Reframing Success in the Mountains

Earlier this year I was climbing in Scotland with my partner. It was an awful day with heavy rain at the car park which turned to wet snow by the time we reached the coire. It was our first day of a week of winter climbing and we’d decided it was just a day for “having a look” and we didn’t plan on really climbing anything. When we got into the coire we could see other people climbing but the cloud obscured the upper half of the cliff. With so much snow falling and being moved by the wind, we decided to put crampons on and move up the lower section of an easy gully, out of the main line and under the shelter of a buttress, to assess snow conditions. Within minutes, a large slough slid down the gully to the side of us, and we both knew it was time to leave. With no view of the coire rim, we had no idea what the cornice at the top was doing and neither of us wanted to climb underneath a potential avalanche hazard.

As we descended, we passed two men heading up into the gully. I asked if they had seen the slough come down and they replied that they had but they weren’t concerned about it. We let them know we were leaving because it didn’t feel safe to us.

As we continued down the path and back out of the cloud and snow and into the rain, we passed a guided group walking in. We stopped to chat to their instructor, and he asked where we’d been. We told him about our experience and he said, “well done for making good decisions and getting off the hill safely.” Shortly after speaking to him, as we neared the car park, a helicopter flew over our heads in the direction of where we had come from. Later that day, whilst enjoying some food by a fire, we heard the news that those 2 men we had passed heading into the gully had been avalanched by a cornice collapse. Both men fell the full length of the gully and were seriously injured.

Fast forward 8 months and we’re in the dolomites. It’s a lifetime dream realised for me. Ever since my first visits to the alps as a child, I was desperate to explore this beautiful area with its towering cliff faces, pointy towers, and lush green valleys. Prior to heading out I’d spent hours reading through the guidebook and compiling a list. I’d tried to be realistic with our objectives, keeping the grade down and the route lengths reasonably short. However, the more I read through the guide the more I found myself saying things like “if we get up really early and we climb fast, we could get this route done.” Or “I know we’re not taking crampons or axes, but this route sounds amazing and I think we can probably just abseil down it instead of crossing the glacier at the top.”

On our first day there we opted for a steady start to test the water. We chose a route called Rosso on Piz Ciaveses. 8 pitches of easy climbing with a scramble and short abseil to get off, all only 15 minutes from the car. After struggling with route finding, frustrations of poor guidebook descriptions, minor rock falls, stuck ropes and getting annoyed at other parties on the climb, we topped out our first climb in the dolomites. I think for both of us it was bittersweet. We had done a wonderful climb in a beautiful place, but it had been more challenging than we expected and we’d both felt stressed a lot of the time rather than just enjoying the moment.

The following day we took it steady in the morning as the weather was poor, but in the afternoon, it brightened up and we decided to go and do some single pitch sport climbing. Again, the routes felt hard and we both got a bit of a humbling. The location was stunning though, and we appreciated our surroundings even if we didn’t feel like we’d achieved much with our climbing.

The next day we set our sights on climbing the First Sella Tower. Kryse took the first pitch of a route graded 6b. The first pitch was 50 metres of loose rock and very few bolts. She climbed well and soon arrived at the bolted belay. I followed her up, all the while a slow sense of dread creeping in. At the belay I looked up the next pitch. This was to be the crux pitch, and I couldn’t see the first bolt. My head was going and I had a decision to make. Bail here from the belay or try to overcome my nerves…. I chose to bail….

After abseiling off we decided to do the first two pitches of Trenker Crack, a superb V+, and abseil off after the crux. We both climbed well and timed it perfectly with an incoming storm. The disappointment of the “‘unsuccessful” first route giving way to the satisfaction of making good decisions and escaping before the bad weather arrived.

The following day was our last full day. We set our sights on the classic Vinatzer V+, on the 3rd Sella Tower. Our time was limited and we knew that we might have to escape at the halfway terrace, but we went for it anyway and enjoyed every moment. We did bail halfway up again but this time it didn’t feel like a failure. Those earlier frustrations and failures were just part of the journey to a hugely successful trip. We failed to top out most of the routes we climbed, but we had so much fun, we learnt loads about the area and what the grades, protection and descents are like. We discovered our own capabilities, we realised that we have a great partnership in the bigger mountains and most importantly, we got down safely and live to tell the tale.

As the old adage goes, the summit is optional, getting down is not. If we’d have got to the top of every route, we probably would have had a great time, but we certainly wouldn’t have learned as much as we did. Discovering that we can easily retreat from a route meant that we both felt so much more relaxed on the routes that we did afterwards. Sometimes we get lost in the idea of being able to say we ticked a route, but surely the real success is in being there, spending time in a beautiful place with a close partner and sharing a beer in the sunshine afterwards, content with the safe decisions we made.