Climbing Tschinglehorn Swiss Alps

On Tuesday father and son Alec and Haydon, led by Stefan from the Netherlands climbed Tschingelhorn.

We set off on foot from the village of Stechelberg and climbed for 6 hours without a break, the higher section across glacier to get to the mountain hut. where we stayed overnight.

The mountian hut was typical one; perched on a remote rocky outcrop located (between glaciers) safe from the threat avalanche, with several rooms with communal mattresses that ran the length  of each room.

We enjoyed a (fairly) hearty dinner cooked and served by the Hut staff (how do they get there?) and eaten to the noisy  accompanyment of a party of school children. 

I'll never know whether it was their noise or the atitude that was the start of a headache lasting the next two days.

The following morning we set off at 5:45am in the dark for our 6 hours again climb, first across the glacier again, navigating crevasses by dark, then a rock climb to summit.

On the climb up Stefan accidentally dislodged a boulder that almost snagged our climbing rope that almost took us all plunging hundreds of meters to the glacier below.

Fortunalely Stef, a very experienced climber and patient guide, whipped the rope away in time as the boulder thundered past me.

I didn't have time to capture it on film having other priorities such as preserving my life.

Haydon on the snowridge summit and us both not too close to it!

Stef was content to remain below and not chance the remaining 100 meters to the snow ridge!

The climb down took 8 hours, a 14 hour climbing day in all. Haydon predicted an 8pm return to the car and ran the last kilometer to prove the point.

Day 17 Byrness to Kirk Yetholm Scotland

To Scotland via the Cheviots. The final leg of the Pennine Way. The first day of sunshine and without any rain.

Paul and I left the soulless Byrness YHA at 6am after a hurried breakfast. I had reservations regarding combining the last two days into one but the odds were with us. We were both travelling light having posted our camping etc gear on elsewhere, the weather was good and there was no accommodation on the PW (apart from wild camping) unless transport had been prearranged. This option involved a 10km detour off the PW dropping  250m and uncertrain accommodation in he hamlet of Coquetdale or or lift to more certain accommodation elsewhere. Another so called 'escape route' was to the hamlet of Cocklawfoot (such lovely names).

Several times we crossed from England to Scotland and back again along abritrary fencelines and at times (I at least) didn't know which of the two countries we were actually in - they both appearing the same on either side of the sheep fence dividing the two.

The first highlight of the day was a Roman camp with the earthwork ramparts still well defined. Paul and I lingered for a while to enjoy in the tranquility and take in the spirit of the camps and to image the activities that must have taken place there almost 2000 years ago. I wondered at the existance of such a large Roman encampment so far north of Hadrians Wall and so far into the territory of the tribes against which Hadrian's Wall was intended to protect.

The tranquility was disturbed by clear voices and loud thumps: The Army was conducting artillery practice on the hillside opposite (how the voices carried) . It appears that 20% of the area (The Northunberland National Park) is MOD land.

One unique feature of this section of the PW is the lack of running surface water. Every other day it had been abundant (and raining) - today was hot and I'd only brought one litre with me, having used less than that every day. By mid afternoon I was starting to get very thirsty. The murkey water standing in the odd pools of peat was starting to look atractive.

By mid afternoon we were well on to Windy Gyle, (and Russells Cairn, with its murderous history) described as one of the atmospheric highlights of the PW, and most desolate.

As the long day wore on we agreed not to bothee to climb the great dome of 'The Cheviot,' the highest point on the Cheviots, but its whale shape offering poor views according to the guidebook.

As we approached a large cairn on a high ridge we encoutered two young fellows walking the Pennine Way North to South and determined to wild camp all the way and to complete it in under 12 days. It was their first day. We wishe them luck, though they seemed well prepared and loaded with supplies, including no doubt food.

A man on a mountain bike resting at the cairn greeted us before pedling off nothwards along a nearby bridle way. Another retiree with time on his hands. It was odd to see mountain bikes on the PW because (a) it it not good form (it's a path not a bridleway) and (b) most of the PW is liquid peat bog and not fit for mountain bikes.

Somehwere late in the day we arrived at a refuge hut and I took the opportunity to consume my last snacks, take off my boots, dry them and my feet and put on fresh dry socks. Today had been I think the first blister free and tendon pain free day.

Further along the way I spied what I took to be an archealogical dig on a hillside opposite ans owndered at its position and remoteness.

So much of the PW that traversed peat bog was provided with large stone paving slabs and at one section a raised timber walkway. I wondered at the enourmous effort that had been made and where such quantities of stone paving slabs had come from and hw they had been transported to such remote parts.

And so we finally approached the pretty village Kirk Yetholm. The sun was shining, I played my  my MP3 player for the first time and jigged along to a few Irish and Scottish numbers.

We arrived at the Border Hotel in Kirk Yetholm in the lovely afternoon sun and immediately found an unoccupied outside table. Noting our filthy state the barman was quick to provide us with our free half pint and certificate for completing the PW.

Much to my relief the local YHA had plenty of spare beds. I was fascinated to discover the YHA relief Manager grew up in the street next to my Grammar School in London. He plied me with wine (definitely not the norm for YHA managers) and tales of my old school (including the claim it was his best friend who confessed to accidently burning it down.

The return south by bus the next was very sad. Such an anticlimax. I'd just got into the mood to continue to the West Highland Way and onto John O'Groats. At one bus interchange I met a man (who admitted to having a bad back) en route Kirk Yetholm to start the PW in reverse. He'd done it South to North the previous year and now had time on his hands being retired. He planned to wild camp all the way and carried a pack I could barely lift.

I finally understood his form of madness.

Day 16 Bellingham to Byrness

Day 15 Steel Rigg to Bellingham

Day 14 Greenhead to Steel Rigg / Once Twice Brewed (Hadrian's Wall)

Day 13 Alston to Greenhead

John Ritson and I have been great mates since we shared a house in Sheffield in 1973/4 in the heady days of Sheffield Uni, and later on our madcap ventures through France and Spain.

John always had a quirky sense of humour. He left photos of me on gateposts along the last few kilometers of the PW which attacted the suspcision from those ahead of me on the PW (who knew me from the YHA the previous night), while John awaited me concealed nearby before colecting me from the PW to take me back to his place nearby or a few days R&R and John-type entertainment.

Day 12 Dufton to Alston

So much to say about this section - still to come when I have time.

I abandoned my nasty boots next to the public telephone box at Garrigal before the last haul into my favorite town of Alston.

I wonder if they're still there - I'd like to retrieve them then burn them for being so unkind to me.

Highest point in England - so many pictures to upload.....