The day I nearly died - Part 1: how it happened
With winter fast approaching I've been getting to thinking about the routes I want to climb and the hills I want to walk. Scotland, in particular, is great in the winter. The hills are completely different and it's like we have double the number of tops and ridges to explore. I've loved dragging myself out on a cold rubbishy day in the snow for as long as I can remember and still do. It has brought me a lot of joy. Winter mountaineering has also very nearly killed both me and my brother on separate occasions. These stories are things I think about a lot: I can never unsee my brother's accident and mine has changed my approach to life a lot. This isn't depressing though! I've found sharing the stories can help others look at how they work in the mountains and hopefully be safer.
My brother's accident was a simple trip on his crampons: nothing silly, nothing negligent and certainly no-one's fault. He just tripped. Unfortunately he did this on Helvellyn descending Swirrel Edge and fell a good 1000ft. Thankfully the snow took the impacts as he went down the mountainside and he didn't break a single bone! We were able to rescue him ourselves and get him to an ambulance. He was badly injured though and this just happened to be in the days before mobile phones existed so was the quickest way to get him to A&E. We were very lucky his injuries were mainly scrapes similar to burns or a motorcyclist's gravel rash. These were extensive though, so he had a week's hospital stay and a further week getting daily hospital review. Unsurprisingly he doesn't like snow now and doesn't winter walk or climb. I should add that we were kids when this happened he was 16 and very sensible: much more so than his 8 year old brother.
My turn is much more recent and much less dramatic. I had no audience, but also nobody to bounce my ideas off and certainly had no imminent rescue. I was on a solo trip north of the border enjoying the freedom of escaping work for a few days. It was a pretty cold winter so far and I was enjoying good conditions near Tyndrum. I decided that I fancied two Munros near Bridge of Orchy. The weather was not set to be brilliant: there was low cloud, a cold wind and snow forecast. None of this stressed me because I could deal with it all and had done so a hundred times before. I was carrying all the right kit and knew how to use it.
I set off from Achallader up hill towards Beinn Achaladair and it started to snow, as forecast, and soon I was up on the summit ridge. It was chilly up here, but nothing spectacular, and I was getting to enjoy some intricate nav thanks to a decent white-out. I actually got to the top very easily, but noticed I was getting chilly. This is where things started going South. What I hadn't realised was that I was chilly because there had been a really big temperature drop since being on the ridge. I knew I needed to drop down somewhere warmer and get out of the weather a bit before I layered up though. I decided to trot on to the next top (Meall Bhudhe). This turned out to be more exciting than it was meant to be. To start with the avalanche forecast I had seen that morning hadn't predicted the deep, often loose wind slab on this side of the top. It was a pain because you couldn't tell what it was until you were well on to it and committed to the descent. This is also a fairly rough descent and my map really didn't show it, so being above 5-10m drop with small instabilities setting off all around was quite unnerving.
Getting to the bottom of the col took only a little longer than expected, but now I was properly chilly and really wanted more layers. The weather dealt another blow: the direction had changed and was now a strong Southerly that blew right through the unsheltered col making it tough to stand in places. I was now feeling cold. I don't like cold: it's unpleasant, it slows you down, you brain works less well and it's scary. There wasn't much choice but to get my hardshell off and brave a few seconds in just a fleece and base layer. Wrapped up like a sore thumb now I was actually colder than ever and not happy. It was time to call it quits. My ultimate escape route had been to walk out to the south: a safe looking slope on the map. With my new knowledge of the snow conditions and the harsh wind I would be facing into a southerly descent became most unattractive. My next planned escape point was north from the top of Meall Bhudhe. I decided to look over the north side of the col to make sure that was a viable plan C before going with one of my initial plans.
Stood there peering down a cliff it clicked: I was in a very bad place: I had dropped a few metres from the col to see whether I could see a way down the back wall of the corie I was above. There was no obvious descent, worse still the way back up looked awful. In reality it would attract a winter grade I, at worst, but this gully-of-sorts looked insurmountable. I started the short trudge and "bang" something went in my leg: I fell flat on my face and couldn't move. Cramp. I don't get cramp as a rule and this was new to me. unfortunately over the next hour or so this situation repeated itself more times than I could count. My co-ordination was greatly reduced and I could feel that thinking was taking twice as long as it should. I was worried: I knew I had developed hypothermia and I knew it was progressing. I was also aware that my body wasn't really fighting it anymore: I had stopped shivering and I was finding it tough to breathe. The only person who could help me here was me.
What came next was one the hardest time I've had on a mountain: stiff, uncoordinated, and struggling to breathe I made it back to the col and onto Meall Bhudhe. I can't describe the effort: I've lifted heavier widgets, I've ran myself more breathless and climbed until I had nothing left. This was just one of the hardest things I've done. I fell many more times, swore, and generally fought on. It felt like it took hours, but eventually I got there and actually started to feel good about myself. I had warmed a little and I was managing complex nav fine (in fact I was within a metre of all my waypoints). Things were looking up and just in time. As soon as I dropped from the top the wind went and it made a massive difference. Soon I was down below the cloud in the valley and could see the way back to my car. Having had a psychological boost life got easier (and warmer). I had stopped cramping and could breathe again. My brain was functioning too and things began to sink in. The only annoying bit was that I started shivering again! The walk along the valley bottom proved far easier and I was soon nearing my car.
Back at the car I was prepared: I have a stash of warm clothes that I got straight into. My trusty Jetboil lives in the boot along with hot chocolate and cuppa soups, so I got that and started the process of warming up properly. With the engine on and fans running I soon felt human and grateful to be there. Then I do what every self respecting bloke does: I drove to where I had a signal and rang my mum.