In light of Svenkerudisen Venstre having a mixed start a couple of seasons prior, we packed for the possibility of similar conditions and opted for monopoints. As it turned out the lower slab pitches were thinly iced, meaning we could leave the rock gear at the base of the route, apart from the ice hooks, which took in case things started getting thin and desperate. A thin layer of snow covered the ice, which made it particularly hard to gauge its thickness from the base of the route, and consequently decide upon a line. We checked left and right in the hope of finding thicker looking ice elsewhere, however our starting point was as good as it got. None of the initial climbing looked overly steep, and we anticipated that the ice would progressively improve with height as well. There was the temptation to try and climb via some small trees, which would ensure some degree of protection, but best looking ice looked to be a good distance from these, and so we opted for this.
We were both were keen to get on the thinly iced first pitch, regardless of it potentially being quite bold, and so it needed to be settled with paper-scissors-stone, which Nikolay 'won'.
The ice was around 5cm near the start but technically no more than WI3. Even so, Nikolay's beefy Krukonogi drytooling picks were proving too aggressive to readily bite the ice, but with enough swinging they eventually gain enough purchase. At a vague short corner, about ten metres off the ground, Nikolay managed to place his first screw, although it didn't sink fully and needed to be tied off at the shaft with a sling. Just a metre or so higher another screw fully buried itself though. Then, towards the top of the corner Nikolay's left foot popped, but fortunately his left axe was solid, and so it came to nothing.
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| Nikolay on the first pitch - yet to place his first screw |
The climbing remained thin for the remainder of the pitch but Nikolay managed to find a couple more screw placements nonetheless. The major drama fortunately occurred within reach of the belay as, without warning, a crampon detached from his boot. On closer inspection the front bail had sheared into two pieces, leaving the crampon swinging around his ankle by just the binding.
It could be deemed an unlucky event, but we were lucky from the point of view that we had travelled with two pairs crampons each due to the uncertainties about the conditions, and so had plenty of spare parts. We had a pair of monos for mixed and duals for ice, so that all bases were covered. We were also lucky in that we were camping in the immediate vicinity, on the edge of the village, so another front bail was easy to fetch. Needing to drive to a cabin somewhere beyond Gol for example might have persuaded us to bail. In my case it was just a fifteen minute walk back to the tent, whilst leaving Nikolay to pass the time at the first belay. At least it was a comfortable spot.
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| Detached crampon (Photo by Nikolay Tjøstheim) |
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| Broken front bale (Photo by Nikolay Tjøstheim) |
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| The route. Nikolay can be keen waiting at the first belay in the bottom of the photo |
Once reunited at the first, and with reparations complete, it was time for me to actually do some leading. The second pitch was a very easy angle to begin with, with a thick layer of snow rested on top. Just a few metres above the belay a small slab of snow cracked at the height of my axes and slid a short distance lower. I didn't go anywhere, but it did encourage me to promptly place a screw. Fortunately the ice was a bit thicker now. Much of the pitch remained relatively easy, with just a short steep step midway up. I was having crampon issues of my own as, for some reason, my left foot monopoint was angled slightly inwards. This meant that I needed to rotate my foot out a little in order to correctly align the point, which didn't feel natural at all, and certainly affected my confidence with footwork. I had needed to use a bit of force the previous day in order to switch the crampons from dual to mono and in the process the front had lost its shape its shape in the process. I wasn't enjoying the reduced stability of monos in any case, having adjusted to using duals on ice this season. The upper part of the pitch followed a pleasant gully that was technically easy, and so we moved together for maybe 20m in order for me to gain a very generous flat area with a tree belay. As I belayed Nikolay up to join me I watched a golden eagle float along the valley below and admired its huge wingspan. I'm not used to seeing these birds below my eye line.
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| The second pitch (Photo by Nikolay Tjøstheim) |
From this point, the climbing became steeper, but it looked just a rope length to the top. Initial concerns that the ice might not link up were forgotten as a previously hidden chute of ice offered an ideel passage. In any case there was another possibility, via some ice that spanned a short band of rock above the belay, so the route was always going to go in hindsight.
Nikolay led the initial chute to gain the foot of an off-vertical final wall, only to be discouraged from continuing by calf tiredness and similar general dissatisfaction with climbing with his monopoints. A belay was made and it was down to me to finish the pitch off. With one wonky crampon I wasn't brimming with confidence either, but the off-vertical, featured ice made footwork easy enough. As it happened, there was a further step of ice that had been hidden from view in the trees, meaning I got the best part of a full rope length climbed anyway. Nikolay's crampon decided to randomly fall off again for no obvious reason upon joining me at the top, but at least they were picking good moments for funny business, rather than in the middle of leading a pitch.
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| Nikolay climbing the chute of ice that was hidden from view at the base of the route |
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| Starting the final, final pitch (Photo by Nikolay Tjøstheim) |
As a consequence of our earlier delays it was now past sunset, meaning a descent in the dark. Four abseils from trees lining the true left side of the ice allowed a straightforward descent at least. Given that we were camping, the relative luxury of an early finish wasn't so significant anyway. At least we had a good amount of cake in the tent that awaited our return. The route has no name that I am aware of, however it will be known as 'Crampoff' to Nikolay and me obvious reasons.
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