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Rime and Punishment
Part IIDay Two of the International Winter Meet in Scotland dawned drearier than the first day, if that’s possible.At the Cairngorms ski area, raindrops splattered the windshield of the car. Once again, I was astonished by the tenacity of the skiers buckling up their boots and trudging through the rain toward the slush-filled gullies and parallel rows of snow fences that were the only features of the mountain still holding “snow.” The rest of the white stuff had been stripped bare by warm winds. Rumor had it that a busload of Japanese skiers had unloaded the day before for a Scottish skiing holiday, which should cause some Japanese travel agent to be fired. I had commented to Lindsay Griffin, the longtime British chronicler of alpine ascents worldwide, about the amazing persistence of the Brits in venturing out in foul weather.“We’re a pathetic nation,” was his response. Actually, I found it inspiring. We loaded our packs and trudged through the rain toward Coire an t’Sneachda, and once again we were rewarded. The rain stopped half a mile above the car, and, though the clouds never lifted, there was no wind and no excuse not to climb.
The ice conditions were still poor, however, and the 45 climbers at the international meet, along with their British hosts, were adjusting their sights. After Simon Richardson’s slide show introducing Scottish winter climbing on the first night of the meet, one climber had muttered, “Nice of him to show us pictures of climbs that only come in once every 10 years.” The next day, climbers had backed off the steeper routes in Coire an Lochain, driven down by wet rock and falling chunks of ice. Canadian Sean Isaac never left the snow at the base, as his partner bailed from 40 feet up the first pitch of a Grade VI route, demoralized by the sight of the great Richardson sketching just above him, also about to bail.
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