The Honorary Member's First Day on the Hill - Sheena Hendrie
By Sheena Hendrie
Those of you who attended the 2001 Dinner will know that Neville McMillan was told then that he had been awarded Honorary Membership of the KMC, in part as recognition of his work on equipment safety and appointment as Vice President of the UIAA Safety Commission.
So look what happened to our new Honorary Member the following day...
Picture the scene: various of the KMC hanging around the Royal Vic car park at 1030ish on Sunday morning. While not in the same category of hangover as Dave D. and Michelle, the Honorary Member was displaying (more than normal) signs of lethargy. Enter Roger Dyke, far too wide awake and sober. The plan (hatched too late the night before) was for us all to do Flying Buttress on the Cromlech. The state of my own health I shall keep to myself, since I was designated to lead this over-enthusiastic expedition, as well as providing the chauffering service.
So up the Pass we drove, feeling smug when we nabbed the last parking place at the Cromlech boulders. Smugness evaporated when we got out the car and looked at hordes of little ants swarming all over Flying Buttress. During the rapid rethink, Roger recited all the routes he could think of in the area at Severe or below. I declined Crackstone Rib, remembering the exposed rib on pitch two which did not appeal on a November day after the Dinner. Somewhere in the litany The Cracks on Dinas Mot appeared and three sets of eyes turned to the other side of the Pass and observed a virtually empty crag. The only snag appeared to be a damp streak crossing over the lower part of the route. However otherwise it looked dry and with no wind (and no sun to make the north side look more inviting), we opted for The Cracks.
While selecting a suitable wardrobe for the occasion at the foot of the route, I suggested we take a headtorch it was after all November, almost the earliest sunset of the year and it was now midday. The Honorary Member/safety expert produced a lightweight model which Roger nobly volunteered to transport. Suitably over-equipped, off I went, wondering if I'd sobered up enough to be leading a pitch with virtually no protection. However the belay was reached without mishap and the intrepid seconds duly appeared.
The second pitch featured the lower part of the damp streak, so I proceeded warily across the rock seeking out whatever placements I could find. Thankfully these proved to be two bombproof nuts and a good Friend placement. Having checked with the Honorary Member/technical expert that I could rely on a Friend even on greasy wet rock, I tiptoed across the wet patch to the belay. Again the seconds followed so far so good.
Pitch three looked horrible dripping wet and slimy. While bringing the others up I'd already worked out that we could ab off one of the belay anchors. I'd lose a Rockcentric but it was the green one and I don't like the colour so what the hell. However I knew I'd never live it down if I backed off too soon, so having placed a bit of gear within inches of the belay, off I went extremely hesitantly and whinging that I did not know what I was doing. The seconds politely refrained from comment. The guidebook says traverse delicately across below the overhang delicate I duly was (don't laugh Duncan) and edged gingerly across, expecting disaster at any moment. However the corner was reached where I placed the biggest Friend I could find before whimpering up the chimney and onto the belay.
The Honorary Member was the next up but first asked for the second rope to be arranged as a handrail????? (Must be a new piece of safety gear approved by the UIAA?) Up he came, judiciously testing the gear on the way. Then Roger followed, extremely efficiently and apparently not fazed by the less than perfect conditions.
Pitches four and five were delightful. Both were dry and presented lovely handjamming cracks (honest Sabina). Even the step across on pitch five off the pinnacle was not nearly as bad as I remembered it.
Only one pitch left and with time passing the Honorary Member and I were happy to bypass the so-called "mantelshelf" move above. Roger however seemed to have a fondness for it, born in the mists of time, and volunteered to lead it. On reflection I decided that in the interests of speed, I would keep on leading so set off. However three goes later I found I'd run out of mental steam, and decided to take up Roger's offer. We changed places and Roger duly sailed up the crux move not quite stylishly since the feet were doing a good imitation of a flailing machine but good enough and far better than me. Unfortunately as he was sailing up, a piece of my gear was sailing down from his harness.
The Honorary Member went next, encouraging Roger to improve his belaying technique by keeping a tight rope. Before setting off I checked if I could see below the escaped piece of gear and easily saw it below on a ledge. Being a mean Scot and not wanting to litter the crag with morsels for Duncan to scavenge, I agreed with Roger that he would lower me down to retrieve the gear and I'd climb back up. (Sneaky excuse to climb what turned out to be the fourth pitch of Lorraine.)
Back on route and having slithered up the mantelshelf, we were all now safely at the top. However the light was now fading, the Honorary member cannot see in the semi-dark, and we feared the descent gully would be greasy. So I belayed the others while they descended a rope length, with the Honorary Member concentrating on getting down as quickly as possible to take a belay at the other end, and Roger fixing protection for me. After he left, I realised I had no chance of getting down before the light went so shouted down to Roger to leave the headtorch for me. What foresight (or was it memory of climbing with the Honorary member in Wales in November on previous occasions?) We all duly arrived half way down the gully as it went dark.
Being a wimp I did not fancy another stretch of down-climbing in the dark particularly since end of the gully is always wet and can be hard enough even in daylight in summer. Here the Honorary Member at last came into his own. He'd lined up a large solid spike as a belay and we quickly decided to ab the rest of the way. I (not very) politely declined Roger's offer of an old piece of 5mm perlon to ab from if you've seen his climbing wardrobe, you would understand why! I sacrificed a nice chunky bit of 9mm rope instead. The Honorary member turned up trumps with a prusik for the first person down to protect the ab.
At this point a kind lady shouted up from below to check if we were alright. We thanked her for her concern and assured her we were OK. We chose not to publicise that we had the exalted person of the VP of the Safety Commission with us might not have been believed?
Thankfully the ab proceeded smoothly just as well since it was the first either I or the Honorary Member had done in the dark, and apparently only the second in any conditions Roger had done in 15 years. So at quarter to six we arrived back at the sacks, with only the straightforward walk back to the road to complete.
With a combined age of 174 between us you would think we'd know better. However in the words of the Honorary Member it was a memorable and adventurous day which rounded off the Dinner nicely. Or, to quote Mary Stuart, we were maintaining the best traditions of the KMC.
PS: My last mountain day out in Wales was with two other KMC members of respectable years. That also turned out to be more adventurous than planned. So younger members if invited by any of the above or Bob Anderson or Chris Thickett to share a day out, think quickly. Some of these senior(ish) citizens turn out to be older versions of Al Metelko in disguise. You have been warned.
