Eastern Caringorms, 6th March 2024
Dimly lit roads see a Barn Owl, roadkill mountain hares and a fair deal of murky weather. The drive past the Lecht from Inverness is long. There is no one parked at the dull carpark of Spittal of Glen Muick. It’s raining. We set off about 0730 and march into the drizzle.
Carrie and I have optimistic conversation for much of the way and snow appears a little before the col by Meikle Pap.
The mist ceiling comes closer, and visibility is poor – down to about 100m. I take a bearing on my compass towards the lochan, and scramble across the boulders as we traverse down.
On the uphill hike to the famous first aid box, we flush a flock of about 16 Ptarmigan. Apparently hanging out in the corrie, perhaps like us, trying to seek some refuge from the wind.
After gearing up, we charge around to the surprisingly complex gully architecture around Shadow Butress. We have climbed up a fair way and apparently find the correct route. The visibility closes into about fifty metres, and the spindrift rushes down the gully in constant pulses.
We cut a stance and rack up. A brief discussion, when I say I’m psyched, and tie in for the lead. A wall of snow dusted ice awaits ahead of me.
The route’s in, and I feel that familiar sense of excitement, nervousness and fear as I set off.
I make steady progress to the steep ice fall and slowly teeter my way up. Steadily kicking and swinging my trusty axes into the ice. I place a few ice screws and, some of them are good…
Established and now stretched out on the steep, and battered by spindrift, I fumble one of my climbing partner’s expensive Petzl superlight screws… Its orange tainted metal, rolling at speed down the gully lost to the drift – sorry Carrie!
I take steep steps and feel I’m really pushing my lead, this being the steepest ice I have ever tried. I wander right, then left, finding the path of least resistance to reach the eased angle, where there are just a few more steep metres to go. Eventually I can step over the top of the fall onto easy angled snow-ice. Definitely fat conditions today. Crux done.
I arrive at the belay having been well and truly doused in spindrift, I’m freezing as I have been showered in snow. The cold doesn’t linger long as my whole body is overwhelmed by burning and painful ‘hot aches’ – the sensation of hot blood rushing through your arms and feeling like it’s painfully spurting out of the end of your fingertips.
The circulation returns to my now relaxed and cold extremities – dry mouth, searing hot pains and nausea take over as I don my thick puffer jacket and belay Carrie up.
She sets off up the second snow ice pitch with an eased angle and some tricky mixed difficulties but never too intimidating, unlike the conditions. The spin drift continues to hammer down the gully, constantly battering us.
The next pitch looks more technical, and I offer up the lead. Carrie takes the chance and sets off what looks like a fairly thin and tricky IV 5ish corner. She uses the terrier I grabbed from Tiso’s just a few days earlier, and sparks fly from her axes as she picks her way up the corner, using thin ice and rock for her crampon placements. Impressed by her technique, I follow also scraping sparks out of this corner.
Etched in my memory is the final 50m snow slope. Easy angled with apparently just one good piece of rock protection halfway. I buff and plod through thick and deep unconsolidated snow, and I’m greeted by an enormous and overpowering cornice, wind buffeting its way at my back and around the scoop of the gully.
Thankfully I don’t have to dig through it (the cornice) but find a way to skirt underneath and traverse right to an easier angle of icy snow. Feet plunging through unconsolidated steps, I scrabble and fight my way to an eased angle, with exposure, way above any gear…
The shiver of cold, and adrenaline push me over the top out and its steep slopes and onto the flat relief of the plateaux. Once topped out, I find white mist and zero sign of any terrain or rock belay.
After attempting to build a snow anchor, find it too poor quality so cut steps in the snow to create a ‘bucket seat’, attempt to bury an axe, and just trust my weight and friction is much greater than Carrie’s. I sit down in my seat, lock in my crampons into a strong stance, pull the rope tight and belay her to the top out…
We soak up the mist ans wind as we sort gear. Both phones’ GPS becoming unreliable, we take a bearing and navigate down the proper way. The weather and mist remain foul.
After steering close but cautiously around the corrie rim, we descend. After a good while, we question whether we have overshot the path at the col of Meikle pap. Then I notice we are standing right on it. Mountaineering satisfaction achieved. We descend to the track where visibility improves and the snow turns to back rain; and the light, which was never strong, even begins to fade.
Back at the van, soaked, we drink tea, and calm down after a pretty epic day. I marvel at the presence of mind that Carrie has to bring a spare set of dry clothes to the car and try to soak up my wetness with naught but a jumper and strip down to my leggings. Best route of the winter for me, and we head back to Inverness, rats fed, and fires stoked.
A classic route, and exactly the sort of experience epitomising Scottish Winter Climbing. Steep technical climbing, alleviated by modern gear, but nonetheless a serious challenge with navigation, weather, route finding difficulties and exposed belays. It is not for everyone, but it should be.
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