This is Rambling
Derek Smithson
Mountaineers and hill walkers continue to be two faced about solitary joumeys into the mountains. We repeatedly condemn the practice, but we all do it.
Last year, I wrote the meet report for the High Level Camp because I wanted to tell you of the joy and pleasure I had on my solitary walk from Borrowdale to Eskdale and back. The joy that comes from having no human distraction from the beauties of nature and feeling at home in the world of mountains.
To `fail’ to complete a route, or `fail’ to reach a summit, is a disappointment, but to fail to see the beauty of nature, to feel the changing climate or to feel one belonged there, that is a disaster.
There are some unfortunates who see the mountains as a sort of battlefield. For them the hills are a place to test ones courage and abilities and this is a very different outlook. This is `man against nature’. A very British, imperialistic, all conquering attitude drummed into the older members by an educational system. It is these who need the known, the named, the recognised, so that they can boast their achievements. Sadly, they may never know that they have missed the best of it.
Perhaps I am exaggerating in retaliation for the advance of age and fading of the aggression, the adrenaline, the balls, to risk all to achieve an ambition. I hope not, but if so I am enjoying it.
Last year, I am proud to boast, I climb Storen in Norway. However, I had equally satisfying day on a mountain who name I’m not sure of and whose summit we failed to reach. We cached a rope because to continue up the North Ridge of Storen seemed too risky. We crossed a glaciated valley in pleasant weather and viewed the glacier on the next mountains. The crevasses barred our route to the chosen mountain, but we could reach the one on our right and moved in that direction. The next hours were mainly spent on very steep snow. We occasionally made for rocky outcrops for the security of good belays Just below the ridge, a short distance fro the summit, we climbed poor snow on rock to find that the cornice was rotten and would give is no security.
We abandoned the climb and just managed to cross the glaciated valley before it became really dark. The cached rope was found the next day.
The joy of the day was treading the edge of danger using each other and our confidence in familiar situations and techniques. We were aware of the changing climate, the different types of snow and the need to measure our reserve of strength against the passage of time and daylight. We did not feel that we were fighting nature but playing in nature. This is rambling.