Jerry’s Insulin Challenge 2012: Three routes, one Summer
“Watch me Chris, got no energy….can’t hold on. Feel sooo tired!”
“Get some pro in fast!” Parkin shouted support from below, as I just managed to wiggle in a No. 2 nut, and then collapsed. I am experiencing a hypo and nothing is working; Hypoglycaemia is a condition that occurs when your blood sugar (glucose) is too low, so getting one half way up Yellow Edge (a classic E3 5c at Avon) is really not a great idea. I simply did not have the strength to continue. As a newly diagnosed Type 1 Diabetic my learning curve had just gone upside down. How could I survive my demanding marketing world, look after a young family, and continue with my climbing passion when I was so quickly reduced to a sweaty, jibbering idiot on an easy climb I had done many times before?
Since my diagnosis of Type 1 Diagnosis in 2001 it has taken me most of the intervening 10 years to master this complicated condition. This involves up to 7 insulin injections and 6 blood sugar tests daily, weighing all my carbohydrates, and horrific mood swings and severe night time hypos that have reduced all of my family to tears on many occasions. Plus I need many expensive pieces of diabetic equipment totalling €6,000. As a T1D you soon become acutely aware of how hard it is to live a normal life. For many Brits it is a daily struggle just to live, eat and survive, despite free access to the many organisations set up to help Diabetics. From my many expedition experiences to the Himalayas and other Third World regions, I began to realise the huge imbalance between 1st World nations where diabetic medication is free and emerging countries where insulin is totally unsubsidised. As a result many diabetics, especially young children, die slow painful deaths. I could not comprehend what life was like in a country such as Nepal where just day to day living was difficult, let alone when dealing with a chronic condition such as Diabetes. The desire to help such people grew stronger and stronger inside me each year.
Finally in March 2012 after a lot of research I have found the charity IFL. Insulin For Life helps diabetics in such situations. Their organisation is based in Australia and their mission is to donate unused insulin (from other T1D’s) to poor countries in need. The charity is run largely by volunteers, with low operating costs. Handling and transportation costs are paid for by donations or sponsors. IFL was founded by Ron Raab in 1984, and he put me in touch with an amazing Nepalese doctor – Dr Buddhi Paudyal – who runs a diabetic clinic in the Kathmandu Valley. Dr Paudyal explained that unlike countries like the UK and France where Insulin is subsidised, in Nepal there is very little government support for Diabetics. So typically young Nepalese diabetic children die slowly and painfully before they reach 15 years of age because they simply cannot afford the insulin that would save their lives. Ron then helped me set up The Nepal Project to raise money for 10 young Nepalese Diabetics registered at this hospital. My plan was to attempt three of the Alps’ toughest routes in the summer of 2012 in order to raise enough money to support 10 Nepalese children with diabetes registered at Dr. Paudyal’s clinic. My target was £10,000 which would buy enough insulin to give back to these young people their lives and their hope. My insulin challenge for 2012 had begun.
The routes I had chosen included the following:
– Divine Providence (1500m., ED4, Fr. 7b+) on Le Grand Pilier D’Angle, Mt Blanc– the highest and hardest mountain route in Europe. This famous route was opened by the great French alpinists Patrick Gabarrou and François Marsigny in 1984. Patrick recounts the time when he was leading the crux or hardest rope length on the whole route when he fell and his rope split open on a sheer knife edge of rock. Patrick said it was only through “divine providence” that he survived. Imagine swinging free across a vertical rock wall one kilometre in depth. You look down thousands of meters into the dark recesses of a glacial gorge, and realise your whole body weight is dangling on a broken cord of nylon filament less than one centimetre in diameter, balanced across a shard of quartz crystal! As a climber all I wanted to do was climb that piece of mountain granite. I was on fire, wanting to relive history and climb where Patrick had once trod. It is aweird psychological fact that I never once worried about experiencing the same situation as Partick. Like most climbeers I just never thought for once that it would happen o me. This was a route I had wanted to climb ever since 1988 when I first spoke to Patrick Gabarrou about it.
– The Fish (1000m. Fr. 7b+, 7a oblig.), on the S. Face of the Marmolada – Dolomites – A 1000 meter high wall of extreme climbing first climbed in 1981 by Igor Koller and Jindro Sustr. The Fish is “perhaps the most legendary climbing route in the history of alpinism”.
– La Vida Es Silbar (900m., Fr. 7c+, 7a+ oblig.), N. Face of the Eiger – A direct line through the Rote Flu, the steepest section of the North Face by Daniel Anker and Stefan Siegrist. One of the most continually difficult free climbs on the North Face.
Probably less than 50 climbers in the World have done all three routes. No Brit had to date. For a 52 year old diabetic climber I thought it would be a worthy challenge! I had been training for years for this. Injecting myself up to 8 times a day to get the insulin I need has been the easy part! I knew this challenge would require the athleticism and millimetre precision of Olympic standard gymnastics in an environment where a fall could be fatal. As it happened I achieved this challenge the same summer as the London Olympic Games!
My warm up climbs for this huge challenge started in June 2012. I started softly with Rank Xerox on le Tète D’Aval above Les Vigneaux, Dents de Cyrielle (Fr. 6c+) and Emi Ali Leti Pauli (Abominable!) in the Vallon de La Moulette, Massif des Cerces, and finally Mitchka (800m., Fr. 7a+) on the Grand Pic on the Meije (3982m.) with living French legend Michel Canac (56 yrs.). I wanted some altitude fitness and to see how much I could push my arthritic elbow before the Big Three climbs and Mitchka I thought would be perfect training!
I first met him in 2011 when I climbed Unchi Maka on the Sialouze – a great 8a mountain rock climb opened by our local climbing legends Fred Roulx, Ben Kempf and Francis Elichabe. Michel is a modest man compared to the huge things he has achieved in his life. He lives in Briançon, is an extreme skier, a slalom specialist (he represented France in 1984 Olympics), a French National Climbing champion, and a Mountain Guide. He still climbs at the top level regularly, he is all sinew and muscle, and is a lovely and kind man. He was very tolerant about my diabetes, but he was even more tolerant about dreadful French accent!
The climb on Mitchka went well despite me taking a big whipper seconding the first steep pitch at 5.00 hrs at 3,500m. deep in the Ecrins Mountain Range. A rock handhold broke causing me to swing out from underneath an overhang and tear my hand open. The climb took another 15 hours to complete up and down but my Insulin Challenge had already begun.
DIVINE PROVIDENCE
I started my trio of extreme routes in mid August with a four day ascent of Divine Providence (DP) on Mt Blanc with Dvae Gladwin, a climber I met for the first time in a Chamonix car park the morning we started the actual climb! That week was a busy one. It started with a heart attack, involved a total of 28 hours of driving, 4 days of hard alpine climbing, little or no food, 2 freezing bivvies, and finished with my oldest daughter getting hospitalised after her drink was spiked with LSD! In addition, during the descent off Mt Blanc we passed the section where my old friend Roger Payne was tragically killed a month before when a huge serac collapse killed nine people. Roger was a great friend and a great mountain guide.
Monday 13 August
At 6am just as I was about to drive to Germany and pick up Gaz Parry to climb The Fish (one of my big three challenges) I read an email from Gaz saying his dad had had a stroke and he had flown back home from Stuttgart. I was scheduled to do a talk in central Germany Tuesday morning so drove the 10 hours anyway and spent the night in the Hilton, Mainz.
Tuesday 14 August
I gave the presentation to Novo Nordisk (World’s second largest Insulin producer) this morning. By midday I had delivered a superb talk (well I thought it was!), sorted out a new climbing objective and more importantly a new partner. Dave Gladwin is a 32 year old ski instructor, a great mountaineer and an overall genuine good egg! He was totally up for Divine Providence (DP), one of the toughest and longest routes on Mt Blanc and my main Big Three objective! Finding a partner for a route like DP is like trying to find another rower for the coxless pairs at the Olympics so I was pretty chuffed at my networking skills! I drove another 9 hours back home (Vallouise, Southern French Alps) arriving late Tuesday night but fully psyched as I had my climbing itinerary clearly sorted.
Wednesday 15 August
Packed and sorted gear for the route, helped Jackie organise cleaners for the forthcoming 10 chalet changeover on Saturday for our self catering business AlpBase.com, and said good bye to my family.
Thursday 16 August
At 8am I drove four hours to Chamonix and met Dave for the first time in a car park by the Aiguille De Midi telepherique. Tall, laid back, and totally dependable Dave was everything Twid Turner had said he was, having spent a hardcore Big Wall climbing trip to Alaska with him earlier this year. Climbing partners tend to spend years together to develop a bond and understanding before setting foot on a big alpine objective like DP. We didn’t have that luxury!
We sorted the gear, grabbed a sandwich and headed for the Midi tlepherique. Luck was on our side as the Helbronner lift was working so we made it across to the Torino hut by mid afternoon and then started the 3 hour walk to the Fourche Refuge (3685m.), a tiny shelter stuck on the side of the decaying Brenva ridge. Getting to the hut was interesting – a steep 50° ice slope running with water! A crap night (too scared I guess) was spent in the company of two very thirsty French alpinists who had forgotten their stove.
Friday 17 August
At 4am we abseiled off the metal balcony of the refuge, crossed the Brenva glacier, ascended Col More, did a loose series of abseils down onto the glacier beneath the Pilier D’Angle and we had arrived at the foot of our wall! It was a scary and dangerous downhill run over some of the most serac-threatened and crevassed terrain I have ever experienced. The noise from the rock and snow falls shattered our world throughout the 3 day climb.
We started the route at first light but sadly got the wrong gully line. We each climbed with a 25Kg rucksack and moved slowly over the technical ground. There are no bolts on DP and most of the protection points we had to place ourselves using camming devices. By early afternoon we realised we were too far left but Dave pulled out a heroic lead on wet unprotected 6c ground that led us to a big open slab. I aided and then tiptoed across these and eventually got us back onto the right line and our first open bivouac at the start of the hard climbing. We had climbed just 400m. of the 1500m. route and lost at least half a day through sheer bad route finding. Worse still my first glucometer – a Roche Nano – to test my blood sugars was now useless as the fresh batteries had mysteriously run out. So I would have to resort to using the emergency backup, my tried and trusted Ascensia Elite XL – the only issue was I had just 12 strips which would have to last the rest of the climb; I had to ration carefully as I normally test at least 7 times a day. But hey, life is never perfect and diabetes is not an excuse, it’s just another thing to deal with.
Saturday 18 August
After a night of shivering (we had opted for the down jacket but no sleeping bag option to save weight) we started brewing at 5.30am and begun climbing at 7am. It was really hard all day and physically exhausting, especially the legendary overhanging 7c corner. Imagine hanging off your arms upside down, fingers wedged into a 2cms wide crack for an hour. Sadly enough this section was wet which actually I took as a great excuse as the only part of this pitch I managed to free was the final 10 meters of easy ground! The day finished with our second open bivouac below the pendulum swing pitch. The good news was that we had only two hard pitches left to go before easy ground. The bad news was that there was no snow on our 1.5m deep ledge so no water; we had started the day with 1 litre each of water and this small amount now had to last until midday tomorrow – Sunday. And all we had left food wise was our emergency rations, namely a packet of OAP energy food that Dave’s 87 year old grandmother gave him. I sucked my bloodied and sore finger tips (granite dust) and thought about Swedish saunas. Not a great night!
Sunday 19 August
Today started windy and so bloody freezing at just under 4,000metres! We both sat up and shivered waiting for the sun on our tiny ledge. Very reluctantly I made a move at 6.30am and we started the painful business of racking up our gear, putting on super tight rock shoes on bare feet and getting ready for the day’s challenges which would involve 8 hours of hauling and dragging our knackered bodies and gear to the top of the Pillar. And then a further 5 hours (600 meters) of scary soloing on a steep snow ridge (The Peuterey Integrale) to the summit of Mont Banc (4,808m.).
We reached the summit of the Blanc around 8pm and luckily met up with fellow Brits James Thackery, Keith Ball and Tim Neill. Dave and I had done it. We both felt awesome in a sort of totally knackered way. But we still had the descent to go before we were safe and 70% of accidents happen on the climb down so we were still on alert mode although by now we were starting not to care. We descended the Mt Maudit route passing the section where my old friend Roger Payne was tragically killed a month ago when that huge avalanche/serac collapse killed nine people. Despite my exhausted state I felt “lifted” as I recalled memories of a shared climbing trip to Peru in 1985 and remembered Roger’s huge energy and stamina.
Monday 20 August
We descended through the night reaching a flat bivvy spot just after 1am where Dave and I enjoyed a late night brewing session with the other 3 lads. We all had a good gossip and within an hour we both felt sufficiently rehydrated to carry on. We eventually reached the Aiguille de Midi téléphérique station 4 hours later. The last few half of this “Retreat from Moscow” we stopped frequently collapsing onto the snow and trancing out in seconds. But for the final 70 meters up to the Midi we were both fully awake as it involves balancing up a very steep staircase just two feet wide where a fall would be fatal. We had been on the go for just under 24 hours and I had only tested my blood sugar levels 5 times in that period. I ate my last cereal bar and used my last test strip just after we got to the Midi station. I had run it very close on all accounts – Diabetics need regular snacks, blood tests and insulin injections – but it had worked. Proud of that!
We took the first telecabin back down to Chamonix at 6.30am and ran into town for a big pancake and maple syrup breakfast. I now had a new batch of test strips and fresh insulin – life was sweet once more!
I wanted to be with my daughter Beth ASAP as she had had her drink spiked on Saturday night, hospitalised and put on a drip, so I drove home right after the pancakes. An hour into the journey I stopped to test again. All I remember was waking up with test strips scattered around me in the car. I had passed out and more than an hour had gone by!
When I eventually saw Beth later that afternoon she was very zombie-like and still experiencing panic attacks that would leave her sobbing, her eyes full of fear. The family was back together but not yet a whole healthy unit. The news that Jackie’s Grandma had just passed away was another blow but we are a strong team and I for one was glad we could just watch a video together even if at least one of us had lost consciousness not long after the “Play” button was pressed!
LE CHANT DU CYGNE
By early September I was now desperate for partners to climb the other two routes. British Mountain Guide Matt Dickinson responded to my plea and agreed to partner me on the Eiger. As with Dave I had never met Matt before but he had been highly recommended to me by Big Wall legend Twid Turner.
I first climbed the North Face of the Eiger in the summer of 1988. I had teamed up with Graeme Livingston, one of the best young Brit stars at the time, and after securing a sponsorship deal with Karrimor I drove Graeme off to Chamonix in search of alpine glory.
Graeme (aka The Brat) was a unique climber. Aged only 18 not only had he already soloed some of Scotland’s hardest winter routes but he had already climbed many of its hardest rock climbs as well. He was naturally strong and could pinch grip ceiling beams and do one arm pull-ups off it! Bizarrely he could also dislocate his thumb and align it with his other four fingers and so when pulling up on a small ledge or hold he could effectively do a five finger crimp! A massive advantage when pulling up on one centimetre edges as hard climbers often have to do!
Sadly our partnership was not to last. After less than 2 weeks we had a huge bust up and he stormed off back to the UK with all my cherished Karrimor clothing and the wife of an instructor at Glenmore Lodge – Graeme’s talents were not just confined to his fingers!
I was left disillusioned and partnerless on Snell’s Field, the “climbers’ campsite doss at Chamonix. Luckily renowned guide Smile Cuthbertson appeared soon after and declared to the assembled throng that the Eiger was in the best shape he had ever seen. Like a heating seeking missile I ran round Snell’s and eventually found a very drunken Scotsman called Iain who agreed to accompany me up the North Wall, as long as I promised to stop shouting! Five days later, along with Lee Clegg and Calum Henderson, we were standing on the summit of the Eiger in a lightning storm, semi hypothermic but still alive. We had cracked the North Face! It was July 24th 1988, the exact 50th anniversary of the first ascent in 1938!
Fast track forward to 27th August 2012 and having spent a week recovering from Divine Providence, the first of my three climbs for this Insulin Challenge, I was now desperate for partners to climb the other two routes.
On 5th Sept the Eiger weather conditions were beginning to stabilise, despite reportedly being -15C on the wall, and we hurriedly decided on a Sunday rendezvous. As we had predicted the centre of the wall was still wet with a lot of snow on the ledges. La Vida was soaking but The Geneva Pillar, a huge kilometre high tower on the right of the wall, looked relatively dry. We opted for a direct line and set the alarm for 3am!
Mountain Tracks Director and British Mountain Guide Matt Dickinson responded to my plea and agreed to partner me on the Eiger. He was fit and had done a lot of hard rock ticks already this summer, he knew the Eiger approach and descent paths pretty well, and above all he had always wanted to try one of the Eiger’s hard rock climbs so was not psyched out by the mountain’s evil reputation for killing aspiring suitors.
I first met Matt during a sailing and mountaineering voyage around Eastern Greenland with Messrs (Sir) Chris Bonington and (Sir) Sir Robin Knox-Johnston. I remembered Mat as a quiet giant of a man. That was 1998. When I met him again in the Carrefour car park last Sunday he hadn’t changed one bit despite the intervening 14 years! Solid, dependable, full of drive and determination – just what I needed!
I had originally voiced that I wanted to climb the route La Vita es Silbar on the Eiger but we both agreed that because the face was still very wet after a bad summer and a recent period of heavy snowfall we would go for the route Le Chant Du Cygne on the Geneva Pillar. This section of the North Face, being on the western end of the wall, is always the first to dry and so we thought would offer us the best chance of success. As it turned out it was a very wise decision.
We emailed and plotted and planed our ascent and watched the weather forecasts avidly each day. By 5th Sept the Eiger weather conditions were beginning to stabilise and we hurriedly decided on a Sunday rendezvous. So early on the morning of the 9th Sept I drove the 4 hours to Chamonix, picked up Matt and then drove off to Grindelwald at the foot of the Eiger managing to catch the last train up to Kleine Scheidegg the main station underneath the mountain. We then hiked an hour or so to a great bivvy spot very close to the North Face.
As we had predicted the centre of the face was still wet with a lot of snow on the ledges. The Geneva Pillar, a huge kilometre high tower to the right of the Nor Face looked relatively dry and we realised we were in with a chance! Climbers can wait a whole summer for a route like La Chant Du Cygne to come into condition combined with a long enough spell of good weather to attempt the route. And here we were in early autumn with a 2 day weather window and dry’ish conditions – wicked!
Le Chant Du Cygne at 900m. in vetical length, is a huge climb and the alpine equivalent of climbing the Nose of El Capitan in California’s Yosemite Valley. It was first put up in 1992 by Swiss legends Daniel Anker and Michel Piola. It comprises 21 pitches of rock at an average length of 42 meters per pitch, and grade of around Fr. 6b. Normal alpine rock pitches are 30 meters or less in length, and 500 meters in total height . In comparison Le Chat Du Cygne represented a true giant and we were planning on attempting it in one continuous push without a bivvy because our weather window was small and if we had opted to spend a night on the wall we would likely get overtaken by a storm and forced to retreat. We had to go fast and lightweight and so took only light jackets as protection, two litres of water and lots of cereal bars!
After a sleepless night as my blood sugars were way too high, I awoke at 5.30am and immediately we started eating and packing for the wall. We left the bivvy and headed straight for the Pillar. Due to Mat’s very god decision to do a full recce the night before we knew exactly where the climb started and by 6.30am just at first light Matt led off on the first rope length; an overhanging and strenuous start that was sparsely protected was not a god omen! This route was going to be very intensive, very committing and with an average of 4 bolts per pitch we would be facing fall potentials of more than 10 metres throughout the entire length of the climb. Do the maths – an average of 42 mete long pitches with an average of 4 bolts per pitch equals 10 meters between bolts. Falling would definitely not be wise on this climb!
The first half of the climb went okay with each climber leading a pitch and then seconding the next. On the 13th pitch I led off quickly on easy ground but soon found myself of route on a very lose and unprotected mini pillar. I looked over to my right and realised that I was of route and the climb actually ran right through a very wet section of the wall. I climbed down precariously being lowered by Matt off two dodgy ancient pitons. Just before I reached him one of the pitons ripped out and I was left hanging by a metal nail driven less than 3 centimetres into rotten limestone. Close one! I reached Matt and he quickly ran off in the right direction this time and tried to find a way through the wet section. He ground to halt a long way above god protection on friable rock. “No way Jerry. I can’t go on. You will have to try it or we will have to bail”. I knew he was right. If I could not find a way through this section we would have to retreat and this would mean a long series of abseils over lose rock where the chances of the rope caching and snagging would be very high. I gingerly set off and managed to pull up on a series of small edges running with water. The wall was plumb vertical and my forearms began to cramp but I knew a fall would be unpleasant and the possibilities of a wheelchair existence all too real. With my Trad head firmly engaged I plodded upwards. It couldn’t be any worse than Gogarth! As I clipped the first protection bolt I knew I had done it and the rest of the route went smoothly enough although the rock was still soaking.
From the 14th pitch onwards the climbing got really hard and progressed slowed. It was starting to turn to evening and the light was already fading. Mat led a series of tough 6c pitches, then I led a 6b total horror pitch comprising of huge detached perched blocks that you just had to pray would stay stuck to the face and then the crux 7b overhanging crack. Mt’s turn and he went straight into action. We have been climbing solidly for 12 hours now but his determination prevailed and despite a couple of small falls he won through. Another 6c pitch and we were into easy ground. We topped out on the pillar at 7.40pm and immediately started our descent down the West Flank. By 10.30pm we were back at our bivvy vey happy, very tired and luckily very much alive!
On the walk down to Kleine Scheidegg on Tuesday morning (11th Sept) we passed a big lake reservoir just above the train station. A beautiful tranquil spot overlooking the Bernese Oberland. As we walked along the lakes shore line we both looked down at the boulders lining the edge of the tarn and realised that on each one was chiselled a person’s name. The line of rocks was more than 100 meters in length and we realised to our horror that each name was a climber who had died on the Eiger. The first year date was 1930 and the last was 2011. I ran back to the start of the line of rocks and quickly saw the name Toni Kurtz. He was only 23 when he died in tragic circumstances in 1936 as one of the four-man team making a second attempt to scale the North Face of the Eiger.
During this ascent one of the team members Willy Angerer was injured by falling rocks so they abandoned their attempt and decided to descend. As the result of another avalanche, Hinterstoisser, the second climber, fell to his death. Later Angerer, now climbing below Kurz, was smashed against the wall, and died instantly. Edi Rainer, the fourth climber, who had been securing the other two, was pulled against the wall and died minutes later of asphyxiation. Kurz, alone now, remained uninjured.
Amid worsening weather a rescue team attempted to reach Kurz from below, but could not due to the severity of the storm and were forced to leave him dangling unprotected and exposed to the elements for the entire night. The next day the team again tried to rescue Toni. Despite a frozen hand, he started to abseil down towards the rescuers. To accomplish this, he first had to cut loose the dead body of his comrade hanging below him, then climb up and cut loose his other dead comrade. To increase the length of his rope, he unravelled it and tied it together again. This entire process took five gruelling hours. He then lowered the rope to the waiting rescuers. He started his descent on the rope but was stopped by a knot a mere couple of meters above the awaiting guides. To abseil any further he would have had to raise himself enough to release the pressure on the knot and let it pass though his abseil device. Desperately, Kurz tried to move himself past the knot, but in vain. He had no ore strength. His last words were “Ich kann nicht mehr” (“I can’t go on anymore”) and died. As I saw Toni Kurz’s name on the rock in front of me I remembered this famous story. I looked across at the surrounding peaks now bathed in early morning light, and cried. So much evil cruelty surrounded by such awesome beauty.
We reached Kleine Scheidegg to the accompaniment of a typical Swiss Alpine horn. An assorted collection of dignitaries dressed in 18th Century period costume were busy talking, presenting and generally milling around a few trestle tables. I approached what looked like a very respectable English constable and asked what the hell was going on! He answered in perfect Queen’s English, “My dear chap we are discussing the demise of the legendary Sherlock Holmes. Methinks he has met his end at the hands of that rascal Moriarty”. What I was witnessing was an outing by the Sherlock Holmes Society from the UK. The event was celebrating the story in Doyle’s book “The Final Problem” where in order to dedicate more of his time to what he considered his more important works (his historical novels), the famous author had Holmes and Professor Moriarty apparently plunge to their deaths together down the Reichenbach Falls, an actual waterfall that lies only a few kilometres north of the Eiger!
By 10pm that evening Matt and I were safely ensconced in a bar in Cham. We were a group of 5. Matt quickly introduced me to the other guys, one of whom immediately started to engage me in a deep discussion about my chalet business AlpBase. It was as if he knew me but I although something about his craggy features seemed familiar I could not place him. After a few beers a light was starting to glow in my cranial depths. “Hey mate” I shouted above the din of the bar, how’s your five finger crimp these days?”
TEMPI MODERNI
Calum Muskett first emailed me on August 27th saying that if I needed a partner to complete my two other climbs after Divine Providence (Calum climbed it this year a week before me as it happens!) then he would be really up for it. He was really interested in La Vida es Silba on the Eiger and had the week 17-25 Sept free. I wrote back immediately as I was still desperately searching for partners. We fixed the week and Calum bought his plane ticket.
I had heard of Calum through the UK climbing grapevine. I knew he was no ordinary 19 year old, but I was not prepared for what jumped into my car at Geneva airport last Monday. Calum is arguably Wales’s most talented young climber. Born and bred in Bethesda, Calum first hit the headlines when he was just 14 after on sighting the classic extreme The Cad (E6 6a) on North Stack Wall at Gogarth. He had been climbing for less than a year by this stage. I did this route aged 30 after 10 years of climbing and thought it was seriously committing!
Aged 15 and less than 7 days since his first experience on winter terrain Calum climbed the legendary Devil’s Appendix (VI 6) in Cwm Idwal, a tiny sliver of ice that rarely forms and remains firmly at the very top of any Brit mountaineers dream tick list. By 2010 he was already into active new routing and created Faith, Hope and Charity (E8 6c) a super hard extreme route at a grade that only a handful of British climbers would be able to attempt. The list goes on but what all the climbing details don’t convey is that this guy is way ahead of most 19 year olds in terms of his maturity, and personal direction in life. Who really knows what they want at 19. I Certainly didn’t. Yet here is a young man who is sponsored by equipment companies, has already represented his country in elite fell running competitions and is focused on becoming a guide and international extreme alpinism! Sadly he also happens to be a really nice person to boot. Despite my aged faffyness, he only lost his cool once with me and then only for a few minutes before the boyish grin returned and we both got on with the immediate task in hand which at that point was Big Wall survival plain and simple!
My success with Matt Dickinson on the North Face of The Eiger had left me in a real quandary. I knew Calum had already climbed The Fish on the South Face of the Marmolada, the route that I had wanted to complete as the third climb for my Insulin Challenge, but I also knew that no route or challenge was ever justification to break a promise. Too many climbers over too many years had done that to me and I knew what it felt like. I had agreed with Calum that we would climb together at the end of September, enough said. But after I had climbed Le Chant De Cygne on the Eiger with Matt our intended objective – La Vida on the Eiger was not an option. So the question was which route to do on the Marmolada. Not a difficult problem you may think as the Marmolada is arguably the biggest, most challenging pure mountain rock wall in the Alps. It has over 200 world class routes up to 1250m. in vertical height and up to 38 pitches or rope lengths. The biggest walls anywhere in the world tend to be less than 1000 metres so 1250m. of actual pure rock climbing is gigantic.
When questioned about which route to try on the Marmolada Calum’s answer was simple and immediate – Tempi Moderni – in a day! Tempi Moderni was created by Heinz Mariacher in 1982 and translates as “Modern Times”. Heinz is often considered the best climber to have ever operated in the Marmolada range and he defined Tempi Moderni as his most difficult achievement. As the Marmolada guidebook writer Maurizio Giordani describes it “A route which frightens even the most prepared climber”. It involves 28 pitches of climbing and almost everyone who tackles this monolith takes two days and bivvies at half height in the big shelf that runs the entire length of the mountain. Calum’s project was to tackle the route in a single day and go super fast and super light taking just trainers for the descent and a thin “belay” jacket for warmth. In late September, with night time temperatures down to -10C we would not be able to last a night out on the face with such kit. So it would be a case of summit or suffer…..badly!
So the challenge had been set. Instead of The Fish, a slightly more difficult and technical route (Fr. 7b – 1220m. in length), we would attempt Modern Times (Fr. 7a – 1155m.) in a day but in late September where you get 13 hours of daylight at max. It would entail having to climb each rope length in under half an hour, both leader and second, and with pitches up to E4/5 this would be no mean feat. Especially as Tempi Moderni also gets the grade of R4 in Maurizio’s guidebook which he describes as involving “Scarce or unreliable anchors; long unprotected sections; potential length of fall up to 15 meters with possibility of stripping the belay anchors; potential falls have a high possibility of injury”. Moving fast over such terrain also involves good synergistic team work. As I drove up to Geneva (on Monday 17th Sept) to pick Calum up I wondered if we would even be able to communicate bearing in mind that there are 32 years difference between us and that most teenagers including my own tend to use mono syllables rather than normal language! We were literally generations apart. Would this partnership be able to work and work successfully given the extreme risks and stress we were about to put ourselves under?
The forecast was rain/snow midweek in the Dolomites so Tuesday Calum and I decided it wise to do a short 7 pitch multi pitch bolt protected climb close to my chalet in Vallouise. The grade was Fr. 7a, the same as Tempi Moderni, and the climb went very fast – less than 2.5 hours for 7 rope lengths. We both felt relieved that at least we could understand each other. But we knew that route finding on a “sport climb” was easy as you literally just follow the bolts. On Tempi Moderni there are no bolts and often no clue as to where the route actually goes: route finding is a big problem. Again as Maurizio the guidebook writer says “Marmolada rock….is not easy to read; it must be approached with caution, taking small steps listening to the rock’s suggestions and learning to interpret them.” I am a crap listener and we didn’t have any margin for error – if we went off route we would not be able to do it in a day. And then we would be looking at sub zero temps with no sleeping bag and bare feet (climbers always climb in super tight roc shoes without socks). More importantly one thing I could not risk was my insulin freezing as it then becomes useless.
Wednesday we headed East – 10 hours of driving (2 of which was a traffic jam due to a multiple pile up) got us to the car park in Malga Ciapella, at the start of the path that leads to the Marmolada. Thursday we hiked the 1.5 hours to the Rifugio Falier right underneath the face and dropped off our kit. Then we hiked another hour up to the base of the climb and fixed the first hard pitch, a strenuous finger edge maze, and then it was off back to the refuge, a good waffle of pasta and an early bed by 9.30pm. Both Calum and I were psyched. Tomorrow we “would” top out. We had to!
As usual I did not sleep well. At 12.30am I felt funny so tested and found I was 140mg/dl. For a non-diabetic your blood sugar reading is alays around 100mg/dl. But for me, as a Type 1 Diabetic this was pretty normal to be honest especially considering I was in “climbing mode” where I usually try to keep my blood sugars artificially a bit high; I avoid at all costs going hypo in the mountains. My fast acting insulin I had had at dinner was easily out of my system by now (it normally lasts a maximum of 3 hours) so without thinking I injected half a unit (a tiny drop literally) of fast acting and tried to get back to sleep. For at least an hour or so I tossed and turned as I debated with myself whether I had been too severe in my control or whether I had not actually injected enough bearing in mind I had eaten a lot of pasta and this can take time to convert to sugar.
The alarm rang out at 4.30am and it was immediately action stations. I tested and was 170mg/dl – that confirmed I had injected too little in the night. Now I had to really guess right. I was quite high already and was about to eat a lot of sugary muesli. But then I would go straight into a very fast hike up to the base of the climb going at the pace of an elite 19 yr old fell runner! I injected 4 units of slow acting insulin (levemir), half my usual day dose, and 3 units of fast acting Humalog (my usual breakfast dose of fast acting is 7 units). We packed, scoffed and shot off into the night. It felt like we were on a SAS style military raid!
We started the climb at first light – 6.45am – movement was frantic and slightly panic ridden. We had to move fast but could not afford to fall or go off route. After a long traverse off right which Matt had told me about (he had done the route last year) I arrived at the foot of a long blank section of rock. Luckily it was Calum’s lead!
Now you have to remember this guy excels at trad climbing (natural protection not bolts) and he often climbs at horrendously loose crags in North Wales where most of the actual wall let alone individual holds are in imminent danger of falling down. You have to also remember that one of his main climbing partners is James McHaffie, arguably the best trad climber in the World at the moment. So when Calum shouted down to me “watch me on this, it’s looking really committing” I did start to worry. No pro, technical moves and we had only just started!
One of the things about the Marmolada that makes it unique is that because there are no bolts climbers often have to rely on placing their own “natural” protection using wires (small nut shaped blocks of aluminium that wedge into cracks) or camming devices. Bolts (stainless steel dowls) are 100% reliable and secure. You can fall onto them with impunity. When you have to place your own protection points this situation is totally transformed from effectively a fun “playground” into real mountain terrain where you just can’t afford to fall. It slows progress and makes you move far slower than you can on a bolt protected route.
My turn next as I grabbled with a rope length of smooth slabby rock – a bit like walking up a very steep ramp of sandpaper but with no hand holds to grab onto. Plus there was virtually no bolt or natural protection so you just could not afford to fall. The hardest move involved having to place my left foot onto a 1 cms protrusion and pushing up off it to gain a tiny edge for my right hand. I faffed the move, lost confidence and fell luckily only a meter or so onto a piton, a sort of rusty fat nail. Calum arrested my fall and annoyed with myself I hurried up past the crux and suddenly found myself on slightly easier ground but now 5 meters above that piton. A 10 m fall is very different from a 1 metre one but in situations like this I have the ability to just ignore the danger, knowing that if I fell now I would seriously hurt myself. I carried on for a few more metres and got a good wire in. I knew it would hold and so moved confidently up to the belay. Problem solved except the whole pitch had taken more than 45 minutes – too slow.
We reached the half way point at around 13.00hrs. Conveniently finding a generous ledge where evidence of previous ascentionists were left in a big black bag under a natural roof containing the usual big wall paraphernalia of blankets, porn mags and glow-in-the-dark dildo’s! We felt fairly confident and allowed ourselves the luxury of a 10 minute break; a call of nature, a cereal bar each (in total I consumed just 6 on the entire route up and down), a blood test (120mg/dl – perfect), 0.5 unit of fast acting insulin, a swig of water and we were off again. Calum led a hard Fr. 6c and we were into the upper tier.
By 17.00hrs we had hoped to be on top but we were actually only 2/3 the way up with 8 pitches still to go. It was beginning to look dodgy. A team of two Austrians had been paralleling us the whole day – they were on the Messner route which I knew was easier than ours in the top section. We got to 6.30pm and were suddenly lost on a sea of slabs. Calum shouted over to the Austrians asking how many pitches they had left. “4 easy ones, one hard one”, came the reply. The weather had turned by now and instead of clear skies we were in twilight, strong winds and no sun. I was beginning to shiver slightly. We were both undecided. I led on again but unsure about whether to go right onto slabs or escape out left. I ran the rope out – a full 60 meters with one piece of protection. Calum joined and we exchanged a few rapid words. We decided to traverse right and join the Austrians. There were only a handful of pitches left but at this rate we would be topping out in total darkness in a storm on very technical ground. I climbed out across the smooth water worn rock and almost reached the Austrians who by now were grappling with the final hard pitch – I reckon it was E3 but it is hard to grade when you can’t feel your fingers and you can’t control the shivering. Calum led out above me, and then I ran up an easy chimney. By now I had on my balaclava, my jacket, every stitch of clothing but the wind tore through it all. I was freezing.
The summit came a pitch later in darkness. We quickly changed into our trainers and turned our socks down over our shoes to try and stop the snow from getting in. We were on the North side of the Marmolada and it was covered in snow up to our calves. Two abseils and we were on a flat ice traverse and then snow as we ran after the Austrians in an effort to get off the hill and escape the wind. We knew we could not hang around; we were both already too cold. We reached the téléphérique station which during the day is normally host to hundreds of happy skiers and tourists.
Calum and I overtook our new friends and traversed across a steep snow slope with an icy crust. I knew it was dangerous terrain but wanted to get down fast. I ran after Calum placing my feet in his footsteps. The slope changed from soft snow to ice and suddenly I was sliding. I could sense the heavily crevassed area beneath me and frantically dug my bare hands into the crust. My fingers hit harder ice and bounced out so I dug them in again but this time harder and with real anger. I was not going to lose it here on a bloody ski piste – no way! I stopped sliding after about 12 metres, and immediately got back onto my feet – a streak of Strawberry slush puppy trailed away above me through the snow as I heard Calum’s voice shouting “use your nut tool, your nut tool!”
We soon got down onto the easier slopes below. No crevasses now just a long long way down. After almost 2 kilometres of descent we reached the road. Now it was just an easy 8 kilometres of downhill descent to my car. Calum said “take all the gear Jerry and I’ll run up to the hut and collect our sacks. Meet you back at the car. I knew he had run for Wales but what he was proposing was Herculean. 8k’s back to the car then 5k’s uphill to our stashed rucksacks and then a further 5k’s decent back to the car. He dropped his rope, harness and climbing gear and ran off. I followed along behind at a much slower pace with the two Austrians
By midnight I was back at the car. The other two climbers had driven off to a warm hotel (lucky Germanic bar stewards!) and I was alone in the forest, cold but okay, waiting for Calum. I tested; 170ml/dl. High but not too bad after what I had just been through – almost 24 hours of non-stop action. I took a couple of units of fast acting insulin. I began to reflect on what we had just done and what I had achieved this summer and simply broke down – the tears cascading down my cheeks. Climbers are never satisfied and are their own worst critics. I had failed, failed to properly complete my challenge, failed to do what I set out to do. Failure, pain, frustration. It all just hit me. My right elbow was constantly inflamed now and needed surgery. My knees were wrecked and in general I felt flat – where was the elation. Where was the adrenaline, the high, the feeling of achievement? Had I done it? Had I completed my Insulin Challenge?
This summer I had juggled family guilt (once again they had spent the summer holidays without me), work commitments (in July and August Jackie and I have over 70 residents to look after each week), diabetes, weather and partner problems. I had made the first British ascent of Emi, Ali, Leti, Pauli (ABO-), Mitchka (ED+) on the South Face of the Meije, and Le Chant Du Cygne on the Eiger. I had completed Divine Providence, a route I had wanted to climb ever since 1988 when I first spoke to Patrick Gabarrou, and now had climbed Tempi Moderni pretty much in a day. I hadn’t climbed the route on the Eiger or on the Marmolada that I had originally chosen but my conclusion although slow to get to was definitive. Life is never perfect. We all have family commitments, work and time limitations, health and money issues. We all have problems in our lives and we just have to deal with them as best as we can. We don’t always achieve everything we desire but what else can we do but try to achieve within the confines of life.
I would like to end this piece by saying I finished the climb easily and in control. I achieved an amazing route and all went well. But I can’t because I didn’t. We succeeded in making the right mountaineering decision. And for that I feel proud but we only just made it and it was silver at best not gold. But one thing for sure was clear to me at that time, sitting in a dark and damp forest alone in my thoughts – it was not my diabetes that had held me back, it was not the fact that I have to manually control my blood sugars and test and inject up to 10 times a day. Bottom line – Diabetes is a real pain in the bum, it can really depress and shut you down sometimes and inhibit you but if you have the motivation and insulin and equipment it is definitely and absolutely NOT an excuse to live an unfulfilled life. We are all world-class at making excuses, but to me it’s about breaking down the barriers so we don’t have any in the first place.