Ooooooh. The dizzy heights of the Notes and Queries in the Guardian Weekly. I think I'll have to go lie down for a bit.

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8 weeks of alpine action has been completed.

It's been a good and varied summer as those of you following the twitter feed will know. Despite the difficult financial climate there has been no slackening in enthusiasm for alpine action from the British climbing community, and I've had some great weeks with loads of variety from 1:1 technical alpinism through to some relaxing trekking from Chamonix to Zermatt, happily managing to be in the valley to celebrate my 50th in style.

From an alpine perspective, the highlight has got to be my 4 days with Mark and Ray in late July. Two highly motivated and very fit lads making the most of their trip, with the Zinalrothorn and the Miroir d'Argentine (see photo on the right) making a fine combination.

We still have 4 weeks to go with an equally varied calendar, from trekking to the south of Zermatt to multi pitch mountain rock with Noelle and Michael.

Thanks to everyone for putting in the effort. It's always worth it!

I was over in Britain last week for just 4 days rock climbing, and it reminded me of the times when people ask me if I'd ever move back to the UK. The answer is "No, but....." but there are several reasons why I really love returning to Britain every so often. Here are 3 of them:

Reason number 1: The quality of the rock climbing
We had planned to get to Pembroke for 3 days and then get back to the Peak for the birthday party of my ex-boss at Troll, Tony Howard, 70 years young this year and still climbing, an inspiration to anyone who says "I'm too old to climb, trek, cave, leap around to AC/DC". I flew to Bristol and met Pete Barrass at my folks in Gloucester, already knowing we needed to amend the plan. Both Range West AND east in Pembroke were closed by the army for a "let's practise shelling seven bells of shit out of Afghanistan" brigade level exercise. For realism, they should really let the sheep on Castlemartin range explode in an improvised way now and again.

So first stop was Nesscliff Quarry in Shropshire. Even here, the peace was disturbed by small arms fire and helicopter flights at the nearby army range. Fortunately we were able to concentrate on the soaring sandstone arêtes and corners which have had full treatment from Nick Dixon and a cast of all stars like Johnny Dawes, with a resulting clutch of top quality adventurous lines since I last visited in the late 80's.

Pete Barrass experiencing Walsh's Groove on West Buttress Eliminate

Not having climbed on leader placed pro for ... oooo... quite a while, we picked the best protected lines to start with. Red Square at E1 served as our warm up, and then seeing as how the classic E4 of Marlene was being top roped by a visiting German team, we jumped on Trouble in Toytown. Going in at E5 6b for just the second route felt a bit bold, but in the event it proved to be more than protectable enough with fantastic moves through a cheeky bridging crux. That route alone was worth the entrance money. This was Pete's first E5 lead as well. You wouldn't think so, given the way he smoothly dispatched the crux. By contrast, a lead of Marlene felt pretty poky, with a 6a crux well out from two cam placements and you really wouldn't want to take a 30 foot swinger to near the ground even if they did hold. A quick ascent of Imagination followed and then we both played on the sequency Yukan 2. At E6/7 6B, we had no chance at this on the flash, especially as the temperature was rapidly rising, so we scooted off to North Wales to stay with that un-ageing hippy, Graham Desroy, still in bandanna and flares.

With the weather set fair, the obvious choice for day 2 and a total contrast to Nesscliff was Clogwyn d'ur Arddu. Climbing on Cloggy is special anytime, but when it's dry and warm it's a real privilege. As Adam Wainwright put it, "if Wales was like this all the time, it would be the best climbing venue in the world. I last did West Buttress Eliminate in the 80's as well, so had very little memory of it apart from horrendous thrutch up Walsh's Groove. I certainly didn't remember how bold the first pitch felt. British mountain rock routes have a special feel, and Cloggy is really serious. you can feel the weight of history bearing down there on any route you climb, just like climbing on the Eiger even if you're not on the Nordwand.

Even on Cloggy, the military were following us around. Army Puma choppers circling round Llyn d'ur Arddu slowly (boys - it's a good job climbers aren't Taliban with RPG's) and even a Chinook overflying the walkers sweating up Snowdon. Anyone would think the country was at war.

After too much red wine chez Desroy followed up by Ledaig (a fine single malt from Mull). we felt a little jaded on day 3 so opted for a shorter walk in to Clogwyn y Gafr at the top end of Llanberis Pass. Pete acquitted himself with honour on Pulsar, but I got spanked on Nectarine Run. If it was a bolted sport route, it would be about F7b, but at E5 6b with lots of RP's of varying solidity, and with my hangover reinforced with dehydration, I just wasn't up to the job.
Escaping back to Sheffield to avoid further liver damage, the rain on Friday night put paid to the plan of either Chee Tor (not fancying climbing in a tropical jungle) or natural grit, so Millstone beckoned. After a warm up on Great North Road (candidate for the best E1 in the Peak) Pete put paid to Time for Tea and I had a lap on London Wall. Top value finger jamming, something sadly lacking in France. Having started my climbing on Derbyshire grit, it's always been close to my heart. It's still as good as ever.

Reason number 2: The grub

This man has just climbed his first E5. You know it makes sense

Yep - the food in France and (even more so) Italy is amazing, but there are certain things you can only get in Britain. Try to explain the concept of a chip buttie to a French gastronome: "see, what you do is, you chop potatoes by hand into chippy chunks, fry them, but not too much so they stay crisp, and then serve them between two slices of white bread with butter for the extra lard factor and ketchup for a dash of colour. Then wash it all down with a pint of strong tea." It is that simple, and like climbing itself, if we have to explain it, you won't understand it.

Then there's the curry: the only Indian restaurants in Cham are overpriced and not the greatest. The best Indian food in the Chamonix valley gets made in my own kitchen. Another mini-reason to get back to the UK: stock up on spices, pickles, poppadums and bombay mix (though Pete B will tell you that bombay mix is inedible spiced cardboard - he's weird like that). And there's nothing like the whole curry experience, especially somewhere like Sheffield and the associated.....

Reason number 3: BEER (and the craich that goes with it)
Climbing culture in Britain revolves around the pub. Our arrival in North Wales coincided with "pizza and a pint" at the Gallt y Glyn. Walk in there and it's a mini who's who of North Wales climbing. Dave Brown and Lynwen Griffiths, responsible for the amazing Welsh Connections DVD (and now they have Timmy Emmet's Stennis Ford project in the can too), Adam Wainwright, Graham Desroy, Ginger Dave, Ginger Cain and a warm family atmosphere that maybe does exist somewhere in Chamonix, but I haven't found it. Despite having lived in Cham for 10 years, I'll never be Chamoniard, Savoyard or even French. The feeling of belonging in a pub with brain buzzing from the adventure and fingers still sore from pulling hard on rough rhyolite wrapped round a pint of bitter is something you can't put a price on.

I'll always be a British rock climber, heart and soul.

Just last month, a 13 year old from California climbed Everest to establish a new record, and there’s been a bit of discussion as to whether it’s “right” (whatever that means, morality being relative and all that) for someone that young to subject themselves to the physical and mental stress of 8848m. My initial reaction was fairly negative – the youngest person I’ve guided to just 4810m was 14 years old, and she was had to give it 100% effort to reach the summit. But by all accounts Jordan Romero has the physique of an adult, and to prove it he’s got up Everest and (more importantly) got back down again. Hopefully he’s got a lot out of the experience in all round way: travel, hard work, teamwork (especially the Sherpas on the team) and the myriad of other facets that go with expedition climbing.

We can’t complain about how kids (especially Americans) these days tend towards obesity and then whinge when they go in for one of the most savage weight loss programmes on the planet. Likewise we can’t moan about only 10% of Americans not even having passports and then criticise a lad who’s travelled to 6 out of 7 continents to realise his dream of all the highest summits, expanding his horizons in the process.

What I would like to know more about is his motivation and that of his parents. Firstly his: if you go to his website, it’s justified by saying it’s been his dream to climb the 7 summits. At 13 years old, I had some pretty wacky dreams too, and nothing that 50 grand couldn’t have sorted out with change to spare. Some clue is given when we see that it’s all part of the standard 7 summits thing, now just lacking Vinson, so it's allover bar the shouting (and a hefty bill for Vinson). And now his next project is Cho Oyu. No prizes for guessing what the next project will be. Only another 13 8000m peaks to go….

Personally, I’m not attracted to mountains by their altitude – it’s a bit like saying the best motorbike on the road is the one with the biggest engine, and you can easily see that’s nonsense by comparing a Honda Goldwing with almost any other bike on the road. I’m sure climbing above 8000m has its attractions. Maybe the shy retiring Kenton Cool will have an opinion on the subject ;) but I’d have thought it would be good for a 13 year old to get a bit of a broader look at climbing rather than just bagging numbers at such an early stage in his climbing career. And make no mistake – that’s exactly what it is. His parents have decided that by supporting him and his career both in terms of time and cash.

So what’s the motivation of the parents? I can’t even begin to imagine. There's even less on that on the website i.e. no info at all, apart from saying that it's all Jordan's idea. Nevertheless, they're supporting his idea/dream. They are both “professional adventure racers” whatever that means. I didn’t know there was enough cash in adventure racing to stump up cash for a family trip to Everest.

The ironic and amusing thing about all this is that, being from California, young Jordan Romero will have to wait 8 years before he can legally have a celebratory beer in his home state. Cheers!

Porridge: it's a fine Scottish insititution. Oats, water and salt, boiled up for a bit, then add some milk or cream and if you're feeling really indulgent, a bit of golden syrup. It's a little known gossip "fact" that the current president of the British Mountain Guides has a large bowl of it every morning before heading out on the hill, thus maintaining his limitless good humour in the face of BMG politics.

However, take that same lovely porridge, fill a bath full of it, allow to cool to stiffen and congeal slightly and then stand in it with ski boots on, and you may have less than the usual turning capability. Even worse, take several million bath fulls and spread them liberally between the Prafleuri and the Dix huts, allow to cool for a few days so a crust develops in random areas which will maybe (just maybe) support your weight on 3 out of 4 steps. You get convinced that your lower legs will be a porridge-free zone, and then... splunch. You're up to your knees in oaty gloop.

To top it all, then incline the slope by just below 30 degrees and place a gorge full of foaming hydroelectric outflow below it, and that gets you the Pas de Chat section of that day. Is it any wonder we took our skis off and walked up the grass at the side of it?

It's just as well that the tour over the Pigne the next day gave us perfect powder with no one else around. You win some you, you lose some or, as I often say to folk complaining about the quality of the snow, if you want to meet the handsome prince, you have to kiss a lot of frogs.

At this stage of the season, I'm often being asked: "So how has the winter been?". Some people mean this in a commercial sense, but since this is so closely linked to the weather and conditions, I tend to think immediatly of how the snow has been.

We started the winter with a super cold period in December. Typically for early season, this formed lots of depth hoar, but this year it was much more unstable than I've ever seen it. Then it rained to 2300m at Christmas, followed by a period of consolidation through January. February was great, and then in early March the winds were all over the place, distributing the snow into pockets of slab in some places and stripping it bare in others, particularly on the north faces where we would normally find the best powder.

Then in late March it went super warm, with the freezing level at nearly 3000m. I was in Andermatt last week and had just about the worst day of ski touring I've ever had in terms of snow conditions, with knee deep porridge from 2200m downwards. The team did very well to retain their sense of humour! The depth hoar that formed in January was saturated with water and this is now lurking as a very weak layer close to ground level

And now, on the 1st April, we've got a bucket of fresh snow, with the snow/rain limit falling to 800m. I was skiing powder in the resort of Les Houches today in conditions more akin to February than April. We have a week of unstable weather forecast for the Easter holidays.

So overall, the winter has been variable to say the least. It seems that with climate change, there is less of a predictable pattern these days, and this winter has been unpredicatble to say the least. It's been good, with some great days of powder, spring snow and chalky steeps, but it's also been hard work at times and occasionally very scarey.

And it's only early April, with another 5 weeks of touring. Let's see what the mountain gods bring us...

All of a sudden, it's spring in the mountains. Who knows how long it will last? But for the moment it's time to make hay while the sun shines, and make turns on the steeps while the snow is grippy hardpack.

I was out in the Aiguilles Rouges today with Dave, Steve and Drew, all accomplished skiers from the States. The brief was to give the guys a taste of European style big mountain skiing, and we certainly managed that. The conditions for skinning and cramponning were pretty good on the south and east facing slopes, and the north facing slopes at moderate altitudes are perfect, being almost like a piste but with enough give to make every turn a delight. South facing slopes and lower altitude finishing tracks are going springy in the afternoon heat. Let's make the most of it while we can!

Chamonix tends to get overrated. Some people never ski anywhere else but off the Grands Montets and the Aiguille du Midi. I like to ski lots of different places, mountains and countries. But just occasionally Chamonix lives up to the hype as one of the premier big mountain ski areas in the world. Today was one of those days.

The plan had been to ski a couloir off the Grands Montets which both Richard Mansfield and I have been eying up. Unfortunately it rained to above 2000m yesterday (on the 28th Feb - that's climate change for you). An inspection from the road with binoculars revealed avalanche death cookies all over the slope, so after a quick coffee in the Eden, we headed for the Midi lift.

At the lift, we met up with Matt Helliker and Jon Bracey, and along with Isabel (Richard's better half) we headed up to see the state of the VB. This season has been quieter than normal, hence 4 guides on a day off in early March. But also that means less skiers, and more fresh. The Petits Envers was untracked when we got up there after 10, so in we went. Stunning turns down to the first crevassed area, then careful route choice down through the slots. More stunning skiing down right of the Petit Rognon, with some of the best turnss just before hitting the main VB track.

Across to the Requin hut, no stops, but down a couloir which gave some of the most testing skiing of the day, jump turns on a hard icy base at 35 degrees. Amazingly, the rain has affected the snow as high as 2100m, with a hard rain crust formed above the junction with the Leschaux glacier. So it's quite surprising that the path below the buvette is still in good nick, allowing us to reach Chamonix just before 12.30.

Back up the lift at 1, and then into the Vraie VB, also untracked. After careful investigations and a couple of false starts, we skied roped up in the entry for a 100m or so, then it opened up to give some amazing skiing in a wild remote setting. The sort of stuff that Chamonix is renowned for but so rarely happens. Knee deep fluffiness with stark glacial scenery all around.

The VB is taking its toll now. We came across a team waiting for a chopper in the icefall with a twisted knee. Our legs feeling quite worked with the rattly rain crust second time round. And there was a boarder at the buvette being choppered out.We bumped into Seb Montaz on a photo shoot for Mammut at the buvette, but doubtless he has been getting some good footage for his next snow report today.

We got down to Cham for the second time before 4 pm, after 5000m of vertical, 2 fabulous runs and countless turns in the lightest of light snow. When Chamonix is good, it's up there with the best.

For the full photo gallery, click here.

Over the weekend of the 23rd January, I was working on an avalanche course for Mountain Tracks with a great team of friends from Geneva. The feedback has been so good that it's great to get it on the site. Normally this would be on the Guestbook, but as Julian and friends are MTRX clients, I'm posting it via the blog instead. Thanks guys - it was great working with you and I wish you a rhino free winter

It was excellent. Dedication to the clients learning was exceptional. Thank you very much.
Kind regards,Stephanie

The course was great and I would recommend it to a friend. Andy was very clear and offered practical advice which is perfect.
Thanks for your help,Joe

I enjoyed the course a lot and Andy is great - both in terms of experience and ability to explain the theory.
Cordially, Alex

My feedback is that I really enjoyed the avalanche course and learnt a lot. Andy was a great trainer who I definitively can recommend to anyone interested in mountaineering. He involved all participants in the different training exercises. I can really not think of anything he should have done better.
Regards, Stefanie

Overall I thought the course was excellent, and have recommended it to friends.

Key positive points:

• Knowledgeable guides with real life experiences
• Field trips in areas we ski was very useful
• One on one avalanche tranciever search with your own kit

Julian

Andy was great! On top of being incredibly knowledgeable and experienced with mountaineering, he quite obviously takes pleasure in sharing his knowledge with others. Coupled with his insistence that we practice and learn about avalanches/rescue (and not just be told and then forget an hour later), this makes him one of the most effective teachers I have ever met.

Next time I need a guide, he is definitely the one I will call :)
Erin

If you look up in a thesaurus on line, the definition of "considerable" is abundant or large. So 3 out of 5 on the European Avalanche Scale is an abundant or large risk. To quote the EAS specifically: Avalanches may be triggered on many slopes even if only light ( a single skier or snowboarder) loads are applied. On some slopes, medium or even fairly large spontaneous avalanches may occur.

So what does that mean in practice today at Le Tour, where a 25 year old was dug out very dead yesterday? Crown walls on all aspects from west to east through north, especially on north facing slopes, whoomphing on several places above 2000m, small skier triggered slabs all over the resort off piste. That's what considerable means: pretty damn scary. And yet there are still folk passing the fences on the Belle Place piste which say "closed due to avalanche risk" with no rucksacks, and therefore no shovels or probes at the very least and in all probability zero awareness.
It is DANGEROUS out there - a thin early season snow pack with depth hoar forming due to the cold snap we've just had, and now a bucket load of snow arriving on strong south westerly winds. Nature couldn't give bigger billboards if she tried.

OK - rant over. Go ski low in the trees and have fun, folks. I did today, and it was awesome.