The Avellano Towers 2014 - Part 2

The Avenali Tower and trhe Tooth

Jim and Angela roared off back down the agricultural track in their British racing green hilux. I shut the gate surveyed my gear.

Strewn around me, cascading off a log and festooning a rusting piece of agricultural machinery, was all my stuff. I was attempting to travel light. Every item here was about to be packed into one bag and carried up into and then over the Avellano Towers before I met with John, Will and Reeve who were hopefully already in place.

The town of Bahia Murta from my drop off spot

The end of the road and the start of the "cow trail"

Due to some scheduling upsets I had done no trial pack. I was in a position where everything had to fit in my bag and once this fitted, everything had to be lifted onto my back and I had to walk. Around me lay a plethora of useful things, all in isolation small and light but I feared they might add up to a considerable bulk and weight.

It was 7pm. Jim had made a fast escape as he had a further fifty-five miles of dirt road to his house to drive. Fortunately he was experienced in the dark art of overtaking trucks on blind bends in choking dust clouds so this would not take him as long to dive as it would many others. The late hour was due to TAM airlines unceremoniously cancelling my flight from Heathrow. Jim had already gone out of his way to pick me up from Balmaceda airport, bought me food for my walk, and taken me to the trailhead.

The view back down to the Rio Murta

I was on my own about to embark upon the “short approach” to the Avellano Towers to meet John, Reeve and Will who had headed in a week earlier.

I set about trying to sort my gear. Compounding my problems were the following items: John’s new mountaineering boots, and the three piton hammers.

John always had epics with boots; it was a familiar aspect of trips with John. There had been days tramping the streets of small South American towns chasing rumours of boots. Boots abandoned by previous mountaineering expeditions, which John hopped to buy to replace his boots, which had turned out to be critically uncomfortable for the long Patagonian approaches. When this failed the boot saga revolved around a mercy package of boots being passed through a network of informal curriers in the UK to be delivered by the next group of hopeful Brits heading down.

On this trip his new boots were due to be delivered on the morning of Johns departure. Due to the complex nature of Johns address he had arranged a sign on the main road with a number of high visibility bibs hung from bushes along the small road up to his house to guide the way. Needless to say neither the sign, “Johns Delivery this way” nor the bibs resulted in success and muggins here was carrying them for John.

The river proved to be the easiest route but easy is a reletive concept

Piton hammers were another big-ticket item. There were three of them for a start. After careful consideration we had calculated that three was the minimum we could get away with. Two hammers for the lead team and one for the hauling and stripping team bringing up the rear. The hardware suppliers let us down at the last moment so I set off on the blag to borrow some gear in the last few days.

My friend James Rhodes was good for a nice shiny pezil hammer, all I had to do was go fell running with him when I picked it up.

James Turnbull also said he was good for a hammer so I headed round to pick it up from him in Outside. As he handed it over he mentioned that it had been hand made by Yvon Chouinard and personally gifted to his dad. I was welcome to borrow it but I better bring it back or there would be serious trouble.

“you’re welcome to it, its no problem, but its got to come back! Its precious with huge sentimental value.”

I was not sure about this; I generally loose a good percentage of my gear so this was a bit heavy. We discussed options and in a moment of inspiration James’ eyes rose to the ceiling. Attached to the ceiling of Outside was a veritable history board of antiquated gear. Some of this gear was of historical note, Jo Simpson’s terradactil axe, Malory’s underpants and other such equipment. Lurking above out heads were at least three piton hammers. One of which had no label connecting it to any past notables so it was quickly removed.

The treasured Chouinard tool was handed back and borrowed a Stubri piton hammer of uncertain vintage replaced it.

The third of the three hammers was a stubri ice hammer I had borrowed from Leeds University Mountaineering Society in 2005 for precisely a moment such as this.

The volume of these three hammers was less of an issue than the weight. I’ve yet to find a functional lightweight hammer!

The offending hammers

Eventually all was packed. I got everything into the huge metanoia rucksack with the exception of the rope and my smaller rucksack. Placing the rope in the alpine attack day sack I strapped it onto the outside. Getting upright was involved. First I wriggled into the straps whilst lying down. Next came rolling onto my front, and pushing up into a crawling position. From here verticality was attained with the aid of trekking polls. I was now able to stagger off up into the mountains.

I managed to stagger upwards for a couple of hours, following the vague cow trail. This trail linked cleared cow pastures cut out of the temperate rainforest. The Chilean government had enacted legislation similar to the Americas Homestead Act to encourage settlement of this region. The remains of huge burnt trees lie at award angles, left as reminders of the slash and burn techniques of a hundred years ago. Only the flattest areas of the steep valley sides had been cleared, and flat were a relative concept. The path was clear between pastures but hard to follow where the pastures allowed the cows to wander at leisure. The occasional gap cut through fallen trees to allow cows past offered encouragement.

David gaining the top of the tree ramp guarding access to the mountains in Febuary 2012

I guzzled my water in the evening heat and pushed on. I was keen to travel high enough to gain a stream that fell direct from the mountainside above the pastures before I drank. After two hours I was spent. I was feeling the effects of travelling for days without rest.

Mindful of the over inquisitive horse and frisky cows I had passed an hour before, I bivied on a flat spot with an old tree stump arranged to hopefully prevent trampling. In light of the small distance I’d covered my food supplies looked meagre; cheese, tuna, crackers, pita bread and chocolate.

I awoke at three with stomach cramps, squirming out of my bags I stumbled off a few meters before voiding my bowls. Not a good sign! After a couple of false starts and return visits to the bushes I regained sleep. I woke at six troubled by my nocturnal experiences. I was unsure if pushing on into the mountains on my own was a clever decision. It felt like a big deal as it was, let alone if I was coming down with some illness. I nibbled crackers and contemplated. The options were poor.

If I bailed I would end up back at the village miles from anywhere with nowhere to stay and with no transport. The boys in the mountains would presumably start to worry when I failed to arrive in a few days and we had no ability to contact them. I pushed on.

The two rucksack mega bag with Johns boots and the borrowed Outside peg hammer visible.

The best map avalable. Unfortunately it was not avalable until after we left the mountains.

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!

Cerro Apidame or Cerro Colorado (La Pirámide), Patagonian desert towers

When it rains in the mountains ones options are limited.

If your in North Wales you can sometimes avoid the rain on the coast at Gogarth or go sport climbing on the Orme. If you are in the Lakes and the weather's bad its harder.

Around Lago General Carrera however things are different. Looking out from the balcony the promised mountains were cloaked in cloud. Somewhere out there lay Mt St Valentine and its great unclimbed face. There was to be no climbing in the mountains today. Today we would have to go with Plan B.

This was Plan B.

La Pirámide above Chile Checo

Anywhere else Plan B would be Plan A.

After paying a trespass fee of a bottle of tequila to the local Gaucho we abandoned the pickup and strolled into the Jeinimeni National Park and up towards the geological feature dubbed la pirámide. We were not the first to climb here. Jim had brought others before and was keen to pit his new recruits against the route they had put up in 2010.

Our experiences carrying loads to the Torres Glacier made this feel like a path. The tussocks of grass and Huánuco paths proved preferable to mobile moraine and glacier and we soon crested the rise to the camping spot by some springs below the pirámide. After we erected our tent the setting sun caught the prow of the feature, a clear master line and enticed us into running our gear up the final talus slope to the base of the crag. In the fading light we peered upwards. This was amazing.

The next morning it seemed appropriate to repeat the existing line. It would be a nod to those before us and more importantly it would allow us to scope the cliff, to view those other cracks from above and below. Four pitches of steep jamming later we made easy ground and scrambled to the top in time to watch two condors catching thermal soar around us. We were impressed, the rock was good, the lines were good and the situation was amazing. Even better some new lines had leapt out at us.

John climbing on the Ultimate Basault Experiance

The main prow we had seen highlighted by the deepening shadows looked possible. It would involve escaping from the deep cracks and getting onto the faces of the hexagonal features. There did appear to be small seams between the columns to allow trad gear. The prow flowed upwards, slabby to start but steepening. The first proper ledge was at sixty meters height. After some debate we swung in and bolted a belay at thirty meters on a small foot ledge, the only possible stance available. I abbed down checking the gear and decided it would be protectable.

There was some talk of pre placing some gear to ensure a successful outcome but we decided that this would take something away from the route. John led the first pitch, this thirty meter pitch weighed in around E3 and was excellent with the slightly runout crux coming just prior to the belay. I then took over and managed to gain about five meters before pulling off a small crimp and taking the lob. Slightly spooked I continued upwards towards the crux moves guarding the wider upper crack. My nerves got the better of me and after fiddling in tiny wires I found myself again hanging on the rope. I pushed on ‘french free’ to the second belay.

John seconded and then offwidthed to glory and the top.

We returned a few weeks later and swapped leads, I led out pitch one and John dispatched pitch two leaving a three star offering weighing in at around E4 6a.

Many thanks for Jim Donini for taking us to such a phonominal crag X.

John leading the second pitch of the Ultimate Basalt Experience with David belaying. Thanks to Jim Donini for photograph.

Topo of routes on prow section of La Piramide

Topo of ledge section of La Piramide showing routes climbed. This area is distinguished by the prominent ledge at a quarter height.

This Changes Everything

The North Face of the South Avellano Tower viewed from the base of the 'Tooth'

In January 20014 John and I were hunkered down in El Chalten. We sat despondent, yet another weather window collapsing before our eyes. The proceeding week of hectic planning, training and getting excited seemed nothing but a cruel joke.

We cracked and took Jim up on his talk of Northern Patagonia and booked bus tickets.

Jim has had a house on the shores of Lago General Carrera for several years and has used it for a base to explore the mountains surrounding the lake and the edges of the Northern Patagonian Ice Cap. Information online was limited. There were a few trip reports, Cerro Choss, The Avellano Towers and Mt St Valentine but all were very vague.

It sounded like an adventure, something totally different far from the Cerro Torre circus.

We took a punt on Jim’s talk of ‘interesting’ objectives and Jim delivered.

In a weeklong spell of immaculate weather we walked into the Avellano Towers. Jim Donini assured us it was a short six hour walk to a basecamp by a lake. We followed as he led up out of the town of Bahia Murta and into the mountains. There must have been something wrong with our watches, as it seemed to take at least ten hours.

To kick things off Jim, John and I climbed the tooth. This shapely summit had previously repelled Jim in 2007 so it was good to see him settling old scores. From the top of this we gazed upon the face of the 'South Avellano Tower'.

This was the largest unclimbed feature I'd ever seen, un-climbed but not un-climbable. From our vantage, our eerie on the summit of the tooth features were visible. Huge dihedrals and ramp lines led the eye upwards. There were even some snow patches so we could make do with just taking a jet boil. Enthusiasm boiled over trumping reality and sensible decision-making.

After a 2 am alpine start we descended the couloir to the base of the wall. We managed to locate the base of our intended route in the nick of time prior to the wall falling into the moon shadow of the range. Congratulating ourselves John set off. In the pool of torchlight at the base I immediately noted Johns progress was slow. He inched up the big corner.

At 12 pm we had climbed three hundred meters. This sounds impressive, three hundred meters of new route up a thousand meter face. Gaining the top in two days was totally achievable. The problem was that our three hundred meters of climbing involved three faltering starts followed by abseils, several diagonal traverses and a short section of down climbing. We were possibly only fifty meters higher than we started.

Reality kicked in, we had climbed fifty vertical meters in six hours. There were another nine hundred and fifty meters to go, even my mental arithmetic told me we needed hundred and fourteen hours to gain the top. Convincing John however to bail was the hardest battle yet but in the end he also conceded that the chances of us gaining the top before starving to death were remote.

A highly forshortened view of the South Avellano Tower from below

It took one and a half abseils to gain the base so we might have made the top in only 60 hours of continuous climbing. Who knows.

Sitting at the base looking up at the wall in the afternoon sun I knew one thing. This unfinished business changed everything.

You just cannot leave unclimbed big walls made of impeccable granite lying around. They get inside you. They challenge you. I was coming back.

Screw commitments; I've an appointment in December.

David Brown hanging out at the bivi spot in the col with the approach from Bahia Murta visible in the background

Jim Donini accending the final pitch of the 'Tooth' with the Avellano valey below

The Crown Jewels

In February, John Crook, Jim Donini, Angela Goodacre, and I spent a week in the Avellano Mountains of Chile. This area is near the northern Patagonian Ice Cap and northeast of the shores of Lake General Carrera. We focused our attention on the Avellano Towers, an area of granite spires at the head of the Avellano River. The lack of accurate mapping, coupled with various approaches to the towers, have led to fragmented descriptions of the region.

John Crook cramponing up on the approach to the 'Crown Jewels'

Our group approached from the small town of Bahia Murta, using the approach employed by John Bragg, Wes Bunch, Angela Hawse, and Brenton Regan in 2005, and used again by Jim Donini and Thom Engelbach in 2008. This approach leads to a valley west of these striking granite peaks. [See AAJ 2008 for Jim Donini’s description of this approach and climbing. See AAJ 2004 and AAJ 2006 for other established climbs.] After establishing a base camp between two lakes below the spires, we climbed to a bivy site in a col south of the smaller, tooth-shaped tower to the south of Avenali Tower, aptly nicknamed the Tooth.

The following day we climbed the east ridge of the Tooth. This tower had previously been climbed, as we found abseil tat on the summit, but due to the lack of written evidence it’s suspected that this prior ascent was via easy, broken terrain to the north. There was no evidence of any ascent on the route we’ve called Tooth Arête (300m, 5.10). After descending we bivied again at the col.

The next day John Crook and I set out to climb the east ridge of the tower just north of Avenali Tower and south of a summit assumed to have been climbed by Dave Anderson and party (AAJ 2004). We first gained the hanging glacier below the towers by dropping from the col between the Tooth and Avenali Tower, then crossed under the northeast face of Avenali Tower before gaining the east ridge of the unnamed tower just to its north.

Jim Donini and David Brown on the summit of the 'Tooth' with Avenali Tower and the Crown Tower in the background

The ridge was easy for several hundred meters until it narrowed to form a classic knife-edge. Several steep pitches (up to 5.11-) allowed access to the upper portion of the ridge. From here we made progress up steep ground (5.10) to gain one of the twin summits of this tower. The climb took approximately 10 hours from the bivy. We descended the ridge, which took seven hours and involved a complex mixture of abseiling and downclimbing. Fortunately the upper section was descended in the daylight with no significant rope tangle issues.

This was a high-quality route, ascending mostly very good granite to a fantastically sharp and pointy summit. We called the formation Crown Tower and the climb Crown Jewels (800m, 5.11-).

In addition, John Crook scrambled to the top of the two highest summits (both 5.6) south of the Tooth; the left of these had some abseil cord indicating a prior ascent while the right-hand one did not.

David Brown high on the Crown Tower

Anotated aerial photograph of the Avellano Towers taken from the south east

Actual Rock Climbing

Weather wise the 2013/2014 season is not like the preceding few by most accounts. Few rock routes have been climbed due to short variable weather windows preceded by generally heavy snowfall. General mountaineering, mixed climbing and ice objectives have been going down but less so the rock routes.

As I eyed up the meteorgram I was optimistic enough to suggest rock climbing. Actual rock climbing with rock shoes and bare hands. Elemental contact with the Patagonian granite. A heady feeling comes over one in the days prior to a Patagonian Weather Window. Anything is possible.

I teamed up with Drew, an American down from Colorado who also had tired of axes, crampons and snowy faffing. We egged each other on and generally shot our mouths off across town. We were going to climb the Pillar Goretta on Fitzroy, Hell we were going to traverse Guillaumet and Mermoz to get there to save us having to walk through snow.

Inevitably after we had told everyone we knew the weather window deteriorated and a sheepish "morning after" feeling crept in. Had we really said the things we said? We walked in not to climb the Pillar Goretta but just "to have a look".

The walk of shame.

We walked past Piedra Negra. To maintain some dignity we were still aiming to bivy at the base of the Pillar Goretta to "see how it looked in the morning" and had accordingly only brought one sleeping bag with the 1.5 person Patagonian special modification. This simply consisted of a triangle of fabric to be zipped into the bag. Instant intimate comfort assured. Arriving in the early afternoon we were on time but the sight of the rime plastering the top third of Marmoz stopped us firmly in our tracks. This indicated that basically the entire pillar would be rimed up.

Reality was firmly kicking us in the face by now so we retreated to Piedra Negra and the tent Drew had stashed there. Here we pondered the ridiculousness of sharing a sleeping bag in the most accessible bivy spot in the mountain range. Lets just save ourselves blushes and spare the details. We both took turns at being big spoon and their was certainly not enough room for us to both lay on our backs at once!

Dawn saw us commit to climbing the Comesana-Fonrouge up the Northwest Ridge of Guillaumet. In an attempt to preserve some dignity we tacked on the Giordani "sit start" and we had an amazing climb. Sunshine, rockshoes, bare hands and actual climbing moves on amazing Patagonian granite. Due to our comparatively late start (to give the day time to warm up) we saw none of the hundred thousand people who climbed the ice and mixed routes on the east face that day topping out in solitude at 6 pm to a tempestuous sky and snow moving in.

Walking back down the glassier by moonlight with head torches not required was a privilege.

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.