A Day in the Cairngorms
Winter 2000

It was our second visit of the season to Coire an Sneachda and we had not allowed ourselves to be put off by the forecast - which was for a cold northerly wind (40 plus mph) and snow showers, heaviest in the morning. The cloud started just above the car park, and there was fresh snow in the corrie. Once the corrie floor flattened out we must have started drifting to the right, soon we came up against a face that seemed unfamiliar. Hard to tell given the poor visibility which only let you peer maybe a rope length into the gloaming. Some belated compass work convinced us we were up against the wall of the Feachal ridge, and after correcting that error we soon arrived below the Trident gullies. There were several large groups (unmistakably from the Lodge) and a few smaller parties about. Up above, in the snow bay, we could just make out the tail-end of a party trending off left and dissolving into the cloud. The usual (for me) pre-climb anxiety started to cut in and we geared up quickly, hoping we were not going to have to queue for our route, the central of the three Trident gullies. Cramponing up the steep approach we passed a couple of parties traversing across (lord knows what they were up to) and we were approached by another that wanted to know if they were on Aladdin's – they were as far out as their last informants. I was fairly sure of where we were, but was thinking of asking the team that was disappearing into the right hand Trident fork. I decide not to, and wait till we got closer rather than disturb the relative peace by shouting. In the end they had disappeared by the time I got a nut in the rocky promontory that separates the two gullies. Ruth stopped about 8m down and belayed off a dead-man, just before the final steepening of the slope and the start of the climbing. I was about 20m further on putting in a runner on the left hand wall when I heard something fall, like an avalanche. I looked round and saw something dark slide down the fall line just behind Ruth - Ice from the other team I presumed. I even remember thinking "can't be helped in winter and at least it missed her". I had however got it all wrong - It was not their jetsam but the other team that was falling with eerie silence past Ruth. Focussed as I was on getting my runner in I was a little slow in realising what had happened. Ruth had witnessed them passing a few feet away, and was calling out to find out what had happened below. There seemed to be plenty of people about at the bottom, though from her stance she could only see a team starting off up Central Gully. Ruth had seen one of unlucky pair loose his glasses and became fixated on finding them. After all if he was dusting himself off below he might want them. Moving down as far as the free rope allowed (after I'd made myself safe) she found an Axe but no glasses, and passed them onto someone who was heading down. After some debate we decided to continue. Although we both had first aid training we were sure the groups below contained Glenmore Lodge instructors, and as somebody shouted from below, too many cooks... Besides which I was committed to the route and it would have taken us a while to downclimb. In other circumstances - without the crowds we'd have been down as fast as safety permitted. The climb certainly had added atmosphere after what we had witnessed, especially for Ruth who had had a near-miss - being hit by a falling winter-mountaineer with all the metal-wear would be very dangerous in itself. We swapped leads and took things very steadily, making great care of the belays- though with the run-outs usual in winter. The snow was in pretty good condition - with some ice and a bit of surface crud.The third pitch was accompanied by the thumping of a helicopter, and we hoped for the best for the two. I was amazed the helicopter had managed to get in given the wind and the visibility, the pilots clearly deserve every accolade. Towards the top the gully was really channeling the wind - the hoarfrost in the exit chimney faced out and down. I had to find my goggles to look down and belay Ruth to the final stance. Two parties caught us up as Ruth led on through the crux, over the banked up snow and out of site onto the plateau. I could not help but wonder at one of the belays - he was clearly a competent climber but I would not want to have brought up a tiring second with only the picks of my axes providing a belay, at least not in that snow. Strangely the plateau where we exited was quieter than the gully and we managed a couple of rather late sandwiches as we packed away - and just as we were about to set off Ken, Ashley and their visitor from Montana wandered past. We joined them for some company back to the car park, the weather was a bit rougher once we got out of the lull, Howard had just had his first day out in Scotland (a grade IV butress) and found the experience (especially the conditions) thoroughly hardcore. Retiring to the Lodge for a bar meal and some company before the drive back to Edinburgh, the conversation kept returning to the misfortunate party. Before departing I went to ask the staff, and was at first given a bland answer. On explaining why we were concerned they opened up and gave us a better idea of what had happened below us in the cloud. They were found almost immediately by a very experienced instructor and got the best attention that could be imagined. The rescue box was close by and a Helicopter was called up. One had very bad injuries, the other a broken ankle. The helicopter took the worse injured one, but he was dead when he arrived at the hospital, the other was stretchered out. Their fates were so different you could only be left with the feeling of the arbitrariness of outcomes and "there but for the grace of god go I" The only things we can directly learn from the incident are care in choosing belay sites, the danger of following up a gully in winter, and the need for good belays - which are not always easy to come by in winter. What actually happened we can only speculate - Ruth thought there was not much rope between them, maybe one had just left a belay when he fell and pulled off the belayer. An alternative that occurred to me later was that they might have been moving together on grade I/II ground to reach the start of a grade V ridge. Either way they were playing the game according to accepted rules, and their fate just left one saddened and sober. It was a long drive back home to Edinburgh.

SL