A couple of incidents in the last few days have highlighted for me the issue of personal responsibility.

Incident 1:
On Christmas Day I was enjoying my second run off top of the Brevent. Category 3 day on 35 degree terrain in the company of one of my neighbours. Fully tooled up with transceivers, shovels and probes, we were taking it nice and steady. On the traverse to the Hotel Face, two reps for a well-known British ski package company with no packs passed us. I mentioned to one of them that it might be a good idea to be equipped, to which the response was: “I’ve got a transceiver but I left my ABS at home today because I didn’t expect to be skiing off piste”.

Incident 2:
Fast forward to a visit to Crans Montana on the 28th December, and the front cover of Le Matin, a local Valais newspaper, caught my eye. A family of 4 were avalanched on the south face of Mont Gelé in Verbier , with no transceivers, shovels or probes and (according to the head of safety at Téléverbier), no idea that they were doing anything unsafe.

In typical tabloid fashion, this escalates into a debate as to whether off piste skiers involved in avalanches should pay extra for their rescues, over and above any private insurance premium they might already have paid. According to a spokesperson for Suva quoted in Le Matin, the average cost to the insurance company of an avalanche incident is 50,000 Swiss francs.

To me, the debate isn’t really about that- all we have to do is look at the two pictures published in the paper of folk crossing the line in Verbier. On the cover, a tourer is stepping the fences at the top of Mont Fort. On the inside page, a boarder ducks a rope somewhere in Verbier. Aside from what they have on their feet, there’s one striking difference in the two shots - what they have on their backs.

In one, the person may have taken some personal responsibility by equipping themselves correctly for off piste terrain. In the other, they haven’t. And remember, there’s no such thing as a little bit off piste. It’s like being pregnant – you either are, or you’re not. And once you cross that line, you most definitely are…

Happy New Year, and happy hors-piste.

As little as 5 years ago, this was an easy question to answer as the selection available to the ski-tourer was relatively restricted and generally there was just one ski of choice that most guides used which inevitably filtered down to more general usage. Atomic 9.22’s, Bandits, Legend 8000’s – they all came and dominated the field for a while. These days there’s a myriad of choice with all the big ski brands producing at least one touring ski, and some of them producing a wide range.

In addition, the idea of what constitutes a good touring ski has changed. It used to be narrow and straight to ease the uphill. But nowadays, unless we’re Patrouille de Glacier racer types, we place more of an emphasis on the pleasure in the descent and compromise on the ease of uphill.

Yes – compromise is the name of the game when selecting a ski, and I’ve been reminded of this directly as over the last couple of months I’ve been through the agony of choice myself, selecting a touring ski for the coming season.

Rule 1: if it ain’t broke don’t fix it
If you’ve got a setup that works for you, there’s no reason to succumb to the marketing to get the latest technical feature or this season’s topsheet graphic. I skied on Atomic 9.22’s for the first 4 years of my guiding career. But this year, after going from via Legend 4800’s to Altitrail Powders which I’ve been on for 3 years, I needed a change.

Rule 2: what do I need from the ski?
It’s a bugger really - a touring ski has to do everything: powder, crust, ice, steeps, skinning, and it has to be as light as possible. Or does it? I selected the Altitrail Powder on a weight basis as well as the recommendation of highly experienced ski guides but (crucially) without testing them. I attended the 4th British Ski Mountaineering Symposium and listened to Simon Christy speaking on the subject of kit with the title “Lighter, Faster, Better?”. We came to the conclusion that the ideal touring ski has:

• an underfoot width of 82-95mm to give enough flotation and more tolerance and
• a turn radius of 18-21m. Any less than this means the ski will snatch sideways in crust and will chatter on steep hard terrain

Rule 3: make a list
I’m a bit of a list maniac - making a spreadsheet of possible options with dimensions, weights, constructions helps me to make sense of the chaos out there.

Rule 4: talk to loads of people
I spoke to other guides, skiers, shops, read reviews and garnered as many opinions as I could. I even got some ideas via a Facebook post. In particular, Andy at Back Country in Ilkley gave me some great alternative ideas.

Rule 5: if at all possible, try before you buy
Testing touring skis is really hard, as most shops mount demo models with downhill bindings, and so you’re not going to be able to test them with your touring boots without risking spiral fractures. But there’s still benefit to testing with downhill boots to get a comparative thing going and, let’s face it, if you can’t control the ski in downhill boots, then it’s going to be a ‘mare in touring boots. I was really lucky to get a tip from local guide Fred Bernard that Grands Montets Sports held one of the models I was looking at (and even in a touring binding too – bonus!).

Rule 6: love at first pitch
If there’s any doubts after the first pitch, forget it. Don’t tell yourself you could get used to it because you like the colour, the name, the price, the way your mate skis on them etc. You won’t, and you’ll always doubt yourself on testing terrain.

If it’s love, then go with it. No need to test a load of others. Get that credit card out and buy into the dream

So what have I bought?

I looked at these skis:

Scott Crusairs and Powdairs
Dynastar Mythic Lights
K2 Waybacks and Coombacks
Zag Ubacs

But in the end I fell in instant love with Trab Volares. Suits me, sir!
100mm underfoot and a 25m turn radius, so you can ignore any or all of the above advice.
Happy shopping!

A bit of a short run on the Kandahar
Les Houches, 30 November 2011

There are times when mountains say yes to your chosen plan, times when they say maybe, and then other times when it's an emphatic no. So when the answer is in that last category it does seem pointless or exceedingly vain to try and fight it with technology, rather like King Canute sat on his throne ordering the tide not to come in. Though in fairness to Canute, he was doing it as a demonstration to a bunch of sycophants who kept telling him he was all powerful.

Now - the start of this winter in the Western Alps has been dry. Very dry. Essentially there’s been little to no precipitation to the north and west of the alpine chain since a brief flurry in late October that got everyone prematurely excited. With just 3 weeks to go to the Christmas season, the ski resorts are understandably getting a bit nervous.

However, the news that some of the Savoie resorts are opening up pistes on totally artificial snow has left me bemused. What is the point of having a resort like Val Thorens open with just 5 pistes? I can see the logic of having snow cannons to extend the life of a piste towards the end of a season when bare patches start to appear, but it’s madness to try and make up for a total lack of snow with a few patches of white amongst the brown.

Either it will snow, in which case the piste bashers can get to work and everyone can get their rocks skis out, or it won’t. And if it doesn’t then no amount of snow cannons will prevent it from being utterly pants. Let’s have a bit of realism and some environmental awareness from the ski resorts, and a little more acceptance that, when the mountain and its associated weather gives an unconditional “non”, that’s exactly what it means.

Its that time of year again when I live with a clipboard in my hand, a mobile in my pocket and survive on a diet of beer and pizza and adrenaline. Yes - Kendal Mountain Festival rolls into town for another year.

To most Festival goers (known collectively as Festers), Kendal is like a swan, drifting serenely across the water with seemingly effortless ease. Like the swan, underneath the surface the feet are paddling away furiously. Time, then, to give an insight into the madness that goes into 4 days of the social event of the climbing year.

I'll attempt to blog in the run up to the Fest on Thursday evening - after Thursday things may get a little too intense to even open the laptop unless it's to check allocations, schedules, programmes, scripts etc.

So...

Monday: great to walk down Kendal high street and see the banner strung across the road. Up till now the Fest is all a bit theoretical but when there's a banner, you really know we're going ahead. A bit like putting an engagement ring on - it's a public sign of commitment.

Arriving at the Brewery, it's great to meet the BAC tech crew with whom we'll be hand in glove for the next 7 days.

Morning meeting with Martin P from Marmot and Clive A (one of the directors of the Fest) to talk technical details on the Marmot night, "A Question of Climbing". Walking into the Theatre with Steve P from the Brewery to see the stage being constructed is a bit unreal. In just 3 days time it'll be full of expectant faces, but right now it seems a long way off.

Lunchtime in the Warehouse café at the BAC, and then another two meetings to stage manage the opening night and the awards ceremony at the close. This is Kendal's version of the Oscars, though we are thinking about calling them the Alastairs, as Mr Lee has been on the podium that many times. Let's see how he does this year with Moonflower. Hopefully he'll have finished rendering them by now. I well remember him turning up with the Festival cut of On Sight just hours before the world premier.

Then the afternoon with my arse welded to a chair typing notes up and sending out the final allocations and schedules to the team of presenters. I'd have preferred to have had this finalised a week ago but films have been late in coming, running orders need putting together and so on. The final schedule with 110 sessions, over 60 films, 30 presenters and 10 venues runs to a 16 page spreadsheet.

Time for a brief interlude now, and then it'll be a team meeting at 6.30pm, hopefully winding up by 8.30 so I can get back for some food before it's too late...

Screenshot during team meeting - just 3 days to go

Tuesday: In the end the team meeting last night was great. Pretty much all the key players in one room for the final approach. All 4 directors, our long suffering admin guru Claire, Alison who handles all the films, Blue on the staff rota, Ian from the Dojo and Steve the Brewery technical master, covered a lot of ground very quickly. Last minute issues with the programme, accommodation , transport, logistical issues with setup and already talking about breakdown next Monday. A swift pint in the Malt Room, bumping into Brian, Keith and John from the AFA crew who've already started work with this year's team of aspiring filmmakers. Then back to my doss in Kendal and doing follow up emails till midnight, rearranging a few presenters, adding in a few items, taking away a couple. At this stage the firefighting approach starts to kick in. Though things are still calm, any job has to be done pretty swiftly if it's not to be swamped in the sheer volume of tasks that need doing.

I managed to find time for a couple of hours of climbing at the Kendal Wall this morning with Adrian, one of my fellow guides who's also helping out as a presenter. Even so, we started late as I had to conduct a couple of Skype conversations and also found I'd missed one presenter off the final allocation list, so that's a bit of a priority.

Back home via Kendal College to pick up some audio clips for the Question of Climbing quiz which forms this year's Marmot night, then to Lavahouse to get last year's Oscar powerpoint for review. Then reconnect to the internet to draft scripts reply to emails and so on till early evening when it's time to switch off with a glass of wine. Phew...

Tomorrow will see the pressure rise another notch - the last full day of prep before we open on Thursday

Bowmore 12 year old going into the VIP goody bags

Wednesday: started well when we found out that Grimer, one of the team captains on Question of Climbing, who was ill, has now made a miraculous recovery. See you all in the Theatre on Friday for Marmot night. One of the last audio clips gets skyped over to me for checking, then forwarded on to Marmot for inclusion in the powerpoint. Meanwhile one of the films in Family Friendly has to be lifted because a condom makes an appearance at one point, and an extra film has been inserted into the early showings of Climbing and Mountaineering programmes to take the place of Moonflower and the Long Hope which both premier on Friday evening (so we can't show them beforehand). All that info has to go the tech crew and the presenters involved.

Afternoon is spent packing the VIP goody bags in a private room in the BAC which tomorrow will be converted into the film nerve centre with four viewing booths as well as lots of coffee. For the moment it's got a hundred bags each with their own individual bottles of Bowmore.

Evening is spent tweaking the script and running order for the Awards Ceremony. Kind of tricky to finish it when the judges haven't even decided on the winners yet!

Chips and a pint at the Vats bar, then back to the laptop for tweaking the judges biographies and drafting a script for Leo Houlding. TGIt's Thursday tomorrow and we can start....

Thursday: Well - we’re off. Just like launching a kayak in to wild water, or jumping into a steep couloir on skis, the worst bit is just before you commit.

This morning I was all nerves and stress – all those emails that need answering. Stuff I sent out last night that now needs correcting because things have changed. And so on and so on….

Bizarrely, the Brewery was strangely quiet this morning, so I was over at Lavahouse printing admin documents out ready for this evening’s presenter briefing. No point in printing them out till now with everything changing so quickly.

Then from mid afternoon, presenters start turning up and we all realize with some trepidation that we are actually starting. That feeling’s been building all day, with a peak at the VIP launch in the Malt Room. I met Sam Mason (ex-CEO of the Brewery) in the bar and he said “as soon as I hear your voice I know the Festival is about to kick off”. And it’s true – as soon as I step up to the lectern, the adrenaline kicks in and we’re away.

The new trailer looks great – every year it gets better – and then most folk pile in to see Kenton Cool in conversation with Steve Venables. KC sounding remarkably erudite and honest - a great spokesman for commercial mountaineering. Odd to think that, a few years ago, we were all penniless student climbers in Leeds. How times change!

Friday: I should know better than to have a big night on the Thursday when there are still 3 days to go. The trouble is that there are all the folk that you don't see from one year to the next, and then they all show up at once: the presenting crew, filmmakers. climbers and alpinists all converging on a small town and all buying beer at the same time. I seriously meant to have an early night, but ended up in the Vats bar till half eleven and then Nigel Vardy produced some cask strength Islay whisky back at our doss in the Youth Hostel (no 5 star hotel rooms for the KMF staff!). Woke up this morning with a slightly sore head and got straight into typing programme changes for the 8.30 briefing while eating bacon butties in the Warehouse café. A few technical hitches to tackle as the first sessions kick off at 9, while remaining in support of a couple of new folk on the presenting team. As I type this in the mid morning, everything seems to be running smoothly so I can start to get my head straight for the Marmot night lunacy this evening.....

Saturday: We're in full on madness now. Very relieved to get last night out of the way. It's not often I have to out on 3 layers of different lyrcra, a wig and false tits and then spend an hour and a half under stage lights running around acting the fool. The things I do for this Festival...

Once it was all done at 10, everyone retired to the bars. Andy K still going strong with the Pub Quiz in the Malt Room, but it was preferable being there where the temperature was bearable. The Vats bar was just heaving and the temperature was soaring to ridiculous levels.

Bed by 1 am, then up again at 7.30 to do the morning briefing for the presenters. Changes to the programme (inevitable for a Festival), events where we need to push people in to get bums on seats. The problem is that certain events, even with our largest venues with capacities up to 500 bums, fill up quickly whereas other more "fringe" style events with a bit of experimentation can sometimes feel a little quiet. So we try to move people around for the benefit of both the audiences and the creative teams.

Lots of practical issues to deal with too - technical issues at the Moonflower lecture by Jon Bracey and Matt Helliker. Projector not connecting to the laptop, but Jon and Matt dealt with it like true pros and, as Jon said afterwards "Hey, it's Kendal! that's the way things work here and people roll with it".

Pizza, beer and prizes.
KMF 2011 is over. Phew.

Sunday: The think it's all over.... it is now.
Another stunning Kendal has drawn to a close. But I have to say I'm more tired then I've ever been after a Festival. Lots of work and very little sleep, especially Saturday night, with good sense being trumped by beer, pizza and great tunes in the Rab party. It isn't often you get to share a dance floor with Lynn Hill! I think I was still drunk at the 0830 presenter briefing.
A morning's presenting the Climbing 2 programme with a great set of films, including the brilliant Long Hope, then all afternoon on Awards ceremony prep. Up against the wire as always.
The ceremony passed off smoothly and even finished on time - the first time that's happened in 12 years of presenting KMF!

Then the after party with a mix of euphoria and exhaustion....

Monday: a lie in at last! Wake up in the hostel bunk room and realise that, for the first time in 3 days, I don't have to dash to the shower, breakfast, up to the art room, print the briefing notes and get to the intro bar for 0830.
Still, nice to meet up with Claire, Alison and Steve in the Warehouse café and have a chat about the Fest. Everyone's pretty mucg ecstatic about how it's gone this year. Of course we can always get better, but as Robin put it, we really feel like we've turned a corner this year.

Tour Ronde, Petit and Grand Capucin
Looking as enticing as ever

Day 1 on Majorette Thatcher
on the W face of the Blaitiere

End on a high note - quit while you're ahead.

However you look at it, the last full week of my alpine summer season in 2011 has been pretty special.

For a start, the best unbroken spell of "grand beau temps" since the start of the season in June. August had been unpleasantly hot. Rockfall had been causing some major worries all over the Alps, but especially on Mont Blanc.

Steepness on
Dame du Lac
S face of Midi

But after a dump of snow in mid September, the skies cleared and the whole of the Alps was bathed in anticylonic serenity for 10 days. Time to get on some technical ground and stretch the envelope.

The classic Chéré couloir on the Tacul.
Climbed to the summit for more points

Usually by this stage of the season, everyone is winding down and starting to think about valley cragging or even going further afield for exotic rock venues. So it was with unexpected anticipation that I hooked up with Andy M for 5 days of technical climbing. It's also fairly rare for me to be guiding anything much harder than alpine V, or VS in proper British money. So to have the opportunity to wind it up to 6b or E2 was a treat indeed.

Airy finish to another jamfest
on the Pointe Lachenal

Scratch 'n torque action on
day 5

Over the next five days we managed 3 big mountain rock routes, a 4000m summit and 2 mixed routes, one of which felt like about Scottish 6 bit with perfect visibility and a light breeze (and therefore not Scottish at all!). Routes on the west face of the Blaitiere, the south face of the Midi, Pointe Lachenal and the Triangle du Tacul gave us a rich mix of steep jamming and delicate face climbing with a classic heping of scratch 'n torque to top it all off.

So NOW I can relax and go valley cragging, still with 3 days of "grand beau" before the snow arrives on Friday.

Thanks to everyone involved over the last wonderful three and a half months of alpine action:

Fellow guides, clients old and new, hut guardians, wine merchants and fellow climbers on and off the hill.

Major rockfall on the
Petit Dru in June 2005

Over the last 48 hours there have been 3 significant rockfalls on the Petit Dru above Chamonix. The last major rockfall occurred there in late June 2005 and I happened to be on the Mer de Glace with a grandstand view of the whole proceedings. See photo to the right.

The first of 3 rockfalls in 2011 occurred on the afternoon of Saturday 10th September, with 2 more taking place today, Sunday 11th September. These appeared to be on the west and north face of this iconic mountain.

There are some great photos on Rob Jarvis' blog, as he had the good fortune to be on the Aiguilles Rouges at the time and a quick camera reflex.

Houses in Les Tines were coated with granite dust as a cloud spread over the valley.

With the rockfall on the Gouter (see news piece from 25th August), a very careful choice of route is required just now.

There is a short piece on the Dauphine website

This local paper says the volume of the rockfall was about 12,000 cubic meters, which equates to a slab 100m high.
The 2005 incident was 265,000 cubic meters.

No one was killed in the incident but a team was rescued from the American Direct (presumably needing clean underwear). The Office de Haute Montagne say the American Direct remains intact but they are advising complete avoidance of the Dru, even the normal route, until the end of the summer season.

A question I frequently get asked is:

“How do you get on with the French guides? Don’t they resent your presence?”

Seb Laurent and client
on the Arete du Doigt

The immediate answer is “Very well, and of course not”. A recent incident served to highlight that, like my other British guiding colleagues living full time in the Chamonix valley, we’re very well accepted by our French counterparts.

I was on the north ridge of the Pointe Percée, a classic mountain rock route to the top of the highest peak in the Aravis. As the weather was super hot and I was with two very fit British clients, we were moving very fast to get down before the afternoon heat kicked in. As we started the route, we could see a team of two above us, and coming over a tower of limestone, we caught them up. It was Sebastien Laurent with a client on the last day of the Grande Arabesque, a 3 day outing taking in successive peaks of the Aravis at about F6a. Think of it as a dry version of the Cuillin ridge on steroids.

As I came over the tower, I greeted Girly Seb (as he’s known among Brit guides due to his bouffant hairdo and to distinguish him from the guide and film maker Seb Montaz – though he may not know that) with a “Salut Seb - c'est Andy Perkins. Comment tu vas?”.

“Ah” he said. “je me demandais - c’est qui ces furking rosbifs qui vont si vite?”
A rough translation would be “I was just wondering who those English chaps are who are catching us up?”

Now, the process of integration into the culture of another country is a gradual process. It’s not like you can move to France and instantly become totally French overnight. Clearly the most important thing is to speak the language. In order to understand a culture, this is the first and most basic step. I’m very lucky in that I’ve spoken reasonable French since I was 14 thanks to an exchange programme set up by my parents. That’s been supplemented by repeated visits to Chamonix as a young alpinist when, being the French speaker, I was the one charged with buying the lift tickets, paying the campsite fees, explaining the presence of cans of sardines in my mates' pockets at supermarket checkouts, and so on.The next step on the linguistic front was the cunning move and good fortune to marry a francophone Quebecoise.

I've also moved gradually into French society: a French registered car, a French house, paying French taxes, and joining the Syndicat Des Guides de Montagne, the French guides association. In that respect you could say I am a French guide.

The key is to try and understand the culture and why it is that people of different nationalities and backgrounds act the way they do, even if I personally wouldn't do things that way. It helps to read up a bit with books like Talk to the Snail and 60 million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong.

Mes amis Français - vous trouverez "Watching the English" très interessant et amusant!

Of course my roots remain firmly in Britain. More specifically, the area surrounding the Peak District - Sheffield, Nottingham, Leeds and Manchester – is my spiritual home, even though I was born in Southampton.

I’ll never become French, but when I can exchange banter in the best British style with a local guide in French, (and when a French guide acknowledges you're moving fast) that’s about as good as it can possibly get.

Halfway through the summer - doesn't time fly when you're having fun?

It's been a good and varied season so far with the weather and conditions keeping us on our toes. After a phenomenally dry spring, there was a bit of a worry that the classic snow and mixed conditions that many of us expect in the Alps would be non-existent by mid July. However, the mountain gods have clearly decided to reward us for good behaviour with regular snowfalls to keep the cover topped up.

As luck would have it, the first of these snowfalls arrived at the start of the first week of my alpine summer in mid June. After a couple of days of stabilisation, we reaped the benefits with a nice clutch of mixed routes. The photo by Darren shows the highlight of the season so far: the fantastic Triftjigrat on the north face of the Breithorn.

The good conditions continued into July, with the rock drying out nicely but approaches staying snowy. Perfect for high mountain rock. In the second week of July, the next period of snow came in, keeping us in the valley for rock climbing. The key is not to get frustrated by bad weather but just be flexible and go with the flow, doing what's best for the conditions. That's the great thing about the Alps in general and Chamonix in particular - the ability to switch easily from one side of the alpine chain to the other, or switch activities from high mountain mixed to valley rock with no drop in quality of experience.

A major snow dump arrived on 19th July, and for a short while skis were the better mode of transport in the high mountains! More mixed stuff followed, and in the last week of July, a little bout of instability has kept temperatures gratifyingly low. I met fellow guide and extreme skier Remy Lecluse up above the Cosmiques hut last week and he was getting very excited about skiing something interesting on the Italian side of Mont Blanc. Now that shows real flexibility of attitude as well as looking promising for winter 2012. Oh yes....

Arc'teryx and the British Mountain Guides have just agreed on a three year partnership.
I've been very impressed by Arc'teryx as a brand ever since my days at the harness manufacturer Troll. Back in the 90's, Arc'teryx produced the innovatory Vapor harness with some very clever technology which has been copied by many others. Since then they've maintained a reputation as a top quality brand that has remained true to its specialist origins.

Looks like we might be seeing some very snappily dressed British Mountain Guides this summer ;)

I received a lovely present from friends in Ireland recently – a copy of “Let’s Go Climbing!” by Colin Kirkus. I first read of this book in Joe Brown’s autobiography, The Hard Years, as it was the book from which the master cragsman first learned his trade. Published in 1941, you might be tempted to think that it would be a bit out of date by now.

At the end of the first chapter when Kirkus described a night time winter ascent of Snowdon and then muses on why people climb, we have the following which gets right to the heart of the matter in just one simple paragraph.

"As an exercise climbing is unrivalled, since every muscle in the body is used. It teaches judgment and courage and coolness in emergency, and makes you forget completely all the worries of everyday life. It is a wonderful chance for adventure in pure air and magnificent surroundings. Few who start climbing ever give it up. Once a climber, always a climber."

Voila: nothing’s changed in the 70 years since that was published.