Quote from Cliff_C on April 12, 2024, 7:32 am

I have always liked “mountain” sports. One of the most physically demanding courses I ever did whilst in the regiment was a winter climbing course on Ben Nevis/Glen Coe. Whilst in the CTT, one of my roles was ski instructor. I first learned to ski at the age of 14 at school then did the numerous “Snow Queens” I have always known how lucky I have been in the Army, getting paid to partake in the sports and hobbies which you enjoy.

I had always fancied alpine cross-country skiing, the Scottish national cross-country center was selling off kit so I managed to get a brand-new pair of cross-country skis, boots and sticks for about £10 and I couldn’t wait to have a go. I knew the basics as there was some basic instructions in the BASI instructor book which I had purchased at Silberhutte whilst on a skiing course.

So.

I waited for years! Until there was enough snow for ski mountaineering, I had read as much as I could from the mountaineering mags. I was now ready. The plan was to use the newly acquired used mountain bike and cycle into the heart of the Cairngorms then do some winter climbing whilst carrying the skis, then ski back as close to the bike as possible.

January 2001 (I was three stone lighter then), a Cessna light aircraft flying from Peterborough with four persons onboard was reported missing in an area which I was very familiar with. They all survived with only one fracture, very lucky bunch. Two weeks later when the weather had consolidated the snow safe enough to climb, I decided to go look for the wreck.

I left the house at about 02.00 and got to the Loch Callater car park at about 03.30. Fixed the bike up and started pedaling in the freezing cold darkness. After a while the pedal went all wonky then fell off. I should really have checked it when at home. So left the bike and strapped the skis onto the rucksack. One ski on each side of the pack so that the tips were pointing toward the sky. That’s how I had seen them pictured in the climbing mags. 3 miles later I reached the Loch when the sun was rising, a beautiful sight the surface was like a mirror and the mountain cliffs reflected along the mile length.  I could see the climbing route ahead about 2 miles, a frozen waterfall at the far end of Glen Callater.  Not a lot of snow yet so the plod to the base of the waterfall wasn’t too bad. At a height of 2000 feet I got my crampons on and a good hold of my 2 ice axes. The waterfall was 600 feet and lots of ice, it was mostly vertical ice so would be pretty hard going, so here goes. I really enjoy climbing and this was as good as it gets, would have been nice to have a partner but at my age! (2001) There isn’t a lot still interested/fit enough. Towards the end, 2500 feet I was starting to tire. Due to the climb facing North I was in the shadow of a bright sun so it was still cool but I was sweating with the exertion not to mention the fear.

I got to the top knackered, well not quite the top, this is where the fun starts. Stopping me from topping out, a big cornice (overhang). Now this would not normally be a problem if you were with a partner and at the end of a rope. Still shouldn’t be too bad though. All that I have to do is climb over the top, I was fit enough. The big problem, the skis. Every time I tried to lean forward to get over the cornice the ski tips would stop me.  I cut a ledge to stand on and started to cut a slot from which I could get through instead of over. By this time, I was suffering from the disco shuffle, my legs were shaking and I was seriously thinking to myself that I should not have done this. Eventually I cut through and groveled on my stomach onto the top of the cornice. I crawled a safe distance from the edge and lay in the sun. What an amazing sight. On top of the mountain everywhere was white and the clear blue sky with the sun burning down.

After a rest, some juice, some photographs it was time to walk uphill the one and half miles to where I expected the wreck to be. Got the compass out and found the wreck no problem, it was upside down and wedged into a gully. They were so unlucky; the prop had just clipped the top of the mountain and caused the plane to flip over. The engine broke off and was about 300 feet from the wreck. Got lots good photos and if I had some tools then I would have taken a souvenir. A week later, the complete wreck was recovered and only very little pieces remain on the hill.

Now the skiing.

Couldn’t wait to ski as it would make the return so easy and quick. After getting the kit on that is when I found out that I had inadequate skis. There were no metal edges I could not make any turns. Because of the sun, the snow had all turned to ice. I gave it a go but once skiing I couldn’t slow down or turn, I could only sit down and slide to a halt.  So it was skis off and crampons on and a six mile walk in the sun. I was still fit though (in those days). On the way back I ensured that I was a safe distance from the cornice edge as they can give way. I spotted what looked like a brass plate poking up from the snow, I bent down forward to have a look when something hit my head and landed on the ice. It was my camera, the rucksack top flap wasn’t closed properly. The (expensive) camera skated along the ice and I took a few steps towards then managed to stop in time to see it disappear over edge, I quickly retraced my steps and cursed. I always wonder what happened to the camera.

Apart from the camera, I had another memorable day on the hill.

In a few few weeks I should be fit enough to make a start again, hopefully

Cliff