Home by half five, packed and loaded up, I get my bike gear on and then realise the weight of the kit I have to take for my weekend. Almost my own body weight in kit, and that was without  food or fluid which I had planned to get much closer to Fairy Cave Quarry.

Arriving at FCQ around 9 at night I have the pleasure of being the only person in the whole quarry – so tranquil – tent pitched, kit sorted out and I wander off around the quarry to get a feel for the place and I start to eye up a few routes I fancy soloing….. A few hours later and as I am sitting outside the tent watching the stars roll over and satellites flash across the night sky. I spot a shooting star and instantly I wish for good weather the whole weekend.

Saturday morning started early – 0630 – the noises I heard during the night were all explained. There had been a small group of Deer outside my tent (about 3 feet from it) which I watched from under the flysheet feeding on moss and grass, and there were a lot of Rabbit markings (droppings and the like) all around my pitch. I’m guessing the rapid munching / grinding teeth noises I heard were them. Opening the tent I’m surprised to see a pair of Peregrine Falcons just to my right, watching me for a minute before flying off to feed the youngest of their clan. The way that nature has taken over is really quite remarkable considering the bleakness of the slate quarry.

An hour or so passes and my belay arrives, so we head for a classic route at FCQ – ‘Back to Basics’. The route is a VD (very difficult) which follows a nice arete up to around 40 metres of easy, nicely protected climbing. By the time we have completed the first trad climb and descended the Alpine Ridge (PD), my group of students / friends arrives. We set up a few good top rope routes and get the group going on a nice and easy climb.

Smiles shine and eyes light up as each climbs to the anchor and abs off successfully without incident. Lunch, a few more climbs and the group of students head off home which means my belay and I get to climb another few of the classic routes before he too has to head off home too for a Thai take away and some quality time with his good lady. Glacis area is a favourite of mine at present as I have two climbs on my wishlist in this area alone; Jive talkin’ and Glacial point – both ‘E’ graded trad climbs – and some simpler routes that I want to lead just to tick them off and get the ‘feel’ for rock again.

The days overview entailed sun, smiles, much laughter and me cracking my ankle twice on the rocks –  much to my annoyance.

Sunday starts around 8 with the heat becoming unbearable in my little two man tent. I get myself motivated, washed up and dressed down to my shorts and walking boots topped off nicely with a bright Yellow ‘Rat Race’ buff draped over the top of my head and covering my neck so I don’t increase the already tingling sun tan.

Breakfast comes in the shape of a large sausage roll and a Banana – while posting to Facebook – when my students arrive with a nice big coffee for me. Today has a different feel about it instantly, I’m instructing only today as I really want to get a few of my students up in their grades, really getting a passion for trad climbing.

After a lunch stop, we lost two of the students to prior engagements and this only left one thing on my mind – Rob’s Crack. By now the sun is blazing and the heat is enough to literally fry food on some of the rocks in the quarry, so you can imagine how much energy we all had.

Rob’s crack is one of my favourite trad climbs and its placement in FCQ means that you are out of the way of most climbers who visit the quarry unless they’re there to bag Rob’s Crack themselves. 42 metres of VS (very severe) trad climb awaits those who are drawn to its looming slab. 2 crux’ and a very nice resting ledge followed by a pair of metal stakes to ab off mean that the route is a classic, and one to be taken in if you ever visit FCQ.

I have to say, watching your students / friends lead their first trad climb can only be comparable to watching you child walk for the first time. My smiles at their success must be overly noticeable to all who see me. After watching the group second, then top rope the climb, we head off and do a widespread clear of the area to pick up and remove any litter we find. We then make sure we haven’t left any gear behind, before loading up the car, & my motorbike, and heading off home for a well needed shower, shave and comfy bed.

More to follow next weekend? I do think so….

The whole week was documented on film by ‘Image Impossible’ who is owned and run by action camera man Ian Burton. Ian is well known for his previous work on the BBC’s Climbing great buildings series and one of the camera men behind The Asgard project.

This short film covers all the best climbing action and some behind the scene footage showing the less glamorous side of being behind a camera lens.

Jeff abandoned his backpack in 1991 when couldn’t find any anchors at the end of the rope. He left his pack behind as he went rope free on the last 50 feet to the summit ridge where he was plucked off the mountain by a helicopter. A couple of hours later one hell of a storm descended on the Eiger so he was one seriously lucky man!

Unbelievable to think he actually got it back after all these years. Mental.

I’m sure that the lure of taking a totally rad route up Pixel Mountain, whilst having your eyes dried by a solid 4 hours in front of the telly will soon replace the wind in your hair, the physical challenge of climbing and the beauty inherent in the mountains we play with.

Now where’s me Wii pad.

Where the Charmoz really excels is on true mixed ground, with constant switches between snow, rock and ice proving no problem. When you’ve got a snow slope followed by a rocky scramble then an ice pitch or two you need something that gives support, grip and traction reliably throughout, and inspires confidence. The waterproof breathable Gore-Tex membrane somehow managed to keep my feet dry even when post holing to knee deep on the ascent of Mont Blanc. Long hard walking on rocky paths felt comfortable which I attributed to the ¾-length shanks, and when it came to steeper icy routes it was simple to fit a pair of Newmatic crampons. The rigid soles and flexible uppers gave excellent support and the shape and fit gave all the precision needed for grade 5 ice and hard mixed climbing. I believe if you want one boot that does it all – or at least Alpine summer or Scottish winter, then look no further. When the mountain terrain changes every few hundred feet, take it all on with the versatile Charmoz GTX Mountaineering Boots.

Nick Parks – Mountain Guide

CREDIT: “John Muir, full-length portrait, facing right, seated on rock with lake and trees in background.” c1902. The Evolution of the Conservation Movement, 1850-1920, Library of Congress.

When I first heard the line I just dismissed the term “pray” as coming from the steotypical religious mix of Scottish heritage and American tradition and substituted it with “think” in my mind, but experience slowly changed this view. It’s no coincidence that we bestow religious terminology to the finest mountain wilderness, and how early descriptions were full of the sense of awe and wonder usually reserved for religious sights. For millenia people have held nature in awe, from early beginings when deity was bestowed on nature itself to the use of natural amphitheatres in the Peak District used for banned religious meetings.

There is something spiritual in nature, and like religion an introduction to wilderness can change lives in the same way as a religious epiphany – read Andy Cave’s book Learning to Breathe to see just what a difference it can make. Like a religion experiencing the outdoors is a personal experience, but one that can benefit at times from being shared with others, and there’s no-one more enthusiastic than a new convert. The great outdoors draws us at weekends, replacing for many the traditional Sunday church attendance as our feel good factor and inspiration, and when we find the perfect mountain view we even refer to it as a cathedral.

Almost un-noticed, science has entered the spiritual world of the outdoors, but rather than destroying the religious analogies it merely reinforced them. The key to religion, no matter which religion, is surely faith – and that’s precisely what science tries to grow in us. Take a look in at any piece of outdoor kit nowadays and examine the label – you’ll be confronted with more science and technical terminology than the average A level student, but what does it really mean? Take some of the most popular fabrics used for outdoor clothing: There’s Pertex Endurance, Pertex Quantum, Pertex Shield, Pertex MicroLight and Pertex Classic for a start………..now Classic is obviously an original form but how much should you read into the others? Pertex Shield you’d expect to be some sort of shield so probably good for abrasion resistance, and Pertex MicroLight seems pretty self explanatory. Pertex Endurance doesn’t seem too difficult to work out where its strength lies but Pertex Quantum??? Is it some weird option based on advanced physics? The only way, of course, of finding out is to check out the labels and tags that adorn every product, and that’s where faith comes in.

Read a garment tag, skipping the washing instructions, and you’ll find wonderful descriptions of how oilophobic membranes with XYZ ions and silicone dioxide beads combine with silver fabrics and microfilament yarns to produce ……what, really? something you can wear and not something you expect to find in a government laboratory? Seriously now, how many peopple really follow all the scientific or pseudo-scientific geekspeak? You’re expected to put your faith in it just because it’s got a paragraph or three of jargon behind it that makes it look like it’s come straight from NASA. Personally I’m not bothered if it says it an intelligent, semi-permeable micropore membrane with hydrophyllic and hydrophobic lares laminated together – I want to know if it’s going to keep me dry when it rains, and shift perspiration when I get warm…end of! Faith may be defined by a belief in something you can’t see, but surely that doesn’t mean in something you can’t understand either? That’s why I’ve been happy this week to go through all the outdoor clothing on the site, noting their core technology and coming up with a real world description of what they are and what they do. Don’t let the science baffle you or demand a faith it may or may not deserve, save that for the wilderness itself and the faith that it will always be there when we need its spiritual qualities.

Weather and clothing

Alpine weather is often extreme and can change very rapidly; in summer you can have snowfalls, dramatic thunderstorms and sweltering temperatures all in the same day even at moderate heights. This means you have to be well equipped to cope with all eventualities not only with the skills but also with the right kit. In recent years there have been significant advances in outdoor clothing technology and my recommended solution to coping with Alpine weather is to use a layering system.

Starry skies as you leave the hut often belie the afternoon realities of alpine climbing, take climbing Mont Blanc du Tacul for instance. Absorbed in the colossal North facing glacial approach you don’t see the thunderheads rolling in from Italy until it’s too late. The early start means you may have to cope with a bone chilling wind, your efforts in the mid-morning sun have you sweating and then bang you have to try to out-race the showers. So lightweight layering is the only way to cope with the absurdity of it all.

It’s a three-hour uphill grind to the summit so you need effective base layers to evaporate your sweat the whole way. When the wind kicks up your Wind Jacket’s hanging mesh liner adds warmth and facilitates wicking, while its shell blocks wind and sheds moisture. The entire time, light, hard-working Simple Guide Pants breathe, protect, and dry in a snap. When the afternoon storm hits you find shelter, that’s when the down jacket becomes a reassuring heater. If afternoon showers catch you a back-up hard shell stashed in your rucksack keeps you dry.

Summary

Certainly for climbers it is a jump up in lots of ways and there’s a learning curve everyone must follow. A sense of urgency is vital and at all times you must remain alert and aware of the potential pitfalls. For most of us alpine trips have a tendency to throw up the odd hiccup, mercifully not too serious, and dealing with hardships; caught out in a storm; benighted high up; sun burn; dehydration and exhaustion are weirdly in retrospect all part of why we do it. Remember the Alps are daunting and rightly so but they are awesome too and worth taking those steps for.

Nick Parks is a leading British Ski and Mountain Guide who has been guiding parties for 25 years in mountain ranges across the globe. Particularly well known in the ski industry Nick is also a highly regarded safety expert to the adventure film industry. A keen photographer he contributes regularly to outdoor magazines and professional publications.

In this short series of articles we explore the differences between the UK mountain experience and the Alpine one and show you how these barriers can be surmounted safely to allow you to enjoy even more rewarding mountain adventures.

Its never been easier to access the Alps, with low cost flights and fast trains its as quick to get from London to Chamonix as it is to Capel Curig. They have beauty and wilderness in common but that’s where the differences between Tryfan and the Triolet end. First off is quite simply the huge difference in scale. Add altitude acclimatization difficulties to overcome and the glacial environment to safely negotiate and it’s easy to appreciate why tackling the Alps can be so daunting.

Tryfan….impressive but not Triolet

Scale What are we talking about and how to adapt?

In the UK 300-400 metre long routes are rare, in contrast many Alpine routes can be 1500 or even 2000 metres long. Four times the size means that successful climbing in the Alps requires you to plan thoroughly, work to a timetable and use every part of your day productively, thereby avoiding epics like night-time descents. Gaining information, be it online, or from guidebooks is essential in helping you make correct route choices so that you don’t take on more than you can tackle. Seeking up to date information is critical too as the Alps are constantly changing, especially in these times of accelerating climate change. Glacial recession and rockfall can create drastic change even over the course of one season.

Top tip: Start off on alpine routes that are similar in length to those you are used to in Britain.

Preparation

Many of the skills necessary for safe success in the Alps are the same as those needed in the British hills; sound navigation; rock climbing; scrambling and in winter snow and ice techniques. All of these are directly transferable from our crags and mountains. Learning to move safely together on alpine ground is a key skill. Many alpine routes, like the Hornli ridge on the Matterhorn, although exposed are technically straightforward. However their length is such that climbing it in pitches aka British rock climbing style you would need a week to climb the route. Moving together using running belay techniques, gives a sufficient measure of protection whilst allowing you to get down in time to celebrate.

The Matterhorn – an Alpine icon

Top tip: Practice moving together techniques like short ropeing, on long scrambling routes in the British hills e.g North ridge of Tryfan

Nick Parks is a leading British Ski and Mountain Guide who has been guiding parties for 25 years in mountain ranges across the globe. Particularly well known in the ski industry Nick is also a highly regarded safety expert to the adventure film industry. A keen photographer he contributes regularly to outdoor magazines and professional publications.

Nick Parks – Ski and Mountain Guide

First off comes the weather and catching the mountain “in good nick”. The best scenario means making an attempt when it’s dry or clear of snow and ice. Unfortunately on average only about 30 days a year give optimum conditions and the isolation of the mountain often results in it forming its own weather, which can be very wild and change very rapidly. The mountain rises to over 4400 metres so it can snow at anytime of year, and much of the upper part of the mountain is has slabs of fresh unconsolidated snow which posses a real hazard. Worse, rainfall often leads to the widespread formation of water ice as temperatures plummet at night and during storms. Sadly that means that more often than not its not worth setting foot on the mountain, but that’s hard to come to terms with when you’ve built yourself up for ages, travelled a long way, and spent a not inconsiderable sum of money to climb the world’s best known mountain. Thus Gerald in common with countless before him was on his third Matterhorn ‘outing’. In other words despite poor forecasts we had twice ventured up to the Berg hotel on the off-chance the met-men were wrong only to spend a disrupted night listening to the intermittent chorus of rain and snoring before returning to the bright lights of Zermatt. Having exhausted that experience we weather watched from the safe distance of Chamonix until I felt confident enough to give Gerald the green light.

Secondly the Matterhorn’s iconic status means it is one of the most frequently climbed mountains in the world and sadly this popularity is its biggest danger. Large numbers of climbers ascending and descending simultaneously guarantees that meeting and overtaking maneuvers will be required, this in turn increases the likelihood that rocks will be dislodged onto lower climbers. Now fortunately in order to help process the maximum numbers of aspiring climbers up and down the peak the local guides have placed fixed ropes on the more serious sections of the climb, probably sensible, but sadly many have evolved into a subspecies of guide whose sole function is to reduce the Matterhorn experience for their clients to a ‘dope on a rope’ race. Not being a local though is of course a plus as I endeavor to navigate my guests around the obstacles the Matterhorn presents in a manner which maximizes the enjoyment and achievement of their ascent.

Thirdly is understanding and preparing for the physical impact of getting up and down the Matterhorn. For the majority of climbers the ‘down’ is harder and takes longer than the ‘up’. In any rate it’s a long way, on average ten hours over steep and sometimes loose rock with lots of airy space beneath your feet. Couple all that with an unhealthy lack of oxygen and in anyone’s book the ascent of the Matterhorn is a tough day out. Now when you’ve got one new hip and another on its way out well it becomes a challenge. At least we aren’t going to be joining the racers.

Kitting oneself out for the Matterhorn has come along way since Wymper’s tweeded first ascent and I was climbing in my pro shell Temperance jacket, and Scarpa Charmoz boots whose lightness and dexterity make them ideal companions.Gerald is familiar with the clothing and kit requirements for the ascent and on meeting up I’m only reminded to discuss the quantity of fluid he should look to carry. During a previous outing on the Eiger he had run out of water early on, and as a consequence having donated the contents of my Camelbak to the cause, we both ended up seriously dehydrated. The drive over from Chamonix is just two hours and topped off with a Swiss efficient rail ride into the middle of the chocolate box city of Zermatt with the north face of the Matterhorn centre stage. Order of the day for lunch is ‘rosti’ number one for carbo loading in Switzerland. Mechanical advantage is maintained for a further 1000 metres to Schwarzee where on arrival we make a mental note that the last lift down is at 16:40 before shouldering our packs and assist our digestion with a steady stroll for a further 700 metres up to the aforementioned Berghotel more commonly known as the Hornli hut.

So far this approach is similar to that encountered on most alpine peaks, however at this point the Matterhorn experience takes over. It commences with a demand for the hut fees to be paid in advance and a warning that NO one is allowed to leave the hut ahead of the local guide. This order used to inflame me but now amuses me; they claim it is to prevent parties unfamiliar with the way from herding everyone off route and onto loose dangerous ground. Whilst this is likely it’s really so a non-local beating them doesn’t dent their pride. We settle in and commence the obligatory re-hydrating ritual whilst the hut gradually fills to bursting point and dusk falls.

Dinner follows; adequate but not gourmet. We are early to bed, 9pm, though fitful rest rather than deep sleep best describes our next 7 hours inactivity. Finally it’s time to get our boots and harness on, no more dreaming about the Matterhorn now its time to live it. Breakfast in the Hornli at 4 o’clock is a lively event, usually my least favorite time, today it makes me grin as the guides start to marshal their charges like greyhounds in the slips. Gerald and I finish our coffee in peace as the mass exodus empties the hut.

A few minutes down the track the mountain rears up abruptly and we flail our way up some fixed ropes in a manner reminiscent of PE lessons in the school gym. Fortunately this commando style approach is short lived as the mountain quickly lays back and route finding takes over as the primary challenge. The scale of the mountain becomes apparent, as the fifty climbers ahead of us are absorbed into its folds, for a few hours the odd flicker of a headtorch is the only reminder we are not alone as surely and steadily Gerald and I pick our way upwards. I’m also reminded of the importance of a decent headtorch as Gerald’s antique barely shows up his boots whilst my new Petzl Tikka plus illuminates all the options. Fortunately the sun is up by the time we embark up the lower Moseley slab the first of the two ‘real’ climbing sections. Sandwiched conveniently between these slabs and a perfect spot for our second breakfast is the Solvay hut. Two-thirds up at just over the magic 4000m this superbly perched hut was built in 1915 with room for a dozen. Today it is strictly to be used only in the event of an emergency but what a welcome sight it must be on occasions.

A little further on as we work our way up the shoulder as the leaders of the pack are propelling their way down at break neck speed We keep as wide a berth as possible, it’s not the winning but staying focused and having a good time that counts. Conditions are ideal and unusually crampons remain in our packs as we revert back to commando style tactics on the fixed ropes. The bonus for not racing is that we have the summit to ourselves and a little time to soak it all in. Sadly we’re acutely aware we are really only half way and no surprises our water supplies are dwindling. Gerald’s rugby injuries surface to remind him he shouldn’t have continued to play the gentleman’s game into his forties as the mountain fulfils its reputation for taking longer to descend than ascend.

I always find the route finding in descent a little tricky as a certain amount of variation is possible and when one gets off the main line a great deal of loose rock is encountered. There is enough traffic up and down that getting too far off route is not really an issue but frustratingly minor digressions happen especially on the lower part of the route where we make some fairly long traverses on to the east face. Twelve hours after leaving the hut we arrive back hungry and very thirsty. Of course the locals are basking in the sun watered and fed making us feel wholly inadequate and our plight is only worsened at the realization that we have missed the 16:40 last lift. As we drive back into Chamonix at midnight I reflect that today the Matterhorn has allowed Gerald and I to grace its summit and return safely but as usual it’s had the last say.