Eddie and Adrian's Winter Hols – Feb 2001,

Or

Half a Green Wall Direct.

Long-range weather forecasting has always baffled me. A week before our long scheduled trip to Scotland, half of the country disappeared under huge amounts of snow. Two days later, most of it melted in a thaw. On Wednesday, a deep depression (mine) was setting in. On Thursday, heading for the highest bit sounded like a reasonable option and so at 9pm on Thursday evening, Eddie and I set off for the Ben in my mother-in-law's car (it was a diesel, you see, cheap-cheap-zoom-zoom).

4.15 on Friday morning saw us bump into the golf course car park in Fort William. On with the tea (courtesy of my excitable antique stove), a quick change and one cup of tea for Eddie and me, and one cup of tea for the boot of the car. 5.30am found us walking over the world's wettest golf course and 5.45 had us miserably looking for the path through the trees, which was hiding from us in the dark. Then a long slog up the Allt a' Mhuilinn ('Suffer, English dog!') as dawn came up to reveal snow-plastered mountains, blue skies and a solid freeze.

A plan had been hatching for 20 years (a plan of which Eddie knew little). Point Five Gully! How about that for ice climb number five for you Eddie! We sweated heavily, but didn't quite catch the people who started walking at 4.30. We got to the foot of Point Five (V, 5) at 9am: a twelve hour approach is not good for the constitution.

We waited and followed all three of them for the rest of the day. We took our turn on the first two hard ice pitches, which were fabulous. Pitch 2 had a wild chimney with all manner of junk pouring down it courtesy of the trio above. My eyes froze shut, my nips went lumb, but traditional hack, batter and scrape seemed to have worked by the time I could see again. Speech returned rather later.

Pitch 3 had a steep snow and ice groove that overhung. OK, peg out to the right, ice screw over there (one of Eddie's nice new shiny ones), bridge up, axe in……Rip! Down a foot, EEK! Look down to check the gear and see that the ropes loop inwards to it. Hush my beating heart! OK, not much choice now. Bridge out, Egyptian (Yes, Egyptian!) Reach over, pray, thunk! thunk! Oh thank you God, perfect ice, up and away!

We then settled down to a sporting afternoon of bombardment from above. Eventually, the gully widened out and the ice became plasterboard over bottomless powder, formed by rain earlier in the week. Easy to climb, but unsettling as it went 'Boom' and shook with every blow. At last, the top, after a long traverse to avoid the cornice, just as the sun went down. Head torches, compass bearings and off to the Allt a' Mhuilinn (I'll get you on the way back, English dog!'), and back to the car at 9pm.

On Saturday we were not a pretty sight. 75% incapacitation really. What with sleep deprivation, over exertion and severe bruising to knees, ankles, elbows, shoulders and most other parts. (Ha! Ha! English dog!'). Nevisport café, bump into old friends, climbing wall to stretch a bit, and a gentle stroll up Glen Nevis for a rest cure. Apparently, according to the sign, this path is dangerous and has killed people. As the North Face of the Ben has no such sign, it must be safer. So there you have it: high risk extreme sport – Glen Nevis riverside path; easy day for families with small children – Point Five Gully.

Sunday was cloudy, but saw us out of the door of Glen Nevis Youth Hostel at 5.45 for the tourist track up the Ben. Big mistake, far too steep for us in our pitiful condition. Still we held our own with the competition, of which at least 30 were hiding from the wind by the CIC hut. Most routes had people heading for them, so we settled for Green Gully, Grade IV, 4, first done in 1906. Eddie's first Grade IV lead ('Stoatin' Stuff,' as they say up there). Nice and leisurely, half the length of Point Five. Back to the hostel, where Attila the Hen lay in wait!

'See you, Jimmy! Nae heavy boots in the Hostel of a morning, d'ye ken!'

'Oops, sorry, Oh Mighty One'.

'Aye, well mind ye dinna forget now. Away wi' ye!' If the Allt a' Mhuilinn doesn't get you, the warden will!

Monday had a belting forecast, so off to the North Face Car Park (more native friendly than the golf course), and The Auld Enemy, the Allt a' Mhuilinn ('Not learnt your lesson yet, English dog!'). More blue skies and a route spied the other day – Hadrian's Wall Direct V, 5 (or 'Adrian's Wall – apparently I have more Aitches than Eddie).

The first pitch was superb and huge, rather more huge than the ropes and the belay was abandoned to give a bit more slack. This was a wide, open face with a big sheet of ice running down it, all bulges and attitude. I ran out of Eddie's nice shiny new screws and my old tatty one and kept two for the belay, which meant a vast run out in the end. The struggle to do up a loose crampon strap half way up on near vertical ice was sobering. The belay was even more sobering. A foot ledge, two well placed axes and two screws, which lifted out by hand. Eddie led through: changing over didn't bear thinking about. Up to a vertical chimney which gave superb climbing and a bit of variety, and then on to more hundreds of feet of perfect first time placements. Then more plasterboard, some truly awful belays, some mashed potato cornice and the top.

A fabulous route, with superb views of Tower Ridge, Point Five (and its nine occupants) and us with a thousand foot wall all to ourselves. Then a thousand foot glissade down the Red Burn and the Allt a' Mhuilinn ('Oh hello, English dog!').

Tuesday was warm and rainy and dreich. So we went home via the Kendal Wall. Apathy ruled now: how could a wall compete after the most famous gully in the world as Eddie's fifth ice route, a fulfilled twenty year ambition to do Point Five, and Hadrian's Wall and Green Gully, all in perfect condition?

Adrian.