Martins most excellent adventure

Martins most excellent adventure. Final installment

Its 4pm. A few hours of post-show email catch-ups had turned out to be the best part of a working-day of email catch-ups. Throwing the last few pieces of kit into our packs we were soon to be off on our post-Outdoor Retailer mini-break, a 2-day trip into the remote heart of the North Cascades.

Do you get many Bears in this part of the Cascades? I enquired to Craig. The response was casually dismissive. We neednt worry, you only occasionally see bears in the Cascades, we just need to be sensible.

A long single track road wound its way some 23 odd miles down the spine of the valley. After the first 10 miles or so, the safety and reassurance of tarmac gave way to a maintained gravel track, after 20 miles the condition of the track deteriorated further and gave way to an unmaintained dirt road.

Sitting in the back of Craigs four-wheeled drive Chrysler Van with Josh riding shotgun, Martin and myself bounced along in the back feeling every gravel chip, every rut. I stared into the gloom of the forest floor with little to see except dense forest in the half-light of the rapidly diminishing evening sky.

A Bear! Look a Bear! I shouted excitedly.The Van threw itself to a sharp halt as Craig pressed on the brakes. Quickly reversing back along the track to the point where i had utterly failed to remain calm and composed. Sure enough, scurrying into the murky shadows of the forest, a Black Bear.

Half an hour later, as the long shadows were being overwhelmed by encroaching darkness, I began whistling. I was at the front of the group, walking from the Trailhead deep into the forest towards Spider Meadow. The lateness of the hour meant we would not reach the meadow before nightfall and I was determined to not have any unexpected meetings with Yogi or any of his cousins.

After an hour and a half of walking we reached the boundary of the official Wilderness area. It was nearing 11 o'clock at night. Spying a small clearing in the forest, now was as good a time as any to call an end to the day.

Craig tucks into a late dinner

We sorted out an area to sleep and sat down to a late, but very welcome dinner. I heard a rustle. What the hell was that? I thought to myself. Images of four climbers mauled bodies ran through my head. Brits killed in Bear Savagery, that would be a good headline. I then realised we were about to be mauled by at least four bears, either that or this was some horrific genetic mutation and we were in fact about to be mauled by a giant, 8-eyed Bigfoot. I turned the beam of my torch to scan the darkness. Just 10 feet away, I caught the flinch of an ear, then another. Funny looking Bear I thought. Staring straight at us, and totally bemused by our presence stood four deer. Clearly annoyed that we had set up camp in their living room. Well fed I went to sleep safe in the knowledge I was sleeping in the middle of the group and that martin would be eaten first.

 

Josh awakes from his slumber in the forest

Martin & Craig enjoy a leisurely breakfast

The following morning we headed off towards Spider Meadow. Like characters from the Borrowers or Mrs Pepperpot, we past underneath towering trees that made you feel like you were immersed in some childhood fantasy world, our statures dwarfed by the theirs.

The towering Wenatchee National Forest



The locals appear again

We eventually arrived in the high alpine valley of Spider Meadow a little before lunch. By now the dense forest was beginning to thin. All around us were the ravaged scars of winter avalanches, foot thick tree trunks snapped in half like matchsticks, torn, twisted and flung around the valley floor. We didnt pause for long, but instead continued on towards Phelps Creek, crunching through a lush, moist carpet of grasses, wild Lupins and Indian Fire-Starters.

Spider Meadow. Glacier Peak Wilderness. North Cascades.

Craig and Josh survey the avalanche damage

I scanned the cirque of summits lying in front of me. Nothing quite made sense. The slightly unusual map scale, being in miles rather than kilometers wasnt helping. Where was Dumbell Mountain? Lying at the head of Phelps Creek in the Glacier Peaks Wilderness, it was the 72nd highest mountain in Washington State. That statistic alone was utterly forgettable but that didnt mean the mountain should have disappeared. With no obvious trail from the upper reaches of the valley, we ditched any unnecessary overnight gear and went off scouting the upper valley.

Phelps Creek

The approach into the upper reaches of the valley wasnt obvious, but nor was it difficult. Climbing out of the heather clad mountain-sides we eventually reached a snowfield. Holding much more snow than the guidebook led to believe was normal for late summer. I looked at my watch, it was a little after 2pm, we'd gone this far, we may as well keep going I thought. I could now spy the higher snow-field and the obvious notch into the skyline ridge we were aiming for.

I struck off up the steepening snow-field. the ferocity of my kick-steps gradually increasing. Above lay shattered rocks. There were plenty of objective risks, aside from the obvious one stemming from a lack of crampons. I focussed on the edge of the snow-field, ocassionally glancing down to assess the slope falling away beneath me, dug my axe deep and kept kicking furious steps for the others to follow.

High above the timberline, large snow-fields linger

Craig on the summit of Dumbell Mountain

A very happy Josh on the summit of Dumbell Mountain

I stepped across onto the partial security of semi-solid rock. Above lay a narrow chimney, littered with loose rock. We stuck close together and scrambled upwards to the main ridge. Half an hour later and we stood at the summit of Dumbell. Josh could scarcely contain his excitement. It was only his second ever climbing trip. Not a bad place to cement your climbing career.

Josh, Martin & Craig descending the lower snowfield

 

Walking wounded. Rich tends to Craig after having had a lucky escape

We had descended past most of the major difficulties without incident. With a clear run-out beneath us I decided to head off down to the base of the snow-field and wait for the others to catch up. As I approached the edge of the snow-field I heard a gut wrenching scream. The sort of scream that I've heard before, I dont like it. Its a scream that says I'm alive but I've really hurt myself. I looked around and saw the small outline of Craig lurching around on the boulder field above me. Josh and Martin were standing nearby, motionless. For a few seconds i feared Craig had broken something major. I started making my way back up the snowfield. Craig was now on his feet. With the assistance of Josh a definitely bruised and possibly broken Craig was hobbling towards me.

 

He looked a little shaken and was clearly in pain. His ribs were bruised, his leg lacerated and his ankle was badly swollen. I doubted he could have broken anything, since he was walking but he was nonetheless in a real mess. Our only option was to head down and slowly. It was nightfall before we reached Spider Meadow once more. That was enough adventure for one day.

Criaig smiles through the pain with Martin

The adventures over...time to go home

 

 

Weather windows in the Valais

I'm just back from a week-long visit to the Valais region of the Alps in Switzerland. Despite being their for 8 days we ended up having just a four-day weather window after which unseasonably cold and very unsettled weather restricted us to the valley as heavy rain and (above 2000m) considerable snow-fall called an early halt to the Alpine summer.

Valley Dining. Zinal Rothorn is the obvious peak in the background.



Seeing what could be our only chance for any meaningful climbing there was little time to do the normal acclimatisation, that would be left to an entirely on-foot ascent from the valley floor straight to the first of two 4000m peaks we had identified worthwhile routes on - Zinal Rothorn at 4221m and the Ober Gabelhorn at 4063m.




The Trift glacier and the Wellenkuppe



Ober Gabelhorn on extreme left, edge of photo with Wellenkuppe on left

It was a hot and arduous approach to the Rothorn Hut, with no intrusive cable-cars or railways to lift us out of the valley, it was 1700m of climbing first through steep wooded hillsides and then glacial morraine and scree. We arrived at the Rothorn Hut in well under four hours, I was knackered.

The alarm sounded just before 4am. With breakfast consisting of Bread & Jam and a few cups of tea hastily swallowed we were off into the early morning darkness of the high Alp shortly before 5am.



Dan scans the guidebook as dawn breaks

Easy climbing under darkness

We moved up the glacier before breaking through an chimney system and traversing several snow and scree fields to bring us on the upper shoulder of the mountain. We had been going for around 2 hours, darkness had finally given way to morning and we approaching 3900m. From a narrow snowy crest the route traversed under the Rothorn's south face, weaving a narrow passage across loose, technical ground before climbing up to an obvious notch on the South-West Ridge. From here more technical and exposed ground beckoned - across the Biner Slab before a series of twists and turns on the high summit ridge, with vertigo-inducing drops on every side gave way to the summit. We had been climbing for some four and a half hours.



Rich on the summit of Zinal Rothorn (Circa 4200m)

We paused for a rest on the summit, before, keen to avoid becoming trapped amongst the numerous guided parties we began our descent. A series of rapid abseils and some steady down-climbing brought us back to the Fruhstuckplatz and the heat of the morning sun. From here we knew we could take our time, only a cool Panache back at the hut beckoned and we returned to the hut in time for lunch.

A warm descent - Monte Rosa, Breithorn etc behind

It was 3pm before I decided to fall asleep. A quick power-knap before dinner. I awoke bleary eyed shortly before 6pm. Despite this I would be fast asleep again some four hours later getting some much needed rest before our second day of climbing would begin on the Ober Gabelhorn.

Described as one of the finest and most impressive of any Alpine peaks, many people will never have heard of it. Despite its appearance, elevation and intricacy its not a peak that automatically rolls off the tongue when you think of great alpine peaks. But its a beautiful mountain. No easy way up, sheer faces of snow and ice, long, narrow and intricate ridge lines.

The hanging clouds of the previous evening has dissipated by the time we left the hut shortly after 430am. But the wind was up. Occasional gusts carried nervous tension as we trudged across the pitch black glacier.

We maintained a steady pace as Dan did his best to search out the best line as we weaved between arching crevasses. We crossed the Bergschrund as the first tentative signs of light began to appear.
Steep ground, but relatively easy climbing brought us onto the main ridge proper. From here great climbing over slabs gave way to broken and bouldery ground on the upper ridge of the Wellenkuppe.

Arriving at the col on the approach to the Wellenkuppe

Climbing onto the snowy dome of the Wellenkuppe the full scale of the Ober Gabelhorn revealed itself. Disappearing into the middle disance was a long and narrow ridge, heavily corniced before the full sweep of the north face reared sharply up to its 4063m summit. The ridge itself was relatively straightforward before a steepish 50 degree snow slope gave way to rocky technical ground and after another hour of climbing, the summit.

Looking down the NE ridge
 The dome of the Wellenkuppe behind



Dan with another tiny dot far below - another climber!

It took several hours to descend from the summit to the narrow ridge, numerous abseils on some questionable anchors brought us safely down the steep face. From here it was time for brain overload as we carefully descended further to the ridge, conscious of the sweeping North face dropping away to our left.

By the time we reached the Wellenkuppe on the return leg I was spent. 2 days of rapid acclimatisation above 4000m were taking their toll, as was a long and mentally involved descent from the summit. I needed to re-fuel before I could go any further. There was still at least another hour of descending over complicated ground before we would reach the relative safety of the glacier, still some 300m beneath us. We had been on the go for some 11 hours by the time we returned to the hut.

3 hours later, the storm clouds had gathered, we were racing down to the valley through a thunderstorm. The next few days would be little better, a monstrous drop in temperature saw the freezing level falling back to just above 2000m, with temperatures of around -15c at 4000m and several days of rain and snow. We would get one more brief foray to the high mountains before coming home, but which would be thwarted by the sheer amount of fresh snow.



After the storms. Deep snow on the Breithorn Plateau.

Gear:

I took various bits of kit with me, including some old favourite classics - Compressor Vest, Microtherm Jacket and also some newer pieces such as the Trojan Jacket and Gabbro Pants but of everything my main favourites and most used pieces for this trip were.

Super Alpine Gloves

These are dexterous, sticky and with just enough insulation for use in the high alps in Summer. They grip axes, allow you to climb rock, fiddle with karabiners. They're excellent. The only downside is that the Sheepskin Pittards Oiltac leather is not as durable as Cow or Goatskin, but their useability more than makes up for this.

Randonnee Gloves

Carried but not worn. In colder conditions these are my favourite all-round glove.

G2 Ultimate Mountain Pants

Normally overkill for lower-level Alpine use but for use in the high mountains they were spot-on. Windproof, highly water-resistant and great to climb in. Given the unpredictable weather forecast I carried a very light pair of waterproof overtrousers as a back-up in case of storms.

Concordia Jacket

I dont often carry mid-weight fleece but the High Loft Thermal Pro used in the Concordia means this is relatively light and compressible for its warmth.

Bastion Jacket

Whilst climbing I only ever carried this, as my main spare warm layer. But it was much valued for sitting outside mountain huts and lounging around camp in the cooler evenings. Light, compressible and not at all bulky.

Firelite Jacket

Lightweight and very breathable shell is rapidly making me question the need for Softshell for this type of trip. I toyed with the idea of carrying a Softshell up the mountain but everytime opted to take lightweight insulation backed up by this GORE-TEX Active jacket. Its breathable enough to wear all day, from very early in the morning until the heat of late morning, its hood just about fits over my Black Diamond Tracer helmet and it means that if the weather did deteriorate, I would be totally protected. Not currently available but the Firefox Jacket is, with the benefit of one extra pocket.

Martins most excellent adventure

Martins most excellent adventure. 1st installment.

It's ten to eight in the evening. Across the expanse of a slate blue lake, the sun is slowly edging its way down closer towards the jagged skyline of pine forest that carpet this corner of Idaho. The sounds of the radio are being drowned out by the constant drone of the concrete covered interstate, through the noise I can hear an advert for a bank that offers concessions for US military personnel. Martin, one of our UK sales reps had done such an excellent job at immersing himself in US culture, short of turning up in a Stetson, that we'd decided we would name our Impromptu road trip back north after him. Martins most excellent adventure was in full swing.

Fuelled by an unhealthy mix of M&M's, Coca-Cola, Barbecue-Flavoured crisps, Snickers bars and the occasional Twix we had been on the road for nearly 36 hours. Crammed into a Chrysler Astra van, Craig, Josh, Martin and myself were on our way back to the home of Mountain Equipment Inc. We'd covered a solid thousand miles, visited the states of Utah, Wyoming, Montana and now Idaho and were still some 350 miles from journeys end in the north-western corner of Washington State.

Outdoor Retailer

Just a few days earlier, we had all been in full swing at the USA's major outdoor trade show, Outdoor Retailer, which unusually for something stateside is, for once, a smaller affair than its European cousin. Protected from the searing desert heat outside, we went about our business in the 'Salt Palace', managing to squeeze in some 50 odd appointments from our 30 by 20 foot patch of ground, which was the temporary hub of all things Mountain Equipment, running through our product lines with prospective retail accounts, journalists, bloggers and the mildly curious.



Josh tells it as it is

In the evening we would escape the metropolis of Salt Lake City and head up to Park City, some forty minutes drive to the East. Once a mining town, this small town on the edge of the Wasatch mountains is now more famous as a major ski resort and home to the 2002 Winter Olympic bob-sleigh run and ski jump. The remnants of the old town still remain, with a crowded mix of highly colourful, small wooden buildings lining the main street surrounded by an ever increasing number of Condo's, apartments and houses. Hard-Up miners and settlers have given way to those with the money to live in this now affluent ski resort and a steady throng of tourists.

The Wild West

Heading out on I-80 towards Evanston and the state-line, we left Park City on Monday morning. Wyoming would then beckon, mile after mile of the mid-west, only occasionally punctuated by small towns. Each one guarded by a sign detailing its population and elevation. None were bigger than 500 or so people, most were considerably smaller. In between were dotted farmsteads and ranches, dry brush-land smattered with the occasional intense burst of lush green grass from the huge irrigation systems that are the life-line to those making a living from this wild land. It would be nearly 5 hours before we reached the first big town, another major mountain resort, Jackson Hole.

Essential rehydration in Jackson Hole

Entering from the South it is easy to question what makes Jackson Hole so special. Travel just a few miles further North and as the forested hills give way to an expansive plain and the jagged peaks of the Teton mountain range come into view, there is little to doubt. Jackson is a wonderful town but it happily plays second fiddle to the natural wonder that surrounds it. Running along a geological fault line, the Teton mountain range was formed during a major uplift a good few million years ago and they're still growing, rising straight up from the valley floor to over 13,000 feet. At its base, a flat valley floor that is home to the National Elk Reserve and to the North, arguably the most famous national park in the world, Yellowstone.



The Teton Range

 

I'm not sure the herds of Bison, Grizzly Bears or Wolves make much distinction between the Teton National Park and Yellowstone but to help us humans there's a big sign and ranger post. Like all National Parks here in the USA you can't just wander in, it's tightly regulated and you have to pay.

Yellowstone National Park

It was late afternoon by the time we made our way into Yellowstone National Park, we didn't have much time but Craig was determined that we would at least drive through the park and experience what we could of this amazing natural wilderness. Amazing is an over-used word but not for Yellowstone. We stopped briefly at Lewis Falls, glimpsed Osprey hovering in the thermals above magical river basins and caught a glimpse of the giant Yellowstone lake. Dinner was beckoning as was one final highlights of the day.

Old Faithful

Turning off the highway I'd not fully grasped what a major tourist venue Yellowstone quite was. That was until we reached the site of what is probably the most famous Geyser in the world. Nestled amongst the forest, Old Faithful is just one of several Geysers that erupt from the bubbling thermal springs, but it's the only one to erupt practically like clock-work. Every forty odd minutes, every day, super heated water erupts from the lunar like landscape into a sky-high fountain to the delight of the thousands of tourists that sit patiently on the boardwalks. Just a few hundred yards away, Old Faithful Lodge is a historic megalith of a structure, now joined by a modern visitor information centre and large hotel. It wasn't quite the isolated, unspoilt natural beauty I was expecting but the lodge is in its own way, an impressive sight. It's giant internal wooden structure looms impressively high, one of the finest timber constructions I've seen. Less than a hundred years old but looking like some medieval scaffolding, the raw outline of tree timbers reach high into the open roof, four of five storeys high.

Old Faithful

 

By the time we sat down for dinner we had managed to miss Old Faithful twice. Reliable it may be but to the second it is not. Twice we had scampered across to the steaming, sulphurous mound to be greeted by the sight of dispersing tourists, all with satisfied looks on their faces. The next eruption was scheduled for 17 minutes past 9. It was our final chance to witness it before nightfall. As the light began to fade over Yellowstone, a quiet hue fell across the sulphurous landscape as the excited chatter of expectation grew. Slowly the rising steam gave way to bubbling water and then shortly after ten past nine, Old Faithful was true to her name, albeit a little early.

Authenticity

Earlier that week, talking to the many journalists who were wandering the exhibition halls of Outdoor Retailer, I'd been cornered by a journalist, keen to learn more about our mysterious British brand. What's your USP? What makes you stand out from all the others? After 3 days of presentations I was beginning to feel a little jaded, I muttered something about the small details, the subtlety of design all too easily missed and a few other things that I can't quite remember, but the reply back was that, without wishing to sound cliche'd, it was refreshing to see a truly authentic outdoor brand.

Rich & Craig awake in Yellowstone NP

 

It was now 630 am, I was lying in my sleeping bag, in the open, on the edge of the Yellowstone National Park. Ten yards away, Josh who had been asleep, crammed into the van, was now thumping my climbing pack, trying unsuccessfully to silence the alarm on my mobile phone. It wasn't the first time that week that I'd left my phone to accidentally wake someone else up. Under the fading stars, Craig, Martin and myself had been blissfully unaware of this electronic intrusion, only the stirring of the air as dawn broke over the horizon gave any indication that it was time to wake up. It was a scene from a 21st Western, blankets had given way to down sleeping bags, tethered horses had made way for a four-wheel drive van, only the Corale we were lying beside and the mountains in front remained unchanged. It wasn't the usual standard of accommodation I was used to whilst travelling for work, but that night, it beat any modern, soul-less hotel. I hoped the previous weeks journalist would approve.

My sleeping bag was damp with a heavy dew as I did my best to wake myself. Craig was already doing his best to add further annoyance to Josh by tapping on the steamy van windows. Across the valley, the white steaming mound of Mammoth Springs could be seen, looking more like some industrial intrusion billowing unknown toxins into the sky, it was actually another of Yellowstone's geological natural wonders. Sooner or later, this entire geological crater will erupt, and wipe out much of what can now be seen, and begin another chapter in this constantly evolving landscape. Luckily all was quiet this morning, other than a steadily increasing number of tourists. We packed away our things and readied to leave Yellowstone.

A proper cup of tea

Sitting down for breakfast, Martin was showing enormous British reserve as he attempted to define the word 'Hot' to the hostess. I thought i drank a lot of tea but Martin surpassed even my best efforts. His first pot of tea had arrived in a usual luke warm state and he was keen to help this little diner in Gardiner become possibly the only one in the state of Montana trained in the art of serving a proper cup of Yorkshire Tea.

Rich & Josh on a morning warm-up at the West Entrance to Yellowstone NP.

 

He was making steady progress as the second pot arrived with our breakfast. Grasping the pot to wait for that tell-tale sensory sensation of heat, he grasped it for slightly too long before realising a further round of training would be necessary. For a nation who had introduced us to warnings of hot water in their beverages, Luke warm, weak tea was a hard one to fathom. I opted for a warm, brown liquid resembling coffee as I tucked into my bacon and egg.

Big Sky and Prolite Mountain Gear

Back on the road, we head north along the Yellowstone river into the state of Montana. Expanses of thick forest had given way to wide open mountains, grass and broken woodland. This was the Montana I was expecting, this was big sky country.

We headed north and then West towards Bozeman, a growing college town on the edge of the Bridger mountain range and home to one of Mountain Equipments first supporting gear shops in the USA, Prolite Mountain Gear. Bozeman is an attractive town of some 40,000 odd residents, modest brick buildings, boutiques and art shops mark the makings of a town that's got plenty of life in it. And so too has Brad, Prolite's general manage. A larger than life character in every respect and passionate Montana resident. It's not difficult to see why.

Brad (General Manager of Prolite Mountain Gear) talks to Craig

Within 20 minutes of the shop is some great climbing, both in summer and winter, great skiing, great fishing, great rafting. How anyone has the time to a run a shop in these parts is beyond me. Come the winter, they run demo evenings every Wednesday where you can turn up, grab some boots and tools and go find some steep ice. It's little wonder they have seen rapid growth in their relatively short history, the place just oozes enthusiasm and passion for the outdoors.

Prolite Mountain Gear

 

Brad was keen to go and show us some of his beloved Montana but sadly on this occasion time wasn't on our side, we still had many hours of driving to go. So after a quick 45 minute tour of the shop which included a look around their workshop where a spirited staff were making and modifying bits of gear to their own requirements we were on the move again.

Stu McAleese guards the entrance to Prolite Mountain Gear

We headed West towards Butte (or butt as Martin had decided to call it), once one of the copper capitals of the world before continuing Westwards towards Missoula, the administrative centre of Montana and home of the University of Montana. Cruising along the interstate through the sweltering summer heat, Butte would be an easy to forget place were it not home to one of the largest open cast copper mines in the world.

The long road north

Anywhere else and it would have overwhelmed the landscape but here in an endless sky it was just another hole in the ground that had brought considerable wealth and prosperity. Guarding its deep cuttings and levels was a network of lift towers that had served the deep shaft mining operations that ran in parallel to the open cast mine. It's vast economic wealth attracted many immigrant workers from all over the world, including the UK, and is apparently one of the few places where you can buy a Cornish Pasty in the USA. It also brought huge environmental damage, and vast sums of money have been spent in the past 30 years attempting to rectify it.

The French Connection and journeys end

We had been driving through Montana since early morning, it was early evening before we crossed the state-line into Idaho. As the sun began to lower in the sky, a raft of French place-names, Coeur D'alene being the most obvious, gave clues to the French Canadian fur trappers and missionaries who had settled here in the infancy of the modern state in the early 18th century.

We were cutting through our densest forest since leaving Yellowstone and our flirtation across the Northern half of Idaho was a relatively short lived affair. As darkness fell we reached our final state.
Washington is one of the most mountainous states in the US but on its Eastern side it's a vast semi arid plain. We drove through Spokane, a rather plain and ordinary looking town that serviced the agricultural industry in this corner of Washington as well as being home to Mountain Gear, another of our supporting US retail partners. It wasn't quite like driving across the M62 but the high moor-like landscape had certain similarities as we passed dinky sized combines carving their way across vast expanses of wheat fields.

As the darkness finally swallowed up any trace of remaining daylight we began our descent from the eastern plains towards the vast Columbia river, one of North America's great waterways. Draining a vast basin of the North-Western United States and cutting a great chasm through Washington state it marked the gradual climb back towards the Cascades. We could see little of its enormity other than a dark snaking outline some half a mile wide as we crossed the shadowy outlines of Vantage bridge. Ahead only a series of warning lights that traced across the night sky revealed a vast network of wind turbines.

Climbing up along he Snoquamie pass we had reached the Cascades, the mountain chain that dominates this region, that runs from Oregon right to the Canadian border and that signalled the nearness of journey's end. It would be another hour and well past midnight before we reached Stanwood, our final destination an hour or so to the north of Seattle.

Stubaier Alpen

Touring in the Stubai Alps - Austria

I spent all of last week in our German offices, working on next Spring and Winter's product ranges. Nestling in the heart of the Bavarian Countryside, only a matter of minutes from the foothills of the Nothern Alps and only an hour or so from the Austrian Tyrol it is an all too tempting spot for escaping into the mountains.

With relatively warm temperatures predicated, the avalanche risk at lower elevations was forecast to be high and so Thomas and myself decided to head over towards the central Alps in the Stubai region of Austria, to allow us to get above 3000m and find the best conditions. All photos courtesy of Thomas Strobl.

Skinning up the Pfaffenferner glacier, Monica behind (bottom R)

Taking advantage of the uplifts at the Stubaigletchser resort we quickly found ourselves basking in the sun at nearly 3000 metres. It was 10 o'clock and already warm. Our desination that day was the highest peak in the region, the Zuckerhutl (the SugarLoaf) which stands proud, the highest peak in the Stubai region at 3505m.

Rich at the Pfaffenjoch (3212m) en route to Zuckerhutl

From the hustle and crowds of the Stubaigletchser resort, we had gone within minutes, into a small and secluded valley. Greeted with silence, just a few other ski tourers could be seen on the glacier high above. With skins on (furry strips of fabric that let you ski uphill - originally from animal skins, hence the name but now synthetic) we began the gradual ascent of 600 metres or so to the summit. It was a steady climb that took a couple of hours, first a steady climb up the Pfaffenferner glacier to a col at 3212m before a long easterly traverse took us alongside and under the north face of the Zuckerhutl. From it would be a relatively straightforward climb to its summit. But in the relative warmth (the freezing level was around 3000 metres) even in just a Polartec base-layer and Shroud Jacket it was hot work.

Tom below the summit of Zuckerhutl

Rich at the 'ski station' beneath Zuckerhutl

From the ski station it was ski's off and short but relatively straightforward climb to the summit. And before we knew it, there Tom and I were, looking across to the Oztal Alps and further West towards the Wildspitze and onto Switzerland, to the South lay Italy and the distinct peaks of the Dolomites.

Rich & Tom after summiting Zuckerhutl

After a night spent in the Dresdner Hut, we were joined by two of Thomas' friends Markus and Monica, who living in nearby Innsbruck knew these mountains like the back of their hand. Again the day was forecast to be relatively warm, so again we decided to stay as high as possible.

Markus, Rich & Monica

Whizzing up in the cable car, we were quickly taken to 3133m. A short descent down firm piste and we were off , skirting the edge of the Windacher Ferner glacier before dropping down into a large bowl at around 2800m. This is what alpine touring is all about, the mountains were deserted, skiing fresh tracks as we descended some thousand feet through firm but forgiving snow, surounded to our North by a cirque of craggy peaks.

Fresh tracks, awesome views and no crowds

From the shadowy bowl we looked upwards, the rising glacier above was steeper than it looked. We would now have to regain the 350 metres of height we had just lost and we hadnt gone very far before we realised that the long climb ahead was more avalanche prone that we had first suspected. A quick pit and tell-tale chalky snow revealed a less stable series of slab layers, not horrendous, but worrying enough to ascend with extreme caution. 30 metres apart and sticking high to the edge of the snow-field on the Warenkarferner glacier we made our way up.

Looking back down the Warenkarferner, the obvious peak is Stubaier Wildspitze

As we neared the col the slope gradient increased. You did not need to be an expert to realise this was prime avalanche terrain. Thomas tried to avoid the normal line, hoping to find a safer way through the rock bands but it was not possible. And so Markus looked for a line  up the remaining slope, skinning across an unforgiving surface that had been scoured ice hard, there was only one option and that was to take the ski's off and climb the last 10 metres or so on foot.

Rich negotiating steeper ground and unstable windslab

Dropping off the west side of the col we descended an easy 200 metres across a sweeping glacier before climbing up once again and traversing around towards our one main summit of the day, the Hint Daunkopf.







Rich skiing the upper reaches of the Sulztalferner glacier

Wilde Leck (3361m) towers behind

Tom nearing the summit of Hint. Daunkopf (3255m)

After a series of short climbs and fantastic descents, with ski's left at the col, Tom and I made quick work up the snowy scree slopes to 3255m whilst Markus and Monika opted to relax in the sun! From here it was some 1500 metres of descent, first through firm and fast snow, later as we dropped below the 2500m contour line, softer less forgiving conditions before a bone rattling traverse across avalanche debris brought us back to the security and hustle of the pistes.

With a less promising forecast for Sunday, we mulled over the options. Sat in Markus' apartment overlooking Innsbruck we pondered the encroaching weather as Markus gave us a lesson in tropical fish, sat as we were next to his giant indoor aquarium brimming with exotic fish from Lake Tanganika. When Markus wasnt skiing or climbing, this was his other great passion.

The updated forecast was much more hopeful, the weather was coming in from the South and would not reach the central Alps until late afternoon. And with temperatures forecast to drop it was decision made, we headed up past the growing resort of Kuhtai and into a hugely popular touring area to the South-West. Other than some thousand metres of ascent, today was to be an easier, shorter day. One-way up onto the Mitteltalferner glacier and col at 2758m before reversing our tracks and skiing all the way back down, back in time for lunch.

Skinning up through the Mitte Tal

Skinning up steepening ground on the Mittertal ferner. Circa 2800m

Markus, Monika & Karl following behind

Rich grappling with kick-turns on steep ground

(L-R) Rich, Thomas, Markus & Monika

Markus descending the Mittertalferner

Karl Kahofer (CEO of Britax) proving that you can work and play hard

Descending into the shadows one last time

Gear:

I used a mixture of gear touring on this trip, the exceptionally warm conditions meant lightweight layers were key and many pieces I would normally wear at least occasionally remained firmly in my pack.

As ever my G2 Mountain Pants were indispensible, these are awesome alpine trousers, excellent for alpine touring in cooler conditions. On cold days I would wear these in conjunction with thermal leggings but on this trip were more than adequate on their own.

Next to skin, I wore either a Crux Tee or LS Polartec base-layer, which most of the time I then wore in conjunction with a Shroud Jacket. On the colder day I swapped this in favour of our Concordia Jacket, which is warm, light and very breathable.

With such great weather you could be forgiven for forgetting about outer shell but protection from the wind is as important as anything, especially on descents. On Day One I opted to wear our new Trojan Jacket, a lightweight and stretchy WINDSTOPPER softshell, but with such warm temperatures, I carried it most of the time and so for the remainder of the trip, left this behind and simply wore and carried my trusty GORE-TEX Active Shell Firelite Jacket. This fabric is ideal for ski touring, being exceptionally light and very breathable.

To keep my hands warm, I wore Super Alpine gloves nearly all of the time. These are really dexterous, provide a nice balance of warmth without being overly hot and are windproof and snow-resistant, great for damp snow-melt conditions. Randonee gloves which are normally my main glove of choice remained firmly in my pack, too warm for the conditions. To keep my head warm, my retro ME buff from many years ago and a branded knitted beanie.

Finally I carried but never wore my Fitzroy Jacket and Firelite Pant. Both hid firmly at the bottom of my pack. Shovel, avalanche probe, first aid-kit, transceiver, lightweight crampons and axe, harscheisen (ski crampons), sunglasses & goggles, repair kit and food / drink made up the rest of my pack. We didnt carry a rope or harness but would normally be recommended if you're travelling through unfamiliar glacial terrain.