*Visit Aberdeenshire* - accomplished 21 January
I got up well before dawn yesterday morning to go to the hillwalking club meeting place to get crampons fitted onto my rented B1 mountaineering boots along with about 18 other walkers. Then 15 of us piled into a van, with the other four following in a car, and we drove two hours north of Edinburgh to Glen Shee, about midway between Blairgowrie and Braemar, just over the border in Aberdeenshire from Perth and Kinross.
Most of the countryside was snow-free or had only a thin scattering as we drove north, and there was some concern that we wouldn't have an opportunity to use any of the winter equipment, but as we drove into the glen, it became apparent we needn't have worried. It was completely covered in the white stuff.
The parking lot at the ski center:
Swanning about in the parking lot:
After getting ice axes issued (1 each), we broke into groups. I was in a group of six, and this is the hill we climbed:
At first the going was relatively easy, aside from the heavy snow (knee-deep and more in places). We used the ice axes more for balance than anything, always keeping them in the uphill hand so we'd have an anchor if we fell in the snow.
Then the hill got much steeper and icier, so we got the crampons out. Crampons are metal plates with ten or more spikes attached to the bottom, affixed to the bottoms of one's boots to provide traction on ice. Crampons on, we started to climb again.
It was at this point that I looked around and realized exactly how steep the hillside was. I don't know exactly what the gradient was, but it had to be 50% or more, as it appeared to be closer to the vertical than the horizontal. Furthermore, it was encased in a sheet of ice. No snow or rocks or vegetation to be seen. And the only things keeping me attached to it were the metal spikes on the bottoms of my feet.
Pure. Blind. Panic. I have never been so scared in my life, and I never want to be that scared again.
Claire, the walk leader, had to come back down the mountain and talk me out my terror and into trusting the crampons. We undertook the rest of the climb up to our resting place in zig zags to alleviate some of the steepness. I think it only took about two zigs and one zag, but I'm really not sure because the next thing I remember clearly is getting to the bit of broken fence on level-ish ground where we stopped for lunch and a demonstration on how to perform an ice axe arrest.
Looking down the mountain from where we stopped. Look at the ski lift poles on the left for an idea of the steepness.
It was quite windy yesterday, but Claire's assistant, Maria, had brought a tent-like contraption that we sat in to eat lunch. It kept the wind out and provided some warmth - enough for the gloves to come off, anyway. I should mention at this point what I was wearing. I had five layers on top: a thermal under-shirt, a long-sleeved T-shirt, a light jacket, a thick hoodie, and a heavy-duty raincoat. On the bottom I had on thermal leggings and waterproof over-trousers. I wore two pairs of socks, because the rented boots were slightly too big and I didn't want to get blisters. However, two critical things I was NOT wearing for most of this hike were a hat and a scarf. I didn't bring a scarf because I thought it would get in the way, and the hat I brought shrank the last time I washed it, so it had to go into my pack when it became clear that it wasn't going to stay on my head. Also, the gloves I brought were only somewhat water-resistant, rather than waterproof, and by the time we stopped for lunch they were soaking wet and I had to borrow someone's spare pair for the rest of the day.
Lunch eaten, it was time to start descending. I wanted nothing more than to hop on the ski lift next to us and ride it down, but it wasn't operating yesterday. I had been dreading it, not daring to imagine what looking *down* this incredible slope would be like. So Claire and I quickly came up with a strategy: I would descend walking *backwards.* I planted my ice axe using both hands, and took four or five small steps backwards. Planted my ice axe again, and took four or five more steps. Planted, stepped backward. Planted, stepped backward. Always hunched over, leaning uphill. I had both of my hoods up, and my entire world narrowed to the patch of ice between my axe and my feet. I never looked uphill once, and when it was necessary to look downhill, I looked between my legs. Occasionally I stepped sideways to avoid patches of rock (which crampons will NOT help with). And in this manner I completed the vast majority of this descent walking backwards.
I only turned around and started walking the right way round when the ground was very clearly flattening out, by which point the ice had turned into snow and the parking lot of the ski center was looming large. Snow presents its own challenges to crampons, though. I kept getting buildups of snow stuck to the bottoms of my feet, which made getting my footing a challenge. I fell over more than once, in drifts that were occasionally hip-deep. But better in deep snow, near the bottom of a hill, than on ice hundreds of feet up.
My camera battery died after taking that last photo above, so unfortunately I don't have a picture of myself after the walk. I got someone else to take one with their camera, so maybe I'll be able to track it down eventually. But my hair was completely covered in snow, as were my borrowed gloves, the exposed parts of my hoodie, and my backpack. I only had a few minutes in the ski center cafe to try to melt some of it off before we piled back into the vehicles for the drive back to Edinburgh. I spent the drive back fantasizing about the hot shower I was going to take when I got home.
I think we started climbing at around 9:45 or 10:00 yesterday morning, and started driving back at 3:30 in the afternoon, so I reckon this climb was about 5 hours start to finish, maybe a bit more. I felt a huge sense of accomplishment after getting off that hill, and also relief. Climbing Ben Vane was more of a physical challenge than this climb, but this one was a far bigger mental challenge. I don't think I was ever more terrified in my life than in that moment when I realized how steep that hill was. I'm glad I was able to get through it, but I don't think I'll be going on any more winter hikes. Today, my calves hurt like no tomorrow, my lower back and shoulders are stiff, and the balls of my hands hurt from my death grip on the ice axe. But I've also got a great sense of accomplishment.
Cheers, y'all.
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