Diabeg is one of those places – it feels surreal. Beautiful slabs of gneiss rise out of the sea, with beautiful fine cracks running up these walls, making for excellent, relatively safe climbing. The quality of the rock, combined with the stunning outlook over the peninsula, make it undoubtedly one of the finest ‘non-mountain’ crags in the UK.

I’d climbed here once before last summer, where Charlie and I had an ace day on the 4* classic Route Two, and the Black Streak. Lara however had never been.

Neither of us had done much trad over the winter, so we thought an appropriate warm up would be to repeat Route 2! The first pitch has a slightly necky start in my opinion, but then you quickly gain the crack line that is filled with absolutely bomber gear and lovely holds. The top pitch follows an even more defined crack, and makes for some really excellently enjoyable climbing, all in a good position. I must admit, although excellent, I do not feel this route warrents 4*.

Next we moved on to Route Three – a nice little route just to the left of Route Three. Lara led the first pitch, and underwhelming and blocky 4b pitch, then I took the second pitch – an E1 pitch with a tricky pull leaving the belay without particularly good gear (although I think you’d just hit the grassy ledge below unscathed so it is not particularly stressful), then a smeary traverse. I really enjoyed the climbing on this pitch – it was much more ‘face focused’ than other routes I’ve done at Diabeg.

Lara took pitch 2 – a streneous steep crack. The gear was good, but it did involve a steep and hard pull to overcome a small buldge. I thoroughly enjoyed the struggle, and we abseiled down for a very quick dip (we put our heads under, shrieked wildly at the cold, and promptly exited the sea).

On Sunday, we returned. Lara cruised up the Pillar in an exceptionally slick lead- a 4* E2 – not being deterred by the wet initial section. The climbing was really rather excellent – with plenty of gear where you need it and seemingly the perfect amount of holds to ensure sufficient interest whilst allowing for a relatively straightforward (in that it has no definite crux), if sustained, climb.

We them moved back to the main wall – where I eyed up the Garry Latter Special – Perfect Day. This was an excellent direct on Route Three, and involved climbing a challenging and bold section off the belay, before gaining twin cracks at the top and finally a challenging and awkward offwidth. The gear was good, although not quite as good as you’d want given the climbing was fairly challenging for E2. I was somewhat gripped transferring from the left to the right crack, with a shallow but good green totem providing the sole gear to protect me from some significant air time. Luckily – I did not fall, and gained the offwidth and began a short, but extremely inelegant struggle to gain the top.

An excellent end to a brilliant two days of cragging, and a good start to the trad season!

The forecast was not ideal: despite the sun, the wind would be blasting across the summit of Ben Nevis at 55mph, not conducive to climbing.

Plan A was Tower Scoop into Good Friday climb – supposedly a lovely link-up of two fantastic ice routes. On the walk in – we were surprised and somewhat disappointed by how windy it was even at the CIC – some replanning would be required. It was cold…and Charlie was faffing with his layers and putting on his boots whilst I’d walked in in mine. I was quickly getting cold – and was keen to get moving.

From the CIC we saw pummels of spindrift being blown town Gardyloo gully – just next to where we’d be climbing: indicative of high winds and generally a pretty grim time. Corrie Nan Ciste looked like it was in better condition – far more sheltered and in excellent condition. As we walked up the corrie – the wind died down, and we were glad with our decision – it was going to be a fantastic day!

We headed towards Comb Gully Buttress, but upon seeing many parties already established on the route, we decided that Comb Gully would be a better choice. We soloed up to the narrows – and Charlie set off on the main pitch – a wonderful pitch with steep snow ice steps – but very minimal protection.

He cruised up the snow ice and arrived at the belay on rope stretch in an excellent lead. I had an excellent time belaying: watching Iain Small work his way up a fantastically hard mixed route with inspiring levels of skill and composure. Upon hearing Charlie’s loud bellow from above telling me I was on belay – I set off and enjoyed the wonderful climbing. I led the easy exit pitch and then we arrived on the summit plateau and navigated to the summit.

It was nearly a white out: care was required to stay on track. We reached the summit, and turned around. As I was taking bearing at Gardyloo gulley, and planning how to get to No4 – an inexperienced hiker said “First time lads”. We agreed he was a bit of a knob, and set off, following our bearing.

Just a few seconds later, we walked past him, looking rather disorientated, and continued to the 1200m contour where we would leave the cairns to reach our descent route. As we reached the contour, him and his partner sheepishly asked us for directions – we suggested he gets out his compass and follows a bearing we gave him – he did not, and began walking towards five finger gully, just a hundred metres or so away from our left and an accident black spot.

“It’s not that way mate.” Charlie said – at this point slightly concerned that these folk would get themselves into trouble. We made sure to give them robust directions to head pretty much straight down the slope, and were glad to see they eventually listened and (hopefully) made it down safely.

We swiftly navigated to no4 gully and made a fast descent – with the added excitement of seeing a very skilled skiier drop in and cruise his way down it in pretty sub-optimal conditions. Sadly for us – the snow was too hard and consolidated to allow for a safe bum slide, so we walked down the gully this time.

We had an enjoyable lunch at the CIC, and were down by 4:30. Dinner was cooked, and a beer was enjoyed – what an excellent way to spend my 20th Birthday!

The Ben is a mountain of two sides. Every year, tens of thousands of tourists make the slog up the benign and boring tourist track – a wide path, never steep, and of minimal interest to the climber. The North Face feels entirely different – home to the biggest cliffs in the UK and some of the best winter climbing in Europe. At the mountaineering club’s Ben meet, Lara and I spent a day sampling the climbing on this immaculate mountain.

The day started early: unlike the Cairngorms where you can drive up to 700m, here you start at sea level and every metre of altitude is hard earned. At just before 7am, we left the North Face car park and began the long slog to the CIC hut. There was some gentle snow in the air, and the mountain looked spectacular! Exciting stuff!

After a brief rest at the CIC, we continued slogging up to Corrie nan Ciste. The original plan was Green Gully, a 3* IV 3 that looked utterly brilliant, but upon seeing a party on the first pitch with absolutely no protection on a 40m ice pitch, we opted for a different route. In the current conditions with lots of snow-ice, the climbing on Green Gully was straightforward (Meg and Charlie had an ace day on it), it was unprotectable as the snow ice did not yield any worthwhile screw placements, and often belays were on the marginal side and unlikely to hold a factor two fall. In essence – the leader is always soloing, and at times in a position where a fall would scupper both them and their partner. This was not a day that Lara and I fancied, so we opted for No 3 Gully Butress instead: another 3* mixed route but with some rock gear meaning it was far better protected in current conditions.

The first pitch was straightforward and easy angled ice: highly enjoyable. Lara made short work of this pitch – glad of a peg on the side to provide some protection as screws were marginal at best.

Parties above us kept showering us with falling ice and snow: Lara had to pull herself into the wall as she was bombarded by large chunks of snow ice. I was belaying in a more sheltered spot, but was also getting bombarded by football size chunks of ice. I put my backpack on and pulled it over my head to provide some protection from the shower from above, and I was mighty glad for my helmet.

I followed Lara up the first pitch and began the next pitch: a straightforward snowy slog to a rocky band where I belayed. Lara’s next pitch looked excellent: a snowy slog leading to an excellent mixed step. Due to parties ahead, we were belaying slightly off-line. This meant that when Lara reached the mixed step, she had pretty awful rope drag.

‘The rope drag is fucking awful’. I could see that she was practically being pulled off the mountain. There was little I could do to help.

‘Come back if you want to – can still go down’. I said – not wanting to put any pressure on to commit to a dangerous section of climbing.

She paused, then hammered in nut with some difficulty, before commencing a delicate dance up the wall. Carefully positioning her axes and fighting immense rope drag, she fought her way up the pitch and swiftly built a belay. An excellent lead.

I followed and set off on the final pitch: a wonderful airy pitch with an enjoyable, but improbable looking mixed step in an excellent position. I clipped a peg and placed a good cam before searching for a good hook. Thonk. A smile spread across my face – a small but absolutely perfect incut hook, amazing. I swapped hands on my tool and reached across the rocky step to a sidepull to pull myself across the void on. Some more searching was required, but eventually I found a good hook and scuttled my crampons along a small edge. I smiled as I marveled at the excellent quality of the climbing. Swiftly, I placed one last hook and reached the comfort of a ledge. Here, I placed an excellent hex, and enjoyed a romp up a ramp after an interesting pull over the bulge.

Halfway up the ramp, it occured to me that I would not have enough rope to reach the top, and there would be no other opportunties to belay: I’d violated the age old rule and passed a winter belay. I placed a good cam, and hammered in an offset. I also clipped a bomber tool. It was good enough…just. As Lara approached, enjoying the wonderful exposed mixed step, I suggested she established a belay at the purple hex: a far better position and it would safe us from being solely attached to the wall by slightly sub-optmal belay. This worked excellently, and after she put me back on belay, I made short work of the final 20m or so of climbing to the top.

We descended via no4 gully, an excellent bum-slide. The slog back out to the car park was, as ever, a little longer than you’d like. But, we’d had an excellent day of climbing, and dinner tasted especially good that evening.

The weather in Val Di Mello had so far been sub-optimal, with frequent afternoon thunderstorms limiting the potential for any climbing. Nevertheless – we journeyed up to the Allievi Rifugio to spend the night. The first objective for the day had been sopping wet – so our eyes turned to Guronsan – a ‘well equipped’ and ‘modern’ route up the 400m Pizzo Torrone Occidentale, at an amenable grade. Everything was telling us it should be a nice, quick, easy day. Back at the rifugio for a nice early afternoon coffee and a slice of cake, but, alas, the mountains never let you get away with things that easily.

Lara quested up the first pitch – a 50m friction slab. This pitch quickly gave us a harsh reality check of the nature of the bolting on this route – run out! The first bolt was about 25m up the pitch, which is not entirely unreasonable given the lower section of the route is likely often covered by snow, but the remaining runouts were large and consequential: the final 25m of climbing, having just three bolts, and given the compact nature of the rock, absolutely no opportunities to place additional protection. The mist in the air coated the rock with a fine layer of moisture: not enough to significantly hinder progress, but enough to make the smears feel sketchy and poor. Lara inched her way further up the pitch, linking together ripples of weakness in rock to make slow but steady progress. I kept paying out rope, feeling relieved each time Lara clipped a bolt, and gradually fearing the consequence of a fall as she edged further away from them. After a masterful lead, she reached the belay.

It was my turn to lead now. The next pitch looked no better. There was a 10m runout to the first bolt – risking a factor two fall straight onto the belay, with no opportunities to use any of the small rack we’d brought. I was a little tentative setting off from the belay, but took a deep breath and focused on climbing well and not fucking up. A corner led to a bold step out right, where the first bolt glistened at me. Daring me to commit to the slab and move away from the safety of my corner. I took a deep breath and positioned my foot onto a nubbin of granite, pressing it deeply into the rock, I tentatively transferred my weight to the nubbin. I stayed on the rock, breathed, and clipped the bolt. I was safe. The run out to the next bolt was just as terrifying – the climbing was no easier either, but it was at least more secure and a little steeper and more positive. The pitch continued in this fashion, this cycle of clipping a bolt and creating this bubble of safety around you, then questing your way towards it, knowing that you are entirely committed as the technical and friction-based style of the climbing is exceptionally hard to reverse. The final runout to the next belay was larger, about 15m from the last bolt. 10m before the belay, the rock became sopping wet. I traversed 5m to the left and right of the line to place two pieces of gear: good medium-sized cams.

‘Watch me here Lara, this bit is sopping’.

I began questing up the slab: overgripping terribly in the hope that I would be able to save myself from a massive fall should my feet pop. Slowly – I edged higher, the belay was just metres away now. I was entirely committed, there was no way for me to downclimb the wet rock back to the safety of the gear I’d placed, and although a fall would have been safe, it would have been massive (around 20m). All that was left before I reached some juggy flakes leading to the bolts was a small quartzite band. Terrified, I placed my foot on a crystal and stood up – expecting to take flight at any moment, but to my surprise the wet rock provided just enough friction to keep me on the mountain. Happy days! I enjoyed the final few metres of juggy romping to the belay.
At last I could rest for a little. Lara followed me up the pitch, and we both remarked how utterly terrifying, sandbagged, and serious the climbing had been so far. We agreed to carry on anyway: the next pitch looked better bolted, and it was an abseil descent anyway so we were not exposing ourselves to any additional danger by continuing the climb.

The climbing was more enjoyable now: Lara quested up a slab above to a bulge, which took cams well and was overcome elegantly. The bolts were placed intelligently on this pitch, although still extremely spaced (8-10m apart), they were where you wanted them, protecting difficult moves, but leaving the easier climbing feeling quite bold.

After this pitch, the grade dropped off a bit and the bolting became better. A few rambly pitches led to a spectacular slab, which was amazingly with exciting moves on the arete, involving high feet. A little steeper than the slabs on the first and second pitches, the holds here were more positive, and therefore the climbing felt far more secure and enjoyable. The runouts were even good craic at this point: you never felt unsafe, but you knew you had to pay attention and focus one each individual move.

After a final scramble, we reached the top. It had been a stressful morning with some serious climbing. We layered up, and sat down, enjoying a rest. The weather had come in a bit at this point: cloud has turned into drizzle, and as we had our wraps it felt like we were back in Scotland. We then began the abseils down, the first one dropping straight over a sharp granite edge.

As Lara followed me down, we began to pull the ropes. As we pulled it down from above, my heart sank. The blue rope was badly core-shot, and had a 30cm section of white spindly core showing. Fuck. We both realised this was a serious situation: stuck 400m up a cliff, with no phone signal, in deteriorating conditions. It would be a few hours till any help was sent, so sitting it out would be an unpleasant and rather cold option. We had to solve this on our own. Luckily, we’d taken due care to practice self rescue before the trip, so began to formulate a plan (thank you Jez!).

We had 2x60m ropes originally, and needed 2x50s to get down to the ground. One of our 60m ropes was still intact, so I proposed doing a Krab-Block: weighting the undamaged rope and using the other as a tagline to pull it down. Upon doing the next abseil (conveniently the longest one of the route), we could assess if we had enough ‘healthy’ rope to simply cut off the coreshot end, and make progress down the route with shortened, but still long enough rope, or if we’d need to continue using a Krab block.

I set off – immensely focused. I checked, double checked, and triple checked everything we did, and Lara did the same. Dropping a rope here, or setting up something incorrectly would be unthinkable.

We made it to the next anchor, and to our immense joy, we had enough healthy rope to remove the coreshot section and proceed down as normal. Blissful. Nevertheless, we still had 7 50m abseils to go. Focus was still required.

We carefully made it down, each time we pulled the ropes breathing a sigh of relief as they came hurtling past us – not caught up on some devilish spire of rock forcing complex manoeuvres to retrieve them. I felt exhausted upon reaching the ground.

I scoffed a bar of ritter and we made it back to the rifugio. The coreshot had only cost us an hour or so, but mentally it had been a very stressful experience. Ritter, coffee, and tortellini that night tasted especially good, and we schemed our plans for the next days route that evening.

The thaw over the last week had decimated almost all the remaining snow – leaving the Northern Corries depressingly black. A brief midweek snow had revived things a little, and put things just about into condition. Psyche was high – with good weather and uni work cast aside, we journeyed up to Aviemore on Friday night.

Dossing behind the youth hostel, we spent a cold night in the tent before our alarms blared us into action. Soggy porridge oats, the joy of slightly damp clothes, and getting showered with condensation awoke us slightly rudely, and we reached the bus stop a little chilly.

Up arriving at the ski centre car park – we set off towards Snechda. The conditions were excellent – good visibility and low temps. Dreamy. The route looked in acceptable condition – just white enough to avoid the Blackwatch. We approached the base of the route via a steep snow slope, and established a belay.

The first pitch did not set us up particularly well. I initially tried to do the standard route, which traverses across a slab. With any more build up, this would be straightforward if bold, but in these conditions it was not something I felt comfortable doing. There was no gear, only poor hooks in thin turf that felt like they could easily rip, and my feet were smearing on rounded granite – not good. I down climbed (somewhat shaken), and took the alternative start for lean conditions, a turfy corner. The initial section was unprotected, but soon there began to be some gear. Generally the climbing was straightforward, except a short step which had good gear, but was run out and the hooks were not excessively inspiring. I fought my way up this, and reached a belay to bring Lara up.

Lara made short work of the pitch, and began questing up the rib. The climbing was more enjoyable now, proper snowed up rock climbing, with good gear, and plenty of good hooks and torques. She dispatched this pitch with ease and style, and found a belay to bring me up.

I then set off up a thin slab, with good gear and satisfying torques, to reach a system of grooves and ledges leading to a belay. This was my favourite pitch of the climbing- 40m of reasonably sustained joyous movement, with plenty of gear, and hooks exactly where you need them. I’d warn of some loose blocks on this pitch, of significant size that could easily scupper someone. Due care must be taken, even in frozen conditions.

As Lara was seconding a flurry of snow came in, quickly covering everything. It was cold but joyously elemental, and an excellent day to be on the hill. Lara reached me and begun the pitch leading to the fingers – a slabby rib with a few tricky steps. This was an excellent and enjoyable pitch, with good positions and exposure. She, of course, made short work of it, and brought me up to the Fingers.

Although intimidating, the fingers were not particularly difficult, the hooks were good and by bridging between the two they could be overcome with ease. A final short, technical slab led to the top (avoidable to the left or right), where we topped out in joyous golden light. Lara was rather cold at this point, so we swiftly made moves to get off the hill.

Overall, this was a highly enjoyable route. I do not feel it merits 3*, but 2* seems appropriate. The quantity of loose blocks and the unpleasant climbing on the first pitch do sadly detract from the fantastic finale. Nevertheless – a truly excellent day in the hill.

Piz Badile is a mountain I’ve wanted to climb for a long time. Routes like the Cassin and the North Ridge tackle such inspiring features no self-respecting climber could resist their pull.

The South Face of the Badile, although less dramatic and smaller in scale, still stands 500m high and is home to some dramatic and awe-inspiring routes. The face is bordered on the left by a rocky spur which the Normal Route follows, and on the right by the Marimonti ridge – a stunning line which Charlie and I climbed a few days later. The Monteleni (established in 1935 by M. Molteni and M.Camporini) is the classic of the face. A weaving and wonderful line taking the most amenable line up the face – precisely weaving together ledges and groves to create an undeniable masterpiece of a route. For modern climbers – the difficulties are perhaps too low to be interesting, never getting harder then V+, and mostly around III-IV. Other modern routes on the face are far more serious propositions with sections of VII and VII+ – and as is standard for the area – have limited gear and no in-situ belays. For most – Stella Retica marks the sweet-spot. Generally well equipped with bolts – and with retreat possible for almost the entire route – it tackles a wonderful line, on excellent rock, up the right-hand side of the face. The climbing is fairly sustained around 5c-6a, and the route is 500m in length.

We woke up at 4:30 in the Gianetti – our noise awakening a Swiss Couple who would be behind us on the route (who later chastised us for being too noisy). After a swift breakfast, we set off to the base of the route. The amphitheatre at the base of the South Face was stunning – smooth granite slabs melted seamlessly into shear walls, with streaks of water glistening in the early morning sun.

We had some difficulty locating the start of the route – the guidebook topo was frankly awful, and there were no bolts or paint visible. We opted to quest up a grove and hope to find a bolt – which luckily, Lara did after 50m of climbing! Great success! As Lara begun her pitch – the swiss couple approached from behind…

‘Very noisy in the morning, yes. Quite route you see’

We’d spotted them from afar on the approach and joked that they’d be following us up the route. We were both rather displeased.

‘Ah man…very fair. I’m sorry totally our fault’

‘It is ok yes, but you must move fast today yes there is a storm approaching later – you need to move very fast to stay safe’.

‘We can overtake if you move slow?’ Asked the swiss women – a rather reasonable request, but nevertheless, it came across as a little rude.

‘Yes of course’ I sighed.

The ropes went tight and I begun following up the pitch. I reached Lara and told her about my conversation at the base. She too was displeased. We decided that we would climb at our own pace – and just enjoy ourselves regardless of the pressure from behind.

The next pitch was excellent – a flakey juggy pitch up to a rightward traverse. The bolting was sparse, and I was glad to have a few friends to keep everything a bit safer. Lara followed swiftly and set off up her next pitch.

The Swiss man followed swiftly. He was tall, perhaps 195cm – and climbed beautifully. He was like a spider – climbing with his hips far from the wall and his arms moving in a long, lolloping fashion. The ease with which he dispatched the pitch was quite inspiring. After our…tense… interaction at the start, we both had an enjoyable conversation about the quality of the climbing on that pitch, and how nice the positions were.

Upon reuniting with Lara – I did the easy walking pitch across the ledge and took Lara up to the base of the crux slab: a 40m friction slab pitch with no gear and one bolt to protect the crux. Lara climbed it excellently – calmly, accepting the massive runout at the top, where a fall would have significant consequences.

The Swiss wads were some distance behind us at this point. Somewhat of a relief – it’s never pleasant climbing with a team close behind you. I led the next pitch, and enjoyable 55m quest up a corner system, then over a bulge to a slab above. The quality of the rock was superb – excellent granite – with beautiful alpine flowers on every ledge. Although the sheer exposure of this face is undoubtedly less than the North Face of the Badile, and the face feels somewhat broken up, the warm glow of the sun on your back and the views out and across to Italy are genuinely stomach-churning. The crag overall felt similar in character to Shelterstone in the Cairngorms, just South facing, and twice the size.

The next pitches were exceptionally enjoyable – although not difficult (no harder than 5b), they provided an enjoyable ramble up to the difficulties on the upper pitches. The bolts – although sparse – meant you were never left doubting which way you had to go, and every belay was on a comfortable ledge.

The last few pitches were a little harder – a long corner, with a fair bit of trad gear required to keep it safe was an exceptionally enjoyable pitch. The positions here were excellent, as the route traversed onto the steeper and less ledgey central portion of the face. I loved this pitch, especially the section overcoming the bulge in the middle.

Lara’s pitch looked rather intimidating – a long rising traverse, about 45m, on fairly poor rock. In classic granitic fashion – this was not simply ‘break a small hand-hold and take a whip’ rock, but ‘pull on the entire flake your climbing on cautiously because it feels like it might snap rock. The bolts were very sparse, and the opportunities for good gear were limited due to the poor quality of the rock. Lara cautiously (and brilliantly) edged across the void, gingerly pulling on every flake, and slotting cams hopefully behind expanding flakes. The Swiss couple below were watching us from below – but kindly waited on the ledge, putting no pressure on us to rush now: they were satisfied we’d made fast progress up the face. Lara reached the belay and began bringing me across.

I led the last pitch, a bold but not excessively difficult pitch rambling to the final ridge. Lara followed quickly, and we took coils and began the short traverse to the proud monument marking the top of Piz Badile. As we moved along the crest – the views down into Switzerland and down to the North Face and the Cassin were frankly awe-inspiring. I knew I would have little choice but to return as soon as possible and tackle that gut-wrenchingly stunning line.

We had lunch at the summit – perhaps one of the happiest meals of my life. It had been the best month of my life – and I was so proud of what we’d achieved. All that awaited was a straightforward descent, then Ritter, Coke, and Coffee a the Gianetti.

And luckily for us, the descent was just that: straightforward. After initial route-finding difficulties, we moved together down, climbing the normal route – placing a few points of intermediate protection between us. A few abseils were required lower down the ridge, and we reached the ground just as the thunderstorms the Swiss had warned us of began to rumble in the distance.

That night, after the storms had passed, and we sat and had dinner looking across the Italian Alps, the Swiss man approached us:

“Good touring with you guys today – you were fast today yes well done!”

A beautiful route, a great trip, and most importantly, the approval of a Swiss mountaineer. Great Success.