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For a while it seemed as though my movements between Edinburgh and Cambridge were out of sync with the winter conditions in Scotland, but I got lucky two weeks ago with Taxus (III***) on Beinn an Dothaidh.

Taxus' inclusion among many "classic grade III routes" lists meant it had been high up on my list for a few years, but with our more variable winters it'd kept eluding me.

We set off for an early walk-in before sunrise to beat the queues, and picked our way up the 240m route. The first two pitches gave some nice chewy ice with some steeper steps to focus the mind. At times I feel like I'm still second-guessing my crampons on steep ice - last year's injury is still somewhat fresh in my kind, and I'd like to keep all my teeth and bones intact. I'm sure my confidence will come back though.

While the middling pitches gave good views to the valley, the route topped out in near-whiteout conditions and high winds on an unfamiliar summit. A welcome change from the walkout from Sneachda which I've done to death.

This winter season might not be as packed as last year's, but I'm pleased with finally getting to climb on some good ice! We'll see if conditions return soon, or if its time to start shifting focus back to rock.
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#iceclimbing #winterclimbing #mountains #mountaineering #scotland
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Breaking-in the ice, new B3 boots, and modular crampons last week before the turbo-thaw set in. Swipe through for some ice climbing ASMR.

Water-ice is hard to come by in Scotland - we don't get the prolonged periods of sub-zero temperatures found elsewhere in Europe to guarantee climbable ice. The last time I tried an ice route was on a very thin Aladdin's Mirror last season, a DNF that left me bloodied and limping out of the Northern Corries. Prior to this, it would've been brittle sections of Parallel Gully A on Lochnagar, all the way back in 2018.

I love ice, but after last year I'm a little more cautious with picking the route and conditions - it would suck to miss all 2 weeks of Scottish winter because of an injury on my first route of the season 😅. Unconsolidated snow forced us to reconsider our day in the Northern Corries in favour of a trip to Beinn Udlaidh for Sunshine Gully III***, an easy angled route we knew was in condition.

I'd never been to Udlaidh; it seems to be primarily an ice venue, so presumably it doesn't get much traffic compared to mixed climbing crags. The ice was immaculate, however - the sort of hard, chewy ice that'll readily take a pick or a screw, if still a little thin in places. The sort of quality I imagine finding in winter in the Alps. The new boots and crampons felt incredibly secure.

Nevertheless, the conditions attracted a lot of traffic, resulting in a lot of time queueing for the route. I topped out in the twilight, and it was fully dark by the time we started our descent. Perhaps Twilight Gully would've been a more appropriate name!
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#iceclimbing #winterclimbing #mountains #mountaineering
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The aftermath of gravity trying to force-feed me an ice axe.

I felt like I made the most of this winter season - my mountain fitness was where I wanted it to be and schedules kept aligning with conditions. This was probably going to be the last winter weekend we would get before the spring thaw would set in, so we decided to have a go at Aladdin's Mirror Direct (IV, 4).

I'd seen photos of this route laced up with screws and read reports of 'phat' ice from earlier this season. Once on route however, the ice seemed thinner and more sugary in texture than expected, but I made use of the rock where I could and found the odd screw. I was focused, clear, and felt strong when I made it to the final few metres of the route - the ice was largely buried under powder and poor where it was exposed... But I was confident I could top out right up until my feet sheared through the ice and my axe ripped through the snow.

It is often said that the first rule of trad climbing is that you should try to avoid falling, whereas the first rule of winter climbing is that you DO NOT fall. There are too many sharp points you can get stuck on, and a few other points attached to you that can twist a limb in unpleasant ways. After coming to a rest and wrestling my foot loose from a ledge it was caught on, I spent the next few minutes making sure I still had all my teeth and figuring out where I was bleeding from. Ultimately I was glad I got away with just a sprained ankle, all of my teeth, and maybe a new scar above my lip to make sure I remember it all.

I've had near misses with rockfall and unplanned nights on exposed ridges before, but I've never fallen on my own gear (it's nice to know my placements over several years of climbing haven't secretly been shit). Despite being an active person, this is also the first time I've ended up in crutches. Striking that balance between a bold yet calculating approach to risk is a point I almost take pride in. I'll take this as the valuable lesson it is.

At the very least, the disturbed snow at the top of photo 8 shows how close my axes came to topping out (the red blood stains below show how far I fell). If only the ice was better...
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Breaking trail and breaking-in new axes on the Haston Line (III, 4) in Coire An t-Sneachda last weekend.

With Edinburgh firmly gripped in spring and multiple posts on instagram signalling that the winter season was over, I was quite glad to see the recent snowfall meant Scottish Winter was still clinging on for another weekend.

Despite having done the same walk in twice already this season, we still took our time just trying to find the crag in such shit visibility. Once we got going, it felt great to be on some proper mixed ground, scraping around fresh powder looking for buried axe and gear placements. The route itself was varied enough - with one incredibly claustrophobic chimney and one bulging, reachy corner, it seemed a good test for those vertically challenged and vertically advantaged alike! You can hear the relief in my voice in the footage I took from the cruxes. Beyond that, it was a nice cruise of a climb with plenty of gear and no scenic views to be found - like being locked in your own world for a few hours.

Here's to hoping winter holds out just a little longer.
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#mountains #mountaineering #winterclimbing #scotland #cairngorms #tradisrad #climbingpicturesofinstagram #outdoors #alpine #snow #ice #iceclimbing #scottishhighlands #mountain #climbing #climb #highlands #alpinism #nature #hills #getoutside #climbing_is_my_passion #mountainsarecalling #mountainscape #mountainview #mountainlovers #climber #climbing_pictures_of_instagram #climbing_is_my_passion #iceicebaby #scotlandexplore
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Hey there, I’m Adam! I was 18 when my dad took me for my first tour in the Alps just before starting uni. I’d been seconding rock and winter climbs in Scotland with him for a while, but this time we traded multipitch routes for crevasse-hopping and short-roping on 4000-meter peaks. Being up high, seeing the Matterhorn and Mont Blanc on the same horizon, was where I first felt that drive to chase high summits.

Mountaineering is an intense sport. It forced me to consider my health and fitness in ways I would never have otherwise. I took up running to take some of the sting out of the altitude; as a way of ensuring I always had the endurance to last on those long alpine days. I started leading on harder trad/winter routes to ensure I still had enough physical and mental fortitude in reserve to pull through those cruxes even after hours of ascent. I trained to cope with those long, cold summit days resisting sleep deprivation and dehydration; to ensure I can think clearly while fighting for every breath and step at 4000 metres.

That intensity also prompts introspection. Every other concern in life becomes secondary when you’re moving up an exposed ridge or face. It forces me to think clearly, to remind myself of the challenges I’m capable of overcoming whilst also being realistic about the areas of myself I need to work on. It’s a kind of self-confidence that was realised in the Alps, and one I now try to carry through into every aspect of my life. The confidence to commit myself to tough decisions, but also to give myself breathing space when needed, and enjoy any process I find myself in for what it is.

It's an academic sport, be it breaking down a problem at the bouldering wall with the regulars, or studiously cross-referencing guidebook descriptions ahead of a challenging summit day. It’s a social sport that has brought me closer to my friends, family, and the countless strangers I’ve drank with in alpine huts and shivered on precarious belay stances with. Lastly, it’s given me an unmatched appreciation for the natural beauty of world we share.

I know no other sport which demands so much of your being, nor one that rewards you with such rich experiences.
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My first taste of winter climbing since 2021! I truly missed long run-out pitches with minimal gear, sketchy-feeling axe placements, losing the feeling in my fingertips, and imagining what the view looks like through the clouds and windswept snow!

On 07/01, we headed to the Northern Corries to with the intention of climbing Hidden Chimney (III). After seeing the crowds on the Mess of Pottage (see picture 8), we soloed up Jacob's Ladder (I) (picture 7), and circled back around to tackle Red Gully (II/III) (pictures 1-6).

I'd climbed Red Gully on a sunny day in March 2015. I was but a young budding climber seconding whatever my dad would lead, the snow was well banked and consolidated, and the rocks were cleared of ice and readily took gear. This time around I was leading, the snow and ice were leaner, and the protection much more sparse. Definitely felt closer to Grade III, with a few more risky moves than I remembered - enough to think twice before committing to them. The party ahead of us proclaimed "I've climbed IVs that felt easier!" - perhaps it's time I start pushing my grade a little further!

I do recall a guidebook description which said of the route "its popularity thins the ice, so it is often Grade III" which I feel attests to the constantly evolving character of Scottish Winter Climbing. Routes vary season-to-season, even week-to-week at times. With such ephemeral conditions, it's a game of waiting for a climbable weather window, a tolerable avalanche risk forecast, and then cobbling together Plans A all the way through to Z in the hopes that something will stick. It requires a kind of opportunism and adaptability described in books like Simon Richardson's Chasing the Ephemeral.
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#climbing #mountains #winter #scotland #cairngorms #winterclimbing #iceclimbing #climb #ice #snow #mountain #hills #outdoors #getoutside #mountainview #mountainsarecalling #extremesports #aviemore #outdoor #outdoorphotography #outdooradventures #adventure #alpine #alpinism
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About a week ago, we reached the top of the Zinalrothorn, 4,221 metres above sea level. The day was cold and windy, the exposure was unreal, and the views across to the Matterhorn and Weisshorn were spectacular. I won't lie, I teared up a little on the summit.

This was the first serious Alpine objective I had committed myself to since completing the Matterhorn in 2018. After 3 years of letting the Pandemic and Uni get in the way of climbing, fitness, and overall wellbeing, I was a little uncertain of how I would fare being back here. After the mishaps on the Hornligrat, coming back to the large isolated peaks around Zermatt was intimidating... But I guess getting over that fear is a big part of why I do this thing in the first place. I was pleasantly surprised that it all went off mostly without a hitch.

On the Zinalrothorn I found what I had been longing for while stuck in the UK for three years: immaculate ridge climbing, views to inspire the mountaineer within me, and a physical and mental challenge to reignite how much I love being alive. Here's to whenever I'm next up high, fighting for every inch of ground, gasping for every breath of that thin air, under the deepest shade of blue skies out there.
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#alpinism #alpinisme #alps #alpes #alpine #alpinemountaineering #mountaineering #mountains #mountain #mountainlife #mountainlovers #switzerland #switzerland🇨🇭 #swissalps #suisse #schweiz #swissmountains #zinalrothorn #zermatt #climbing_pictures_of_instagram #climbersofinstagram #outdoors #matterhorn #climbing #climb #climber #getoutside #outdoor #climbon
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Yet another post reminiscing on the Alps; photo taken descending the South-East ridge of the Mönch in July, 2019. By this point of our trip, we had been criss-crossing the Aletsch and Finster glaciers for 10 days, bagging peaks along the way up to the glacier’s end at the Jungfraujoch. The view from the Mönch, down the longest glaciers in Europe and across the many peaks of the Berner Oberland and the Vallais Alps beyond, is perhaps one of the most cathartic sights I’ve experienced in recent memory.
The Mönch was at the very end of my first climbing trip after my mishaps on the Matterhorn a year prior. I had taken a hiatus from climbing during that year, partly to figure out my priorities after getting rockfall’d and benighted on the very mountain I’d obsessed over for years. I was as eager to get to the Bernese Alps as I was nervous to be taking those first steps into uncertain terrain once again. Standing atop the Mönch, looking across to surrounding summits in a panorama that few will ever get to experience, gave me all the reassurance and reinvigoration I needed to be certain that these risks are well worth taking.
I’ve been to the Alps enough times that standing atop one of these 4000 metre summits gives me a strong vantage point of some the others I’ve climbed. I’ve never been into competitive sports, so it’s the closest thing I’ll have to looking at my trophy/medal collection. Each summit a story of its own highlights and obstacles; its own example of what it means to experience life at its rawest. Dwarfing that still, is the world of surrounding peaks and routes I’ve yet to climb. Each prospective mountain standing intimidatingly stoic, daring young climbers to indulge in their own hubris for a summit push.
My progression as a climber was measured by a simple scan of the horizon, and my growth as a person mirrored in the challenges I’d overcome in that environment. Having missed that in the two years since climbing the Mönch, I can’t help but feel a little stagnant. These mountains will be here for millions of years, but I’m young now, and yearn to experience what it’s like to gasp for every breath and fight for every inch of altitude soon.
#alps
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