Midtlinja (WI5), Hydnefossen

Hydnefossen is a waterfall that I was in awe of long before I ever felt capable of climbing it. Its prominent position over the main Hemsedal valley makes it impossible to miss. It has drawn my eye both summer and winter and it is undoubtedly Hemsedal's jewel in the crown when it comes to ice climbing. This awe has grown into an obsession of late. It's a waterfall that I've geared my winter season around. I even turned down an offer to visit the Canadian Rockies in case Midtlinja ('the middle line' in English) on Hydnefossen came into condition in my absence. Nobody successfully climbed Hydnefossen to my knowledge last season and the way the season was panning out, with some significant warm periods, I wasn't expecting much different this time around. 

Then a report of an ascent of Midtlinja, with good conditions reported... That one took me by surprise! 

My friend Murilo was visiting from the UK for four days. I popped the Hydnefossen question and he was up for it. It mattered less that he hadn't climbed ice for a while, or that the route was harder than what he would typically climb, because he was up for it, which is half the battle sometimes. I was feeling confident enough with my form in any case, so there was no real pressure for Murilo to get on the sharp end any more than he fancied. As it happened, the best weather looked to fall on the first day of the trip, which would rightly throw Murilo in at the deep end, but there was also every chance that we would be at our freshest on the first day as well. Rusty but fresh...

The first attempt

We rose at 5am, full in the knowledge that the approach might take some time. The described parking area in the guidebook looked a little too high risk to use due to the amount of snow it was holding, so we used a layby just north of the bridge that crosses the stream running down from Hydnefossen itself.

Our vague plan for the approach was to stay in the forest for as long as possible in the hope that the snow conditions would be easier and safer. The previous ascent had been nearly two weeks ago now, but given that they had needed a shovel to clear a way gave me hope that there would be some sort of remnant track. We found nothing of the sort, but we coped nonetheless with snowshoes. These no doubt saved a lot of time by avoiding tedious deep snow pot-holing, although on occasional steeper sections they became a little cumbersome due to struggling for purchase. Eventually a rock band forced us rightwards onto the broad snow slope extending beneath Hydnefossen. Fog denied us any sort of view, or proper sense of whereabouts at first, but then the cloud slowly began to break up and reveal the waterfall at relatively close quarters. It was something to savour, filling the vision due to being as wide as it is high. The first impression was that Midtlinja looked nicely featured and not too steep, although I quickly learnt that the scale of the features was difficult to appreciate from afar. 

Despite steady progress, the approach still took two hours, however we had achieved the goal of being in the loose vicinity of the route for sunrise in order to make best use of the daylight. 

The rough preconceived plan was that Murilo could do the easy pitch up the giant snow cone, I would do the second pitch, which was regarded as the crux, and then we would see where we were at thereafter as to whether we would swing leads or not. 

The first pitch straight up the middle of the giant snow cone was steady WI3 neve ice for around 60m. It was a pleasant warm-up, however it was clear from the overhanging sections of ice above the belay that the gentle introduction would swiftly end.

Murilo leading up the giant snow cone at the base of Midtlinja

There was no easy escape upwards from here. Ultimately the second pitch started with a sit-start from on top of a neighbouring block in order to pull round an awkward bulge above. It's possibly the first sitting start that I've done on ice, and I needed to be careful not to slide off in the process. Any style points gained from the sitting start were soon dashed when an axe ripped a little higher up along with a block of ice that it had been attached to. I momentarily caught some air but my lower axe braced my fall.

The sit-start on the second pitch (Photo by Murilo Lessa)

The pitch was characterised by some huge, complex ice formations that were sometimes overhanging, particularly near the start. These needed to be weaved through in careful, time-consuming, insecure fashion. The main challenge was to stay in shape and use footwork as best possible in order to cheat the steep formations. Icicles hung everywhere and these often needed clearing in violent fashion in order to free up some space above the flatter sections. The hollow spaces within the fall at least meant that I could often cast a lot of the icicles into the fall itself, like a garbage chute, rather than down the face. The belay was totally sheltered beneath the overhangs in anycase. The nature of the climbing led me to use more screws than normal, either to protect particular moves, or due to my last screw often being lateral to the direction of travel. We took a whopping 16 screws for runners, but after maybe 30m I was empty. What's more it felt as though it had taken ages to climb the relatively short distance due to there being no let-up in difficulty.

View down from the top of the second pitch

The next pitch looked as though it would be more conventional steep WI5 climbing, albeit with a bit of a leftward traverse in order to enter a vague groove in the middle of the waterfall. 

Murilo felt the pitch was too hard for him to lead but I was feeling confident enough to push on in front in any case. The line and belay wasn't ideal as I was directly over the head of my belayer for the first few metres. Some ice dinner-plated, bounced off my shoulder and struck Murilo on the helmet and right shoulder. He sounded dazed and in pain, but after a minute seemed to get his senses back, and so I pushed on. The final traverse moves into the groove were on steep ground where was difficult to find good axe placements, with equally difficult footwork that loaded my arms and raised the pump levels significantly. Things were made worse by me forgetting to switch out of my thicker belaying gloves for the thinner leading ones prior to starting. With each successive axe placement I still seemed not fully in the groove in a manner than I could use my feet to take some more weight. Then finally a good bridge and a sort of rest. From there on I could better pace myself the final few metres of steep ice to where it slackened off a little. I climbed a little higher on slightly easier ground, still feeling the remnant pump, and out right to another belay stance. After two time-consuming hard pitches I was feeling pretty tired. I quietly hoped that Murilo might be up to leading the next pitch, but realistically I knew it would need to be me. I felt enough in the tank though and the climbing at least looked a little easier from here on, with maybe twenty more metres of steep climbing, and the top reachable hopefully in one rope length from where I stood. 

Murilo looked exhausted when he appeared on second. He fumbled a screw, clipped to quickdraws to have a rest, even pulled on quickdraws with his axe, which was a bit of a line in the sand for me. He seemed to lack coherence. It was difficult to get straight answers and I had to organise things largely myself once he was at the belay. I needed to guide him through the process how he was going to rearrange himself so that he could stand to my right and belay me from a position out of the line of fire. It was clear from the proceedings that we needed to go down. Exhausted climbers can easily become hypothermic climbers in these sort of environments. We felt about 40m from the top but in hindsight I know this figure to now be around 60m.

Murilo approaching the third belay

We set about organising the abseil but even bailing wasn't easy due to the amount of faff that was needed to get the ropes out of the system. It was made more complicated still by my abalakov hook unclipping itself from its snap gate and disappeared at some unknown point during the proceedings, but at least the first thread was in place by this point.

A rope length lower I found a large stalactite-type feature that saved the expensive ordeal of retreating off screws. It was maybe 40cm in diameter and looked solid enough to wrap a bit of cord around it and continue on our way. A sort of ice bollard. The second abseil brought us to the safety of the base of the route. It was 7pm by this point, so we had got our money's worth at least.

The ice bollard

A lot of disappointment hung from my shoulders, but equally I knew we had done the right thing. On a personal level the disappointment of not reaching the top was as much to do with the knowledge that I was fully capable of climbing the route. I had gone pretty deep in the attempt and so bailing after committing so much personally was tough to take. The route's not going anywhere as they say, only in winter of course it does, at least until the next winter. Hopefully I would get another chance in the not too distant future though.

It gave me confidence at least to know that I could lead all the difficulties if necessary, and it was a pretty good training run, since we had got so high on the route. My body would only come back stronger, provided I rested up before another attempt. There were things that I had not done so well that I could learn from as well. Namely the need to better stay warm, fed and watered to maintain the energy levels in light of the time consuming nature of the climbing. Also the need to take any sheltered belay when the opportunity arose. 

The second attempt

Nine days later I was fortunate to get another chance with Erik. Erik didn't seem too confident in his current abilities but I had faith in us. He had climbed the likes of Diplomisen and Grøtenutbekken early in the season so I had no concerns. The elephant in the room though was the weather preceding the weekend. It had been moderate plus degrees for two days prior, with freezing temperatures commencing from around 7pm on Friday night. With most other waterfalls I would have been more optimistic, however Hydnefossen seems to have a reputation for repelling climbers due to it being too wet. The exact Hydnefossen formula in this regard I wasn't sure about, but obviously it had a big flow. In any case I was keen to take a look rather than kick myself for not trying. Erik had plans for the following weekend and so there was all the more need to give this weekend a go.

Our late arrival in Hemsedal at 12:30am wasn't ideal preparation. We were at least camped beneath the start of the approach, and Erik's roof tent was luxury by my camping standards. I was confident that the approach this time would go more quickly after the thaw and refreeze, together with a track that would surely still be in place from the moderate volume of traffic the previous weekend. 

We left the snowshoes this time as it was clear from the exposed undergrowth that there was considerably less snow than the previous week. What remained was largely consolidated. To my amazement we managed the approach in just over an hour, and we were first on the scene again to keep matters simple. The waterfall sounded dead silent and so my fears about wet ice thankfully came to nothing - despite having voiced my concerns to my long suffering girlfriend for every half hour of the preceding week.

Hydnefossen shortly after sunrise

View across the Hemsedal valley towards Skogshorn and neighbouring peaks.

With fresh eyes it looked much easier to stay just left of the ice cone in order to skirt the big features that I had become embroiled in last time. This meant that we also started a little higher. Erik's first pitch run close to a full rope length and brought us level with where I had reached on the previous outing by the second pitch, which was naturally a massive confidence booster.

Erik leading up the left side of the cone

Erik leading the first pitch

The auspicious start was dealt a temporary setback though when I managed to put an axe through the core of one of Erik's new half ropes, a few metres below his belay whilst seconding the pitch. It was a freak bad luck moment, where the rope hopped a little from being tightened at the belay at the same split second my axe struck it and the ice simultaneously. No time for me to react, or adjust or halt my swing. Erik's rope thus went from being 60m to 57m. 

Our efficient progress to this point meant that I had plenty of time to tackle what had probably been the crux the previous week, via the same vague groove feature, although this time approaching it from the left instead the right. The belay was now much less exposed, although some moderately awkward traversing was needed in order to reach a point where I could head up into the groove. Overall the line was considerably more straightforward and much less pumpy than the previous outing, which allowed me to make swifter progress. The ice had benefited from the recent warm weather and it had consolidated and filled in nicely, allowing more freedom as to where to aim my points. It was less brittle and the features more friendly, although the ice was still a little too featured to offer optimal screw placements in the middle of the groove. It seemed easier just to back myself on solid axe placements and run it out a little, rather than faff with awkward screw placements directly in front of me. By 11am I was already at my high point from the previous week, but I wasn't counting chickens yet for fear of random bad luck striking. I had backed off a route the previous season due to a broken crampon, and Erik had done the same due to a broken axe pick. The act of God scenario could still affect things.

Erik seconding the second pitch

Erik led a short pitch of steep ice to just shy of where the ice disappeared from view, and hopefully where easier climbing would commence. From here the top would surely be in reach. I was now venturing to new heights as soon as I started up on second. I was pleasantly relieved to discover that the climbing wasn't so easy, and still in the region of WI5, meaning the previous bail had not been from a point where all the hard climbing had been completed. My priority on second was to not do anything careless and pop off accidentally. I was in 'don't f*** it up' mode. 

Erik leading the third pitch

The ice slackened off after five more metres of steep climbing and the summit cornice came into view. The final metres of climbing looked easy from below but were actually more time consuming than expected due to the large amount of partially consolidated deep heavy snow that needed to be chopped through in order to find usable ice. The site of a newly installed abalakov directly beneath the cornice signalled that the climbing was over. It was just 2pm, and 2.45pm when Erik arrived. It was a proud feeling to have climbed Hydalsfossen particularly given the adversity, although this time around it had actually been a steady affair that tested me less than other routes this season, no doubt partly due to the second attempt being more of a team effort. We had also made a much better job route-finding on my second attempt, avoiding the big features in the lower part that had sapped so much time on the first occasion. I'm glad also that the second attempt had a different character, which order to broadened the combined experiences. 

Me leading the fourth pitch, close to the top (Photo by Lars Wegge) 

Erik close to the top on the fourth pitch

The summit!

The route was already equipped with recently installed abalakov threads, and were back down in relatively good time with three long abseils. Then back at the car without the need for head torches, which was not what I expected after the first attempt. 

Abseiling the route

At the time of writing, I would say Midtlinja is one of the finest ice climbs that I've done. Maybe the finest, but it's probably too soon to say that for definite. It definitely feels like a milestone. Hydnefossen certainly lived up to the hype and I think it demands another future visit as well. In fact it took about an hour, helped along maybe by a beer, before the thoughts switched from the satisfaction of climbing Midtlinja to considering the other routes on the face. That said, I can probably consider an ice climbing trip to somewhere like Canada a little more seriously now. 

The routes taken on the two attempts

The last close-up view of Hydnefossen before the descent