Rolling the dice

This winter season has seen great activity from Brixton Climbers. There have been two expeditions to Scotland and one expedition to North Wales. The snow capped hills of the British winter offers perilous challenges in a breathtaking setting. The winter game is an entirely different one from that of sport and trad climbing. The latter two are relatively safe. Your own stamina, technique and your skill at placing gear largely determine the safety of your endeavour. However in the alpine environment unpredictable hazards are always stalking the unsuspecting climber. This lesson has been learned by the second Brixton party that visited Scotland this year when they were avalanched on a northern gully in category II conditions. Luckily, the most experienced member of the party had set up a strong belay anchor under a large boulder that was able to held the climbing party together when it was struck by the avalanche. There were no injuries.

Despite the scare, the members of the party returned to London thrilled about their adventure and with deep wishes of returning next year. As I sat in the pub listening to their stories, I couldn't help remembering a similar event that occurred to me as part of another Brixton party two years ago (Feb 2006) on the slopes of Ben Nevis. That time we had been rather careless, free soloing a grade II gully in category III conditions. A windslab detached under my weight just a few metres below the exit cornice at the top of the route, and we were washed over 200m down the mountain. We had a good battering but no serious injuries. I went back home with a lost ice axe and a shattered ego. After that incident it has been hard for me to return to winter and alpine climbing.

A picture I took a few moments AFTER having been avalanched. It pretty much summarises my state of confusion after realising I was alive. The standing people are from a German party that approached my fellow partners half buried in the snow. The camera was clogged with snow so the lens didn't open properly.

The same day I heard the news of this year's Scottish events, I had been following a friend's live blog about his ongoing expedition to climb mount Fitz Roy (3375m) in Patagonia, and his near miss on those legendary cliffs. This year's exceptionally warm conditions in the Argentinian-Chilean region generated an unusually high number of rock and ice avalanches. As he was finishing the last bit of technical climbing on the imposing Fitz Roy headwall, a large block precariously balanced inside a chimney became unstuck falling on him. The taught rope partially deflected the block which hit him badly on the legs. Full of blood and about to panic, he managed to compose himself and asses the situation. The rope had been nearly cut and was firmly jammed inside a crack. His injuries were not life threatening. His partner at the upper belay anchor looked down horrified. His other partner hanging down below had been hit by the smaller debris that became detached and was screaming in pain. They managed to get back to base camp in a 36h round trip epic that surely will never be erased from their minds.

The imposing Fitz Roy headwall where my friend could have easily lost his life.

All the risks involved, and the countless lives that had been surrendered to the mountains still make me wonder why we play this game of dice, where we wish we can always have the odds in our favour. I guess the visions of myself walking through a surreal labyrinth of glass on the Mer de Glace glacier in the French Alps, or summiting a high mountain in the Andes with the rainforest dithering in the horizon, are images that seduce me to return to the mountains. I know that soon I will be back playing the game. As someone wrote in Climbing (Feb 2008) "... we are pissing on the obelisk (the cliffs) knowing that we might be next. The dull ache of knowing that your friends are out on the hills playing with fire is ever present."

And as the great Brixton elder says "Be bold but be safe!"

Mario dos Reis