Anna and I had tried to climb Makalu on New Year's Eve but we had bailed after one pitch due to the ice was becoming too wet for comfort. Small ice debris had even began to fall from high up the route, which was quite disconcerting. We had hoped that the hard climbing would largely be done by the time the warm weather arrived but it had beaten us to it.
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| Anna climbing the first pitch during our first attempt on NYE. |
We drove to Hemsedal that same day during late afternoon, as some friends were spending New Year there. The forecast indicated that the warm temperatures would linger longer in Hemsedal than in Valdres, and our suspicions that maybe we were driving in the wrong direction were partially confirmed when it began to rain whilst crossing Golsfjellet. The car dashboard read 5 degrees and by the time we had dropped into Hemsedal it was 7 degrees.
Four of us crammed into a tiny cabin in Hemsedal, which needed creative thinking in order to find places to hang wet gear. I stuck my head out of the front door a couple of times during the evening only to be met by horizontal rain. It was the sort of weather that I expected to experience in Manchester, but the main difference was that in Hemsedal the ground had become an ice rink. At least I had picked a good time to come down with moderate flu symptoms from a climbing perspective.
Skogshorn had been the big draw for me on the Hemsedal side, and I optimistically hoped that something might survive the thaw at the higher elevations. The forecast for New Year's Day looked equally dire, with continuing warm temperatures, more rain, and strong westerly winds,but I had to admit that my health was now an even bigger limited factor. I was certainly too ill to contemplate a big mountain day. Waking up with my eyes stuck together was a good an indicator of this.
We did the sensible thing and drove back to Valdres during the morning of New Year's Day. We swung via Skogshorn out of curiosity but visibility was too poor to really gauge conditions. In my mind another attempt at Makalu seemed the obvious goal.
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| Approaching Makalu |
Cold temperatures and blue skies were back in Valdres by 2nd January and cold/flu symptoms had come down a notch. Nikolay was joining us for the second attempt, and he got the first pitch. The ice was much drier now, which permitted an easier line to be followed for the first few metres. The ice did its best to ward us off though. Firstly with some loud booms, one of which emanated from a few metres further left of Nikolay's position. Swinging the axes in the ice also causing some long horizontal cracks to appear. After a short discussion we were happy enough that the route was still safe, and a little higher up, the cracks and booms subsided.
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| Nikolay on the first pitch |
The first first belay was actually quite cozy for three people. Nikolay found himself in a half-hanging stance but Anna was able to crawl into a neighbouring ice cave that was comfortable enough to pass the time.
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| The view from Anna's ice cave at the first belay stance (Photo by Anna Kennedy) |
The second pitch looked clearly to be the steepest, however from the road there appeared to be a gradual rightwards rising traverse that would reduce the level of physicality. The steep curtain above the first belay looked dry now, but there were a couple of sections of white crusty, damaged ice as a substitute.
The pitch started in conventional fashion, straight up from the belay, to where the traverse started. My first screw hit rock to my disappointment, and so it appeared that the pitch would be a little more serious than first expected. Fortunately my next screw, a short way into the traverse, sunk fully to provide some minor relief. The pattern of good screw-bad screw was set to continue though as I progressed slowly rightwards across the steep curtains. I reached the first strip of bad ice and sraddled across it with one axe planted either side, struggling to maintain a good shape. What's more I couldn't shake the low level of pump in my arms no matter how long I stood still and shook one arm out at a time. Trying to climb straight up would no doubt raise the pump further and leave me with wobbly wrists. No doubt I would need to rest, which I obviously wanted to avoid. My best bet looked to be to traverse still further right, and slightly down, across another strip of bad ice, in order to gain a shallow corner that would hopefully be less physical on the arms to climb.
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| Me leading the start of the second pitch, as viewed from Anna's ice cave (Photo by Anna Kennedy) |
With more straddling I managed to reach the safety of the corner. My new dilemma though was my marked change in direction, from down and rightwards to straight up, which made it impossible to place a screw without generating major rope drag. Placing a screw would also make the pitch rather serious for those on second because someone would need to down-climb without an overhead rope. I reckoned I would need to climb about 4m up before placing another screw in order to keep the ropes running roughly straight. For five or ten minutes I tried to shake out the pump, but trod water in this respect. Any hope that I could cheat the steepness with bridging up the corner had also evaporated due to the ice on my left being too rotten for my left foot. All these factors combined meant the best option looked to be to make a belay at the bottom of the corner at what felt like a pathetic distance from the last one.
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| Nikolay and me at my premature 2nd belay stance (Photo by Anna Kennedy) |
The job of finishing the pitch fell to Nikolay, whilst Anna got to chill in her cave a little longer. From my last screw runner it was barely 5m of steep ice before the angle quickly eased off. A little higher lay a comfortable platform to belay from. The climb had descended into micro-pitching but at least the crux was dispatched, albeit with a good amount of teamwork.
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| Anna at the top of the steep climbing |
The climbing from here looked more predictable and easier. The next steep section again had a lot of bad surface ice but a strip of blue ice remained intact towards the right hand side. It was fairly sustained, altogether slacker in angle, with the weight primarily through my feet. It was middle of grade WI4 and with no real crux.
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| Me leading the last significant section of steep ice (Photo by Anna Kennedy) |
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| Higher up the same pitch (Photo by Anna Kennedy) |
Above this pitch we expected a WI3 romp to the top in not much time. Anna led off, but, with half a rope length remaining, she was unsure as to which way to head due to a short, steeper section of bad ice extending across the full width of the ice. Surely was were not going to be repelled so close to the top? It seemed as though this route had not yet finished humbling us. Anna made a premature belay so that we could jointly decide which way to go.
The next lead lead fell to Nikolay again. By this point light was fading fast, and so it was time to switch on the head torches. Out left the ice proved to be in too poor condition, and so Nikolay traversed back right. The best way looked to be straight up from the belay. The ice was in terrible condition; rotten and hollow, but at least it wasn't steep, and there were some decent screws immediately left until half height. It was a pitch where it was good to think light thoughts and avoid showing too much anger towards the ice. Once over this step the route was all but done as it was largely a wade through snow and easy angled ice in order to reach the tree line.
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| Nikolay climbing through the last barrier of bad ice |
For my part the route wasn't done in the best of style due to my short second pitch, however reaching the top particularly rewarding, given the obstacles. Makalu had definitely been a good test of our resolve, as on multiple occasions over two attempts it had tried to dissuade us from continuing. Climbing routes that are loosely graded WI4-5 always added to the suspense, but in the conditions that we found I would say Makalu was WI5, particularly given the variable ice quality which further complicated things.
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| The summit selfie |
Luckily there were enough sections of good ice for us to easily rappel the route in three rope lengths. Just some hanging daggers on the last abseil needed some violence with the boot in order to ensure nothing was left that could detach once beneath them.
It was only when in the supermarket during the evening immediately after the climb that the block of ice that I had carried up the route in the hood of my jacket fell out and skidded to besides the seafood freezer cabinet. It's always a sign of a good epic when this sort of souvenir is accidentally taken from the route.
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