Bouldering

August 2, 2013

It started raining again around 02:00 and continued steadily through the night. I heard the teams that were getting up at 04:30 to attempt some technical ridges move around a bit and then return to their tents. At 06:30 I slithered into my rain gear and treked over to the kitchen tent for coffee and some breakfast. The mornings expeditions were all cancelled, but the guides offered to do some rope work in the mess tent for a couple hours. The afternoon looked a little more promising, so a few groups formed to climb some shorter objectives; Carmarthen, and Canada Ridge. I had already climbed both of those summits twice this trip so I opted for a third option, bouldering with Jen Olsen and Dave. We hiked up to the toe of the glacier and found this monstrosity of a boulder where we proceeded to work out various problems. I was only successful in climbing an easy slab route at the back, and losing lots of skin on the harder problems. Watching Jen, Dave, or Mark work out the moves and then gracefully execute them to the top was very cool.

The boulder of doom.

Katharina trying her hand.

Jen showing us how it is done.

Jen and Mark doing a silly skit... I think it went something like this:

   Jen: Can I look under your kilt?

   Mark: Ok

   Jen: (looks) That's gruesome!

   Mark: (in a scottish accent) If you grab onto it, it will grew some more!

The Fate of Lady Gwendoline and the Black Fang

by Andy (with some input from Mike and Tana)

Come near, all you lads and lasses. Let me tell you a story. A sad story. The fate of Lady Gwendoline and the Black Fang.

Once upon a time, long ago, when the snows on Mount Griffiths went all the way down to Thunderwater Lake, the villagers who lived there were happy and at peace.

The had a queen, Gwendoline. She was tall, the tallest in the land. Her hair was white, as straight and white as steep snow slopes. She was proud, and kept her neck straight and tall like a vertical rock wall.

And she had reason to be proud. She was a fair, gracious and good Queen. She called for building huts so her people could enjoy the beautiful lands. Alas, of these huts, only Olive hut remains. The rest are destroyed... A mere pile of rubble is left behind.

For there was trouble in the land. An evil dragon was looking for a new home. Black Fang was his name. He was as huge as a mountain, and his heart was as black as his skin.

Black Fang heard of Gwendoline, and her famous beauty. He wanted her. He swooped down to Thunderwater Lake and stole her.

The villagers were distraught. They had lost their queen. She was imprisoned high on a mountain near Black Fang's lair.

Messengers were sent far and wide. Could anyone defeat Black Fang and save Gwendoline? Only the bravest of the brave would dare. For Black Fang was invincible. Nowhere could he be hurt. And his breath was not just fire... it could turn you to stone.

There was only one small chance. Right on top of his head, Black Fang had a weakness. If any could scale the dragon, and get to the very top of his head, only then could they perhaps defeat the dragon.

Some brave knights did try. Any fail. Mountains nearby bear their names... all turned to stone by the breath of the dragon.

Then one day, a pair of bedraggled travellers arrived in the village. Sir Munter they were, and his companion, the wizard Abalakov. This was true magic. Munter could create belays out of nothing, just knots in the rope. Abalakov's power was similar. At his command, anchors would appear from holes in the ice.

Together they scaled Black Fang. Of the horrors of that journey, I will not tell. Many dangers, many challenges, and many perils were faced.

Treading carefully, to not wake the dragon, they climbed snow, ice and rock. At last, they stood on the summit, the top of Black Fang's head.

Alas, Munter sneezed. The dragon woke, angry! First, with his firey breath he blew. The snows on the glaciers melted (which is why, children, mountaineers must now climb the slope every morning in crampons).

Next, Black Fang tried to breathe on Munter and Abalakov. But they were too quick. In a flash, creating anchors and belays, they swooped off of his head. Instead, the Fang's breath hit himself. And he is now stone.

But the villagers joy soon turned to grief. For Gwendoline, too, was now stone. Hit by Black Fang's breath in the fight. She now lies, tallest in the land, near Black Fang's remains. And her hair, like steep snow slopes, surronds her.

Listen carefully children. The morals of the story:

First, look out for dragons.

Second, what happens at GMC stays at GMC.

And lastly, and most importantly, watch how much scotch you drink in the Scotch Peaks! For if not, you may start telling tall stories.

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