winter skills

We were up at 6:45 in order to breakfast, take the tents down and walk in to meet the guide, Mick, at the ski centre. We’re becoming experts at faff, so time was short by the time tents were down, so it was a walking breakfast on the way in.

We didn’t really have any idea who we were meeting – so when we arrived (only five minutes late, considering faff, not too bad) we were looking around blankly. Alan ended up calling, and an old guy stood next to a range rover put his hand to his pocket, and took out his phone. Alan was looking the other direction, waving at the air while we waved at the now identified Mick. He came over, and it was immediately apparent that this guy didn’t faff and had never faffed in his life. He demanded the £11.50 each for the return gondola trip, which would take us up to the snowline, and then started to check how much we knew about snow, gear, ice axes, and any hesitation was pounced upon. We exchanged nervous glances when he was queuing to get the gondola tickets. We didn’t even know how to put our crampons on. Help!

As it turned out, we needn’t have worried – he was lovely, though had an odd sense of humour. He’d been in the army, was still part of the local mountain rescue team, and had as many stories to tell of the mountains as minutes in the day. After a brief period of uncertainty we all grew to like him. We started off, and avoiding the skiers we headed up Aonach Mór. We spent the morning on the northern flank of the mountain, practicing the ‘self-arrest’ technique with the ice axes. This was great fun – it consisted of throwing yourself down the mountainside any which way, shoving the pick of the axe in the ice, and coming to a stop. Mick would shout ‘you just broke a leg!’ if you’re technique was off. The danger was, if you fall down wearing crampons, you can catch them on the ice, the force of which can snap your bones, and flip you over into an uncontrollable spin. He had stories to back this up.

After a brief pause, watching the Lake District mountain rescue teams practice belay techniques (with CPR, which Mick was against), we headed up, onto the blowy ridge, where the wind was strong enough to knock you off your balance. Mick set up a belay, and we walked back off the cornice, and dug a platform in the snow below. Alan went off first, seen in the photo. What you can’t see in the photo is the wind, which was really something.

Below, we practiced techniques of walking on steep slopes, before glissading down. This just means sliding on your arse, but when it’s so steep, it’s about as fast as a toboggan. Loads of fun.

We made our way back round to the ski gondola, practicing the techniques we’d learnt, and were back below the snowline as the weather turned. A mountain of cream on our hot chocolates in the café, before we headed back to Fort William. Me and Alan hitched a lift (we didn’t even have our thumbs out when someone offered to drive us!) and the others got a lift with Mick. Back in time for a pub dinner, pint, and a sleepy train home.