The Avellano Towers 2014 - Part 1

The unclimbed North East face of the South Avellano Tower. (Photo John Crook)

Jim Donini had offered to show us cool unexplored mountains and we were hooked. After two months of bumming around in Chalten the blast of enthusiasm provided by Jim and Angela was phenomenal. From the deck of their house by Lago General Carrera we plotted.

Jims next-door neighbour, Lito Tejada-Flores had climbed Fitzroy in 1968 with Yvon Chouinard, Dick Dorworth and Doug Tomkins. From Yosemite, the crucible of granite big wall climbing, they had driven south in a van surfing and climbing until reaching Fitzroy.

After succeeding in climbing Fitzroy, the third accent of the mountain and the first accent of the “fun hogs route”, they all made it back to California. All however were highly influenced by their experiences. This trip and Patagonia more generally changed them and remade the rest of their lives.

Lito now lives in Northern Patagonia for six months of the year. From the house he built, perched on a marble headland he has an unbroken view of unclimbed mountains surrounding the lake. Lito, whilst no longer climbing mountains, maintains a huge passion for mountaineering and was doing a good job of making John even keener than he already was.

The Avellano Towers from the South.

Lito was showing us aerial photographs of the Avellano Towers, which his wife Lindi had taken whist documenting Lago General Carrera as part of the campaigns against Patagonian dam building. The photos clearly showed a big granite wall and Jim who had climbed there previously vouched for its existence.

Aerial photo of the Avellano Towers from the east

With the energy flowing from Lito and Jim the possibilities of failure were low. As we had a few more drinks and discussed the logistics the possibility of failure fell to nil.

Unfortunately the possibility of failure when we sobered up was higher than nil.

Add the long approach and big wall things were less certain.

Jim shamelessly sandbagged us into a “short approach” which left us panting for breath as we wallowed in the wake of the seventy year old. In our defence we had heavier bags.

We found the big wall and it was big. It proved too big for us on that occasion. After valiant failure we retreated licking our wounds.

There had been three major problems:

1.         Not enough food;

2.         Not enough gear;

3.         Not strong enough.

I returned to work, which was quite frankly duller than Patagonia. My resolutions to never return evaporated like the morning dew to be replaced by psych.

The South Avellano Tower at the head of the valley

The first step was recruiting Reeve, this hopefully dealt with problem three.

Applications for MEF and BMC funding were submitted and John after briefly wavering threw his hat in with us. A chance encounter with Will at Beaston Tor saw us up to the target number of four participants, suckers, marks or willing victims.

My personal kit seemed to take up a worryingly large amount of the house

Things came together, we begged borrowed and stole a huge amount of kit. Rab went out of their way to sort us out with a load of their gear, which solved problem two. This ensured we could devote our money to arranging boats and gauchos to carry all our food, solving problem one.

Realising the pile of equipment was far too enormous to approach the towers using the route from Buria Murta John and I used in February we concocted a ridiculous plan.

Step 1 - Boat across Lago General Carrera

Lago General Carrera is big with over 1,850 km squared of surface area. It is also deep, 850 meters deep at the western end and always windy. How hard could finding a boat across the lake prove to be?

Step 2 - Access the Towers by travelling up the Avellano River valley.

The route in from Buria Murta involved a hideous cow trail, which gained and lost approximately 600 meters of height in the first 7km. This was followed by 5 km of the most exerting jungle bashing and river-walking I’ve ever encountered. This nicely warms one up for bypassing a 70 meter cliff band by clinging to tree roots on a vegetated tree rake. Following this some nice granite slabs, polished and impassable when wet lead to death moraine screes and a high coll. From here a short romp down an ice filled gully might gain the base of the route.

Areal photo of the mountains with the Avellano River running down to Lago General Carrera

Having perused google earth I knew the following: The Avellano valley only gains 500 meters in total from the lake to the base of the route; there are signs of agriculture and habitation as far as the confluence at 25 km. Using copious amounts of optimism we decided there would be someone willing to packhorse equipment up the valley in exchange for cash.

In December 2014 we returned with a huge amount of optimism and a plan involving boats and horses.

The route from Buria Murta involved river walking up the valley below

Thanks to the BMC and the MEF for helping to meet the cost of this expedition.

Thanks to Rab equipment for helping with the gear we required.

And finally thanks to Outside for providing all the kit we had forgotten we required at incredibly short notice!

Arguably the best route on the Old Man of Hoy

South Face of the Old Man of Hoy photo courtesy of Adam Long

James, guardian of the Burnmouth Both in Ratwick, probably has the best idea of anyone of how many teams a year climb the Old Man of Hoy. His estimate is one hunndred and fifty per year. Of these we mused, how many were by the original route? Eighty percent? Ninty percent? Ninty nine percent?

As we peered upwards into the mist enshrouded heights of the rock tower we knew one thing; there were five people climbing the original route and none on the GMB West Face route. Congratulating ourselves on our originality we gently mock the numpty cluster fuck taking place around the corner. Assuredly we tease in a couple of optimistic wires as a ‘belay’. I settle back to watch Reeve dispatch the first 5c pitch. Half-jokingly I suggest we might beat the other teams to the top.

Twenty minutes of total failure later we were again both still stood on the starting ledges. Damp, sand generating slopers, indifferent gear and fragile footholds with a propensity to crumble had defeated all upwards progress at a height of less than five metres. Daunted we swapped lead; additional RP’s were nestled into cracks, holds rigorously brushed and good jams on the lip of the overhang gained. Having stuffed the break with the largest cams I ran it out to the belay. Confidence slightly knocked we muttered something about there being no point in retreating yet and continued on.

Over the next few hours we both, backed off, traversed off, prevaricated and split pitches at additional belays. The guide description quickly became mere optimistic guidance.

Struggling to progress upwards I forced a wafer thin traverse in desperation. A unique crouching experience, stooped below an overhang, smearing sandy foot holds and pinching a horizontal wafer thin flake. Walking never felt so exposed and gear never felt so far away. Had this been included in the original ascent I’m sure it would have had a prominent write up.

We quickly realised our double set of wires were nothing but ballast whilst our double set of cams were woefully inadequate. As we climbed higher it became clear that bailing off this route was going to be a costly exercise.  I favoured building a good belay, tying both our ropes together and worrying about the consequences tomorrow whilst Reeve was eyeing up a diagonal abseil across the North Face to the sanctuary of easy ground. As both of these plans seemed worse than continuing upwards we kept going. The forth pitch stretched on forever with its thirty five metres (really?) eventually broken down into three pitches with us finally gaining the terrace thirty metres below the summit at about eight pm. A mere half hour prior to sun set. We used the terrace to bail onto easy ground, topping out in time to watch the sun set. As we descended into the gathering darkness we agreed that tomorrow we would return to finish it off.

Needless to say there was no sign of the party of five.

Another late start saw us looking down from the landward cliff top behind the old man. A slow moving team on the first pitch of the original route filled us with horror. Our plan of blasting up the trade route and abbing into the final (crux) pitch of the GMB looked optimistic. Luckily they headed left up the South Face in a shower of loose holds and fulmar vomit, leaving the way clear. One pitch of overhanging offwidth, two pitches of ledge shuffling and one good corner led to the top. We abseiled and traversed into position below the final thirty metre, overhanging corner system, of the GMB. At this point I declared that having led the lion’s share of the lower section it was only fair to let Reeve have first refusal. He almost bit my hand off.

This last pitch was epic in position and quality. The final capping buttress overhung the North West arête and the climbing was steep and athletic with enough gear to provide comfort but long enough run-outs to focus the mind. A section of wafer thin flakes added spice with the specialty being good breaks with a subsidiary fragile flake above. This left one with no option but to trust the fragile higher surface. When weighted these often held for a while before dropping you, unexpectedly half a centimetre lower onto the solid hold below. Logic flew out the window on these occasions and I’m sure I heard whimpering floating down from above along with the sandy debris.

This time we topped out with plenty of time to enjoy the summit. Three tops in two days seemed quite good going.

Having only climbed the West Face GMB route and the East Face Original route I’m possibly not in a position to argue that the GMB is the best route up the Old Man but I do know that if I head back again I’m taking less wires, a triple rack of cams and going for the one-day speed ascent. Although as Dave Turnball always insists, the best thing to take on routes like this is John Arran.

I'm bigtime

I'm bigtime

Chasing an indian summer or post monsoon season window of climbing opportunity plans were made for the South West.

Targets hatched. An unstoppable team assembled. Routes quite literally crumbled before us.

Staggering under the weight of a million small wires, a rigging rope, 100 meters of static, two 8mm half ropes and other gear we gained the top of Dyres Lookout.

I was psyched. This feature was epic, Once Upon a Time in the West, The Walk of Life and The Earth Sea Trilogy part 1. All amazing lines. All climbable by the strong and the talented. The Earth Sea Trilogy possibly climbable by me.

I was going to stack the odds in my favour. The new job and house renovation had led to the quietest spell in my climbing since 2003 so I needed all the help I could get. I abseiled in for a quick look.

Don't be mistaken. I was ticking holds, ticking gear placements, pulling on and trying moves. Onsite this was not. I unlocked moves downwards, penduling  across the slab to clip directional runners then nothing.......

Blank rock. I pondered. This looked hard and bold. I swung across to the walk of life for a comparison, it had holds and gear. Swinging back I continued downwards passing a hold. I pulled on and the hold came off. Then I got to the bottom third, there was holds and gear a plenty. It looked piss. Reeve and I sat at the bottom comparing topo photos and route descriptions.

The middle had fallen down. The Earth Sea Trilogy part 1 was no more.

In consolation next time someone asks:

"So you go climbing do you?"

"er yes"

"do you go abseiling as well?"

"hell yes, I've abseiled the hardest trad route in the country, I'm bigtime."