I mountaineered all over Britain and in parts of the European Alps. My book, ‘From Dumyat to Mont Blanc’ relates some of these tales. During some of that time I was in a Mountain Rescue Team. The story you are about to read is about a winter training day. Training plays an important part in preparing team members for the tasks that will eventually test them for real. Included in that is exposing oneself to winter conditions and learning from the experience.

The Ochils Mountain Rescue Team is no different from other teams in this respect and one of the highlights was our annual winter rescue training weekend in the bigger mountains to the north of the central belt. One of our regular pilgrimages took us to the snowy wastes of Lochaber where we entrusted our lives to the gentle and kindly manipulations of Mick Tighe, respected mountain leader and guide extraordinaire.

I take you to an extremely cold weekend in late January, 1988. Location; a snow and ice gripped Glen Coe. The format took the usual form; divide the team into three, based on experience. I was in the ‘level two’ contingent, with Mick. His usual training style involved taking us to the outer edge of our experience and just a bit beyond. We were headed for the Lost Valley, where we were assured of exposure including a steep ascent and descent, with various safety techniques, roping and belay setting.

The steep sided valley, Coire Gabhail is a glacial creation and is quite spectacular. It is a long and narrow, with a non threatening, almost welcoming flat bottom, enclosed on three sides by massive rock walls. It can be a sun trap and serenely wind free, a secret shangri-la. It is commonly known as The Lost Valley and is where the MacDonald clan of Glen Coe kept their cattle, or was it hid the cattle they rustled? It is a special place. I recommend a visit if you are in Glen Coe, you will not be disappointed. The track up to Coire Gabhail is scenic and crosses steep ground and should not be taken lightly.

Today however we were on a mission, with little time to admire. Once in the Lost Valley we scanned the almost vertical, snow encrusted west face for a suitable route. We settled on the adjacent defiles of Peregrine Gulley and Ingrid's Folly, rated, if my memory serves me, Grade 3 and Grade 2 respectively, or perhaps the other way round, I don’t recall. These are winter climbing grades, that range from 1 to 5, the latter being the most challenging. Whatever grades they were made no difference, we were doing both. We donned our crampons, got our axes out and set off.

Getting up from the Coire floor to access Peregrine Gulley was actually harder than the actual proper part of the winter climb, which was a blast, particularly going through the overhanging arch. We each did that solo, without the need to rope up. It was steep, but not particularly technical. Once we accessed the shoulder of the ridge, at the top of the west face, we stopped for lunch. What a wonderful place. Then we headed along to the top of Ingrid's Folly. Looking down into the gulley, knowing we were about to descend, was a tad more intimidating than ascending its neighbour.

We roped up and with care began our descent down the narrow and steep snow ramp. Falling was not an option.

We were making progress and relaxing into our task when we came across the first of two impediments to our progress, an awkward chockstone. It completely filled the gulley. There was no way around. We had to go out onto the stone and drop into the gulley beyond it. It was almost vertical and seriously exposed.

I looked at Mick and detected a knowing grin on his lips.

Rappelling over the top was the only solution. However finding a belay point was the problem. There was none obvious and a bit of lateral thinking had to be employed. Using the adze part of an ice axe, Mick broke the ice from the gulley sidewall, exposing the rock. He luckily, found a flake of rock sticking up and out from the main gully sidewall. The ‘flake’ was about three inches long and sitting at a jaunty 30% angle from the sidewall. ‘Perfect,' somebody said.

I was less impressed, particularly at what was to follow. It was not possible to tie anything to the flake, so a clever alternative was called for. A knot was tied in a climbing sling and the sling was eased between the flake and the main wall, with the knot behind the flake. Testing its strength and suitability was carried out by simply tugging on it a few times. Then the heaviest looking in the party was chosen to nervously rappel over the chock stone.

After in interesting moment or two hanging in mid air over a ‘long’ drop, my feet came into contact with the gulley. Once I was safely in the gulley below the obstruction, I secured a safety rope and the others followed.

The second obstruction was a bigger rock in the gulley. It however had a handy hole going right through it. All but one of the party were able to drop through it with little fuss. I was the 'all but one' factor. I am a bit chunky, well I was then, less so now, residue of rugby playing days I suppose and although I got into said hole, I stuck at hip level.

nearly stuck fast in Ingrid’s Folly, Glencoe

Solution; two of my colleagues who had navigated through said hole earlier, climbed back up under the stone from below, each grabbed a dangling leg and heaved. Unceremoniously and without dignity, I scraped through and joined them on the last escape ramps of Ingrid's Folly. I have no idea who Ingrid was or is. A helpful comment I received from Mick, whilst stuck by my hips went as follows, 'Don't worry, we can just leave you without food and in a couple of days you will fall through.'

And our day came to a successful and safe conclusion and our experience, skill levels and confidence was enhanced. Buoyed later by sitting round a blazing fire in a suitable hostelry while we recounted our ‘derring do’ day.

We did enjoy such training days. However such days have to be put into context.

Why do dedicated team members, butchers, joiners, labourers, office workers and more, all amateur mountaineers, volunteer to risk life and limb heading into these risky and dangerous places to participate in such training?

Simple really, to be fit, able and skilled enough to negotiate such areas when called upon to help other people who find themselves in trouble.

It is also about their love of mountains.

Ingrid’s Folly Adventure

Descending Objects

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