Guest blog by Graham Kelly entitled ‘Fear on the Ben’ follows on from my series of three articles addressing fear as experienced by mountaineers and outdoors sports people. Graham describes himself as: ‘a retired Railway Engineer, a slacker who got lucky, Mountain Leader and Mountain Rescue Team member, regular fell/hill runner and occasional climber.’ I have known Graham since ML training days. He brings a wealth of experience to any mountaineering trip (his biography – which I asked him to write is rather on the modest side) – and I have had the privilege of climbing Tower Ridge with him many moons ago when we were both logging QMDs (Quality Mountain Days) leading up to assessment (although Graham already had so many amazing hill days under his belt by that point in time that I’m quite sure he didn’t need to log even more!). Here’s his account of a more recent trip to the Ridge.
The day started with a simple question – do you want a walk or an adventure?
Given clear skies, a perfect forecast, an adventure was the obvious choice. We opted for Tower Ridge on Ben Nevis. This sits above a simple scramble and below a serious rock climb with an overall grade of 3S including a couple of short sections of ‘difficult’ in the mix. From a personal perspective, it was well within my capability and I had climbed it a number of times over the years.
The walk in from the North Face car park up to the CIC Hut under the North Face was stunning. All eyes were on the steep rock features and lines. There was a sense of anticipation – it was going to be one of those rare classic Scottish Mountain Days.
At the bottom of the West Gully we stopped, time for harness and helmet as the ground steepened. Up into the Douglas gap, the route really starts with a short chimney that leads back onto easier ground. We were moving well and the atmosphere was confirmed by shared smiles.
We continued up, me leading and my partner seconding. Route finding on Tower Ridge is fairly straight forward and we made good time. Not rushing but not slow by any means. Main belays were plentiful and the rock good, very good in fact. The day was drifting away as we enjoyed the ascent.
Upon reaching what I thought was the Great Tower, I looked for the Eastern Traverse. There was a ledge leading left and, despite an internal note that it looked narrower than I remembered, I took it (first and critical mistake). It really didn’t look right but for an unknown reason I still continued. I brought my partner round before continuing upward and left looking for the wee ‘cave’ pitch which did not appear. I looked around with a sinking sense of realisation I had taken us off route.
I briefly tried to downclimb the last few metres and realised it was beyond me. I tried shouting round to my partner but she couldn’t hear me clearly. With no other form of communication (we only had my phone), I brought her up to the main belay and explained the situation (another possible mistake).
The option was to make that call – 999/Police/Mountain Rescue or consider a self-rescue. I knew that given the time of day making the call for assistance needed to be a quick decision to avoid a technical rescue in the dark. Not too proud to say here I was terrified – not only for the potential consequences of a fall but for my wrong decision which put my partner in the same situation. We discussed options and looked at a series of ledges below that might lead us back round onto the main route. This involved an initial abseil onto a wide ledge before what looked like a short but steep section of rock with a mossy crack to climb before gaining easier ground. Exploring this option wasn’t going to make our position much worse.
I set up the abseil and backed up the anchor noticing my hands were shaking – not a voluntary reaction but an indication of the underlying fear that was dominant now. All I could do was slow down and sense check every decision before committing any further.
Both safely on the big ledge, I pulled the rope through. Strangely, we both snacked for a while, subconsciously realising we were going to need all the available energy in the coming hour(s).
I set up a bomber main belay that was ‘unquestionably sound’ to hold a fall and set off along the ledge towards the steep exit. The early onset of ‘disco legs’ was there for sure. Trying to maintain a slow breath, I stepped up and immediately panicked – the holds were smaller than I wanted and dropped back onto the big ledge. Was this just another bad decision that was only going to make things even more serious? I stuck in a questionable nut for some psychological protection (it was sure to rip if I did fall) and tried again. Getting slightly higher than before, there was only up now available. I shouted: ‘Watch me here’, since I was pretty sure I was about to fall. One short step up and big holds began to appear and I was soon safe. I sat down close to tears with relief.
My partner soon followed and noted with a smile that that pitch has been somewhat more than ‘difficult’.
Back on route the correct line was clear – how could I have missed it? Up to the Great Tower, along the Eastern Traverse and over Tower Gap. It all seemed easy but we agreed to keep it slow, make good decisions with every move. The plateau reached, we decided we needed to head to the actual summit before descending. It felt important to round off the experience on a positive note.
The sunset was incredible, we had the place to ourselves and we agreed that how we had worked together had actually brought us closer as a couple. No blame, no shouting, no hindsight …just working to find a solution.
Down at the Halfway Lochan [Lochan Meall an t-Suidhe], we headed over to pick up our path and dropped back to the van in the North Face Car Park. We arrived at 1am, made some soup and shared the last beer before crawling under the duvet to sleep. The sense of relief was as much physical as emotional.
In the hours, days and weeks that followed, that fear of ‘what might have happened’ echoed and took me back to the point where we effectively became crag fast. This was clearly a short Post Traumatic Stress response and entirely normal given the gravity of the experience. Discussion with my partner and acceptance that my complacency with regard to route knowledge, which was further by not listening to my own doubts, were the root causes. The frustrating thing as a Mountain Rescue Team member is that this went against everything we do in training – there is a whole other post about Human Factors that will answer that one …
Has it stopped or dented my passion for the mountains? Absolutely not!
Has it changed how I approach journeying through the mountains? Absolutely!
Fear in the right dose, can be a positive. In fact, it might be the very thing that keeps us alive.
Places Wild and High 