracking time. We're making up for it this time around, hopefully. We're armed with a long list of recommendations from Will, a Font-veteran with near encyclopaedic knowledge of the forest, and some personal projects left over from last September.

Fortunately for me, rest-days present themselves naturally every third, or possibly forth day part due to muscle fatigue, but mostly due to your finger skin which wears off and starts bleeding if you don't take care. Sarah and I decided to start on a two days on, one day off schedule, and headed for an area somewhat cryptically known as '95.2', a bit of a joke referring to the maximum altitude above sea level. We'd been a bit worried that it might be cold for the first weeks, and we'd dressed up in thermal underwear, fleeces, hats, gloves and the essential downies which seemed appropriate seeing the iced-over car in the morning. However, once we reached the crag and started climbing in the sun, the temperature was soon in the teens and we had a delightful day ticking half of the problems on the easy blue circuit. Our plans were for the first few days just doing mileage to get re-acquainted with the medium, toughen up the finger skin that had now gone soft after a month of skiing and to familiarise ourselves with the area. However, it's hard not to have a go when you see something tasty and a bit harder, and I took two long lobs off the top mantle on the last of the reds, somewhat predictably.

We spent four climbing days at 95.2 working our way through all the blues and most of the reds and also a sprinkling of the whites, culminating with a tick of "La p'tit toit", an off-circuit problem given the ludicrous grade of 7A+ in the guide. Sadly, it's nothing like that hard (maybe 6B+), but a nice problem that we were nonetheless pleased to have completed. The sun was out in force, and we were climbing in t-shirts in the warm spring sunshine - the car thermometer showed +23. I'd not been to 95.2 before, but it proved to be a nice acquaintance with a good spread of problems and three very good circuits.

Next up was Bois Rond, where Sarah had a score to settle since last trip with "Le meilleur des mondes", a very nice 6A on the red circuit. She settled the score in fine style, and we wandered to the other side of the boulder for something rather less dainty and rather more butch, the overhang of "La theorie des nuages" (6A+), something I'd failed to get anywhere on last trip. Sarah and I worked it move for move and eventually I had a sequence that worked for me. Sarah doesn't normally go for these kinds of problems, but got exceedingly close. In fact, she got it fine the next day, to her credit - a very good tick. I spent most of the day trying another big overhang that to my frustration got the better of me. Sarah made quick work of the technical "Little Shakespeare" (6A) - I'd tried it the day before but decided that my finger skin would take no more punishment on the razor blades and Barclaycards that serves as "holds" on this blank slab. That was my excuse, anyway, preferring as I do not to dwell on my shoddy footwork.

The climbing in Font is really a rather large collection of disparate crags - collections of boulders - dotted around what is actually a quite wide-spread area. We decided to head for the Franchard gorge next, and the crag known as Isatis. We both had ambitions here, Sarah keen on trying "Beurre Marga", one of the finest problems in the forest, and a bit of a technical master piece, not to mention classic sand bag. Some of our friends even declined to attempt it last time, as the effort to get up it wasn't in their book justified by the grade tick. Some guides have it as low as 6A, but 6C is probably more realistic. It looks deceptively easy. It's got what looks as big ledges for your feet, and substantial runnels that although will need to be used as side pulls and gastons still look chunky. It's got an obvious "thank God" bucket for the finish. Yet, once you pull on, you soon realise that there is a lot more to this problem than one might initially think. In fact, just getting off the floor is a challenge, with the undercut starting pocket spitting your fingers out, and the side pull you use to stay up just isn't quite good enough to stop you from barn-dooring off. The "big" foot hold turns out to be awkwardly angled, and glassed over with a mixture of resin, chalk, sand and old boot rubber. Strength matters for nought here. I managed - eventually - to get up it last trip after spending almost half a day on it, and Sarah hadn't even bothered trying it that time. Sarah was unable to use my starting sequence due to her height, and instead had to work out a different way, which she initially found very frustrating. At the top, where I had done a kind of half dynamic cross-through and grab, she worked out a neat way of pinching with her left and casually reaching for the top in complete balance. A very good tick for her, and a near perfect problem. One of my targets was "Little Karma" (6C), a problem I couldn't even get started on last time. This is a long diagonal jump off a side-pull to a sloper that you need to match, and then "swimming" up a sequence of round holds. Will called it "a good intro to the harder top-outs in Font". I knew the theory - side pull, shitty foot, massive jump, wedge left big toe next to left hand, somehow bring left hand up to the same "hold" as the right, release toe and stay on during the swing, find something - anything - for the right toe, and let the fun begin. To my own surprise I managed to stick the jump second go, and found myself matched and ready to swim upwards. This is where your sharp footwork should allow you to stand up on smears and elegantly mantle your way to glory. Or alternatively, as in my case, an undignified belly-flop and a bit like a seal flapping my way to the top. But I'll take it. This problem is quite "morpho", as the boulderers say, meaning that unless you have a certain set of body dimensions it may be significantly harder, or even impossible. Even with me pushing Sarah on, she could not span between the starting side pull and the sloper, and this problem would probably be impossible for her. We moved on. I made a quick repeat of "Surplomb de la Statique" (6A) which I'd done previously (Sarah declined), and then tried a recommendation of Will's, "Composition des Forces" (6C), an undercut steep wall and long reach for a slopey finish. This problem seemed to suit me, and I topped out on my second attempt. Sarah was worn out, but quickly had the measure of all the moves, and held the finishing holds but unfortunately came off.

The next day, we carried on at Isatis - there is so much to go at here. Sarah was determined to finish it off "Composition des Forces", which she did, first go. We then decided to seek out a problem called "Surplomb de la Coquille" (6C+) that we'd had recommended from several people. An overhanging wall, but it seemed to have good holds on it to yard on - really, how hard can it be? Quite hard, as it turned out. The holds just turned out to be in the wrong places, making the crux lock-off and long reach up to a side pull absolutely hopeless. We'd run into Yorkshire legendary strong-woman Jenny Woodward, and she mentioned in passing the sequence she'd used, but somehow getting my foot up to *there* seemed improbable. Another Brit couple vaguely familiar from the Malham catwalk (Hester and Andy) joined us working this problem, but none of us appeared to make any worthwhile progress. Hester tried the high rock-over that Jenny had recommended, and with a small adjustment of where the foot went, she seemed to be able to hold the position better, although not enough for the long stretch. Hester and Andy walked off, and I tried copying her foot placement, and found that I could actually reach the lower end of the side pull, although failing to hold it. However, for the first time it felt as if it would go. I must have tried this problem 20 times by now, and my arms were aching. Even though the lower moves weren't too difficult, they were still powerful. Next attempt I managed to hold the side pull, reset to the good bit a bit higher up, and top out. Very pleased with that. Sarah had worked the problem with me giving her a little bit of a leg-up in the beginning to save her from having to pull through the lower strong moves on every go. Again, the long top stretch may prove to be significantly harder for her than for me.

Next on the hit list was "L'envie des Betes", an undercut prow given 6B, but probably would warrant 6C. Powerful stuff. From a high (shit) side pull for your left hand, and a small (shit) foot smear, boys can leap directly to a (shit) sloper on the blunt arete, and then get the right foot up on a reasonable little nubbin and leap again up to a good crimper about two feet further up. Left heel can now be positioned under the left hand in order to stop you barn-dooring off for the reach up left to a razor blade crimp. High-step left, loooong reach for another crimp up left, and it all eases off. If you're a girl, on the other hand, you won't be able to reach the best bit of the shit side pull, and you won't be able to leap for the shit sloper, nor will you be able to reach the go-again leap for the good crimp. Life is so unfair. Sarah found herself doing three extra moves for every single one of mine. We packed it in for the day, intending to come back the next for Sarah to carry on working "L'envie des Betes".

The next day we started warming up on some of the many excellent blues and reds we'd not yet done, but somehow got distracted onto "L'amoche doigt" the 6B arete of white 1. The sequence that took me to the top didn't work for Sarah, and after the problem frustrated her for a few attempts, a local Bleausard asked to have a go, and (obviously) cruised it effortlessly. As did Sarah, using his foot placements. Those cheeky Bleausards, eh! We moved onto "L'envie des Betes", but it wasn't to be this time. We walked further into the forest to seek out "L'angle de serac", a sharp, slabby arete (6B). The angles and surfaces on this block are so perfect it looks man-made. Chris (Bungle) tip-toed up it on the last trip, but at the time I didn't even bother trying. It was time to dig out my new pair of Katanas that only come out for special occasions. Six foot moves is all there is to it, one of which is a heel. But it took us a long time to work it out. Sarah latched the top jugs - at least that's what her spotter thought when he started celebrating a tenth of a second before she peeled the length of the slab and landed at his feet. She also peeled the skin off a couple of fingers on her left, so the tick will have to wait. Ego now drunk with success, I thought I'd just nip up and flash "El Poussif" (7A+) up the hill, but you know what they say about hubris. I couldn't touch it.

Irritatingly, the weather turned and the next day was a total wash-out, and the day after that some serious shower-dodging that saw us totalling three warm-up problems at Roche aux Sabots. Today more of the same - although it only stopped raining after lunch we at least managed a few hours. I really want to do "Graviton" (7A) which I'd failed (repeatedly) on last trip - unfortunately the top was sodden, so it will have to wait. We did "La Dalle de Cristal", a nice slab on the red circuit, and also the pretty butch first problem of the red circuit. Sarah also repeated the hardest grade 4 in the forest - I blame the showers that I - ahem - didn't have time to finish it. I tried "Jet Set", a 7A dyno that everyone says is a path - the liars. Sarah sensibly had a cup of tea instead. We then placed our mat under "L'angle de Jean-Luc", a slabbed, blunt arete, graded 6B+, although we had advanced warning that this is no ordinary 6B+. Will had kindly given us a whole A4 page of written beta, and we had a local Bleausard demo the problem for us. Although we still couldn't finish it before the rain set in again, this is one we both really want to come back to. Beautifully technical.

Although it's now raining rather heavily, we've still only lost one full climbing day to rain over the last two and a bit weeks. Not a bad tally, even if shower-dodging soon gets tedious even with the fastest drying rock. Sarah is now talking about restricting my rest days to make the most of the available weather - it's like skiing all over again!

Summer season starts here

2010-03-26T09:24:00.000Z

Two manic days of unpacking the winter stuff and locating and packing camping + climbing stuff ensued. Our poor house sitter Vicky must have thought that a tornado had struck, and upended the whole house. We'd had a curry with Cath and Dave on the way home and ended up arriving back in Bristol around midnight. Sarah couldn't resist rifling through the last month's post, and discovered that we'd been slapped with a rather substantial parking fine that had rapidly escalated with a matching escalation in rhetoric - from bloody B&Q of all places. It was currently standing at £110 + legal fees, which seemed a bit harsh as we'd been in B&Q for legitimate reasons, purchasing some materials for building some bookshelves in the spare bedroom and lounge. Apparently, you may not stay any longer than 90 minutes in B&Q - and if you've ever shopped with Sarah, you know that this is bound to be tight. Sarah was fuming with frustration, and consequently couldn't sleep. Take note - never open the post on the night of arrival, as there inevitably will be some item of bad news ready to spoil your night's rest.

The next day we had a million and one little admin tasks to see to, the extra one being the B&Q issue. However, Sarah straightened that one out by a phone call and a subsequent trip out to Filton branch with a print-out of a bank statement. Apparently, they're plagued by students using their car park. We're plagued by the fact that our car insurance will run out half-way through this leg of our trip, and this needs sorting before we go. Our rode-side assistance scheme has European cover, but only for so many days. Oh, and washing. Packing for two months on the road. We took over the newly refurbished lounge as our gear central, and with everything laid out on the floor it seemed implausible that all of that stuff would actually fit in our rather modestly sized car. The boulder mat alone swallows most of the boot space. Add therma-rests, sleeping bags, tent, camping gear and our winter duvet - we camp in style & comfort - ropes, two foldable chairs (wedding present, much appreciated), a cool box, stoves, slow-cooker (top idea from Kate) and we're talking a snug fit. Yet fitted it did, and we made our Dover mid-day sailing with time to spare.

After about four hours of French open roads, this time robustly instructing the sat-nav to avoid the Paris Peripherique, which is almost as bad as the London orbital, we made it to our camp site in Boulancourt, where we have hired a static caravan for the first bit - happy not having to pitch the tent in the dark and rather chilly evening. We seem to have scored on the accommodation front so far, from the lovely, brand-new apartment in Andermatt to the spacious hytte in Rjukan, and now a well-equipped, roomy and price-wise very reasonable static here. Only drawback seems to be that the floors are absolutely freezing. I will need to invest in a pair of cosy slippers.

We've planned to hang around here and boulder for about four weeks, and then head south to Provence to clip bolts for the next four. However, our plans are flexible, and given that we had similar ideas when we were traveling around in the States a few years back, yet never managed to go anywhere beyond the bouldering Mecca of Bishop, who knows - we might not leave Font if we're going well.

Our days in the UK were totally manic, and we didn't seem to manage much sleep, so we took a long morning without an alarm set, went shopping and simply chilling, flicking through guide books over a glass of Bordeaux and forming a plan whilst the slow cooker is making us dinner.

On belay

2010-03-09T20:53:00.001Z

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Sarah on Nye Vemorkfoss

2010-03-09T20:52:00.001Z

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Sarah's first ice climb

Me and Hardangervidda

2010-03-09T20:50:00.001Z

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Meet the Vipers

2010-03-08T20:37:00.001Z

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Raaar

Gaustatoppen

2010-03-08T19:25:00.001Z

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beautiful day for x-country

Look at those Vipers..

2010-03-08T19:24:00.001Z

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sooo many new toys

Sarah vs the ice axe

2010-03-08T19:23:00.003Z

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..and the axe won

Vemork Brufoss East

2010-03-08T19:23:00.001Z

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Sarah climbing steep ice

Ice ice baby

2010-03-08T19:09:00.001Z

Oslo Torp Airport isn't really anywhere near Oslo at all, despite what Ryan Air somewhat fraudulently might want to claim - however, as a stop for us heading for Telemark and the ice climbing Mecca of Rjukan it's the nearest airport. Or 'airstrip' might be a better word for it. It's tiny, and the plane after landing has to do a three-point turn, and go back whence it came to head for the shack which serves as a terminal building. Still. We picked up a rather snazzy 1.0 VW Polo Diesel, which at least was 'Winterised' - meaning it had snow tires, bum warmers, a scraper with integrated brush and the traction control disable button disabled. The amounts of snow here means we're grateful for any winterisation the car might provide. The sat-nav says it's about 180km, but having driven in Norway before I know how much the roads bend, and in the snow conditions, this could have been an arduous drive, but was actually surprisingly ok.

Rjukan is a very narrow gorge cutting a swathe through the Telemark mountains. I won't bore you with its claim to fame from the war - I'm sure you've all seen the film. Rjukan was 'discovered' as an ice destination for non-locals some years back. Partly due to the damming of the river, and partly an accident of nature, both sides of the gorge are essentially one frozen waterfall after another - literally hundreds - of different sizes and shapes. Combined with the fact that Norwegian winters are long and cold, and that the sun rarely reaches the ice due to the depth, shape and orientation of the gorge, this place is pretty much ideal for ice climbing, with very stable and predictable conditions. UK guide book powerhouse Rockfax recently brought out a guide to the place, which in equal measures opened the eyes of the UK climbing community, and pissed off the locals.

Neither me, nor Sarah has ever ice climbed before, and this trip should actually have taken place last Easter, but at the time the ice had actually started to go due to unseasonably warm spring weather - probably due to climate change stemming from all the UK climbers flying here, lining Ryan Air's coffers. Sarah gave me four guided days as my 40th birthday present. We're staying in a traditional Norwegian 'hytte' - mountain holiday hut, apparently a reconstruction of the workers' accommodation from when the dam was built. There's quite a few of them here, all in different pastel colours - our's is blue. It's rather spacious for our needs, it has another three beds, but was actually the cheapest option (not that that means much in Norway, with the pound to the krone ratio as it is).

The idea was to climb Monday and Tuesday, and then have Wednesday and Thursday free to do something else, or recover, and then climb again on Friday and Saturday. Unfortunately, our designated guide had sustained an injury whilst skiing the week before, and we had to move the Saturday session to the Thursday, which in retrospect was probably a better plan anyway. We'd failed to notice that there is a very nice ski centre just up the road - had we known we'd probably brought the skis with us that are now occupying space on the floor of Cath and Dave's spare room.

We met Andreas at the office of Rjukan Adventure on Monday morning to tool up - I'd brought a pair of crampon-compatible boots I had stashed away in my man drawer, and we'd also brought various climbing paraphernalia that might come handy - harnesses, belay devices, screw-gates, a few slings and a pair of tiblocks. Sarah borrowed a pair of boots, and we fitted crampons and chose tools - Sarah a pair of Petzl/Charlet Quarks, and I picked a rather tasty pair of Black Diamond Vipers. We drove up the gorge for about 5 minutes and walked down to the bottom of Nye Vemorkfoss, a three-pitch tasty little number. There were two parties on it already, and the Brits to the right had laced it like a sports route. Andreas muttered something about the freak-show being back in town. This 'foss' (waterfall) was on the right side of vertical all the way, and Andreas set off and set about excavating a belay bolt behind the ice at the first stance. As Sarah and I set off on the first easy pitch it became clear that there are advantages to being first, seeing the amount of ice that each climber dislodges pretty much continuously. As the belayer, compared to rock climbing it's much more vital to stand in the right place. I managed to rip my Arc'teryx Gore-Tex trousers twice, one per leg, with my crampons pretty much on the off. Joy. I wasn't sure what I had expected out of ice climbing. In theory, it ought to be easy. Not being restricted to existing holds, as a climber of many years I should find it a path. In practice, it's different. Swinging the tools - although very satisfying - soon tires triceps and forearms, and apparently my left arm is much weaker than my right in that I found getting solid placements off the left much harder. Second pitch was longer and slightly more sustained. What makes Rjukan so good for ice (it never sees the sun) also makes for cold hands when belaying. Three pitches saw us walking off the top around 3pm and the route had been what seemed to me to be a great introduction to waterfall ice. The next day followed a similar pattern - but this time on the sunny side of the gorge, just above the town itself. Four pitches, the two first very long, and slightly steeper than what we'd done before. Andreas demonstrating how best to use ice screws on belays, and also, somewhat disturbingly, showing how they occasionally melt free and may need replacing.

Wednesday was our rest day, and we drove up to the ski centre at Gaustablikk some 20 mins down the road. Half a dozen lifts, and a very large mountain to the side which looked ideal for touring and off-pisting. Shame we hadn't brought our kit. We were keen on some cross country anyway, so we drove on to Kvitåvatn next door where Andreas had recommended we rent cross country kit. We were met by a friendly man speaking a curious mixture of Danish and Norwegian, and when he heard Sarah speaking English he switched to a flawless English. Turns out that he was from Norfolk, but living and working in Norway for the last 25 years. Married to a Danish lady. Like most places in Norway there were oodles of prepared cross country tracks of varying degree of length and difficulty. Trevor recommended we started with the 10k green, and if we wanted more we could tackle the reds, either 6, 10 or 15k after lunch. The day was perfect for it - 5 below, blue skies, searing sun, no wind. We did the green, as Trevor had suggested, and had lunch in the snow. We then carried on with the red 10k and were rewarded with breathtaking views of Gaustatoppen and the remote expanse of the Hardangervidda, the central highland plateau. Although I cross-country skied a lot as a child, I haven't done it in anger for decades, and I'd almost forgotten how much fun it is, and even small down hills are exhilarating. For Sarah, this was probably her third time, but having done plenty of touring she seemed to have it licked. It was a very nice day out.

Next up was more ice, and we dedicated Thursday to some actual instruction at Krokan, home of stacks of short, steep single-pitch routes. This time I'd been given a pair of Nomics. Andreas quickly soloed up and set up a top rope. The first two days had felt comparatively straight-forward, but this was a different kettle of fish. I was first up, and the ice was rather beaten out, so I tried to re-use other people's placements rather than banging in my tools. My arms were burning when I reached the top, and it had felt utterly desperate. 'NOW CLIMB DOWN!' shouted Andreas from the bottom. He must be joking, clearly. I reversed about 4 metres, and then slumped, spent, onto the rope. Sarah managed up and down. Andreas patiently explained the basics: top tool and feet should form a balanced triangle. Arm straight. Look for next placement. Stand up, remove, and place the next tool. Straight arm, feet up onto the same horizontal line. Kind of obvious, when explained. I tried again. Felt better, but still pumped silly from the previous attempt. Couldn't get around the top bulge for ages, axes glancing off the ice uselessly. When I eventually pulled over, Andreas shouted 'REMOVE YOUR CRAMPONS!. CLIMB DOWN!'. To my own surprise, I actually managed to reverse the route without crampons.

We had some lunch. Andreas then gave me two ice screws, and said that he'd give me a shout when to place them. Getting a screw in whilst hanging from one arm on steep ice turned out to be a rather pumpy affair. My first attempt went in only half its length due to the ice being uneven, so I had to unscrew it and move it. My left arm wasn't happy, but I managed it and carried on. Andreas later pointed out that in that situation you just clear the ice with your tool instead. Placing one higher up was even harder. Sarah was up next, without the benefit of crampons. She was swearing at her "spazzy" left arm, refusing to get the tool in, and also refusing to wind the screw in. One small slip, and she boshed her head against the blunt end (thankfully) of one of her ice tools - a nice gash resulted. Andreas shouted - 'IF THERE IS BLOOD SPLATTERED ON THE ICE YOU CAN HANG ON THE ROPE, OTHERWISE CLIMB ON'. A hard task master. I had one more go to take down the rope, and suddenly it all started to come together (on my 8th attempt). Hook the tool, straight arm, legs up, stand up, next tool. Almost easy :) - I could get used to this thing.

Next day was our last climbing day with Andreas, and the plan was to tackle some 'proper', steeper classics, perhaps Sabotorfossen. However, come the morning there was quite a bit of snow in the air, and a bone-jarringly cold -13 which apart from anything else would make the ice brittle as bone china. Andreas seemed unperturbed, and suggested we tried to reel off 'Host', 'Vemork Brufoss East' and 'Vemork Brufoss West'. We abbed off the road railings to the base of 'Host', and my fingers were already hurting with the cold. Andreas ran the two pitches into one, and Sarah set off first. Due to the brittle ice, Andreas had to work for it, and actually placed some gear for once. Sarah did not have a good time, with tools shattering the ice, requiring eight or more swings to get a solid fix. Adding to that some twists in the double-ropes didn't help, and several times she had to creep under or over my strand to untangle herself. Thanks to her, my path was more unencumbered, and I could focus on the climbing. It was a really good route, and suddenly I felt I was on a proper ice climb. When I pulled over, my arms still felt fresh.

Brufoss West was unfortunately heaving with climbers of varying degree of ability ('bloody freak show', Andreas said), and we walked across to East instead. Worryingly, I couldn't see the ice from the top, but the instruction was to ab to the bottom and climb up. As I abbed down I was confronted with 70m of frozen waterfall, rather steep in places and with runnels, massive icicles, the works. Very steep to the right, marginally less steep to the left. I quickly decided to award myself the luxury of the easiest line. I soon got absorbed in the flow of the climbing - not a single person in sight, a neverending sheet of ice, and the chunk-chunk of solid placements. It was as these things go a pretty memorable climbing experience, and I was cheesily pleased with myself and how I'd climbed the pitch. Pulling over, my smile dimmed somewhat when I was greeted by Andreas complaining about me having dodged the meat of the pitch, the vertical ice runnel to the right. Sarah abbed down and set about the 'proper' way. Andreas ran off to take some photos of Sarah off the bridge, and when he came back he said that she was doing well, but looking a bit tired. When she pulled over, she was smiling, but looking slightly worn. In retrospect, I think that ice climbing favours the brute-force and ignorance approach of a man, rather than the technical subtlety and foot wizardry of a woman, and Sarah occasionally found it difficult to get her tools to stick. As I'd gone left, Andreas sent me down the rope again to do the right-hand variation. Another 70m.. The ice architecture was spectacular - organ pipes, and very steep, but in the back of the runnel some good hooks, and some bridging - awesome. Sarah dropped down to try the left variation.

And so for the last day - we'd said that if the weather looked nice we'd return to Gaustablikk to do some more x-country, and it'd dawned clear and very cold. We packed our sacks and headed back up to pick up some kit - and this time we'd attempt the long loop around the main mountain peak, nearly all of it above the tree line, 23km in all. Trevor pointed to a map and warned us about a particularly steep downhill where to make things worse an avalanche had slid over to the right. He suggested we might want to take our skis off and walk rather than to zig-zag down in the powder to the left like some people did. Toothpick-narrow x-country skis, powder and steep down hill is a somewhat sub-optimal combination. We picked up the track and it was glorious. The first 5 or 6k was a steady, but never arduous gentle climb working our way up the contour lines of the mountain. As we reached the steep downhill Trevor had mentioned, there was never any question and we removed our skis and walked down - at the bottom of the hill we decided to have a cuppa and enjoy the scenery, and it turned out to be a choice spot for people watching. Quite a few folks out and about, and some were ballsier than others and a few people actually attempted the drop on skis, but as long as we sat there no one managed to remain standing. One lady dusting her self off exclaimed that such down hills were 'special interest only', which made us smile. We set off, an as we came around the mountain we were hit by a rather persistent wind which made conversation hard - and unfortunately it would seem we'd have to do most of the remainder with the wind in our faces, which took a bit of the enjoyment out of it. Some long downs took us out of the wind and back onto the frozen lake, and we found a secluded spot in the sun to finish our thermos and our packed lunch and thaw up a bit.

And so all that remained was to get back, pack up and head back to blighty. Some friendly Brits in the hytte next door had kindly donated four bottles of Tuborg on their departure the night before, which will certainly earn them some good karma points. With the Norwegian prices, we'd not bothered with any alcohol what so ever for the whole week, and probably as a consequence, those beers must rank as some of the best ever.

Anyway - ice climbing, in summary - I loved it, whilst Sarah remains less convinced. I would certainly like to do it again. As an ice climbing destination, at least from as far as I can tell, the Rjukan hype seems to be true, and the best climbing is to be had in March, whereas all foreigners seems to insist in coming in December or January - the two coldest, darkest, most miserable months. As mentioned, it is worth noting that there is an excellent ski area here with awesome touring and off-piste options for a few days if you want a break, and endless x-country tracks. Norway's spectacular scenery is hard to beat.

End of a fantastic month.

2010-03-05T16:24:00.000Z

The last few days in Andermatt past in a blur - on the tuesday we'd planned to do a tour from the Guspis valley up to two conspicuous rock towers, and down the other side down to a dam to pick up the Hospental summer road, but as we booted up (in knee deep again, where does this stuff come from?) to the col, we could see that our objective was totally enveloped in cloud, so we decided to carry on up left and do some of the colouirs on the other side like we'd done before. Question was, skins or carry on booting? It'd taken us no more than 10 mins last time, but now there were no tracks and deep snow. We opted for the booting, but soon wished we'd skinned, as breaking trail in thigh deep powder soon got tedious, not to mention sweaty. Two unhinged Swedes on teles were already eyeing up the steepest part of the drop when we got to the top - they'd skinned up, and overtaken us. They dropped in, but actually seemed to have quite a miserable time - crusty hard-pack, heavy from the morning's sun exposure. We traversed to the right, into the colouir we'd followed previously, now seemingly gloriously untracked again. However, it was one of those feelings - "if it looks too perfect..". We took all the precautions we could, and I was first. It was harder skiing this time, with the snow heavy, but from what we could gather, a lot better than that which the telemarkers got. Crossing over to the less steep part, it was perfect, with the bit in the shade proper fluffy powder. Where previously we'd donned skins and gone back upwards, we carried on down towards the Vermigel and the long, tedious pole-out along avalanche alley. The afternoon was spent pottering around in the main bowl.

On the Wednesday the weather was stunning, and although we were tired, it was just too good for another rest day, Sarah said. We did a couple of runs and then pulled into the avalanche rescue training area - pretty cool, just punch in the number of burials, and the number of minutes, and get searching and probing. We have Barryvox Pulse transceivers, digital and capable of giving both estimated distance and direction, and also the ability to mark and ignore already located signals. Compared to the analog models that only gives to an estimated distance, it's a lot easier. Both me and Sarah found a single burial within 4 minutes, and three within 15 - the time after which survival becomes more hypothetical. Of course - on nice and flat ground, sun beating down, and no lives actually at stake, it's rather different from the real thing, but training is essential.

We then channelled our 'inner Angus' and sat ourselves down on the sun deck and had a long lunch in the sun.

We were back at Oberalppass Thursday to attempt one of the tours that Krister had recommeded, with 1000m of ascent. Unfortunately, once at the usual col, the weather had drawn in again, and we were umming and aahing what to do. We decided to carry on a bit further, and ripped the skins off the skis and put them on our backs, and scrambled up along the exposed ridge. Visibility was poor. When we came to the next col the plan was to drop down left, and then carry on up to another SAC hut, but we could see not much at all. We dropped down right instead, and skied down towards Andermatt - what turned out to be a lovely run in improving conditions.

And so, our last day was upon us - with crazy snowfall during the night and morning we weren't in a hurry, until suddenly the heavens cleared, and we had ourselves a rare combination of clear skies, fresh powder and barely any people. We had possibly our best day's skiing - kick-ass runs down an untouched Felsental, and the main powder bowl.

Now all that remained was the packing and cleaning. Strange how quick a month flies.

On Saturday morning we ferried all our kit down to the station and headed for Zurich airport and onwards back to Blighty. Our good friends Cath and Dave had kindly allowed us to leave our car on their drive for the month, and Dave came to pick us up from the airport. We had a nice dinner at theirs, and Sarah and I quickly re-jigged our packing from skiing to ice climbing - we had a total of 14 hours on UK soil, and without Cath and Dave's kind help it would have been much more of a painful experience to turn around. We'd really missed them - we have skied a lot with them, but as they're now new parents, they passed on the snow for this season. We've actually seen Cath and Dave quite frequently as a consequence of this trip, and baby Jessica is growing visibly between visits. We drove from Cath and Dave's up to a hotel near Stanstead where we were on the 6:30am Ryan Air (yes, I know..) flight to Torp, Oslo the next morning.

In summary, Andermatt was great. We'll definitely be back.

It happens in the best of families

2010-02-28T20:26:00.001Z

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on my arse..

In the fresh..

2010-02-28T18:48:00.001Z

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Oberalpstock tour descent.

The things we do for fresh tracks..

2010-02-28T18:45:00.001Z

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Originally uploaded by hvs

Just a short little scramble

Gipfel

2010-02-28T18:44:00.001Z

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Sarah ripping up the Gipfel colouir

Avalanche Alley

2010-02-26T18:32:00.001Z

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People crossing the latest slide debris in Avalanche Alley

View from the Gemsstock

2010-02-26T18:30:00.001Z

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An ants trail of people padding up to the Guspis col

Andermatt

2010-02-25T20:01:00.001Z

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..from above

Don't look down now

2010-02-25T19:59:00.001Z

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No falls..

Andermatt - the end is neigh

2010-02-25T19:57:00.000Z

After a month in Andermatt, it is clear that this isn't a resort for every skier. If cruising groomers on perfect corduroy is your thing, you'd be better off heading for Val d'Isere, St Anton or Meribel. However, for powder and open terrain, this place - at least of the places we've been - is hard to beat. It is also true that this place isn't solely for the extreme rider - on the contrary, Andermatt has a lot to offer for the competent skier wishing to take the first steps off the beaten track. From our experiences here, some recommendations if you're thinking of coming here to ski.

1. Get some basic (at least) understanding of avalanches, and make sure you carry, and know how to use a transceiver, shovel and probe. All the quality riding here is in avalanche terrain. If you're an occasional skier - get a triple antenna, digital transceiver, as this will save you valuable minutes. Get a metal shovel - polycarbonate ones just won't work. Get a rucksack capable of ski-carry, and make sure that you can put the skis on your pack and get them off again whilst wearing your gloves or mitts of choice. Sure, this is expensive stuff which you hopefully will never need to use, but it's worth getting your own, rather than hiring it, as you will get used to your own kit. Andermatt has a very nice avalanche training facility - just punch in the number of victims, and a time, and start searching. If you can't find a single burial within 5 minutes, you need to practice more before heading out. You should demand that your riding partners can locate 3 burials within 15 minutes, and they should demand the same of you.

2. Get some touring-capable kit - even if you don't envisage doing any actual touring. Being able to release the heel of your bindings is a great help on pole-outs, if nothing else. However, being prepared to skin even for 15 minutes opens up a host of possibilities. It really isn't any more difficult than hill walking. Strenuous, certainly - especially at altitude. Touring boots have Vibram soles which is a great help when boot-packing with the skis on your pack. If you're renting kit, note that fat, rockered skis don't really work for skinning.

3. Get a map. There is a freeride map available showing the regions with their associated level of difficulty. It also shows some of the 'up' routes for skinning. If you're thinking of doing any more touring, it's worth getting a proper ski-touring map. There is a whole series of them, showing both ups and downs. Annoyingly, Andermatt itself sits right in the corner of 4 different sheets. We got the 'Disentis-Muster' ski tour sheet, as this shows the area most accessible on the train, and the freeride map for the area around the Gemsstock. The Swiss maps are beautifully constructed, unsurprisingly, and the ski touring maps are about 23 SFR. There is also a larger-scale walking map that has better coverage for the Andermatt-based, but it lacks the marked routes. However, if you're a seasoned navigator it may be another option.

4. Consider using a guide. A guide is a short-cut to having fun, and well worth it when coming to an unfamiliar place. If there is a group of you, the cost is easier to bear. Having a guide showing you around for a day or two is likely more beneficial to your health than following other people's tracks if you don't know where you're going. Although a guide isn't an instructor, you will learn a lot from them.

5. Wear a helmet. You probably do anyway, as most skiers and boarders have already reached the same conclusion. For riding in unknown, unsecured terrain there are no excuses not to.

6. Don't - ever - ski the main piste back down to the village. It's horrid. Make your last run of the day be either Felsental (which drops you right at the lift base station, if you're clever), or one of the back bowls feeding into the Avalanche Alley pole-out (Unteralp, by its proper name). Failing that, swallow your pride and take the lift down - your skis will last longer!

7. Note that the valley is prone to cloud inversion, so even if it looks like a complete white-out from your window, the sun may well be beating down on the top of Gemsstock.

8. The kit shops in the village are well equipped, but - even by ski resort standards - very expensive. Lift passes are very reasonably priced, however. A four week pass is less than a one week pass in Colorado or Washington.

9. Alt Apothek is a very nice, low-key bar in a posh hotel where it is pleasant to have a drink apres-ski. They also do nice food, and with 30 mins free WiFi for customers. Note that a 'large chips' is a bowl of crisps. People with baggy clothes and unkept hair seems to prefer the Spycher Bar.

10. Goechenen train station has three platforms, numbers 1 and 2, and the somewhat Harry Potteresque number 13. You want number 13, which is out the door, to the right where you pick up the little cog train the Matterhorn-Gotthard Bahn.

Sarah after the Giraffe

2010-02-23T17:30:00.001Z

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Sooo tired legs..

Fog

2010-02-23T17:29:00.001Z

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Just so you can see it's not ALL sun & games..

Snow

2010-02-23T17:08:00.001Z

The snow forecast suggested that we'd get a flurry, perhaps 1cm. It snowed solidly for 36 hours.. an Andermatt flurry, perhaps. Saturday it was still snowing, and the visibility was largely zero. The Gemsstock lift was shut for the morning due to avalanche danger, which cuts off most of the free riding, and there was a peculiar feel around the slopes - those that had ventured out were sort of hovering in expectation, waiting for the lift to start. Some people were actually skinning up from one of the lower draglifts up towards the ridge delimiting the Giraffe bowl. They were either supremely experienced and confident, or very foolish given the amount of snow that had fallen. The top lift opened about 10, and everyone tried to get on. Visibility was still zero, but we managed to get some good runs in. Sarah's contracted some fever and bad throat, and was feeling a bit shakey, so we retreated to the single slopeside restaurant for a Gulash soup and to warm up. We got some choice conditions for a couple of runs down the runnels of the middle bowl. Towards the afternoon the visibility improved, and we finished on a great run down Felsental.

Krister's back in Andermatt with a bunch of Swedes, and we met up in the Apothek for a beer and to pour over maps and to pick his brains about other tours in the area. The weather forecast for our last week is for more snow showers and generally variable conditions. Not ideal for touring, but hopefully we'll get a chance before it's time to head off.

Sunday was pretty perfect - blue skies, snow during the night, -10. Unfortunately, we were clearly not the only ones that had noticed this, and Andermatt was at its busiest so far, with all the locals and not-quite-so locals making the effort to get out of bed. It took us an hour to get to the top of Gemsstock. We took the traverse around the side, and went down the Giraffe bowl, which was in nearly pristine nick, at least the bits that count. This run is the business. We poled out along Avalanche Alley and suffered another uplift, not quite as busy as in the morning, but still painful. This time we dropped off the back, and booted up to the Guspis col - again to find it as nature intended on the other side. The main bit further down felt wind-polished on the traverse in, with some rocks showing, but as we slid onto the main face it was just perfect, probably one of the best runs we've had so far. We ambled our way down the valley, looking for a spot to sit and eat our sandwiches, but it seemed impossible to find somewhere both in the sun and out of the wind. In the end we sat ourselves down beside the pole-out track most of the way down to Hospental. We made it back on the train to Andermatt for about 3pm, and our 'enthusiasm' for the lift queues got the better of us, and we bailed for the day, as we walked past our flat on our way from the train station.

Monday - mostly nice day, and the place is empty again, the locals clearly having gone back to work. Sarah's illness abated over night, and she found her ski legs again. A local pocket of visibility seemed to have parked itself over Gemsstock, with Felsental, Guspis and also the Giraffe bowl seemingly cloud covered. We picked line after line of perfect powder down the main bowl. It's curious how the place seems to regenerate over night, even after busy days. All of the bowls seem to catch any weather going, and fill in with even the smallest amount of wind, even when there has been no fresh snow fall. Apart from the upper part of Guspis and parts of the Giraffe bowl, everything also seems to be mainly in the shade, and never really hardening from freeze-thaw. We caught the last gondola to the top, and had a nice run down Sonnenpiste and Felsental (complete with epic face-plantage).

Vermigelhutte

2010-02-19T14:53:00.001Z

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Originally uploaded by hvs

Vermigelhutte and the oncoming storm

Powder..

2010-02-19T14:52:00.001Z

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Today's gratuitous tracks shot

Planning the day

2010-02-19T14:50:00.003Z

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Where shall we go today?

Sarah

2010-02-19T14:50:00.001Z

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Sarah breaking trail

On top of the world

2010-02-19T14:49:00.001Z

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Touching 3000 m

Avalanche Alley

2010-02-19T14:48:00.001Z

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Originally uploaded by hvs

The start of Avalanche Alley, before the slides

Olympics

2010-02-19T14:29:00.000Z

Although the flat is equipped with Satellite TV, the only English-speaking channel we have access to is CNN, which is on continuous repeat it seems. We've found a French-Swiss channel that at least is showing some of the Winter Olympics. Without understandable commentary it was difficult to decipher the opening ceremony - the whole Irish dancing by Hell's Angels gnomes with violins thing was hard to relate to Canada, let alone to winter sports, but I'm sure that must have been some native cultural expression I'm not aware of. And so to the Curling. It's obviously a display of incredible skill and tactical thinking, but one cannot help wondering how you get into a sport like that. It's hard to imagine a youngster saying "football, no thanks. Rugby is for sissies. Cricket, bah. Skiing - how lame. Curling, on the other hand..". Biathlon (skis'n'guns) looks like a right riot - at least you can see where such a combination may have originated. Nordic Combination on the other hand.. a cross country race followed by ski jumping?

Rest day...finally

2010-02-19T14:24:00.001Z

Spent a few days repeating the drops we'd done with Krister - snow's still better than it should be, with lots of tracks to be had. The pole-out off the drops from the Gemsstock still smarts, and as the days goes by, it more and more resembles a dash down avalanche alley, with the sun-afflicted slopes on the opposite side sliding daily to the extent that the pole-out track is simply gone each time we come back down. It was a while now since the last snow fall, and with warmer temperatures and high wind, at lower altitude at least the rocks are starting to poke through. There seems to be some sort of local holiday here, and especially the weekends are (by Andermatt standards at least - hardly Verbier) more busy, too. On Sunday we took the train to neighbouring Oberalp to escape the crowds to do a little cheeky tour - 700 metres of up straight off the train, pretty much, with several options at the top - retrace our tracks down to Oberalp, ski down to Andermatt, ski down to Tschumat (next stop along the railway) or carry on up a succession of other peaks and ridges. We had no clue, and no map. At least the visibility was good, and - really - how hard could it be? Besides, the weather looked totally awesome - a balmy -5, clear blue skies, and the ascent in the sun. It was pretty obvious were to go, so we mounted the skins, took off as much clothing we could afford to without being arrested, opened any remaining vents, and set off. Exerting yourself in cold temperatures is a bit weird - you can be dripping with sweat, yet have cold-numb fingers or toes. There were a handful of wiry old-timers ahead of us, who needless to say easily out-paced us. We reached a small ridge after about 500 metres of vertical, which dropped into a massive bowl, and we had the choice of carrying on to the summit itself, or taking a high traverse into the bowl and up the other side to a col. The gnarly old-timers looked as if they intended to take the traverse, so we followed suit. Breathing now started to get a tad laboured, but soon Sarah with me in tow pulled up onto the plateau at the col, 1:40 after we set off. It was blowing a hoolie. We quickly put on all our clothes again, and deliberated. Some quite frankly outrageous tracks were coming down steep colouirs from the next ridge which would require a steep scramble up. However, steeper than 30 degrees, and sun-facing didn't exactly feel safe. The Andermatt side was the lee-side which didn't quite appeal either, as from the train we'd seen several wind slabs that had slid, some with tracks (boarders, obviously) as clear triggers. We decided to aim for Tschumat, clearly visible far down the valley. Although several tracks were leading down, there was plenty of powder to be had, and we had a pleasant run down, complete with two pointless face-plants for moi. We sat down about half way and ate our sandwiches before commencing the long slide down to the village of Tschumat, and a quite frankly well-earned half of shandy in the sun.

Monday, and after failing to convince Sarah to take a rest day, we decided to at least take it a bit easy and piste-cruise from Oberalp to Sedrun. Although the weather was nice, it really wasn't worth it. Iced-up, scraped bare - we've become powder-junkies, and there's no going back.

Tuesday, and we're back at the foot of the Oberalp climb. The night before we'd sensibly acquired a ski-touring map, and picked the brains of our friendly, and very experienced neighbour, Lara. We thought that this time we'd start up the same track, but carry on up a few more peaks, and drop into Andermatt. We beat our time to the col by 7 minutes, but this time the weather had really come in - both Sarah and I lost the sensation in our fingers, and the Andermatt side was shrouded in cloud. We briefly toyed with the idea of doing the next ridge, but even booting up the knife edge in the strong wind felt unjustifiable, so we aimed our tips down towards Tschumat again, albeit using a different route. I can't recall ever being quite so cold, which took some of the enjoyment out of a fantastic run in great snow conditions. This time we had to choose between train and shandy-half, and the train won.

Wednesday dawned to somewhat poor visibility, but incredulously again I failed to convince Sarah of the need for a rest day. The conditions were actually quite good (bar the early visibility), with the rest of the town sensibly having a rest day, and the wind having erased some of the tracks. Somewhat leaden-legged from the previous day's tour we kept throwing ourselves at the massive mogul field down the main bowl to give the legs a good workout. Skiing moguls is good for the soul, especially so on touring skis.

And so we're nearly up to date - yesterday we again packed our skins to try a little tour recommended by Lara. Dropping off the back of the Gemsstock, and up to the col leading down to the Guspis, but instead carrying on up the peak to the left. We didn't bother putting the skins on, and instead booted all the way up, and were greeted with acres of options, all seemingly untracked. We dropped in, traversing right into a wide colouir giving perfect powder turns and wide smiles. The plan was to follow this until it eased off, and then skin up the right bank, crossing over a ridge to gain access to an easy-angled ascent up to a col between two peaks just short of the 3000m mark and then drop back into the Hospental run down the Guspis valley. Conditions were very nearly perfect, with complete solitude and untracked snow. Sarah broke track up the 300m ascent, but as we came up to the ridge, the wind and bullet-proof snow on the other side convinced us to retrace our tracks and ski back the way we had come up. A long, wide snow field of packed powder led us back down to the frozen lake, where we stopped to consult the map. We knew we had to reconnect with the long riverbed leading back to the Vermigelhutte, a Swiss Alpine Club hut at the beginning of the avalanche alley pole-out. This time we'd have to do the full length of it. We found a lovely route out, and parked ourselves on the benches outside the Vermigel to finish our snacks and have a drink of water. The Vermigelhutte is a lovely piece of work, solar-powered, with a full kitchen and honesty bar and outrageous views. This time the pole-out was less strenuous, as the bits of track not yet washed away by avalanches had an icy polished surface to them. In several places the snow pack made the unnerving 'whoomph' sound when we passed, the sound of a collapsing layer that on steeper ground really is bad news. It was about 4pm when we returned to the village - a full, perfect day out in the mountains from only a single uplift.

This morning the snow had started falling, and the clouds were in. Finally, Sarah agreed that we could have a day off, after 11 days on.

Our tracks!

2010-02-16T17:47:00.003Z

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Still there, three days later..!

Cloud inversion

2010-02-16T17:47:00.001Z

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Above the clouds..

Touring the light fantastic

2010-02-16T17:45:00.001Z

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Hello. That doesn't look like only 500 metres of uphill..

Sarah on the VF

2010-02-16T17:43:00.001Z

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Sarah well and truly 'off piste'

Colouir 1

2010-02-13T17:54:00.001Z

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Sarah admiring her tracks.

On the Ridge

2010-02-13T17:53:00.001Z

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Just a short scramble left.

Sarah and Krister roping up

2010-02-13T17:52:00.001Z

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Short-roping for a short scramble.

Blueberries galore

2010-02-13T17:48:00.001Z

Sarah: New favourite apres-ski snack - croissant, warm, with locally made blueberry jam.

Day 3 with Krister (couldn't see a bloody thing)

2010-02-13T17:47:00.001Z

Wednesday morning, and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Still, two days out of three of blue skies was better than we'd hoped for. With a white-out and snow fall, this would be a different kind of challenge. We met Krister for the 9am lift, and he started by extracting a climbing harness from his pack, and handing it to me with a "you may as well carry this". We did a warm-up run cutting across from one of the pistes and dropping down something that given the conditions felt steep and scary. Next time around we side-stepped up a snow arrete to drop into the Gipfel Colouir, "an area classic". Even given the white-out, I could see Sarah's face taking on a slightly paler shade of pale, looking down the rock-strewn mouth of the narrow, steep chute. We'd looked up at this many times from below, and although probably an optical illusion, it looks as it defies the laws of physics in that it shouldn't be able to retain any snow, given its angle. From above, this feeling was amplified, although Krister said that it was good that the visibility was so poor, or we'd probably be worried. The first 20 metres or so is a matter of sliding or scrambling down exposed rocks, trying to get onto the first proper snow. The first few turns felt claustrophobic, almost as if the tips and tails of the skis were about to touch the sides at the same time. It then slowly widened to a width more comfortable, but still scary steep. We re-joined the Sonnenpiste, and then boot-packed up a near-by knoll dropping back into the main open bowl under the Gemsstock. Next run we exited the Sonnenpiste above the drop-in to the Felsental run and donned the skins. It was now blowing a hoolie. After a short, but very steep climb of about 30 mins, we reached the knife-edge rim of the bowl next door. We quickly roped up for a bit of a scramble along the ridge, and then dropped into the bowl proper. The snow here was weird - like sugar, and Krister wasn't happy with the situation. He armed his avalanche airbag, and wove an intricate path close to the rock band to mimimise the risk of a slide. As the angle eased, so did we, and we could open up a bit - at least as much as the limited visibility allowed. As we dropped altitude, we entered the cloud base, and we were hard pushed to see just about anything. We joined the Felsental valley from the left - we'd done this bit numerous times, but in this condition, it was a challenge. And so the final run of the day was upon us. Again we headed for the Gipfel area, but dropped in about half way up the arrete into a triangle-shaped hanging snow field. At its apex, in a rather improbable situation, we managed to scramble back into the Gipfel just where it widens, and followed it back down. We boot-packed up the knoll, but this time roped up for the scramble up left along the ridge to the summit proper. We were greeted by untouched powder at an improbable angle. At this altitude, the visibility was actually reasonable, but we could see the cloud below us like a lid choking off the whole valley. Sooner or later, this would be an issue, as we suspected that Krister wasn't really the type to catch the last gondola down from the middle just because a bit of cloud. The single piste reaching the valley floor was a 'joy' of iced up moguls and rocks which we essentially tackled blind-folded - we could not see from one marker pole to the next, and followed Krister's whistling. Three action-packed days had come to an end, and we celebrated with a beer at Der Alte Apothek (where these words are being committed to electrons).

Day 2 with Krister (touring the light fantastic)

2010-02-13T17:46:00.000Z

Second day was touring day, and we headed to Disentis up the valley on the train. The plan was somewhat vague - go to the top of the Disentis lift system, climb up a further 500 vertical metres, and ski down the other side to some other village, and get back using public transport somehow. At the top of the third lift, we mounted the skins under our skis, and released the heels, and set off up what appeared to be a smallish snow field ending in a vertical rock band. Somehow we skirted around to the right, and a long, slowly rising traverse ended in a hacked-out snow platform over a massive drop, and a set of rungs drilled into the rock leading up the face. I was knackered already, just as Krister informed me that according to his altimeter we'd completed the first 51 vertical metres. My heart sank. We put the skis on our packs and headed up the rock face on the via ferrata rungs. As we reached the top, the view was simply breath taking. A valley opened up, with our main objective in clear sight on the other side - a beautiful, massive snow face leading up a mountain. The initial thought was how good it must be to ski down it, immediately followed by the sobering reality of the fact that we were supposed to skin up it. We stripped the skins, snapped our skis into downhill mode, and quickly lost every single one of the 51 metres we'd so far gained, and then some more on the way down to the glacier at the foot of our climb. In ski-touring terms, 500 vertical metres of gain is small-fry, but standing at the base looking up it looked immense. At 3000 metres of altitude, I was certain that I'd look worse for wear pulling onto the summit plateau. Krister set off, with Sarah hot on his heels. I knew from the outset that I stood no chance keeping up with them. Skinning has its own almost hypnotic rhythm. I settled into 50 steps, short breather, 50 steps. Krister and Sarah seemed unstoppable ahead. About half way they waited for me, and after that I tried to keep up, forcing myself to keep to the (now reduced, for my benefit) pace. After about 90 minutes of hard slog, I finally pulled up over the top, to be greeted by Krister and Sarah, and a bunch of cheerful Swedes that had been ahead of us. We sat down in the snow and had our lunch. Krister commented that I seemed to take the fact that the wife kicked my arse on the uphill in good spirit, unlike some other (mainly American) clients he'd worked with in the past. I assured him (quietly) that my good spirits were only for show. And so for the down. We'd been promised four metres of descent for every metre climbed, which sounded just like my kind of ratio. The story of the descent is one of two halves - the first (and now obviously running out of superlatives) was probably the best run I've ever skied, and all the sweeter for having slogged up hill by own steam. Bottomless Champagne, 30-35 degrees, no tracks, totally awesome-dude-rad, 1000 metres of blissful vertical. The second part was... rather different - well, imagine climbing trees over steep ravines, in full ski gear (including skis). Eventually we made it down, not really skiing, but picking our way down dense vegetation, rocks and steep gullies, until we hit terra-firma, and a long, but surprisingly pleasant run-out along a river into the village. A people carrier had conveniently pulled up, touting for business, picking up stranded skiers between the infrequent bus departures, which suited us just fine - 15 francs well spent to get back, spent but happy, to Andermatt. Back country touring really is it - in fact, you don't even need to go that much back country to get some fresh tracks. We staggered into bed by 8:30pm.

Day 1 with Krister (aka Colouirs 'r us)

2010-02-13T17:45:00.000Z

Krister Jonsson (www.alpinemadness.se) is a Swedish mountain guide nowadays living and working in Chamonix. We met him heli-skiing in arctic Sweden a few years back, and he is in fact the main reason we chose to come to Andermatt in the first place - he mentioned back then that he used to live and work here, and that it's a superb off-piste base, as it has the terrain, the annual snow fall, but lacks the mod-cons that draw the piste'n'party crowds. We contacted Krister when we knew that we'd be here, and he was happy to set aside three days to ski with us here in Andermatt, which by Swedish standards is a mere 'out for coffee' drive from Chamonix. Skiing with a guide is an effective way of maximising your experience when discovering a new place. It is also an effective way of minimising your wallet, but hey - you only live once. We're reasonably seasoned skiers, but Krister is in a totally different league. He spent 150 days on snow last year, and soloed the north face of the Eiger a few winters back. Last Sunday dawned a whiteout and snow, and we took a day off in preparation to restore our legs in preparation for skiing with Krister on Monday morning. On Monday, we woke up to blue skies and lots of fresh. This is both good and bad - good because it's ideal skiing conditions, and bad because it is also ideal avalanche conditions. Today's young hotshot free skiers with fat and rockered skis and resort-honed skills tend to forget that last bit when the snow's been falling.. Although we hadn't seen Krister for a couple of years, he was instantly recognisable at the base of the lift - his hair and beard is proper mountain-man still it seems.

Sarah was convinced from the start that Krister would take us on something that she wouldn't survive, which wasn't helped by the fact that I may have failed to mention to her that I'd told Krister that steep colouirs was high on my wish list. We spent the day doing three big drops around the Gemsstock, the first being a variation of the classic 'Giraffe' - amazing open fields of perfect powder, still largely untouched, and exiting in a colouir. The pole-out was part of the one we'd spent hours on a few days before. The second run took us down the Guspis into neighbouring Hospental after a twenty minutes boot-pack with skis on our packs up the next peak off the top of the Gemsstock lift. More powder, with some wind polish to keep us on our toes. The afternoon saw us in the higher bowl off the Gemsstock lift. The traverse into this drop required some gentle encouragement from Krister in order for Sarah to commit. The fall three inches to the right was unthinkable. We entered through a colouir which opened up into a very steep untouched field of snow and a long run down to what looked like a funnel into an unfeasibly narrow slot between rock walls and only air visible beyond. Well, we (I) asked for colouirs..

Andermatt pain & pleasure

2010-02-04T16:53:00.000Z

There's some serious off-piste here, which is good as there's no piste to speak of... The average level of ability here seems higher than many other places we've skied, bar possibly Riksgransen. The nu-skool skis are everywhere - wide as barn door, and rockered at both tip and tail. How do I convince Sarah that I need a new pair? This place consists of a massive, north-facing natural bowl, almost like in Fernie. A single gondola lets you access it, in addition to two token pisted runs back down that few people bother with. There are very few skiers here during the week, meaning that the place doesn't seem to get tracked out very quickly. The last significant snow fall was Tuesday night, and there is still plenty of tracks to be had. On Tuesday we dropped off the back of the top station after the random Swedish boarder (aka Martin, like Sarah also here as he was made redundant) advised that it would be fine on skis, but the exit a tad on the flat side on a board. The top looked too alluring, with untouched powder and clear blue skies. And the top was as good as it looked, but.. the exit was rather flat on skis, too. At least we could release our boot heels, which we were more than thankful for after an hour and a half's worth of poling. We met a band of Norwegians en-route, and two of them had piste bindings. They did not have such a fun day out, cursing their pals with telemarks. The scenery was breathtaking, and some very inviting skinning tracks led up the faces on the opposite side. Yesterday, Martin took us down the Geissberg in poor visibility, as the top gondola was out of action for a few hours. Steep, cut up and bush-lined, it was certainly a challenge. Kudos to Martin for doing it on a board. Later on the weather cleared, and we had the first ace condition access to the main powder bowl. We finished the day down Felsental which is an awesome run back to the village, and eventually we found a place where we could get a gluewein. The village is mercifully free of bars, cool hangouts and apres-ski places. Perhaps this is why there are no Brits here?

All this powder has taken its toll, and the word of the day is 'pain', or in my case possibly 'old age'. Should have gone to the gym more. Hopefully, after a few more weeks of this it subsides. In the mean time, we've retired to the sofa to recover for the afternoon.

Andermatt

2010-02-01T15:42:00.004Z

So here we are, lots - and I really mean LOTS - of snow. And -22 to test your mettle. Andermatt really could be taken off a hand-painted Swiss chocolate tin. Our apartment really is shiny - it looks brand new, and all IKEA-furnished. In fact, almost everyone here seems to be Scandinavian, too - it's just like home - people speaking Swedish, -22, and IKEA. First day was spent finding our legs in stacks of powder, but poor visibility. Second day - Sarah befriended a random Swedish boarder, who showed us some of the back country - of which there is lots around here. Powder legs coming back. We have a couple of days now to 'warm up' before Krister arrives to show us some of the tours around here - the potential is amazing. Gotta love the Swiss - the trains really are ridiculously punctual, clean, fast and - ok, not that cheap - but the journey here went very much (pun intended) like clockwork.

On The Road, again

2010-01-29T09:44:00.003Z

We're about to take off again for a bit of a road trip. Recharging batteries. Making sure we don't go soft. The house, although upside down with packing etc is still rather less upside down than it has been for a while. Winter kit upended on the floor, skis, boots - now where did the skins go? Harscheisen found stuffed in the boot bag. Avalanche tranceiver at least in its rightful place, in my rightmost sock drawer. Four weeks of the white stuff.

After that, a week in Rjukan for some frozen waterfalls. Never climbed ice before, so really looking forward to that. Then a month in Font. Would really like to get back to V6 again. Actually - to get to V6 full stop, as the only one I've done was down-graded. Will has kindly gone out of his way to produce the mother of all tick lists with detailed beta. After that, the idea is to head down to Provence to clip some bolts for the remainder, and come back ripped and with a set of trophy routes to our names :)

Come on a coaching holiday for a few days and up your grade three times!

2009-09-08T13:59:00.000+01:00

Such was the promises for various companies offering trips with - to be fair - often more or less 'famous' climbers. I used to believe that such a promise was obvious hokum - I know my grade, and no matter what miracle workers went to work on me, improving even one grade would take significantly more than a week. Not that I've been on any such trips, but actually - such a promise, at least for a certain segment of the climbing populous in the UK is a very safe bet. Let's say that you're a typical UK weekend warrior of average talent and fitness. You have a full-time job, and you've climbed mainly trad for the last 10 years. You pootle along happily on HVSs in the Peak, and the odd mild E-grade in Pembroke or Cornwall, wind on your back. You climb down the local wall a couple of days a week. You've been bolt-clipping at Portland a few times, wobbling your way up the odd F6b, but also failed on easier ones. You understand intellectually that sport climbing is different from trad, but it feels strangely unsatisfying - cheating, almost - to rely on bolts. Also, you've heard that 'redpointing' means practicing, and you can't really see the point - if it's not onsight, it's a fail, and you move on. After failing on some F6a+ that you think you should have had, you pour scorn over the whole thing: "sport climbing is neither", and vow to spend the next bank holiday weekend at The Roaches instead, back on some proper grit HVS.

The big realisation for me was that to enjoy sport climbing you need to leave your trad mentality at home, with your trad rack. Sport climbing is all about the redpoint. If you sport climb to onsight, you're always climbing far below your level, and both missing the point and losing out, reaping no rewards. Sport climbing is about practicing the moves, to enable you to climb the hardest route you are physically able to do. This is very different from trad where the mental game is very, very different - placing gear where the rock allows, plus the uncertainty of its viability essentially adds up to a very conservative approach - nothing wrong with that, and essential experience for the all-round climber. However, with sport climbing, much (not all) of the risk element is removed. This isn't the same to say that sport climbing is reduced to a purely physical game - redpointing introduces its very own brand of mental frustrations. Top-roping to work out the moves before the lead attempt? Sure thing. Fudging your way up, bolt-to-bolt with a clip stick to rig up a rope? You bet. Trying the same route five times to fine-tune your sequence before finally sending it on lead? Absolutely. Attempting a F7a+ when you've only ever previously managed F6b? Well within reach.

Coming back to the coaching trip promise of grade gains - it's easy, if you've never really redpointed with intent before. You obviously won't become '3 grades better' - you will only have realised your potential by climbing properly at the right level. Suddenly, sport grades aren't barriers anymore, they're a measure of the time it takes you to do the routes. If you onsight at F6b regularly, you will almost certainly redpoint F7a within half a dozen attempts. If you stick with it, you'll notice a few interesting effects - as you start redpointing more routes above your onsight level, your on-sight grade will start to creep up much quicker than you'd dared to push it if you only ever climbed around that level - you're improving your skills. Also - your trad level and confidence will grow, as your fitness and technical skills suddenly jerks upwards. And you didn't need to go on a coaching trip either.

Botanising the bookshelf

2009-05-06T21:25:00.003+01:00

"Pick out a few books for me" she said, so I stood up, and ran my finger along the rows of books. It first came to rest on Michael Ondatje's 'The English Patient' - a modern master piece in every sense. The prose is as sparse as the story line is moving. One can almost smell the desert. Peter Hoeg's 'Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow' is a more left-field choice - part murder mystery, part philosophical treaty, perhaps a tad overly intellectual, but still richly rewarding. Hoeg's subsequent writing just got a little bit too weird. Kazuo Ishiguro's 'The Remains of the Day' is an astonishing snapshot of a lost time, and a sorrowful, restrained romance. Nobel price winner Doris Lessing's 'The Democratic Terrorist', a story of idealism and misguided yoof, is all the more pertinent today. Milan Kundera's 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' made an indelible mark on me as an impressionable 20-year old - love, war, idealism. Arturo Perez-Reverte's 'The Fencing Master' is a book I would have loved to be able to read in its original Spanish. A murder mystery, and an insight into the Zen of the bladesman in a life-long quest for the indefensible thrust. Most of Perez-Reverte's earlier works are great - but his latter ones went a bit.. wanky. Finally, Umberto Ecco's 'Focault's Pendulum' - a challenging read with untranslated stretches in Greek and Hebrew, but a very interesting history of the Masons, a sort of Da Vinci Code for grown-ups.

Chris

2008-03-26T14:53:00.001Z

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Chris was feeling the cold, and decided to embrace the fireplace.

Sarah skinning

2008-03-26T13:08:00.001Z

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A hard slog it was, too.

Matterhorn

2008-03-26T13:07:00.001Z

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The Matterhorn shrouded in cloud, from the top of Rosablanche.

Summit of Rosablanche (3336m)

2008-03-26T13:06:00.001Z

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At the summit cairn.

Ski Verbier

2008-03-25T17:14:00.001Z

Easter saw us on a mini-break in Verbier with friends. Or Le Chable, rather, a less rich & famous village just below it. We seemed to hit the jackpot, with oodles of powder, blue skies and acres of off piste to be had for the price of a bit of boot packing or skinning. Switzerland really is amazing. Expensive, but amazing. The second-accurate train runs from inside the airport terminal, and stops (on the second, naturally) two minutes walk from the hotel in Le Chable. We flew from East Midlands, and met Chris and Nana at the airport, coming from Heathrow. Tom and Tasha, the boarders, had arrived earlier, hoping to maximise the snow time. Lorne, a friend from Bristol lives in Le Chable, working as a ski instructor, and her partner John was out, too. They have a lot of local knowledge between them.

Our hotel was basic, but clean and functional. Le Chable isn't really a ski resort in any way - just a local village that happens to have a gondola running to the top of its more famous neighbour. The weather forecast said that our first ski day would be the most stable, with masses of snow to follow. John suggested that this may be our only opportunity to tackle one of the many celebrated ski tours available in the Valais. He proposed an ascent of Rosablanche (3336m).

The following morning we were greeted with blue skies, and Sarah and I quickly packed tranceivers, shovels, probes, lunch, water and skins. The ascent would take somewhere between 2.5 and 4 hours depending on fitness and snow conditions. We met up with John, and took the lifts as far as we could, and after a bit of a traverse, donned the skins and set off. Skinning is sweaty work, but usually not super-strenuous - you settle into a kind of hypnotic rhythm, more like hill walking, rather than fell running. The first bit took about 20 mins or so, and from the top a traversed descent took us into a different world, away from lifts and any sign of other people. The views were out of this world, and untouched powder everywhere for the adventurous. The next climb was longer, but gentler, and before long we reached a ridge at 3000m, finally revealing the full extent of the glacier that would form our descent, and the main objective, the summit of Rosablanche. We could now see other parties approaching from all sorts of directions. The Rosablanche summit is on the Chamonix to Zermatt Haute Route. Another long traverse, and then the final 336 meters of ascent.

Something weird happened here. Suddenly, all other parties were overtaking us. Instead of the previous 100 steps, 5 sec breather, 100 steps, I was now on 10 steps, 1 minute breather, 10 steps. I'm obviously rubbish at altitude. Getting to the summit ridge rewarded us with breathtaking views of the Swiss alps - with the Matterhorn poking through the clouds. It was now desperately cold - I was unable to retain the heat in fingers and toes. We quickly peeled the climbing skins, and scrambled up to the summit cairn for the full tick.

The way down was over all too quick, with wonderful powder on top of the glacier. We are thinking of doing some touring for the honeymoon, but Sarah offed that idea on the way up. It was on again on the way down though.

On the Sunday we did the full 4 Vallee traverse, that is we tried to cover as much of the piste system as our lift passes allowed. Chris and Nana came with us, and they did a remarkable job on some of the steep blacks that need negotiating. We ended up in a lovely slopeside restaurant, devouring some of the local dried meats. And a cheeky pint.

A lot of snow fell, and due to the fact that we had the advantage of local knowledge, we got plenty of fresh tracks and crazy drops. On the last day we climbed up the Stairway to Heaven, a quick boot pack up to a hidden, powder-filled bowl of magic.

Verbier really is an off-piste heaven - skins open up amazing terrain, and even short walks gets you away from the crowds in minutes.

At the top of Face Lift

2008-03-12T16:51:00.001Z

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Sarah going for gold

2008-03-12T16:49:00.001Z

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Knee-deep

2008-03-12T16:47:00.001Z

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Out on our Cat-ski trip, knee-deep in Fernie's finest.

Ski Fernie

2008-03-12T13:24:00.003Z

So, the main event of this ski season, two weeks in the Canadian powder paradise, Fernie. We got picked up from Calgary Airport by Tom, after a long, but uneventful flight out of Gatwick. Tom provided a running commentary on North American skiing, and Fernie in particular. During January and most of February they've had a sequence of big powder dumps, snowing on average twice a week - until now, two weeks without snowfall. Our hearts sank a bit a this tidbit of local knowledge. We pulled in to the Chalet, and got greeted by Susan, the owner and manager - she's Canadian, but lived for many years in the UK, and she sounds much more English than Canadian. The first week the chalet is onlly half-full - there's Ken, a keen ski-tourer and long-time visitor to the chalet, and Gordon and Helen, another English couple. The Chalet is very different from your youth trips to the Alps - beautiful wooden interior, massive open fire place, hot tub, large bedrooms. We settle in, and try to stay awake.

Fernie ski hill is anything but a hill. It consists of 5 large alpine bowls accessible by lift, and about as many again, technically out of bounds, but accessible by foot or by skinning. Part of the draw of staying with Canadian Powder Tours was that they will guide every day, and no pandering to the weakest link - keep up, or peel off. We covered some impressive locals only terrain, thanks to Susan. She did not guide us into Fishbowl, she just happened to be there by accident :)

Although the hill was in excellent groomed condition, and virtually empty by Euro standards, we had come for the powder. Susan was sure that we'd get a bit of a Fernie 'flurry' before we left - that's 40cm over night, and she was right - when it came, it really came. We had two days of the most amazing powder skiing - in the bowls, in Fish, between the trees, on the piste, off the piste. On the Tuesday the skies cleared, and we were at the lift before opening - the locals evidently only ski on powder days, and for the first time we actually had to queue for a minute or two. Two opticians from Slough, Dave and Mark, had joined us a few days before, and thus timed it immaculately.

It's amazing how quickly the powder gets tracked out, at least the accessible bits. Come 3pm our legs were jelly, but it didn't really matter that much as what was left was pretty choppy. We retreated to the bar, and decided to go cat-skiing the next day in search of virgin snow. Cat-skiing is sometimes referred to as a poor-man's heli-skiing - it's still pretty costly, and can't quite cover the same terrain. The 'Cat' is essentially a piste bashing machine, and we got 8 drops done. Unfortunately, we were slightly let down by the temperatures, in that the snow was getting the full brunt of the sun, and being more akin to wet concrete than Champagne powder in places.

Fernie is a most excellent place to ski. By Euro standards the infrastructure is primitive, but there aren't any crowds. Susan's chalet is a real home-from-home, with a really good bunch of like-minded people. Even the boarders.

Oh, and I proposed to Sarah.

Ski Tignes

2008-01-02T09:31:00.000Z

Happy New Year, sports fans.

As the early season snowfall in the European alps was the best in 20 years, Sarah and I decided to cancel christmas and head for the mountains on a cheap last minute jolly. We ended up in Tignes, in the Espace Killy ski area in France. I'd never skied there before. Tignes is connected with the perhaps more well-known Val d'Isere - not that I'd been there either, but still. Our 'club hotel' overlooking the frozen lake was well placed, but somewhat reminiscent of 'Fawlty Towers' - great staff, but the rooms were quirky, heating didn't work, and the beds were falling apart. Still - we grew fond of it as the week progressed. A 'club hotel' is basically a slightly bigger chalet, operated along similar lines.

We had hoped to get off the pistes, but the big snow dump that had fallen a week or so earlier was pretty comprehensively tracked out unless you were prepared to don skins and climb for it, so we decided to focus on tuning up our skills for the new season. We booked two half-day mogul sessions with The Development Centre, a UK-staffed outfit focusing on the right-hand side of the bell curve of skiing ability. It proved to be a challenging, but rewarding couple of days. If you're in the Killy area, and have skied for a while, I really recommend seeking out TDC.

The Tignes-VdI area is a cool place to ski, and I'm keen to go back again.

Be healthy, live longer

2007-11-01T12:08:00.001Z

A report out the other day lists life style factors that contribute to higher cancer risks. A long, and extensive bit of research has concluded that smoking, excessive drinking, obesity, insufficient exercise, and excessive consumption of red meat means that you're more likely to die earlier.

That is such an unexpected result! Clearly, there is a Nobel price for medicine in the wings here.

Permanent vacation

2007-10-31T10:44:00.000Z

We have a bunch of students living next door. To be fair to them, they are generally reasonably considerate. We've asked them once on a Sunday (or Monday, actually) to keep it down a bit at 3am, as we need our beauty sleep in order to get up for work. However, Rich, the builder installing the bathroom relayed the following story.

Whilst Sarah and I were diving in Egypt, Rich started work around the 8-8:30am mark. A knock on the door, Thursday morning around 9am. Pyjama-clad student on the door, clearly marked from the night before.

"Hey, man - you think you can keep it down a bit?"

"Not really, no. This is the time when people generally are at work"

"Yeah, but Thursdays are the only mornings I get a layin, and generally go out the Wednesday"

Rich is somewhat unsympathetic to the man's plight. The student carries on:

"Can you do something about it?"

"I can lend you a pair or ear defenders."

"But the couple here asked us to be quiet one night..."

"Well, perhaps now you understand what it feels like?"

Sheesh. Stoodents, eh.

The return of the one-armed man

2007-10-24T08:52:00.000+01:00

I went back to the wall yesterday for the first time in about 6 months of forced absence due to tennis elbow. Today I feel like I've been through a full spin cycle - everything hurts. Everything but the elbow, that is. For me, that's exceedingly good news, which I'm doing my best to focus on, instead of the fact that I'm weak as a new-born child, somewhat inevitably.

Now, it's of course hard to be excited about indoor climbing, but I have to admit to having missed the testosterone-fuelled posturing (and that's just the girls..), the misfits, the acres of naked flesh, the almost unbreathable, chalk-filled, sweaty atmosphere, the clubby soundtrack, the who's doing who rumor mongering. And of course the latest set of boulder problems. The irritating thing is that when I injured myself, I was probably at the strongest I've ever been. I did go upstairs to give the campus board the evil eye.

Wedding Final

2007-10-22T09:38:00.000+01:00

We had a wonderful time at Nick & Jo's wedding on Saturday, complete with a barn storming barn dance, and RWC final on in a cupboard next door. Nick and Jo's first dance was truly spectacular, and I just wished I'd have the sense to pick up my jaw and find the camera to video it. Straight out of Strictly Come Dancing.

Usually, I like to moan about how the English love to love the plucky loser (hi Tim), but the RWC silver medal really is an outstanding achievement by a team that was 80-1 at the beginning of the tournament. Was it a try? Who cares - Ashton said it well - speculation is pointless. If the ref says so, then so it is.

England remembered how to fight, and although the Boks took the silver ware, England did their dirty work for them by sending home the Wallabies and Les Bleues.

Dive the Red Sea

2007-10-19T16:37:00.000+01:00

We've just come back from a week's diving from the Red Sea 'resort' of Marsa Alam. The word resort is perhaps a bit misplaced, in that it's a hotel plonked where the desert meets the sea, and if you're not there for the diving, you're not there. Given the landscape, we might as well have been on the moon. Still, the hotel is very nice. This trip represented a lot of firsts for me - first time in Africa, first time in a Muslim country, first time in Egypt, first time in the Red Sea.
We had wavered between the thought of a live-aboard and day tripping out of a hotel, but to get the most out of a Red Sea live-aboard you need to have at least 50 logged dives in order to access certain of the more remote marine parks. Before this trip, neither me nor Sarah had reached that level. Besides, it's actually quite nice to be able to return to a proper room with a proper bed in the evenings.

The diving outfit, Emperor Divers, displayed the effortless air of multicultural professionalism we've come to expect from dive centres around the world. The diving community is a nomadic tribe, and we ended up diving primarily under the guidance of Mo and Chris, Egyptian and English respectively, and a motley crew of primarily UK divers. The Coral Beach Diving Hotel has no beach, but it does butt up to the harbour, meaning that we had a 30-second walk from the breakfast table to the boat in the morning, which was great. Each day of diving
followed mostly the same pattern - an hour or so on the boat to access a particular reef, and then two dives there, followed by lunch on the boat. The boat would then take us to a different reef, and we'd do a third dive, and then a mad rush to get back before the sun was two
fingers from the horizon; some local regulation. We'd signed up for a few extras - in fact, we signed up for all extras it seemed, seeing the bill - Enriched Air qualification ('NITROX') and trips to the Dolphin House and Elphinstone off-shore reefs, both of which included
ridiculously early starts. The Dolphin House reef somewhat unsurprisingly houses a resident school of dolphins. Access to this reef is commendably regulated to give the dolphins some space, meaning that the number of boats is limited, as is the diving area and the
time for the last dive set to 2pm. The dolphins had obviously cottoned on to this, and typically made their first appearance at 2:05pm. Still, we had some fantastic diving none the less. The Elphinstone is a demanding dive site, with potentially strong currents to contend
with, and with a significant proportion of it around the 30m limit, not a place for first timers. This is a good place to encounter hammer head sharks, but we were slightly too early in their season, so we were unlucky in that regard. Diving on Nitrox 33% I also found myself
focusing mainly on my computer at that depth, paranoid to stay above the 32m O2 partial pressure deck. Second dive at Elphinstone was out of this world though. A perfect drift dive along the seemingly endless wall reef with Nature's full range of Darwinian evolution on glorious display from Barracudas to Nudibranches.

Diving on nitrox appeals to the geek in me - hacking one's own gas mixture. It seems to be where recreational diving is heading, allowing as it does the no decompression limits to be extended such that they no longer run out before your gas does. Table calculations are
slightly more involved, but with a dive computer to handle that for you, most divers don't seem to bother anyway. With more oxygen in your mix, you also seem to settle down quicker into a calm breathing rate, and I found myself lasting longer on every nitrox tank.

The whole of the Red Sea is fringed with reefs, and to the Red Sea rim states, it represents a staggering income opportunity. There are signs that things are being managed in a responsible manner from the dive operators - fixed moorings to limit anchor damage for example, and the 'no gloves, no touch' rule. However, the level of on-going pollution is worrying. The locals appear to treat low tide as the bin man - simply leave all your rubbish on the beach, and the next morning it's gone. It may be gone from the beach, but it's evident on the reef. All boats have the 'short length of pipe' approach to toilet flush, and the general rule is don't flush if there's divers underneath, and bog roll goes in the bin, not the toilet.

But saying that, in the best moments, it's just magic - unsurpassed, perhaps only rivaled by Belize of the places I've dived.

RWC

2007-10-08T16:26:00.000+01:00

This is rapidly turning the script on its head. England was supposed to be without hope, and the games before the All Blacks finally lifting the trophy a mere formality. Northern Hemisphere Rugby was comatose, out of contention.

Funny how things turn out on the field. England sends the Wallabies packing. France, having lost their opener to Argentina, dispatches the All Blacks after some genius turns from Freddie Michalak (and admittedly a forward pass, but still). The All Blacks have now been dismissed twice by France in the RWC. The 'most enigmatic side in world Rugby' indeed - the French really can step it up for the big games, where the All Blacks seem to choke. Much as I enjoy the All Blacks normal display of peerless Rugby superiority, I vocally backed the French. They wanted it more, and for the All Blacks, another agonising, soul-searching four years until the next chance.

The real revelation though are the Pumas. Argentina have long been the punch bag that everybody always beats, but quietly they've put together a quality side, with some truly world-class players that would feature in a tournament XV. Gus Pichot, the former Bristol scrum half, confidently claimed that Hernandez would pip Dan Carter to the All Blacks number 10 jersey if he'd been a New Zealander. Their pack is brutal.

And then there's England. Jonny's back, and although not quite back to his former glory, he just seems to tie up the loose ends and make the team work. Andy Gommersal has been the real eye opener though. Fast, precise service has made the backs start believing again. And then there's Paul Sackey - how come he hasn't had any air time before?

So, France-England. Argentina-South Africa. I wouldn't like to call either of the games in advance.

!

2007-10-06T15:47:00.000+01:00

The 'weakest champions in rugby history' just kicked the Aussies into the high grass. Absolutely remarkable, defying all the odds. Bring on the All Blacks.

One

2007-10-02T13:32:00.000+01:00

Great tune. Great band. Great guest vocalist.

Argentina!

2007-09-30T17:37:00.000+01:00

Argentina just kicked Ireland out of the World Cup, winning their group against all odds. Hernandez is arguably one of the best all round players in the tournament.

My RWC sweep stakes ticket suddenly looks like a hot prospect. And with a date with Scotland in the quarters, it certainly looks like they're not done yet. England showed some back wheels and put up a spirited performance against Tonga. England's looking like the quality side they should be. Almost. Next game the Aussies - a somewhat different proposition, sure, but all bets are off in the knock-out stages.

RWC: England 44-22 Samoa

2007-09-22T17:05:00.000+01:00

Finally England's looking like they can actually play some proper Rugby again. Argably the best game so far in the RWC, and England showed that they're not quite out yet.

Sarah's arrived in Font, and for the first time during my forced time off from climbing I actually feel a bit sorry for myself. Saying that, I'm actually symptom free, and I'm itching to get back in. But I'm forcing myself to wait, as tearing up the injury due to a premature return would be impossible to bear. Still, I've contracted some infection, so couldn't have gone, anyway.

At least I have a few days where I can store my clothes on the floor without risking repercussions.

This is Rock & Roll

2007-09-20T17:33:00.001+01:00

Mourinho

2007-09-20T08:22:00.000+01:00

Jose' Mourinho has left Chelsea by 'mutual consent'. A real shame. For someone who's relatively uninterested in football, Mourinho was to me a refreshing change from the usual dull fayre of inarticulate former players dressed in tracky bottoms. Superbly arrogant, unsmiling, but with the goods to back it up.

"I can honestly say I'm not one from the bottle. I am European Champion. I think I am special"

Awesome.

The Failing Continent

2007-09-04T08:56:00.000+01:00

My brother gave me a copy of Aidan Hartley's book The Zanzibar Chest a couple of weeks back on a lightning visit back to Sweden. Mathias works at the Africa desk at SIDA, the Swedish government's development agency. I readily confess to knowing preciously little about Africa, its history, its wars. This book was a fascinating eye-opener. Hartley's book is part memoir, part history lesson, depicting his life as a front line journalist for Reuters, but also recounting the footsteps of Hartley's father, a pioneer from the dying days of the British Empire.

Primarily, the book details a couple of Africa's 'dirty little wars'; Somalia, Rwanda, Burundi - the unparalleled cruelty by which they were fought, and the West's ineptitude, or rather disinterest, to do anything about it. On the flip side, it is also a raucous, blokey story of the hypnotic draw of life in the dirt as a journalist, the camaraderie, the excesses, the hedonism - but also the staggering emotional cost of witnessing massacres and cruelty first-hand, as it happens.

Aidan's love for Africa shines through, as does his sadness and anger. It's not always clear if one should laugh or cry at the bungled ways that the West has meddled, and made things a million times worse. Especially telling is the Somalia wars, how they were run - pretty much for sport - by a bunch of qat-fuelled gangsters, and how the West played into their hands by pouring in aid, immediately, and routinely robbed and sold for profit to buy more arms by the war lords. The battle of Mogadishu, detailed in the also excellent Black Hawk Down is largely left out, as it's so well covered elsewhere. One is left with a feeling that Somalia is a failed state in the truest meaning of the word - it's never really had a state during its existence, and war is what they do, conquerors beware.

Hartley's own descent into the Heart of Darkness concludes in Rwanda, with a genocide of industrial proportions, that barely registered in the western media. Hundreds of thousands of Tutsis were slaughtered by crude means, dull machetes primarily it seems - a no mean feat, practically.

Gremolata

2007-07-02T10:51:00.000+01:00

Some flavor combinations, no matter how outlandish, just seem to work. Lemon rind, flat leaf parsley, olive oil and garlic? What sort of kitchen chemist discovered that?

Grate the rind of 5 unwaxed lemons.
Finley chop a generous bunch of flat leaf parsley.
Crush a clove of garlic.
Mix it all up with a good tot of olive oil, and a few turns of the pepper and salt mills.

Drizzle over meat stews.

Ten routes that rocked my world

2007-06-25T17:27:00.000+01:00

I have climbed thousands of routes over the years, but looking back, some stand out more than others. It's hard to define what makes a route memorable. It can be its situation, the partnership, the line, the achievement; many factors play in. Even more interesting, perhaps, is the variety that a decade of memorable routes will throw up. How do you compare a full-on multi-pitch route in the mountains with a 3-move boulder problem? You can't, of course, except perhaps by the elation felt on completing them. My most memorable climbing experiences seem to coincide with junctures in the climbing journey. Perhaps this is not so strange; the first lead at a new grade is likely to stick in the mind for the added degree of commitment or mental reserve required.

Right Angle Variation, Gurnard's Head, Cornwall, UK (VS 4b, 4c, 4b)

Still one of the best routes of its grade in the UK, and a fantastic example of real 'adventure' climbing. The situation is truly spectacular - a narrow zawn gashing into the coast line, and a long traverse in over frequently crashing waves into the apex, and then, from a hanging belay, straight up a corner on jugs. From the opposite side of the zawn one can get an amazing view of the whole route, and it looks gut-wrenchingly intimidating, at least five grades harder than it really is. The rock - Killas Slate - is of exceptional quality, and the gear is great apart from a 5 metre section of the traverse leading into the hanging stance. I climbed this route during my first season of climbing, and leading the last pitch was my first proper lead. I remember belaying Pete on the second pitch watching two seals playing in the waves beneath us. A gem of a route, utterly inescapable, totally memorable. I went back with Sarah many many years later, and even as a much more experienced climber, it's still a top route.

Valkyrie, The Roaches, Peak District, UK (VS 5a, 4c)

A benchmark VS, and a rite of passage for any aspiring Gritstone climber. This is probably the most gibbered-on route on grit. Climb the crack up to the obvious stance. Now, up, and then down the massive flake. Step out, and then - yes, then what? 'That' move. You look down between your legs and see nothing but air. You try to find anything to hold on to, and there's nothing. Your belayer first tries encouragement, and then ridicule. You're stuck, no matter how much beta you've had, say, tales of hidden foot holds. It's only one move, and it's all a matter of balance. Suddenly you decide to commit, and it's easy. You look back and wonder why that took you so long. Out on the nose, and some glorious break-to-breaking later you're taking it all in from the top, with an exceptional vantage point to mock your second. If you took care with the ropes, your second will essentially be on a top rope.

The Hunk, The Buttermilks, Bishop, California (V2)

Bouldering, US style. This boulder is a real high ball, higher than most parts of the grit stone edges in the Peak District. A huge lump of granite with a sequence of Barclaycards stuck onto it. The crux moves are close to the ground, but as you move higher and higher, and the holds only marginally improving, it's a real test of character. A real achievement for Sarah aswell, overcoming her natural aversion to soloing by slapping a 'bouldering' label onto it.

Ordinary Route, Old Man of Stoer, Northern Scotland (VS 5a, 4c, 4c, -)

James and I were doing a lightning road trip around Scotland, and on our last day ended up climbing the beautiful sea stack Old Man of Stoer. Everything was perfect that day - even the weather. We'd been midged to hell for a few days, so walking in along the coast with a gentle breeze was a great relief. There was one party ahead of us, but they were almost finished. First man has to swim across, unless you have a boat. We weren't particularly well prepared for this. I stripped to my boxers, and sum across with a rope. The water was rather refreshing, shall we say. Not a long swim by any means. We set up a tyrolean to pull our gear over before James swam over. We pulled the roped through a belay device to get the water out, and set off. The stack itself is a kind of hard sand stone, very much like grit, in fact, of exceptional quality. The route itself is never very taxing, but on a stack we soon found that route finding was surprisingly hard without a topo, and only a vague guide book description. Pulling over the top we found that a crowd had gathered on land, giving us a healthy round of applause in the sunshine. Getting off was a real trouser-filler. We abbed off some old bleached tat at the top, landing on a ledge at the top of the second pitch. From here, you have to solo out along a break to a cluster of dodgy pegs, attach yourself to some more bleached tat and ab off. Firstly, soft-iron pegs in a sea cliff is a bad idea in general. Secondly, once these pegs are 40 years old and wobbly to the touch, you get a niggly feeling in the stomach. Still, there were lots of them, and it's body-weight only. No problem.

Serenity Crack/Sons of Yesterday link-up, Yosemite Valley, California (5.10d)

This was (and still would be) right at the limit of my ability. Fortunately, I was climbing this with a very capable partner, Bruno Marks. Essentially, 9 full rope lengths of crackwork, thin fingers to flared fist and off-hand. Technical crux (supposedly) the end of the final pitch of Serenity, but for us Euroweenies, the first pitch of Sons was the meat of the day. Flared off hands, as the expression goes. The crack is too wide to get any jams to stick, and too flared to be able to lay off. Every move a struggle to hang on. At the time, the sun was starting to get hot, and the chalk was never quite enough to keep your hands dry. Higher up things eased, and some of the best crack climbing I've ever come across anywhere was found. Once we abbed off, both Bruno and I were totally spent. A long day.

Crescent Arete, Stanage Plantation, Peak District, UK (HVS 5b or V0)

Small, but perfectly formed, the Crescent Arete boulder lies next to the path up to the main edge itself. The Plantation boulder field is packed with classics of all grades, and Crescent Arete marked the culmination of a very personal journey. This problem has everything. Impeccable line, with a very balanced difficulty. A landing that's awkward enough to demand commitment. You need a good grasp of arete technique to get up this one. I'd stood beneath it so many times, always in my mind walking up to the edge, wandering if this is the day. Feeling the starting holds. Trying the first few easy moves, but always putting it off. A bit too warm, or too damp, I kept telling myself. I've seen good climbers flounder on it. Then, one solo-marathon weekend I'd stared off doing Pebble Arete, another highball nearby, taking a fall from the last move landing on my arse on the mat, and then topping out on the next attempt. I soloed another 50 routes that weekend, and packing it in for the day wandering up to the Plantation boulders to meet up with Sarah. She and a bunch of others were trying Crescent Arete. After watching for a bit I decided to have a go, with a bit of encouragement and beta from Airlie Anderson I suddenly found myself first grabbing the 'thank God' notch and soon after pulling over.

The Arrow, St Govan's Head, Pembroke, Wales (E1 5a)

For some reason, it took me a long while to get to grips with limestone. This is a bit ironic (in the Alanis Morrissette sense), seeing that there's hardly anything but limestone around Bristol where I live. I learnt to climb on Gritstone, and it's a very different beast. For a gritstoner, limestone feels sustained, and cams won't stick very well. On the other hand, the grade scale feels much more linear on limestone. Harder grades mean harder routes, not necessarily more dangerous. Pembroke is arguably one of the few noteworthy cragging venues in the UK, on a world scale. Ok, it's certainly not Ceuse, Yosemite or Akh Su Valley, but it's got a certain something for the discerning adventure climber. The Arrow is sometimes touted as a soft touch for the Extreme, and perhaps this is true. It sees its fair share of epics for this very reason. It's got a poorly protected start over an iffy landing, but once the gear starts appearing, it's a fantastic romp. Never desperate, but interest is sustained to the end. For the non-limestone afficionado, it's a race against the pump in your fore arms.

Cenotaph Corner, Dinas Cromlech, Llanberis Pass, North Wales (E1 5c)

This route represented a first for me. Many firsts, in fact. First E1. First 5c. First lob on trad gear. First, second, and third lobs, actually. Me, James, Pete and Mel were camping and climbing in the Pass one of my first seasons, and I defy anyone to walk up to the Cromlech and not want to climb this route. It's the most striking line in the UK. A perfect open-book corner, one big mother of a pitch. It just begs to be climbed. Of course, I wasn't good enough to climb it clean, and looking back, it should have been obvious, but I don't regret for a second giving it a good go. It's deceptively easy the first third, and the temptation is to absolutely stitch it up, which I did. Two thirds of the way up, as the climbing starts getting harder, and the arms a bit weary I found myself out of gear, and had to downclimb to retrieve some of the more unnecessary pieces I'd placed. This could only go one way, and after running it out a bit, the lob came. After a few more attempts, I was spent, and lowered off. James set off on my gear, and managed to complete it, and I seconded it cleanly. It's an amazing place though, so many ultra-classics compressed into a small area.

Nutcracker, Manure Pile Buttress, Yosemite Valley, California (5.9)

Oh, the irony (again) of the name - Manure Pile Buttress. This 'pile of shit' would have been the star attraction had it been situated anywhere else but at the foot of El Capitan, the most famous rock face in the world. Nutcracker is perhaps the most classic of the easy Valley classics. Five or six pitches of glorious granite, and an amazing day out for me and Sarah. The route surprised with a crux mantle that felt exposed. Pitch after pitch of perfect hands and run-out slabs makes for pretty much the ultimate punter's route.

Flying Buttress Direct, Stanage Popular End, Peak District, UK (HVS 5b. Or is it?)

The iconic grit stone route, soloed by players in trainers, fallen off by punters and on everyone's grit tick list. The grade is a joke, really - an anachronism from the days when men were men, but it's stuck. A gentle-angled, but unprotectable slab leads up to the huge roof. A good nut can be placed, and a moment's respite whilst contemplating what's coming next. The span required to reach the lip of the roof feels enormous, but there is a nak to it. What follows next is the wildest sequence on grit. At full stretch, you get the left hand's fingers in the break to about second joint; good hold really. As you match, you're committed - come off now, and it's the slab below. Now cut loose and latch a heel up out right at the same level as your hands. If you're tall, you may have been able to place a crucial cam from underneath the roof, but for us sub-6-footers, it's easier placing the cam from the outrageous, but reasonably secure position hooking at the lip. A wonderful sequence of further hooking and stretching between the breaks enables you to reach a standing position, and onwards to glory. Peerless.

Finale Groove, Boulder Ruckle, Swanage, UK (HVS 5b)

The Ruckle is one of the most intimidating places to climb in the UK. The long free-hanging abseil access. The tides. The unstable nature of the rock, especially the exits. One single, massive pitch, Dorset's response to Cenotaph Corner, and although not as iconic, it certainly packs a punch. On the day Sarah and I climbed it, the sea mists rolled in soon after I set off, and put a dense lid between us, making it impossible to communicate. The loneliness of the lead was very apparent. The route's sustained, but never desperate, and puts to shame the ferocious reputation of the crag. The open book corner starts out wide, and gradually narrows to the top. An uncharacteristically strong line for limestone. Sarah had a terrible time following, as she struggled with extracting some of my pieces, and me being unable to see or hear her, was unable to offer any assistance.

So there you have it. Ten routes that rocked my world. Or eleven, actually. I could as easily pick a different ten.

The Great British Toilet

2007-06-02T08:49:00.000+01:00

I've been living in the UK for many years now, but certain things you never quite get used to. The design of bathrooms is one of them. For the love of Christ, who's idea was it to have bog doors swing inwards? Just picture it - you're desperate to go, having just come off your plane, so you rush to the toilet cubicle - all 1 square metre of it. You have your bag in one hand. You push the door open, and it crashes into the seat. You have to squeeze in through a gap that's about 9 inches wide, and then do the tip-toe dance around, desperately trying to get the door shut again. After mission completed, it's back to more of the same. Now, the puzzling bit is - why? The problem must be obvious to anyone who's ever been to the toilet, and the solution bleedingly obvious - so why do toilet doors still swing inwards? Anyway - you managed to get out. Now wash your hands. You have two taps - ice cold, and scalding hot. The rest of the world cottoned on to mixer taps a generation ago, but here they are only just creeping into the consciousness. In the home, the height of fashion is to have a luscious wall to wall carpet fitted in the bathroom. Let me repeat that: Carpet. In. The bathroom. In households that contains men. Moving on to the toilet itself - one would think it's a solved problem by now. In the rest of the western world, it is. In Sweden they usually come with two flush buttons, one for big jobs, and one for little jobs. They use very little water, and just work, quietly and efficiently. Here it is so different. The most common model has a sort of lever that you need to push down hard in a pivoting kind of action. This mechanism just about never works. You push down hard, and get rewarded by a slight gurgling noise, but no water. You wait for the lever to slowly return to its starting position, and try again. The same result. After pumping the lever half a dozen times, if you're lucky, the contraption will sort of flush - a long-lasting trickle consuming lots of water, yet strangely inefficient in terms of the job it was designed to do.

Fast goose

2007-05-26T09:24:00.000+01:00

A Barnacle Goose has smashed the North Sea crossing record, previously held by Godzilla at 8 hours. The goose Barbow completed the Scotland to Norway in a mere 5 hours; an impressive feat indeed.

The green dilemma

2007-05-23T07:16:00.000+01:00

So, we need to be green. CO-2 levels are hockey-sticking, global temperatures are rising, polar ice caps are melting as a consequence, and the Maldives are sinking. To combat this situation, we're installing Argon-filled double glazing units, which may cut heating bills with up to 15%. Every little bit helps, eh.

In terms of energy generation, the choices appear to be pretty simple, really. All the greens agree that we need to stop burning coal, oil and gas. So, let's build some wind farms! Eh, no. The same greens complain that they represent an eye sore in the environments where you can conceivably expect some windy conditions. Well, let's make etanol from rapeseed or sugar beet, and burn that - it's carbon neutral. Sorry. Taking over farmland to grow energy crop will impact global food prices and make starving people more hungry. Fair enough. Let's expand the civilian nuclear program and get super-clean, efficient, safe, zero-carbon energy capable of supporting the planet's energy needs for generations to come.

No. The same greens are opposed to nuclear power for reasons that are a bit muddy at best, and at worst based on outdated dogma with no basis in either science or fact. Even the godfather of green, Mr Gaia himself, James Lovelock advocates the use of nuclear power for the good of the planet, but the hippy green movement resists on dogmatic grounds.

Cuddle a polar bear. Embrace nuclear power. Save the planet. Stop the west's oil dependency. Install Argon windows.

Choose life.

Vision thing

2007-05-17T16:30:00.000+01:00

It takes a lot to impress me on the web nowadays, but this one left me slack-jawed:

http://flickrvision.com

Exchange

2007-05-04T17:43:00.000+01:00

So, the house saga is actually nearing its completion - exchange today, and Well Done Sarah for doing all the heavy lifting. We're looking at moving a week today. This process was started in October..really looking forward to move now.

Meanwhile, there's been a push at work to join the various social networks that abound, both to be seen to be active around the web, but also to - eh, find inspiration for our own projects. Facebook is actually very good at what it does - streets ahead of Myspace and a bit more jolly than LinkedIn.

Chris's Swedish stag do was survived by the stag, and a good time was had. The water was cold, but we all managed to swim to Ayres Rock and back. The stag himself swam to the other side - it was touch and go if he'd manage to return by his own steam, and he looked remarkably blue when he came out.

Me and Sarah are spending the weekend back down at the Hatch ranch for some more gardening duties in preparation for the Hatch-Ayres wedding real soon now. I'm still suffering with tennis elbow, this time on my left, and a dodgy right shoulder that harks back from a fall skiing in Sweden.

Stef's whatever's in the cupboard pasta

2007-04-20T12:53:00.000+01:00

Start boiling the pasta.

Slosh a generous amount of olive oil in a high-sided fry pan and pun on medium heat.

Chop a shallot super-finely and chuck in. Crush a clove of garlic and pop that in, too.

Two heaped tea spoons of capers and a handful of greek-style black, pitted olives (not the horrible waxy type).

Grind some black pepper and salt, and add a heaped teaspoon of Sambal Oelek.

Stir and simmer for a few minutes until the oil takes on a uniform reddish tint from the Sambal.

Drain the pasta, and pour the sauce over and mix. Serve.

52 km

2007-04-15T23:06:00.000+01:00

We spent the warmest day of the year so far cycling to Bath and Back, 52km in all, from the house to my office door and back again. It took less than an hour there, and slightly longer back, due to an en route pit stop. Amazingly, that is quicker than my commute on public transport. However, 50k in the saddle has left my derriere somewhat tender.. I might need a pair of padded shorts in order to get the most out of this.

Norddalsfjall

2007-04-11T23:14:00.001+01:00

P4030088.JPG
Originally uploaded by hvs.

Sarah and Krister on the climb up Norddalsfjäll

Acres of powder

2007-04-11T23:13:00.001+01:00

P4050114.JPG
Originally uploaded by hvs.

Sarah ripping it up

Heliskiing the Arctic

2007-04-11T23:09:00.001+01:00

P4050107.JPG
Originally uploaded by hvs.

We look down the steep gully. A rock ridge curves down its right hand flank. Krister, our guide, points up and over to the left. It's been snowing heavily the last few days.

- That slab will go if you sneeze. Do not veer out left, no matter how tempting it seems. It's just too perfect. Follow the ridge closely.

He pauses.

- Stay on your skis.

We're heli-skiing way above the arctic circle in the north of Sweden. Riksgransen is a skier's ski resort. There's nothing here, really. A small hotel, a ski shop, half a dozen lifts. Oh, and vast amounts of mountains in every directions. The off-piste opportunities here are unsurpassed, and being where it is, it's a bit of a secret. Compared to your average ski resort, this place is different. The skill level on display is by far the highest I've ever come across. Most people wear avalanche trancievers, shovels and probes, and that's just at the bar. This is a place where people come to ski, not to pose or to party.

We've travelled here firstly by flying into Stockholm, and then spending 18 hours on the overnight train, covering pretty much two thirds of the length of Sweden. You can actually fly from Stockholm to Kiruna, which would dramatically cut down the travel time, but it proved impossible to get a flight that would connect in a sensible way with our return flight to London. The train jpurney proved a bit of a drag, and for next time, if we can't fly, it's worth the extra spend to get a slightly less shared cabin. Ours was designed for six, but due to some loop hole, apparently you can cram however many children you want under the age of sixteen. Sleeping on a moving train is hard enough as it is.

Still. We arrived safely at Riksgransen, tired, but with high expectations. Although I'm from Sweden and have skied all my life, I've actually not been here before. They have two metres of snow here, and the season is really only a month old. Yet, it rains. It rains above the arctic circle, at Easter. Our hearts sink as we lug our skis and bags into the reception. The resort is shut due to high winds. It's lunch time, and we can't check in until 3pm. We're informed that normally we wold have been able to go skiing, but alas..

We spot a guy that sports the coveted UIAGM badge - a qualified mountain guide. As qualifications go, that's as qualified as it gets, regardless of field. We chat to him about the options for the following day, and he suggests half a day of off pisting from the lifts, such that we can get a handle on the resort, the snow conditions, but also so that he can gauge our abilities for any further fun and games. There are some awesome off-piste runs you can either get to from the lift system or by short walks or slightly longer skinned ascents.

We meet up the next morning at 9am. It's been snowing all night. Winds are still high, and the resort's shut. Krister appears and suggest that we drive a bit and go for a short tour - skinning up a hillside for a few hours and then ski down. We load our skis into his van, and are greeted by his dog, Vanja. We drive for about 40 minutes towards Abisko, and park up next to the road. Both Sarah and I have alpine touring bindings on our skis, meaning that we can release the heel. By attaching 'skins', that is sticky-backed strips of fabric, underneath the skis, you can 'ski' uphill. You can slide the ski forward, but not backwards. It's sweaty work, but not outrageously demanding - more hill walking than running. It's still pretty windy, and our ascent is punctuated by icy streaks that are hard to negotiate on skins. Vanja, the dog, is loving it. The aim is to reach the summit ridge, traverse out left to reach a colouir that should provide for some good sport on the way down. About two thrids of the way up it becomes clear that the weather is taking a turn for the worse. The wind is picking up, and the visibility that was already ropey is not becoming any better. We lock our boots into skiing position, and our bindings into downhill mode and set off. Two hours uphill effort is dispatched in 15 minutes on the way down. Even if conditions are not ideal, you get carried away by the remoteness, the feeling of solitude on the mountain.

The heli-skiing operation here holds near mythical status amongst Scandinavian skiers. There are literally hundreds of skiable peaks that can be accessed by helicopter. I've held the ambition to heli ski here for as long as I can remember, ever since a relative told me how he spent three winters here, heli skiing his savings and degree away. Unfortunately, the weather is still stormy, with horizontal snow, and flying's out. To add insult to injury, the lift system's shut as we amble into the lobby at 9.
Ski patrol is busy blasting, trying to make the piste safe, and an hour later the lifts open. We ski with Krister who's plan it is to show us some of the accessible off-piste. However, the weather is shite, and our moods sink. Then, at coffee, a gap opens in the sky, and Krister suggests an 'amble' up Nordalsfjall, the huge mountain next door. It's too steep for skinning, and at some additional 500 meters of vertical, a significant climb in ski boots and skis on the back. We ski on the flat to the base of the mountain. The weather is actually looking up, comparatively speaking, but we're the only ones here. We dismount and strap our skis to our packs, and switch our boots to walking mode. We set off up a steep, icy streak of hard snow studded with rocks. Krister is breaking ground, and we cover some impressive scrambling ground, occasionally diverting around cornices. We reach the summit plateau sweaty, but awarded with some impressive views of the Swedish and Norwegian alpine range for the first time. We lock our boots and set our bindings in downhill mode. The descent is pure off-piste ecstasy. Half a foot of fresh powder on top of whatever fell yesterday and the day before. There are many possible ways down from here, ranging from the insanely steep to the more pedestrian. We choose the classic route 'The Saddle' which follows the shoulder of the mountain down to the col and then follow it down to the north. It's perfect in every way. Perfect snow conditions and visibility. The whole mountain to ourselves. Skiing does not get much better than this.

The next morning the weather looks so-so, but Krister looks hopeful that flying may happen. There's a bunch of Brits here with SnoWorks who have been sold three days of heli skiing in Lapland, 15 lifts guaranteed. So far they've had nil, and they're getting itchy feet. Sarah and I decide to explore the resort, but by the time we've got our skis out of the locker we run into Krister who's had to cancel the flying as the weather's rapidly taken a turn for the worse. Sarah and I ski for about half the day, but it's no fun in a gale with zero visibility. At 1pm we start to head back and by the time we reach the hotel the resort closes.

Thursday, and I wander to the lobby just before 9. Weather's looking, well - I can see the peaks around, which apparently is the litmus test. The board says that the lifts are due to open at 10, once blasting work after the night's heavy snow fall is complete. Krister is not there. I go back to the room, and gear up. Sarah goes to the lobby, and I go to the ski locker to pick up our skis. As I come back up, I meet Sarah in the corridor, heading the other way, informing me that we're on.

Jan, the German heli pilot is already busy getting the machine ready. There are two groups of us, the SnoWorks crew and us. We, as in me and Sarah, won't fill the helicopter, so the remainder of the places have been taken by staff from the nearby ski lodge, Meterorologen, including Patrik, the sommelier. Sarah's never been in a helicopter before, and doesn't like flying on the best of days. We load up, and take off. Sarah's in the front between the pilot and Krister, and Krister's dog Vanja at her feet. She's looking worried. Krister points up to the left at our first objective; a huge rocky crest of a mountain that doesn't look skiable. After a short flight we're deposited at the top of the mountain, and huddle kneeling as the helicopter takes off to pick up the other group. As we put our skis on, Krister turns around and says, jokingly, as he faces the impressive vista in front of us.

- What do you think poor people do today?

We all giggle nervously, considering the hefty chunk this game has taken out of our wallets.

What follows is impossible to do justice like this. Acres of untouched, perfect powder, shared between six people and a dog. This takes skiing to a different level, and there is no going back. Krister and Vanja sets off, and we all pick our own patch and follow him down the mountain. Questions like 'is it worth the cost' are meaningless at this moment in time. Five drops blend into a seamless whole of powder, and we return to base for a beer.

Come Friday, and the weather's crapped out again. After yesterday's high, it's an instant come-down seeing, well - nothing, really - out the window in the morning. We spend the morning honing our avalanche transceiver skills. We manage most mock burials within the set 15 mins, but with one 22-min blot on the protocol. In the afternoon we meet up with Will and James, two Brits here for a heli-weekend, minus the heli it would seem. In the blizzard, we skin up a green run on the piste, and amble down. Yet, as Sarah and I have settled down with a few drinks and some Bittorrent-TV, the skies clear, and two groups manage five lifts in the dying light.

Saturday, and the weather's marginally better. Heli seems out, so we decide to head to the Norwegian side for a touring ascent of a suitable peak. We take off with Krister and a friend of his, Anna. As we park up the car, the skies are blue, and an incredible display of fiords and peaks is on show. We don skins and wander up the 800 metres of vertical up Rombakk Stotte, to be rewarded by possibly the best off piste run of the whole week back down to the mini bus. We head back, and go for a beer in the Meteorologen lodge. Jan's just come back from taking the helicopter for its monthly service, and suddenly it's on again. One space left.. after some haggling, I graciously volunteer.

Skiing will not be the same again. Nor will the bank balance.

Toys out of pram

2007-03-29T16:10:00.000+01:00

After beating Andorra, England manager threw his toys out of the pram at the press conference, railing against the harsh words he'd received as the worst performing England manager of recent times. Fighting against the windmills in the traditional England manager fashion.

Qualification chances now on par with the England Rugby Union squad retaining the World Cup.

In other news, Norn Oirlnd beat Sweden to top their group. Outrageous.

The beautiful game

2007-03-27T17:23:00.000+01:00

After England's dismal performance against Israel, manager Steve McClaren came out with the following words of wisdom:

People in football who I respect have phoned me and said the only thing wrong with our performance on Saturday was that we didn't get a goal.

So now you know. To beat the other team, you need to score more goals than them. That's the bit missing.

Bureaucracy

2007-03-25T18:17:00.000+01:00

Coming from Sweden, I know a thing or two about bureaucracy, you know like - banks actually work, trains run when they are supposed to run, tax returns are returned, houses can be bought and sold without a year of infinite pain, estate agents don't lie..

Almost all of the above is true. I just put in that bit about estate agents to make sure you're still with me.

Anyway, the UK has many good things about it, but a working bureaucracy it has not. Which is kind of funny, seeing that they invented the modern civil service. Still. One of the many incredibly painful things one has to suffer here is the annual renewal of the vehicle tax disk. To get this in perspective, in Sweden we also pay road tax - no surprises there I hear - and display a tax 'rectangle' that sits in the middle of the back reg plate. Every year you get this delivered in the post box automatically with a pay slip that you can pay over the counter or on line. The authorities know if you've had your vehicle MOTd, taxed and insured.

In the UK the process - until now - was somewhat more involved. Get the car MOTd on time. Fair enough. Get the car insured for the same time. Car insurance is almost as much pain as buying a house. Instead of having car insurance being a standard commodity of very little variation, the market is complex, enormous and with a huge variance. The thrifty can save quite a bit if prepared to spend a few days playing insurance companies off against eachother. Wait for insurance certificate to arrive by post, together with reams of paper. Wait for the DVLA to send you a notification that your vehicle needs to be taxed. Now the fun starts.

In any other western civilization, the licensing authority will know if a vehicle is taxed, insured and MOTd (inspected). In the UK, it's up to a post office clerk to judge. Only some post offices have the authority to issue tax disks. So you trundle down in your precious lunch hour instead of going to the gym, queue for ages, and get to deal with grumpy and incompetent spotty-faced yoof, alternatively sour-faced old hag with God complex behind the desk.

It shouldn't be that hard. Three pieces of paper that has to match, and be covering the same date range. But it is.

- Wrong insurance certificate, mate.

I look at my certificate. It's got the car reg. It's got the policy number. It's got my name on it. It's the right date range. It's paid for.

- The one you need looks exactly the same, but has a stylised signature by the insurance company chairman at the bottom.

I look over my shoulder at the long queue forming, and at my watch, now 45 minutes of queuing apparently wasted. I plead to the man's sense of good will. The form needed looks exactly the same - it's got all the details required, can't we just chalk this up as a mistake on my behalf, slap my wrist and don't do it again?

Apparently not.

So I go out to the car, swearing, to pick up the other bit of paper that I accidently left on the passenger seat, and join the back of the queue.

After 30 minutes of queuing I hand over the papers to the man again, who studiously examines the same papers - bar the insurance certificate. He looks satisfied. He rings the till.

- That'd be 180 ponds please. Will that be cash or cheque, sir?

I've already got my VISA card half way out of the wallet. Somehow, I'd failed to recall that the post office (at the time) was a credit-card free zone.

- There's a cash point just around the corner, sir. You can just about see it through the window, just beyond the end of the queue.

Anyway, those were the days.

Today, I ordered - and paid for - my new tax disk on-line. Long live the DVLA who finally entered the modern era.

Vigeland Sculpture Park

2007-03-21T10:27:00.001Z

IMGP0973
Originally uploaded by hvs.

We walked around the fascinating Vigeland Sculpture Park in Oslo. Hundreds of sculptures in cast bronze and granite depict primarily naked humans in all shapes and forms, culminating in a huge monolith made up of human forms. The theme is the 'circle of life', and the park is the frequent scene of both protests and frat boy pranks. Recently, some religious organisation walked around the park covering up all the 'nakedness' in a protest against the growing sexualisation of society. Curious in itself, given that the park is nearly 100 years old..

One of the smaller bronze casts of a boy is often stolen, apparently.

And, no, the photo is not upside down.

Will and Hilde

2007-03-21T10:18:00.001Z

IMGP0935
Originally uploaded by hvs.

Will and Hilde got married in the lovely Maridalen Kirke just outside Oslo.

Water on Mars

2007-03-16T11:42:00.000Z

An enormous amount of water ice has been discovered on Mars. Let the terraforming begin.

England-France

2007-03-12T12:09:00.000Z

So this strange six-nations is continuing apace. Wales lost to Italy after some refereeing confusion in the dying seconds of the game. If it wasn't for if, eh. The Welsh may carp, but the stronger side won. Had anyone guessed before hand that Wales would be taking the wooden spoon, most would have laughed out loud. Good for Italy, and good for world Rugby. After the shoeing that England suffered in the hands of the Irish last round, no one expected England to be able to stand up to the French. Much had been made in the press of the return of 35yo Mike Catt to the team, and to the captaincy. Fair to say he shut up his critics after an emphatic win at Twickenham. Moreover, after a few years of dysfunctional play at number 10, suddenly Ashton's got three world-class players to choose from, given the performances of youngsters Flood and Geraghty. The forwards that got so beat up at Croke Park suddenly showed some grit and determination to totally dominate the field.

Is England back in time for the World Cup?

Leif G W Persson

2007-03-11T11:53:00.000Z

Continuing my mission of trawling through the Swedish canon of crime writing on my daily commute, I've just finished Leif G W Persson's "Mellan Sommarens Langtan och Vinterns Kold" - approximately "Between the longing of summer and the mid-winter cold", a story that starts with the apparent suicide of an American freelance journalist, but eventually tells the story about the murder of the Swedish prime minister. Persson, like his friend Jan Guillou, writes about real events and real people with a paper thin disguise which makes it amusing for the reader that is aware of the comings and goings in Swedish politics. This book paints a very bleak picture of the Swedish police, and especially its security forces. Persson is a professor in criminology and a renowned expert on crime and the police, which makes it even more disturbing. In Persson's Sweden, the police is rife with racism, misogyny and incompetence. The book mirrors the very real murder of prime minister Olof Palme, complete with the incomprehensible obsession with Kurdish separatists that followed, which any thinking individual found ludicrous at the time. In Persson's novel the prime minister was killed by a psychopath heading up the external operations of the secret police.

I imagine that Persson's description of the daily grind and jargon of the police is fairly authentic, but it left a bitter aftertaste. The bad and incompetent float to the top, and the capable people look for early retirement.

Same as everywhere else, I guess.

Scarpa Spirit 3

2007-03-07T10:40:00.001Z

Scarpa Spirit 3
Originally uploaded by hvs.

My new Scarpa Spirit 3 ski-touring boots. They have insets for Dynafit bindings (see the little metal indents at the toe), and a toggle allowing the foot to bend. Complete with thermo-fitted inners, they ski really well downhill and climb well uphill.

Skiing in the land that music forgot

2007-03-02T14:24:00.000Z

Leysin, Switzerland, off-pisting with ISM. No snow when we arrived, and our hearts sank. We finally found the chalet and got to bed around midnight. Sunday morning and the situation looks no better with a gentle rainfall. We walk into town to pick up some touring boots - they're hard to come by in the UK, and we walk out with two pairs of Scarpas and a lighter bank balance. Rental skis with Diamirs, skins and ski crampons complete the kit list, and now it's started snowing - a lot. With zero visibility and half the day gone, we retreat to the chalet and in the evening we meet up with the rest of the people on this jolly and Steve Jones, our main guide. A diverse, but easy-going crowd. John A we already know from Bristol. A couple, Suzi and Jon, from Gloucestershire. Gordon, a pilot with BA. Robin, a (former) partner with one of the big accountancy firms, on a year's (!) gardening leave before taking up a position with another big accountancy firm. Steve's been living here guiding for 25 years. He looks the part - a wizened mountain man.

When we wake up the next morning, the Alps are covered with a foot and a half of fresh powder. We get introduced to Alex, a Swiss ski instructor, who's job it is to assess and tutor our powder skills. He's a very enthusiastic fellow with that polished style that only ski instructors have. We have a fun day in the fluffy powder, including a sobering session in the avalanche park where we try our hands at locating 'victims' using our beacons. It's difficult, and we don't manage to find any within the stipulated 15 minutes. The bell goes, signalling time's out - for the victims. Effective beacon search requires practice.

The next day Steve has to shoot off to London for a funeral, so we're left in the hands of another Swiss guide, Yvon, for the next few days. Yvon is first and foremost a guide - he takes people on remote and spectacular mountain days, rather than teaching skiing - eventhough he is is a qualified ski instructor.

"I can either ski powder off piste every day, or teach kids the snowplough" he said, and I can't say I disagree.

Yvon takes us to neighbouring Diablreret and we head off on some proper drops in a full on tempo. Excellent skiing indeed. We finish off with a long powdery run through the trees into the village of Villars before heading back. Next morning sees warmer temperatures, and Yvon takes us on our first ski climb to the summit of Tour de Famelon, 2137m. I've never used climbing skins before, but I have done lots of x-country skiing in my youth, so I'm familiar with free heel skiing. It's a strangely hypnotic experience, and we've set off in a moderate tempo with Yvon breaking trail. It's steady, and sweaty, work without being as aerobically taxing as say running. We climb the 500-odd metres in about 1.5 hours. There are some significant skills and fitness differentials within the group. Add to that a factor 4 avalanche danger, Yvon chose the easiest possible descent route. We wound our way back down into the valley in complete alpine splendor and solitude. Reality hit us with a bang when we're about to head for a Vin Chaude and look up towards where we'd started our climb - one side had totally disappeared in a slab avalanche - a safe distance away from our tracks, but still. Yvon says with a wry smile that he'd seen it go but thought he'd better not mention it until we got back down.

During the night I appear to have contracted some stomach nasty, and sadly skiing is over for me for this time. Thursday saw more rain, and I didn't miss much by all accounts. Today, Friday, Steve's taken the group to Diableret for another skinning ascent.

And what is it about the Swiss and the poodle-haired 80s krautrock heard at every lift station?

So, in summary, ISM is cool. Conditions started out great, but deteriorated into slush and rain. Ski touring is definitely something I'd like to do lots more of. Avalanche beacons require lots of training. Diahorrea and puking go poorly with skiing.

Warney

2007-02-23T16:59:00.000Z

I've talked a bit about Shane Warne, the world's best spin bowler in the past on this blog. Here's the evidence:

Swimming

2007-02-20T16:56:00.000Z

Due to my weekends now being planned out until the beginning of the summer, I've had to abandon my Saturday front-crawl clinic at the Bristol Uni pool. I fully accept that I will never be a great swimmer, but the lessons have been most excellent, and I wish I could carry on. I got to a point where I can actually swim from one end of the pool to the other - and breathe. Several things have struck me in this endeavor. Firstly, learning a complex physical skill is actually quite hard as an adult, which has opened my eyes and I feel humility and respect towards the number of friends I've dragged up and down the ski slopes over the years with claims that it's really quite straight-forward, honestly. Secondly, it's effing hard work, almost certainly as a consequence of my rubbish technique. One lap in the pool feels harder than a 10k run - I don't seem to be able to swim in a relaxed fashion.

A new gym has opened very close to work, with the added bonus of a swimming pool. It's only 20m, but that's perfect for me to paddle up and down at lunch times trying to put to practice the lessons I've had.

Weekends

2007-02-18T21:14:00.000Z

Weekends are too short to make up for the suffering that is the working week. Spending the last few nights on an air mattress in near arctic conditions, my dreams were remixing the Arn Saga - which has been my commute companion for the last few weeks - and several of the angst-ridden projects running at work. Most peculiar.

The Truth

2007-02-17T17:21:00.000Z

We were driving up the motor way towards Leicester when Sarah suddenly exclaims:

- I love the fact that you're Swedish. It's a challenge compared to an ordinary boyfriend.

What can you say to follow that?