Archie's Mountain

Ross The Smiler

2009-09-15T10:06:00.000-07:00

With Mont Blanc now a happy memory, I've decided to start a new blog, focussing on Ross and his smiles... To access it please click on this link http://www.rossthesmiler.blogspot.com/

See you there!

Karl

Ross & Fin on tour - Summer 09

2009-08-10T15:04:00.000-07:00

We’re just back from our tour of Europe!

The first week was a thoroughly enjoyable week in the south of France with Rich and his family where we had a great place to stay in the middle of the beautiful French countryside with it’s fields of golden sunflowers in bloom, all thanks to Rich’s aunt. We spent a full week by the pool and generally doing very little, venturing as far as the nearest supermarket to stock-up a few times. The biggest thing I fretted about was which pair of speedos to were in the pool (photos censored).

The following week Clair and the boys spent in Scotland at her parents, where I joined them at the end of the week from London where I had been on a course and we travelled over to Northern Ireland with my parents.

There we actually had beautiful sunshine and spent a few days on the lovely beaches in North Down near our family farm. Ross even dipped his toes in the Irish Sea, albeit briefly…

Rich did point out that I’d managed to make it a few days into our holiday in France before mentioning Mont Blanc. Perhaps I will end up becoming a bit of a bore about it, but why not. It was a fantastic, unique experience, one which required dedication of time and energy for training, support from our wives, thorough preparation on Rich’s part to ensure our safety, and a huge effort on both our parts to get up there. But we did it, we were the highest people in Western Europe, and in doing so we raised over £26,000 for two fantastic charities.

Two great kids inspired us to do this; Archie was never given a chance to climb his mountain, and Ross has many, many mountains ahead of him. I doubt if I’ll ever be back at the summit of Mont Blanc, but every time I go skiing in the Alps and catch a glimpse of it the distance, or board a plane and fly over it, or even just see it marked on a map, I’ll remember what we achieved, and why we did it.

Over and out.

Karl Donnan

Rich says "It's been emotional"...

2009-06-30T06:52:00.000-07:00

It had been 13 years since I was last in the Alps – I had spent the summer of 1996 soloing in the Ecrins National Park, bagging a bunch of big hills and culminating in a dawn ascent of the Barre des Ecrins. I was young, fit and (in retrospect) somewhat foolish, but it had been a magical time, free of responsibility, full of a sense of self-sufficiency and competence and with a job at Unilever waiting for me when I got back.

This time was to be rather different. Not only did I have to say goodbye to my wife and children beforehand (not easy, especially when Jude ran across the playground to give me an extra hug as I was leaving), I had the responsibility of Karl’s welfare, with his wife and children dependent on my ability to keep him safe. It was an exercise in self-belief – going over the preparation we had done, the route choice, the timings, the equipment, the weather, the escape options, the danger signs, everything that could go wrong, and still deciding that we were ready and now was the time to try. Mentally I gave us a 50% chance of success.

The flight from East Midlands was uneventful and arrival in Geneva saw us meet up with the Cham Van Man and get whisked away into the hills. The scenery was dramatic – big and steep, with masses of rock everywhere - but these were just foothills, with the real deal being just around the corner. As the van swung through Les Houches, we started to get our first look at where we would be going the next day. Anywhere in Britain, the ridges we were looking at sweeping up into the clouds would be serious hills – but they were just the access slopes that led to the head of the glaciers that led eventually to the mountain proper. If you haven’t stood in these valleys and gazed up, it is hard to appreciate the scale of it. If it is your first time and you know you are going up there it can be pretty intimidating! Whatever the outcome, you know you are about to ask a great deal of your body, putting it under immense strain and invoking an uncertain amount of pain.

If you try to take it all in - the distance, the height, the pain, the effort - you get overwhelmed, so you must break it down into stages and not think too far ahead. First, we’ll get to Les Houches, then we’ll get up to the col, then we’ll follow the railway track up – aligning intermediate goals with eventual success means that, as you knock each one off, you are that much closer to success. The only danger with this is if you focus too much on achieving the individual goals, forsaking everything else, you find it difficult to adapt to changing circumstances and get trapped into thinking there is only one of doing something. Hence you have to play a constant mental game of balance – thinking about the big picture, but not so much so that you get overwhelmed, assessing all the inputs and then reassessing the intermediate goals you have set. This is the path to success.

Our somewhat ropey hotel had a good view of where the Aiguille du Midi should have been but was not, as neither it, nor any of the peaks that lay above and beyond it were visible on Thursday when we arrived. With the cloud down to around 2500m, the only thing we could really see was the Col du Mont Lachat, halfway up the mountain railway that led to the climb up to the hut. About 6 kilometres away and a good kilometre higher, it was a dot on the horizon – and our first objective. It wasn’t too hot but it did look windy up there – odds of success still around 50% I reckoned.

Packing on Friday morning to leave and go up the hill was a sombre affair – we were both very quiet as we sorted our bags and decided what we were leaving behind. ‘Butterflies’ was how Karl described it and I had to agree. Although unsaid, the thought does cross your mind – in the worse case scenario, we never return to this room. As quickly as it enters, this thought must be banished from your mind, as that way lies paralysis, fear, poor judgement and a guarantee of failure. We must at least give it a fair crack of the whip.

The free shuttle bus ran us down to the telepherique station in Les Houches, that we found to be helpfully shut – opening day of the season was the next day. We were faced with a 1000m climb over 2-3km, up through the forest in 25-degree heat, with full alpine kit in our bags. We could delay a day, but the Saturday was forecast to be the best day weatherwise and to wait would mean missing this window. On foot it was then - unexpected and quite exciting, but it did put a great deal of strain on our bodies that we had not banked on. Within 30 minutes we were both blistering on our heels and rather uncomfortable. Likelihood of success took a knock – down to 40% I reckoned.

Two and a bit hours later we reached the col and walked into the middle of what looked like a serious problem – we had seen at least 4 bodies being carried down from a train stopped on the tracks about 200m up the line, and more were on the way. Thankfully, it was mass casualty exercise for the local gendarmerie. As we took 10 minutes to rest, a British party who had clearly just come down from the hut arrived with one of their number covered in blood – he had taken a tumble at some point on the descent and was limping quite badly, with a series of cuts to his arm and a bump on the noggin. He wisely took the offer to be looked at by the doctor taking part in the exercise and we both made a mental note to be careful on the way down!

A slow trog up the railway line saw us arrive at the Nid D’Aigle and meet a couple of French guys who were lugging their paragliders up. Karl swapped war stories briefly and we carried on, now above the vegetation line but below the snow line in a thing called the Desert de Pierre Roudon. It was hot and we were getting a little tired, having been climbing in the heat for 4 hours with blistered feet and gaining nearly 2 vertical kilometres. We reached a hunter’s refuge at 2700m where we met a guy from Nottingham (spooky) and a million dollar view back down the valley toward Chamonix. What we could also see was those impressively large and steep hills we had driven past the day before – we were now level with their tops and we weren’t even at the hut.

Fortified with cake and a text back home (to which I got a reply to the effect that Kirsty was having a glass of wine – it was lunchtime after all), we set off up the ridge that narrowed, steepened and got snowier as it approached the Tete Rousse hut. After an hour the hut appeared, quite close and looking like the haven it turned out to be. We also got a good look at the approach to the first objective of the following morning – the 600m scramble up to the Gouter hut, just visible wrapped in wispy clouds above us. The Grand Couloir didn’t look too bad but the weather wasn’t great – still a 40% chance of success?

Five and a quarter hours and 2200m of climbing to the hut and we felt it in our heels. Karl had 2 blisters the size of fifty pence pieces that had both burst and ripped, leaving very raw patches. My blisters were big, in exactly the same place as his (only on my feet obviously) but had luckily not burst. The saving grace, apart from getting the boots off and bandaging our feet up, was the view from the dining area of the hut. What a place to eat – views for 50 miles across hill after hill almost as far as Lake Geneva. Because the train and telepherique were not running, the hut was very quiet – only about 10 or 12 other people were there and this added to the immense sense of privilege I felt to be there. We had all worked our nuts off to get here and it was an honour to share it with them. We rehydrated, rested and later, as the afternoon turned to evening, had a fabulous dinner with the 2 French paragliders we had passed earlier, an Argentinean (don’t mention the war), a Norwegian and a German (or that one). It was great and we booked breakfast for 4am the next day, following strategic advice from the hut guardian.

The comfort and warmth of the dining area was more than compensated for by the cold (4 degrees according to my altimeter), dark and general dankness of the dormitory area. Trying to ignore this, we readied our kit for the next morning and settled down to try and get some sleep at around 8:30pm. Try was the word. Between constantly needing a wee, listening to everyone else come and go, sweating under the 2 duvets (a mistake), trying to calm my racing heart (a symptom of your body adjusting to the altitude) and getting old Queen songs getting stuck in my head, it was a bloody awful night’s sleep. I was actually glad when the alarm went off at 3:45am and I could get up. Breakfast was hot chocolate, breaded items and juice, but Karl didn’t seem to be hungry – loss of appetite another symptom of altitude. Crucially, breakfast was also several Nurofen, and we weren’t the only ones – the pop of blister packs could be heard repeatedly, as people prepared themselves for the pain to come – which duly arrived when we put boots back on. Odds down to 35% thought I.

Leaving the hut at 4:45, we quietly made our way up the slopes toward the base of the Grand Couloir, by the light of our head torches. There were at least 3 groups ahead of us and, judging by the lights, the lead one of which was almost at the Gouter hut. This was good news, as it meant we could see the hut clearly and with the wind of yesterday having dropped significantly, optimism surged – back up to 50% maybe?

Crossing the Couloir was a huge anticlimax – there was absolutely nothing moving on it so we crossed and started the scramble up the loose ridge toward the Gouter. The route is marked with red paint in places and has occasional fixed cables in others, so didn’t feel too bad. However, I knew this was going to be a bit of an issue in descent – down climbing is always harder then climbing up, especially when you are tired. This thought was to hang over me for the rest of the day – a real sting in the tail awaited our return, successful or not.

Dawn broke about halfway up the ridge, something that to me is always a mystical moment – the demons of the night are banished and hope springs eternal. Watching the shadow of Mont Blanc on the valley we had climbed out of the previous day gave us a sense of the colossus that was somewhere above us, lying out of sight. We were ants, picking our tiny way across and up the flank of this sleeping giant, hoping we wouldn’t be noticed and flicked off like an irritant.

We reached the Gouter at 7am (guide book says 2-3 hours, which we were comfortably within) and went inside to rest and prepare for the next stage. From the outside it looks a little like one of those chrome 1950’s American diners or old caravans, while inside is dark and musty. A couple of British guys were being cajouled by their guide to get a move on. We ate chocolate, got the rope out and put another layer on – when we left we would be getting up on to the ridge and so I expected it to be windy. It would also be extremely bright, as the morning sun would be on us – sun-cream and shades were the order of the day. We left at 7:40am and with a surge of optimism, I upgraded our chances of success to 55% - still cautious of the wind but with each section completed, our goal was that much closer.

Breaking up on to the ridge gave us a billion dollar view – across to the Aigulle du Midi (at roughly our height and 4-5 km away) and back down to Chamonix, now 2800m below us. We turned right and started up the rounded shoulder of Dome du Gouter. I could see at least 4 parties ahead of us, one of which was coming down – presumably they had left the Gouter very early and had summitted pre-dawn. Good work. Either that or they had got a certain distance and had bottled it. The pull up the Dome du Gouter is long and ultimately rather forgettable – the track zigzags across its face, avoiding the worst of the seracs until you eventually breach onto Point Bayeux. The only real event of note was the passing of 4000m – we were now pretty high and I was conscious of keeping an eye on Karl’s (and my own) behaviour, speech and energy levels. If he was going to get affected by the altitude it would be showing itself now. It was a relief to see that we were both coping very well and indeed, were actually catching groups ahead of us – we weren’t going fast but we weren’t resting as much – an effective ‘Alpine pace’ is slow but relentless and it was working for us.

At this point, the summit was at last visible. Considering we had left the hotel 24 hours ago and had been climbing for a total of 10 hours since then, it was hugely exciting to see our objective at last. I had seen countless photos of it, flown over it, seen it from a long way off, but at last here it was, lying directly in front of me, a leviathan hunchback with an arching fin of a ridge curving down toward us, granting us access if we had the skills and motivation to take it on. We pulled up to the Vallot refuge at 4,300m and took stock. It was 10am, we had food, water and time, there were around 3 or 4 groups we could see on the ridge at various distances apart and things were looking good.

On the inside though, I was having a crisis of confidence. It felt like I had nothing left in the tank. I was taking on water, chocolate and malt loaf, knowing it would be 10-15 minutes before I felt their benefit, but in front of me was at least 2 hours of climbing, the first 500m or so of which looked very steep. I could see the path zig-zagging across it and as a very smart set of guides, plus (oddly enough) a cameraman came slowly past us, I tried to keep it all in perspective. All I could think was this was going to hurt. A lot. And even if we made it up, we had a huge descent to do, including the Gouter ridge down to the hut – descending is when most accidents happened and if we went further up, we were only increasing the chances of something going wrong on the way down. I didn’t voice my concerns to Karl as I knew that if he echoed them, I would have no hesitation in turning around. I didn’t want to ruin our chances so kept this turmoil to myself – thinking rationally, the effort it had taken to get there was immense and everything was in our favour. We would not get a better chance than this. ‘Give your legs 10 minutes of climbing’ I said to myself – after that the sugars will be in your blood and you’ll feel much better.

So we set off up the Grande Bosse (literally, the ‘big bump’), taking it nice and slowly, lots of small steps, steady breathing, catching and passing other groups as we went. The legs, which had felt like lead, and the feet, which had been burning, started to respond and lo, the second wind was upon me. The section across the Petite Bosse and beyond saw the ridge narrow significantly, the wind gust powerfully, blasting us with spindrift, and progress become generally more precarious, but I felt totally in control. Optimism surged again - up to 80% surely? Once or twice we had to step off the ridge to let descending groups pass or to get passed a resting group and it was a little hairy, but it did not stop us. We were moving slowly, but we were moving, not suffering from the altitude too much and the metres were racking up. The guide-books warn of a narrow section near the Rochers de la Tournette, which I had been preparing for in my mind, but I never even noticed it. The angle of the ridge seemed to be lessening, the path rounding off toward something – was this the summit? Was there another rise to go? I couldn’t quite tell…

And then it became clear. We had about 20 metres to go. The path was flattening out, there were no further rises and we were approaching not only the top of Europe, but the top of our challenge, the pinnacle of our efforts, and we were going to do it at the first time of asking. The thoughts whirled around my head – my wife, my children, my dead son, all the times I had been away from them, climbing, training, preparing, and then even further back, across the 25 years I had been climbing, from indoors at Truro School, to the sea cliffs of Cornwall with Pete Jones, to all the people I had met and learnt from, my dad taking me up Pen y Fan when I was 8, all the camping, discomfort, knowledge and skills I had developed, they had all given me the opportunity to bring my friend Karl up the highest mountain in Europe. There was no way I was doing this without him so I stopped and let him catch up from the 3 or 4 metres he had been behind me, choking back the emotion and struggling to stay in control of the tears. This was no place to lose it – that could wait till we got down.

And there we were. Midday. Stood on the summit, on our own, with not a cloud in the sky and the world at our feet. We embraced mightily, and I gripped his arm while we took in our surrounding and the magnitude of the effort we had just made. From the Aiguille du Midi and Chamonix, round toward the Matterhorn, then into Italy and Courmayer, down to Mont Viso, away in the distance to the Ecrins national park and the peaks I had climbed 13 years ago, across the Gouter to Geneva and the north, we could see it all. It was -7.5^oC but with a wind chill of around -20^oC so we didn’t hang around. Out came the cameras and charity T-shirts, photos taken and huge cheesy grins applied. Then as we were getting ready to leave, another group arrived, the guys with the film camera we had passed on the ridge, so we were able to get a shot of the pair of us on the summit. And oh boy, it felt good to be going down at last.

What had seemed such an effort was now a walk in the park. We could increase our stride length a bit and lose height quickly, dropping back down to the Vallot in less than an hour. We rested again, looked back up to a chopper circling the summit and felt like the conquering heroes we were. Yes our feet hurt, especially the heels, but we were descending and we were happy. It was a long trog back to the Gouter, including some inexplicable up-hill sections that seemed perverse to me, and a slightly suspect slope on the north face of the Dome du Gouter – in the morning we had seen guys bomb straight down it but it had since been exposed to strong sunlight all day and was softening. It felt like we should stick to the consolidated track and not chance triggering an avalanche. It took us longer and necessitated the odd sit down, when our legs would go on strike, but eventually we got back to the Gouter hut a little after 3pm.

What a change to the morning, when it had been virtually deserted. It was absolutely heaving with people. Today was the first day the telepherique and railway were running and it had drawn the masses. There were probably upward of 50 people at the hut and as we looked back down the ridge toward the Tete Rousse hut we could see endless groups picking their way up in the baking sun. It was very hot as the wind had died down and the sun was fully on the balcony where we had found a spot to sit and take it in, so we stripped off shell jackets and fleeces, stowed the rope and ice axes and decided to rest for an hour or so. I went inside to get out of the sun while Karl tried to get a phone signal – my phone battery had died long ago. Eventually he found one and we managed a quick call to our respective wives to say we had summitted and were back down – not strictly true, but why complicate matters?

As I sat inside in the relative cool looking around me, the quiet smugness set in. We had grabbed the opportunity and cracked it – most of these people had not. The weather looked doubtful for the next day too, so many of them wouldn’t make it. I felt we had done it in great style – the hard way, walking from the valley floor all the way to the top in just over 24 hours, with no acclimatisation period and no real ill effects. Apart from the heels which hurt like hell. Not many people can claim that and I felt hugely proud of the pair of us. Now all that remained was 600m of down-climbing on loose rock in the hot afternoon sun. Lovely.

We waited until 4pm and set off. The first 150m or so had permanent fixed cables on, so with a sling and a couple of karabiners each, we could clip on and protect ourselves in the case of any slips, allowing us to clamber down fairly boldly. At the end of the cabling however, we had to slow right down, carefully picking our way across slushy snow and loose rock, trying not to send debris cascading down onto people below us, or indeed send ourselves tumbling down. Once or twice there were occasions when we grabbed a piece of rock to steady ourselves, only to find it moving too, causing a couple of missed breaths. Karl was moving much more slowly now, evidently in some pain from his feet and not at all comfortable on this terrain. There was only one way down though and he stuck to the task manfully, arriving at last at the traverse of the Grand Couloir once more.

I had been watching it for about 10 minutes and had not seen anything come down it, so across we bombed and now our thoughts could realistically turn to the hut, only 100m or so below us and 300m away. We hit the snow-field and Karl got a burst of energy – probably driven by the relief of being off the rocks – and surged for the line. I bided my time and as we passed a make-shift tent city that had sprung up on the plateau above the hut, he faded and I struck, lengthening my stride and putting daylight between us – the race back to the hut was won and lost there and then! We had left the hut 13 and a quarter hours earlier and had made a successful summit bid – glorious.

Being back in the hut at last meant genuine safety, comfort, and a mix of triumph and tranquillity. With boots off we could relax, drink, eat and reflect on our success. Like the Gouter, it was much busier, with all sorts of people sorting gear, swapping tips, glancing out of the window at the weather or the mountain, asking about conditions, and generally feeling the air of anticipation, nervousness and excitement we had felt the previous day.

But we were immune to all that now. We didn’t need to worry about whether we had enough food, the right clothes, spare batteries, sufficient fitness or any of that. Conversations with others went along the lines of “Us? Yeah, we came up yesterday, made the summit today, had it to ourselves. Walked up from Les Houches in fact, no problem. What? No, we didn’t do any altitude training, just lots of running in the UK”. People were genuinely impressed that a couple of Brits could do that, given that, to the French, there are no mountains in the UK. We had dinner with four French guys who were up there for a few days solely to acclimatise, intending on going for the summit in a couple of week’s time, and they couldn’t believe it. They shared their wine with us and toasted our efforts, which made me feel immensely proud. Karl passed around his hip flask of single malt that had been to the summit and back and introduced them to the notion of Irish coffee.

The British guys we had seen in the Vallot that morning reappeared and we swapped notes. Again, they were surprised and impressed by our efforst, especially when they found out Karl had never climbed before and we did not use a guide. They also told us that the film crew we had seen was for Zinedine Zidane, who was climbing Mont Blanc for a French charity – video here (I am sure that is us on the ridge in the background of one of the shots). Kudos all round before bed.

Another terrible night’s sleep followed, lots of too-ing and fro-ing by our bunkmates, midnight toilet trips, less sweaty than the night before as only 1 duvet, but a racing heart and Lily Allen songs stuck in my head all night kept restful slumber to a minimum. A leisurely breakfast with the few who were not going up the hill that day and we were out of the hut for just after 9am. There was a train from Nid d’Aigle at 10:25 which I was confident of getting, as it had taken us just over 2 hours to walk up from there to the hut. As we left, a mountain rescue helicopter practised dropping off and picking up right in front of us, but sadly did not offer to give us a lift, so off we set.

The first section was reminiscent of the Gouter ridge, only a bit easier and after 20 minutes or so it eased back onto a mix of well trodden path and snow fields. The former allowed us to almost jog down, while the latter gave us a great opportunity for glissading, a sort of skiing but with no skis, sliding semi-controllably down compacted snow and losing height with great speed and style. We got back to the station in about an hour from the hut, enough time to get a ticket, relax and gaze back up. The train arrived and 20 or 30 day trippers spewed out, all Rohan shorts and floppy hats, knapsacks and binoculars, sensible shoes and sun-cream. It was hard not feel immensely superior and hard-core!

When it was time to leave we flopped into the bucket seats and enjoyed the vibrations up our backs and views out the window. Past the Col du Mt Lachat where we had watched the mountain rescue exercise and on further to Bellevue station, where a short (and painful) walk led us to the telepherique back down to Les Houches. A 5 minute wait and we were swaying gently down the hill, over the forest we had sweated our way up 2 days earlier and down to the bus stop. One final challenge lay ahead – getting back to Chamonix. There wasn’t a bus for an hour and a half, so we decided to try and hitch – 13 years ago I had hitch-hiked from Nice airport to the Ecrins National Park and back, so reckoned we had a good chance of getting picked up. Sure enough after about 5 minutes a young couple stopped and in we jumped, thanking them and hoping we didn’t smell too bad.

We made it back to the hotel at around 12pm – almost exactly 24 hours after we had been on the summit. A shower and change of clothes later and we were hobbling the 1km into town to find a suitably friendly beer-and-steak selling restaurant. Having done so, we drank to our health, our families, the charities we have helped and the boys we had done it for. This took quite a lot of drinking and it was with full belly and spinning head we went to bed at a raucous 8pm in the evening.

Our return to the airport was a quiet one – another poor night’s sleep (this time due to the heat) and an aching set of feet put us in reflective mood. A massive burger at Geneva airport sorted that out and we parted soon after in great spirits – our separate flights leaving from different gates. Landing at East Midlands on the front edge of a massive thunderstorm saw me waiting pensively for the bus back to Bridgford – I did not want to finish the trip by getting soaked in a torrential downpour. Eventually it picked me up and I got off around a half a mile from home. Anticipation had been building and I wanted to be there now so I lugged both bags onto my shoulders and ran, through the rain and my painful feet to arrive a sweaty dishevelled mess, but a happy one, at about 7:30pm.

There followed a period of wildness as my boys jumped all over me and we fell on the ground, all rolling and screaming, Maddy joining in on top of it all and I was home. They had made me a huge congratulations poster, Maddy had made cakes and Kirsty had made a lasagne – heaven. It was great to be back.

Just over two weeks later and my heels are pretty much healed. My left one is still a bit tender to the touch but I can cycle no problem – the effort and altitude seems to have made me fitter and stronger. The photos are fabulous and we have made a bundle of money for NSE and CLIC. I know I am in danger of boring everyone with climbing tales of daring-do, but as the memories will eventually fade, this column captures it all for posterity.

Thank you to all who donated – for CLIC Sargent, Billy’s House has opened in Nottingham, a place where people facing childhood cancer can stay close to where treatment happens, and your money will help fund places like it and the staff who run it – I know from first hand experience it will make a difference to someone. Our total of over £5,000 is 10% of the annual running costs of a place like this, so thank you again.

Thank you to my family for putting up with it all, the disruption, the cost, the uncertainty, the effort of making up for me being away and the selflessness of letting it happen.

Finally, thank you to Karl for having the idea and for giving me the chance to do something I would not have done otherwise. It was a privilege to be there with you.

Healing heels...

2009-06-26T14:05:00.000-07:00

So 2 weeks after destroying my heels, they are healing up well, still a bit sore but much better than they have been. I even managed to cycle to and from work today, the first real exercise since coming off Mont Blanc.

Feels a bit strange not having to be staying fit for something, but I'll continue cycling or running to work to try and maintain some fitness.

Ross has been in good form for the past week or so; lots of smiles and giggles, but he's stil up every night for a few hours every night. We're reducing his steroid dosage a little each week as the doctors are keen to wean him off them due to the side-effects. We're just hoping that Ross can manage this without the seizures returning.

Fin continues to be a we star, and a wee lion...

A picture tells a thousand words

2009-06-20T13:23:00.000-07:00

While I compose myself, here is the story of our ascent, in pictures - just click here

There is also a rather poorer-than-I-had-hoped-for panorama video from the summit here, taken with my little compact digital camera - the noise is the wind!

Rich

Mont Blanc by Karl (Rich will supply the climber's perspective...)

2009-06-17T14:41:00.000-07:00

Rich and I travelled to Geneva on Thursday 11th June, met in the airport and got our shuttle bus to our hotel in Chamonix. After commandeering the double bed and leaving Rich to the 'guest bed' / futon, we sorted our kit and headed into Chamonix for some last minute carb-loading. The waitress exhibited typical French charm whilst serving us our pasta and pizza (each), but did seem impressed when we managed to polish off the double banana crepe dessert as well...we were eating for the hill after all.

After an early night and an early morning (combination of kid-induced body clock and butterflies in the stomach...) we got our gear packed and took the bus down the valley to Les Houches, from where we were planning on taking the Bellevue cable-car up from the valley floor at 1000m to begin our climb at about 1800m. In typical French fashion, the cable-car was closed, and my request if there was any other way to get up was answered with a typically Gallic shrug and a murmered "you could walk"... We had known that the little train which could have taken us right up to 2372m was off, so we were prepared for that walk, but I must admit having to walk from the valley floor, only days after having to change our route completely due to the new snow creating a high avalanche risk on Mont Blanc de Tacul (route from the Cosmique Refuge we had been planning) was not something I had planned for or was looking forward to.

Our luck did seem to be in on the weather front with the snow, clouds and winds of the previous week seeming to be clearing for the weekend. Even with a clear forecast, we'd not be sure that the wind would be calm enough to make the summit until we got up there. In fact when we set-off, the weather was very hot which made for some sweaty walking as we made our way up the paths out of the valley floor. Despite the tree coverage, it was still so hot that I soon started feeling the sweat in my boots, and the heat in my heels. It was beoming very obvious that I was blistering. I couldn't believe it as during the long hikes and many miles jogging during training I'd never had any blisters and here i was not one hour into what would be 2 days walking with blisters on each heel. Nothing for it but to keep going.

Having left the road about 10am, we were well above the tree-line and at the train line where we stopped for a breather, watching what appeared to be several bodies being carried down the hill by the gendarme (an exercise as it turned out...). Pushing on we made good time up the hill into more desolate territory and into the snowline. A final scramble up brought us to the Téte Rousse hut at at 3167m at about 3pm where we had booked to spend the night. Time to have a look at my heels which had been causing me some gip. The hut guardian sorted me out with some guaze and tape and after getting sorted we had a dinner with a great view. Time to get our gear sorted for our planned early departure before an early night. It could have been the 4 degree temperature in the dorm, or the altitude, or a bit of nervousness about what we were in for the following day, but neither Rich nor I got much sleep. Warning - the photo below is not a pretty sight...

Up for breakfast at 4am, we were one of 5 or 6 groups heading up the hill that morning. The first challange on Saturday getting my crampons on... The next was to cross "le grand coulior", the big corridor, a gully running steeply down the mountain infamous for causing many deaths as people get hit by falling rocks or ice. Fortunately it was all quiet, as expected at that time of the day with everything still frozen, so we managed to have an uneventful crossing, hoping it be just as quiet on our retuen crossing later in the day. The route up to the Gouter Hut at about 3800m was good fun, proper scrambling for over 2 hours. At Gouter Hut about 7am we had a brief break for some energy gels (lots of energy, not a lot of taste) and carbohydrate bars (looks like chocolate, tastes like plywood).

Rich got us roped up to move together on the snow, meaning that if either of us slipped on the icy sloes, and failed to self-arrest with our ice-axes, the other could stop them. We then headed off up the Dome de Gouter. The next few hours passed pretty slowly as we followed the path as it zig-zagged up the Dome and around the top and down the far side towards the Vallot Hut at the bottom of the Bosses and the ridge up towards the summit of Mont Blanc. Stopping there about 10am for more calories and a breather we braced ourselves for the final push. Looking up the ridge we could see some groups ahead of us making their way slowly up the ridges, being buffetted by strong gusts of wind carrying snow and ice. It looked pretty wild, but doable; having come this far we pushed on for the summit. The photo below shows Mont Blanc from the Dome de Gouter with the Vallot Hut in the centre. The route up followsw the ridges up the sky-line, right of the peak.

The ridges over the Bosses were pretty hairy. Moving together Rich and I made made slow but steady progress upwards, stopping briefly to get our breaths back when we needed to. Our pace had been pretty good all morning and we passed another set of climbers on these ridges, this time a group who had a camerman and photographer with them. We were so focussed on what we were doing that we dismissed it as a promo video for the guiding company, but we later learnt that it was Zinedine Zidane (who may or may not have been dropped at the Vallot Hut, and picked up on the summit by helicopter...).

Nearing the summit, Rich and I were both pretty emotional. This had been such a long time coming, and had required a big investment in training time and energy, and support by our wives and families. Richard's first son Archie would have been 11 this year. Ross was already 1, a year which has flown past and throughout which we still have no idea of what his future holds. Our thoughts filled with these and others of our families as we climbed the final ridge to the summit.

Midday, Saturday 13th June, 4810 metres above sea level. The view was amazing. The summit was empty and in all directions mountains stretched into the distance. The most striking view was looking out over l'Aguille de Midi down into Chamonix valley, a view which is more commonly seen in reverse, from Chamonix looking up into the mountains. We took some photos and didn't hang about long. The -7 degree temperature plus the pretty strong winds meant it was bitterly cold and standing still wasn't sensible. After getting one of the group who followed us to the summit to take a photo of both of us, we headed downhill.

Heading down was hard work. Down the ridges, concentrating on every step, it seemed endless. Stopping at the Vallot Hut again briefly we trudged on back the way we had come towards the Gouter Hut. By the time we got there at about 3.30pm I was absolutely bushed, and not looking forward to the downclimb to the Téte Rousse hut where we were to stay again that night. We managed to get a mobile phone signal and speak to our wives before the cold sucked the rest of our phone batteries - great for them to hear that we'd done it, but pretty emotional for us, stopping and accepting that we'd been successful. We headed back down climb below the Gouter Hut, something which we thought would take us about an hour, but which took over 2. Arriving at le Grand Couloir again we were pleased to see that it was quiet so we didn't hand about and walked steadily across before heading on down to the hut at about 6pm - 13 and a half hours after leaving that morning.

I was wrecked and hardly had energy to get my stuff off (even almost falling on the steps up to the door...) but we'd done it! That said, the altitude meant that even though we had a pretty early night and didn't have to get up early in the morning, neither Rich nor I got much sleep. The altitude again, plus our lovely dorm-mates who seemed to be sorting their kit for most of the fist half of the night, and getting up at staggered intervals during the second half of the night. Sunday morning after brunch we left about 9am and made great time down the hill, especially sliding down some of the snowy parts losing a lot of height quickly and were at the end of the train line by 10am, 20 minutes before the train was due.

Having walked up from the valley floor we felt we were entitled to take the train and cable-car back down. To be honest I'd have struggled if we hadn't... When we got back to Les Houches, rather than hanging around for an hour and a half for the bus, we decided to hitch-hike from the bottom of the lift back to our hotel, and we were both very grateful to the young French couple who decided to stop for us. Not sure why they put the windows up with us in the back of the car; I hope we didn't smell as bad as we thought we did. Following a warm shower, where I discovered that shampoo and open blisters should never be mixed, we got some clean clothes on and headed into Chamonix for some celebratory steak, chips and cold beer. As we were pretty hungry, this was followed a matter of hours later by a large plate of tartiflette - just what the doctor ordered.

Rich and I separated at Geneva airport for our flights home and when Fin saw me coming through arrivals at the airport he ran and gave me the biggest hug. Also got amazing giggles from Ross, kisses from Clair (although not on my blistered lips) and Fin telling me that when he's a big boy like me he's going to climb mountains too...
I'll make sure he reads this web brochure called "Climbing Mont Blanc is best left to Experienced Mountaineers" (http://www.ohm-chamonix.com/pdf/MBAscEn.pdf) before he decides to do so...

It's now 2 days since we got back, my lips and nose are less weather-beaten than they were, and my legs a lot less heavy than the were (very French condition that 'heavy legs'...), but my heels are still a mess. A 50p sized open wound on each heel will probably take a while to heal completely and will likely mean I can't do any more jogging for a few weeks - shame that...

Thanks to Rich's mountain skills, our training, a bit of digging deep and a lot of inspiration we'd made it. The summit of Mont Blanc was achieved, and (including Gift Aid) over £20,000 raised for the National Society for Epilepsy plus over £5,000 for CLIC Sargent. Thanks to everyone who has helped and supported us, and thanks to Rich for getting me up there and back safely.

Success!!!

2009-06-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

At midday on Saturday 13th June, Rich and I walked side-by-side onto the empty summit of Mont Blanc.

It's a long time since we decided to try to ascend Mont Blanc to raise money for charity, and the emotions as we made our way through the biting cross-winds up the summit ridge were overwhelming. We were the highest people in Western Europe and thoughts of Archie and Ross filled our minds as we gazed at the awesome views all around us.

An amazing experience but incredibly hard work, both physically and mentally. Full report to follow, but for now here's the proof...

Next stop Mont Blanc

2009-06-10T15:05:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow we fly to Geneva and head to Chamonix. All being well the forecast will be accurate and we'll get the calm, clear weather which is predicted for Friday and Saturday. We've had to modify our planned route as a result of the snow which has fallen earlier this week. As Rich mentions below (good to see him back on the Blog) we plan to stay in the Téte Rousse hut, which is lower than we'd planned and means that we'll have a longer and steeper climb in order to summit on Saturday morning. Saturday will be one very long day...

I'm also packed and ready to go (almost). Having delayed our ascent by a full year following Ross's birth last year it feels like a very long time since Rich and I agreed to head to Mont Blanc. The training has been long and hard, especially during the winter months. The response on archiesmountain.com has been amazing. We head to Mont Blanc knowing that, including Gift Aid, we've already raised over £5000 for CLIC Sargent and over £19000 for the National Society for Epilepsy (maybe with more to come...)

Thanks to everyone who has donated, and to those who have sent messages of support for the climb. We'll get an update and hopefully some photos on the Blog as soon as we can when we come down to let you all know how we got on.

PS Ross seems to be fully over the chickenpox and his spots are now healing well. Both boys have been in pretty good form the last few days so it's nice to be sent off with lots of smiles and a great home-made good luck card.

Show time...

2009-06-10T04:07:00.000-07:00

It seems to have been a very, very long time coming, but the moment has finally arrived - I have packed and tomorrow will fly to Geneva. I am starting to get excited, but it will truly set in once we get off the bus in Chamonix.

Up until last Wednesday, conditions on the mountain have been absolutely perfect. I have flown over Mont Blanc 4 times in the last 6 weeks (work is taking me to Italy a lot) and on the first 3 times I have had perfect views of the summit. The last time however, the weather had changed and the entire Alpine range was smothered with thick, dense cloud. Strong winds and up to 20cm of snow have fallen, meaning our route choice looked bad news. Karl phoned the Cosmique hut yesterday and they confirmed that they did not expect anyone to be going from their side this weekend. Route abandoned.

So a reversion to Plan B has been forced upon us. The Tete Rousse hut is on the north West flank of the peak and we will make our summit attempt from there, via the Dome du Gouter. The weather looks very settled over the weekend, so we will take the cable car and trudge up to the hut on Friday, take a very early start on Saturday, looking to summit at 7 or 8 in the morning, and then return to the hut or (if we are moving well) all the way back the valley.

The risk with this route is a thing called the Grand Couloir, a rather dangerous gulley around 50m wide that is the scene of persistent and random rockfall. However, we will be crossing this at around 2am, when it will be frozen and the risk of things coming down on us is vastly reduced. On return, we will either wait until later in the day to cross or pop across when it is otherwise quiet.

A lung- and leg-bursting day ahead of us, so for now I shall eat my pasta, go over the kit list again, visualise success and concentrate. Maybe on Sunday I'll take the time to enjoy it but now is not the time. Mountains deserve respect and this one has my undivided attention...

Bring on the pasta!!!

2009-06-06T03:31:00.000-07:00

Just finished my last big training run and heading off to start the carb-loading (I've been looking forward to this bit...)

Chickenpox...

2009-06-01T02:48:00.000-07:00

So the chickenpox vaccination didn't work...Ross was an angry boy for several days last week. It was almost like he was back before Christmas when he couldn't really be pacified. The spots appeared on Tuesday and are still looking pretty horrid a week later. He seemed to get back to himself a bit by the weekend which was good as it was a scorcher and we prioritised exploring the local area over doing the jobs I've been putting off doing in the house.

We also saw the paediatrician on last week - she seemed pleased with how Ross was physically, despite the chickenpox, and especially on how much more subtle his limbs were compared to a few months ago. This is all down to Clair who does most of the daily massage sessions with Ross, and the excellent therapists he sees every week now. She also had the results of the EEG scan of his brain activity which was done a few weeks ago. It still shows pretty erratic activity, bgut she seemed to think it was focussed on one side. We'll be taking Ross for an MRI scan some time soon to see if there is something physical which could be the source of the problems. The other news from that appointment is that we have started to reduce the amount of steroids which Ross gets, and the plan is to reduce by a little more each week until hopefully he's off them completely. It's only by a small amount at a time and at this rate it could be into next year before he's off them completely, but we're happy to go very slowly as the risk is that the seizures return, and this risk is higher if you make major changes to the medication. It's all wait and see now - needless to say we're hoping he stays seizure-free...

Went for a longer run on Saturday (in the sunshine) and felt really good at the end - impressing Clair with my sprint down the homeward stretch. Starting to think about the list of kit I need to take to the Alps. We've got our transport booked and are staying in a cheap (and hopefully cheerful) hotel in Chamonix. Also got 2 nights booked in the Cosmique Refuge hut up on Mont Blanc so I think we're getting there...

Thanks to some late big money donations, we're now only £270 short of our target for the NSE. If you think any of your friends or family would like to donate, please pass-on the website details to them to help us close the gap!

National Epilepsy Week

2009-05-22T00:47:00.000-07:00

This week has been National Epilepsy Week so many of the epilepsy charities have been holding events to raise funds and awareness. I attended the Joint Epilepsy Council lobby of MPs at Westminster on Wednesday. Many of us had contacted our MPs asking them to join us so we could tell them our personal experiences of epilepsy and highlight the low funding for research and care which the Government provides. My MP was "busy in his constituency", which I think means he was off sorting out his expense claims, but several other MPs did turn up and at least listen. They also witnessed a severe seizure which was not planned but must have had quite an impact...

I also attended a lecture by Prof Helen Cross, the paediatric neurologist from Great Ormond Street who say Ross when we came back from France. I mentioned that Fin has had chickenpox (the worst case I've ever seen with spots in his mouth, eyelids and everywhere - 53 behind one knee was as far as we got on counting them...) and she was very concerned to know if Ross had been immunised against them or not. He hadn't as the GP just wanted to see him when the first spots appear - turns out it can be very serious for people whose immune system is suppressed (like Ross's is as a result of the steroids). After several ours in A&E and a blood test, we took Ross last night to get his jab, so hopefully he shouldn't get the pox at all... Lesson we've learnt is that Ross's case is so rare it's beyond the experience of most GPs and we should go to the paeditrician for all problems in future.

We're having a final push in the last few weeks before our Mont Blanc ascent to try to hit our target of £15, 780 for NSE - thanks to the generosity of everyone so far, we only need a further £660. Rich and I fly to Geneva on 11th June to try on that Friday/Saturday. Hoping for good weather!

Planning a long run this evening, but hopefully not as long as last weekend's when I managed to get lost in the woods and Clair was for sending out a search party...

Happy First Birthday Ross!!!

2009-05-11T05:05:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe it's already one year, but yes it's Ross's first birthday today - thank you to everyone who has sent cards and gifts. We've celebrated with both sides of the family in the past 2 weekends, and plan to have more cake when I get home from work this evening...

I don't need to point out to those who know us what a year this has been. The wee man has been through so much already and has so many uncertainties ahead of him. It felt very bizarre to find myself telling him I was giving him a special birthday treat this morning by giving him his bottle before his medicines, but that's the surreal world we're living in. Maybe one day we'll wake up and find out it's all just been a bad dream...

At the same time, no matter how tough it gets, Ross has a smile that can raise everyone's spirits, and I know that whatever the future brings we'll find a way to get through it together.

Why raise money for the NSE?

2009-05-01T01:24:00.000-07:00

I came across these articles from the April edition of the American edition of Newsweek magazine. Not only do they give an insight into the lives of people living with epilepsy, but they offer a call to action to raise awareness of this terrible disease, and to insist on the funding required to make the breakthroughs in understanding and treatment which will improve the lives of epilepsy sufferers and their families. The NSE helps by funding exactly this sort of cutting-edge research.

Please click on the links below to access the full articles. Otherwise, at least just read the extract below from the editorial.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/193586

http://www.newsweek.com/id/193587

http://www.newsweek.com/id/193484

"Though the most overt examples of discrimination and demonization have faded with time, epilepsy still receives too little attention, either from the medical community or the public at large. Why? One reason is that advances in drug treatments have created the popular impression that epilepsy is now an essentially manageable condition. (Which, for two thirds of patients, it is. But that still leaves a third for whom it is not.) It is thought to be rarely fatal, controllable by medication. There is a terrible irony here: because most people with epilepsy are not in a constant state of seizure—they are, rather, in perpetual but quiet danger—their condition can appear less serious than it truly is. It is all too human, but all too true, that a problem, including the problem of a serious medical affliction, stays out of mind when it is out of sight.

Because so many of those who must endure it do so valiantly, and with grace and grit, it is more difficult for those not directly affected by it to grasp that epilepsy can kill. Put harshly, we need more of a cancerlike sensibility around epilepsy. We cannot usually see our friends' cancer, but we do not hesitate to invest the search for a cure for different cancers with the utmost cultural and political importance. We must now do the same with epilepsy. "We want complete freedom from seizures," says Susan Axelrod. "We want future families to be spared what so many other families, for so many years, have endured. Lives should not be defined by diseases." No, they should not—which is why all of us must focus on understanding epilepsy. And then we must defeat it."

Over £10,000 from our London Marathon runners!!!

2009-04-30T04:21:00.000-07:00

I've just checked the Justgiving pages of our London Marathon runners to see how their fundraising finished up. There may well be more to come, but as of today we already have an amazing grand total of £9,321 plus £833 from Gift Aid, so breaking the £10k mark.

Rory and Kerry managed to raise over £7.5k between them including the proceeds from the car-wash and coffee-morning at the church, and a fundraising pub-crawl (as Kerry said, it was her 'yang' to counter the 'ying' of Rory's car-wash, just not sure it was great final preparation a few week's before the marathon...), with the balance being made up by Dave's total, including the money raised at his business network dinner.

So from the efforts of these 3 individuals who have been touched by Ross's story enough to dedicate their own time and energy to raise money to help people with epilepsy, the NSE are £10k better off. I can't thank Rory, Kerry and Dave enough for this, and I think they already know how much it means to me.

If you have been inspired by their efforts, and feel like you might just be interested in giving the London Marathon a go in 2010, please let me know at karl@archiesmountain.com as I'm feeling a bit inspired myself (even more so than I do every year having just watched the marathon...).

To run, or not to run???

The London Marathon 2009

2009-04-27T01:24:00.000-07:00

We had a great day in London yesterday cheering on the runners at the London Marathon, especially our 3 heroic runners for the NSE, who each have had their injury problems to content with, but who all finished safely.

It was a beautiful sunny day, ideal for watching, but maybe a little hot for running.

All 3 did really well, with Rory as the surprise front-finisher. With only 1 mile to go, he was striding along as if he was just out for a brief jog...

Dave also did really well and even stopped for a chat.

And it may look like Kerry had decided to get a piggy-back from this old dear...

...but she did actually run the whole way, through considerable pain due to a knee injury.

Ross enjoyed every minute of it!

Easter eggs, house moves and car-washes...

2009-04-22T02:06:00.001-07:00

We had a chocolate-filled Easter weekend in Scotland for the Christening of some friends kids. Fin enjoyed his eggs and I enjoyed Ross's... Kirsty and Kenny decided to ask for donations via archiesmountain so more than £500 was added to the total as a result of their generosity - thanks!!!

Been a busy couple of weeks with our trip, hospital appointments and moving house. We had an EEG (scan of Ross's electrical brain activity) last Wednesday. He had lots of these in France but this was the first one in UK. To me the tracings on the screen looked very similar to the ones in France, still pretty chaotic, but the technician doing the scan seemed to think it wasn't as bad as I thought. We'll have to wait for our next paediatric appointment to get find out what it all meant.

We've also moved house so are finally into our own place again. Boxes and stuff everywhere, but it's great to be able to get settled once and for all. We're in Bookham in Surrey, not far from where we were before but we've really noticed the reduced space having been in 5 bedroom houses for the past 2 years - we've restocked the local charity shop and the garage is still pretty full. Bookham is very nice and we're close to the common with lots of woodland paths - no excuse now for not doing some longer runs in the run-up to Mont Blanc.

On Saturday there were 2 separate events to raise money for the NSE, organised by our intrepid NSE marathon runners;
- Rory McMillan, Kerry Crawford, my family and friends and everyone at Ballygrainey Presbyterian Church in Northern Ireland held a charity car-wash, coffee morning, and cake and vegetable sale and raised an amazing £2500
- David Gallagher's business network in Bedford raised £1000 at their annual awards dinner on Saturday night
A massive thank-you to Rory/Kerry/David and everyone else involved. The money's all adding up...

A specialist optician came out to see Ross this morning and was very positive about his sight. Ross was following lights and objects much more so than we'd seen him do in the past and we're very encouraged to hear some positive news. I guess we need to work on stimulating him a bit more so he'll be able to sit-up with me and watch the Lions beat the Springboks this summer...

Finally, my brother William and his kite-surfing pal's website is live. They're supporting 4 great charities, one of which is NSE and with over a dozen kite-surfers planning to cross from Northern Ireland to Scotland at the end of the summer I'm sure they'll raise lots of money. Please visit www.kitechallenge.com to see what they're doing and to donate if you wish.

Sunshine and picnics

2009-04-06T14:08:00.000-07:00

We've just had a great weekend with Richard and his family staying with us for a few days.

Their twin boys are the same age as Fin, and their older son and daughter kept Fin entertained in the garden for the whole weekend. Ross got lots of attention from Richard's wife and did his usual 'I'll pretend I'm no bother' behaviour when we have people to stay. He was full of smiles and only cried when he got his medecine. He even slept pretty well! I reckon he does it so everyone thinks we're nuts when he say he cries loads or doesn't sleep...

Did a 5 mile run with Rich on Saturday to compare our fitness levels - it's strange how even though we're the same height his legs seem so much longer and therefore faster than mine. We then proceeded to undo any fitness gained by having a very long lunch in the sunshine in the garden all afternoon.

We also collected the keys to our new house at the weekend and went there for a picnic in the garden on Sunday. We're planning on moving during the week after Easter; it'll be good to get into our own place at last.

Ross has had visits from the speech and language therapist and has been seeing other therapists each Wednesday morning. Last week he giggled when presented with a little vibrating toy, and we've noticed he's started moving his head in order to follow lights with his eyes. All little positive signs which mean so much.

We're off to Scotland for Easter in a few days - hope you al have a great Easter break.

I'll leave you with this image taken on the final ridge to the summit of Mont Blanc - we're hoping for weather like that...

Did I mention Ireland won the Grand Slam?

2009-03-31T23:10:00.000-07:00

Apart from some smiles once or twice a day, Ross has been a lot more agitated in the past week or so than he has been. Lots of crying, sleeping not so well during the night and not eating as well as he has been. He has had a pretty bad cough which we thought might go into his chest again so we've been keeping a close eye on it, but it doesn't seem to be getting any worse. Hopefully he'll get back to himself in the coming days.

I have been hacking-up bits of lung for the past 5 days so training has been put on hold - even climbing the stairs has been knackering me. Hope I can shake it before this weekend as Rich and his wife and 4 kids are coming to stay this weekend and I'll need all my energy... Also it's only 10 weeks till we head to Mont Blanc so I need to ramp-up my training quite a bit (have I said that before???)

We've exchanged contracts on our new house and hope to move in just after Easter so once we get settled there we'll think about when to start weaning Ross off the steroids as the doctors think he's already been on them too long - can't really face it though given the risk of the seizures returning. We've also got appointments for an EEG, and with some eye and ear specialists in the coming weeks so I'll let you know how they go.

My brother Ian received a cheque for £500 from Donaghadee Young Farmers Club at the weekend, money they had raised at a BBQ last year for the NSE for Ross. I had no idea they were even raising money but it's very touching that people who have never even met Ross are inspired to raise money to help. Thank you very much to everyone who was involved in that.

It's April Fool's Day today, but for some reason I don't feel like partaking like I did in previous years...

Mont Blanc from a distance...

2009-03-27T16:14:00.000-07:00

We had a great week away skiing last week in Les Gets in the French Alps. Clair and I only skied half days whilst the other was with Ross, but the snow was great and we ony saw a few clouds all week - perfect conditions.

Fin enjoyed ski school and had no problems getting pulled uphill on the rope or skiing down the slope - it's a good job we were only there for a week or he'd have ended up better (although not faster...) than me. Ross enjoyed the attention and it was great spending a full week with him again, despite the nights on the sofa.

Mont Blanc was ever present on the horizon - it does look big...

We were there with our good friends and their kids. If there was one thing that made the week difficult, it was seeing their kids, who are just weeks older than Ross, toddling around, laughing and throwing food around. How we wish Ross had been able to join in, although that's the situation and we have to live with it, no matter how difficult.

Ross does bring us lots of joy too. Like most blokes, as long as he's had a decent feed and a good sleep, he's content. And he loves his baths, especially with Fin.

Planes, no trains but automobiles.

2009-03-13T19:08:00.000-07:00

We reckon we're doing pretty well in keeping things as normal as possible. Last weekend we drove to Scotland and even managed to leave the boys with their Grandma and Grandpa for 2 whole nights while we went our or friends' wedding. And this weekend we're heading off skiing!

Last weekend was great, if tiring, but Fin and Ross seemed to enjoy the additional attention, and they got to meet their newest cousin Thomas.

This Sunday we head to Les Getz for a week's skiing with some friends. I'm not sure how much skiing we'll get done but it will be great to spend a week with family and friends. Taking my hiking boots so may get Ross in the backpack and do some altitude training.

Rich and I have got our flights to Geneva booked for our attempt of Mont Blanc. We'll be there the middle weekend in June and are just hoping for good weather, but at least it's early enough in the summer to allow us to try again later on if we don't make it that weekend. Need to step-up the fitness training though as that will come round very quickly.

Just been watching some of Comic Relief (it's 2.30am and Ross and I have nothing else to do...) and 23 things stood ot for me;
- so far they've raised over £57million, an amazing total which will help countless people at home and abroad
- great to see those pampered celebs getting themselves up Mount Kilimanjaro, although they seemed to have had a rather large support crew. I hope Rich and I can support each other enough on Mont Blanc. At least we won't have to listen to Gary Barlow the whole way up.
- watching any clips with sick kids in them was so much harder this year this before...

Giggles. Yes, giggles!!!

2009-03-02T15:03:00.000-08:00

So last week was a bit nuts.

The tragic death of David Cameron's son Ivan who suffered from Otahara Syndrome, something not a million miles from what Ross has, really knocked me for six. He died following 6 very difficult years, seizures cruelly wracking his body and mind on a frequent basis. The similarities with Ross's condition are there, but one big difference is that Ross's seizures are under control, and have been for 8 months now. We didn't really appreciate before why the excellent doctors in Paris were so obsessed with getting his seizures under control, but there it is.

Ross will have to come off the steroids he's on at some point asthe side effects aren't great. They have made the difference in controlling his seizures whilst the anti-epilepsy drugs only reduced them, but did not eliminate them. We're hoping and praying that when he is weaned off them (we'll maybe find out when the doctors here want to do that when we see his new paediatrician on Wednesday), the seizures don't return...

Whilst my thought's last week were dominated by that, we also had opportunity to take immense pleasure from experiencing Ross giggling (something else we were led to believe may never happen). It's more a kind of 'gooo' but combined with his infectious smile, it's definitely a giggle. As long as he's had a decent sleep, some food and isn't struggling to fill his nappy...he's now pretty much smiling on demand. He's responding to tickles (back, front, sides, chin, pretty normal places really), voices and more than ever Fin's doting attention.

Tonight Ross and Fin's daily 'swim-for-kisses' session in the bath resulted in giggles. Great for Clair, me and also for Fin.

Fin started pre-school today and didn't shed a single tear - a major step forward for the wee man who's endured a massive amount of change in past months. To be honest, if he turns it on for the teacher like he does for us, he'll have them all educated in no time.

I have to mention David, Rory and Kerry, who are all well progressed in their marathon training, some perhaps more than others... They are all running the London Marathon this April in order to raise money for NSE - have a look at their websites and please support them if you can - http://www.justgiving.com/runforross - http://www.justgiving.com/kerrycrawford - http://www.justgiving.com/rorymcmillan

2009-02-19T14:38:00.000-08:00

Ross has finally managed to get over the cough which has been bugging him since Christmas. He's been in much better form the past few weeks and enjoyed a visit from his Gran & Grandad a few weekends ago.

His sleeping is still a little erratic but is hopefully heading in the right direction. He's also eating ok and knows what tastes he likes and what he doesn't - another little something that we never thought he'd be able to do.

With physio starting this week, and first visit to the paediatrician early March things are starting to happen following our trip to Great Ormond Street. Good timing as our stash of medication we brought from France is rapidly coming to an end and we need to get the UK supply sorted.

We enjoyed Valetines Day with a day out to Polesden Lacey National Trust property where there was a chocolate festival. Fin first of all covered his face with chocolate from the chocolate fountain and then got his face painted before scaring all old ladies within roaring distance.

Our only other news for now is that we've had an offer accepted on a house in Bookham. Hopefully it will all go through quite quickly and we'll be in our own house in April!

Let it snow...

2009-02-06T15:36:00.000-08:00

After being knee deep in snow last weekend in Glencoe, it felt very bizarre this week being knee deep in snow in our own backyard in sunny Surrey. But snow there was and lots of it. Ross was very pleased...

We didn't quite know how deep it was so we sent Fin out to see if he disappeared or not. There was lots; I scraped 15 inch deep snow off the car roof and nearly did myself in tryng to dig a path to get the car out.

Oxshott took on a ski-resort feel and with no-one able to get to work (and I assume suffering the same remote-access IT issues as me) everyone was out and about, stopping to say hello, snowballs in hand or sledges in tow. I must admit that it did cheer me up no end.

Fin had a ball in the snow, and didn't complain of the cold once, despite eating at least 2 tonnes of the stuff (white only - took the opportunity to educate him on the dangers of yellow snow...).

We had our first full consultation at Great Ormond Street Hospital a few days ago. We didn't go expecting to get any answers which was a good job; I think it's becoming clearer and clearer that we're not doing to get any answers and it's just going to be a case of waiting and see how Ross is from one day to the next. At least the medication regime will be clarified, test results followed up and all the right referrals are happening.

Now we just need more snow...

A memorable weekend...

2009-01-28T15:05:00.000-08:00

Rich has already described, with his genius turn of phrase, our weekend in Glencoe which was a bit more eventful trhan we'd hoped. We had some highs;

- the last few pitches climbing on Saturday afternoon

- the knowledge that my feet stayed dry whilst Rich got very wet

- the full Burns Supper haggis dinner on Saturday night

- the Sunday lunch in the Cameron House Hotel

and some lows;

- the realisation on Saturday afternoon that the helicopter activity I'd been watching was not an exercise and that 3 fellow climbers had been killed

- meeting their friends on the Sunday morning

The conditions were pretty bad, but Rich demonstrated that he really knows his stuff, keeping us roped together when required and attached to the wall when essential.

We didn't get to the summit, beaten by the snow and the conditions, but we managed to get off the hill safely, having completed some valuable training in in tough conditions. Not sure you can ask for more...

Whilst we were experiencing the delights of haggis, clapshot and skirlie, followed by possibly the worst Atole Brose dessert known to man, my friends from work Pam and Jen were in the middle of their charity Burns Supper in London. Not only had they sold 80 tickets, bought and prepared enough haggis, neeps and tattis for them all, decorated the rugby club where it was being held, convinced the bar to sell their wine with a big cut for charity and gathered up some fantastic prizes for a raffle and auction, but they also found a willing piper.

After mountains of haggis, some traditional and some not-so-traditional speeches, some wild ceilidh dancing and a few wee drams, they had raised over £4000 pounds to be split between the National Society for Epilepsy and CLIC Sargent. An amazing effort, and very much appreciated.

And yes, Rich beat me at pool, but then I didn't have a mis-spent youth...

Tough weekend...

2009-01-28T05:06:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago, Glencoe looked like this. Pretty, but disappointing from a winter climbing perspective! Given that flights, car hire, hotel and time away from family were booked, it looked very much like we would have to satisfy ourselves with some technical scrambling (probably in the rain) and aim to get as many metres of climbing in our legs as possible. However, 2 weeks is a long time in Scottish weather…

Glencoe on Saturday looked like this. A week of heavy snowfall and high winds had given the place an altogether different feel. On seeing this, the day before we were due to leave I popped into Karl’s temporary new house (very nice) to drop off some kit and his birthday present – an avalanche probe. I hoped not to be tempting fate and, as fortune favours the prepared, I thought it was a sensible choice, but in retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it so casually to Clair…after all, why on earth would we be needing that!?

Come Friday and, with bags carefully packed to ensure I didn’t go over my hold and carry-on baggage weight limit, or get arrested for trying to take an ice axe onto the plane, I drove to East Midlands airport. I survived check-in but the x-ray police pulled me over and informed me that I couldn’t take a climbing rope onto the plane either. I had put it in my hand baggage as it is quite bulky and heavy, but wasn’t (as far as I could tell) sharp, incendiary or in any other way dangerous. G4S begged to differ. Apparently I could tie people up with it and so it was not allowed. Cue one trip back to the check-in desk, twelve more quid to the airline and a snotty letter to follow…

An uneventful, if somewhat bumpy, flight to Glasgow later, and I was that person you always see and think ‘that never happens to me’ – the one whose bag comes out of the carousel first. With a spring in my step I skipped over to the car hire desk, swanned over to Starbucks for mocha and a sticky bun and snuggled onto their sofas, thinking life doesn’t get much better. Until Starbucks closed and kicked me out, I was right. Karl’s rubbish flight was delayed as usual and I passed a bit of time chatting to another guy who was clearly heading for the hills – it turned out he was going to Glencoe too and so I wished him good luck and hoped he wouldn’t hold us up on the hill…

Karl arrived a bit frantic – he needed to send a presentation to his boss, on pain of instant dismissal, and his laptop was refusing to play ball. We needed a wi-fi or other network connection-type thing. We tried the Ramada (no joy), gave the Holiday Inn Express a miss (a wise presumption I reckon) and, having phoned the place we were staying, The KingsHouse at the head of Glencoe and established they had a variety of options, internet-wise, we headed North. The road past Loch Lomond was heavily flooded, while past Crianlarich there was quite a bit of snow on the ground, raising eyebrows and pulse rates. However, aside from completely missing the turn into the car park at the inn, the trip passed without incident. Karl made good progress with his work, until the battery died on his laptop, whereupon the Aussie barman lent him his personal one and victory was (eventually) ours. A pint or two could now be officially enjoyed by which time it was gone midnight and we turned in, to a roasting and twee twin room. The last time Karl and I shared a twin room was his stag do and I’ll say no more about that.

The next morning was kicked off by Sam, the elder of my twin boys, phoning me to say he had slept in his own bed all night – a rare feat! Unfortunately for Kirsty, Louis, the other twin, had been up since 5am. However, it got us going and we dressed and packed bags for a technical day of winter climbing. A massive breakfast, including a sort of fruity sausage, gave us the belly-fire we needed to get out into the car and drive the mile or two down Glencoe to a layby where we would start the day. Stob Dearg, the summit on the North East end of Buchaille Etive Mor lay before us and was covered in snow. Let battle commence…

The very excellent SportScotland Avalanche Information Service had lowered the avalanche risk from 4 (High) to 3 (Considerable) but even so, it was clear that route choice was going to be key. Strong winds and heavy snow, combined with temperatures hovering around freezing, without actually dipping below it consistently, is a bad combination. As the winds had generally been from the South and South-West, anything that looked from North-West through to North-East was going to be a risky place to be, especially if you were on slopes in the danger zone (20^o to 45^o generally) or if the slope was corniced. Our intended route looked North East, started at around 630m (we were at around 270m) and was guarded by slopes of around 40^o. However, they could be avoided by taking a slightly longer way in, from further East and traversing above the potentially dangerous slopes.

A heroic crossing of the river was first on the agenda – a good ten metres wide but shallow and gentle so no repeat of last year’s fiasco, when I am sure Karl greased the rock before I slipped off it. Trudging across broken ground toward the base of the mountain, we saw 2 other groups of two climbers ahead of us, having obviously forgone a massive breakfast and started out earlier. As the ground got steeper, the snow got deeper and it was with some relief we reached the previous groups’ tracks, as this meant we would no longer be trying to break a trail. We put crampons on, took an axe out each and caught up with the two parties we had seen as they geared up at the bottom of D Gully. They both thought they were doing our route of choice, Curved Ridge, and stuck to their story even after I pointed out the start of that route was about 150m higher and 100m to the right. Never mind, good luck boys…

We got harnesses and the gear out, roped up and I started moving off to the right, up a shallow gulley that trended in the general direction we needed to go. The terrain and conditions were pretty hard – a couple of foot of fairly loose snow covered everything, including most of the rock I needed to see to attach belays to, and had a tendency to compress massively when you stood on it. Many times you would step up as high as you could, press down with your leg only to find that your foot ended up exactly where it started. Combined with the constantly digging in around in the snow for gear placements, normally not finding any and so moving on, it was a physically tough couple of pitches. Karl followed up admirably, suffering from hot aches in his hands, probably because I was taking so long to do each pitch. It was already 1pm and we were nowhere near the base of the route.

One extremely long (in terms of time) pitch saw me traversing across the top of a snow field, floundering up a couple of delicate steps, digging my way up a gulley, eventually finding some bomber belays and bringing Karl up, only to realise that had I stepped about 20 feet right, halfway up, I would have been on a veritable motorway – at least 2 parties’ tracks came straight up through the ground I had wanted to avoid and led the way to the route proper. At last! Having been watching RAF helicopters buzzing around the valley, trying to stay warm and cursing my slowness, Karl traversed across, I down-climbed and finally we could start the route. It was after 2pm and at this point I knew we would not be getting up the hill today. However, some really nice pitches lay directly in front of us and, after quick consultation, I set off.

The first pitch was through a narrow gulley that was somewhat sheltered from the worst of the snow by a large overhanging lip of rock, from which extended some amazing icicles – one was about 4 feet long, as think as my arm, clear as water and had melted into the snow below it, like a stalactite reaching the ground. Above this there was a proper rock ridge, complete with belays, good stances and a great view back down the gulley. The next pitch saw the best climbing of the day – lots of positive holds, some good steps, solid gear (including the loneliest looking tree I have ever seen) and had a gulley on either side that made you feel higher than you actually were. We passed another party in the gulley to the left and at a large levelling off of the ridge, I belayed and brought Karl up.

It was at this point that my phone started ringing. My first thought was ‘Wow, I get a signal’, my second was ‘Why is Kirsty phoning me, she knows I won’t be able to answer’ and my third was ‘I bet that’s really annoying all the other climbers around here’. Rather uncharitably I ignored the first call (the phone was wrapped in a several plastic bags in my rucksack lid, I was belaying Karl and, as it had started snowing, I didn’t want it to get wet), started to raise my eyebrows at the second and by the third thought ‘I had better see what this is all about’. Karl arrived and I dug the phone out and saw it was indeed Kirsty, but also my friend Ian and my Mum. Something was most definitely up. I rang Kirsty, who said Ian had phoned her to say he had seen on the news an avalanche in Fort William had killed three climbers and wanted to make sure we were okay. I assured her we were, we were miles from Fort William and in fact we were going to head down soon. Then I sent a text Clare to tell her we were fine so she could let Karl’s mum know and then phoned my Mum, who was more specific – the avalanche had happened in Glencoe. That was when the penny dropped. The helicopters Karl had been watching, presuming them to be training, had been airlifting casualties from somewhere down the valley. It was clearly time to go down.

The two guys we had passed in the gulley 30 minutes before had by this time disappeared, clearly having the same concerns regarding time that we did (it was now gone 3pm), although 2 or 3 groups 50m or so above us showed no signs of turning back. Given they had at least 250m more climbing to go to get to the summit, I worried for them – however, a descent from their position was probably not very easy either. A pair of climbers on a very technical pitch to our left had just abseiled back down it, after the second struggled, and were now also moving down. The afternoon took on a distinctly serious feel. Karl down climbed the gulley on our right and I followed, feeling a little exposed. There was quite a bit of movement in the snow, but once we reached the ground we had already covered (past the icicle), the going became much more substantial and by the time we reached the start of that narrow gulley, it was easy angled enough to stow a lot of the gear and follow the tracks of the earlier groups, staying roped however, and using a technique called moving together. This allowed me to keep a check on Karl and set up a belay if there were any tricky steps, of which there was only one.

Once we were below this step, another pair descending from a route on North Buttress caught up and we swapped stories. They had not heard of the avalanche but as soon as they did, one of them immediately surmised that it must have been in the notorious coire on the North West flank of Stob Dearg, Coire na Tulaich. A popular walk in summer, it is the easiest way up and the obvious way down, but in winter, all the climbing guide books say avoid it if there is any avalanche risk, recommending using the ridge that forms its northern side instead. That had been our intention, had we got to the top, but conditions in the coire were described by this climber as ‘f*cking lethal’ and he seemed to know that if there had been a fatal accident, it was going to be in there. We parted company and, stowing the rope, followed our tracks back off the steep ground, across the bog and river (again, without falling in) and got back to the car at around 5pm.

Back in the Kingshouse car park, the media crews had sniffed a story and were milling around. One reporter nabbed us as we were humping our gear in from the car and wanted our view of conditions. He also clearly wanted to know if we knew what we were doing as he very casually asked ‘what was the weather forecast this morning?’. Cheeky bugger. As if anyone would go up there not knowing what the weather was going to do. Inside, we had a truly rubbish shower (at least I went first and got what little hot water there was), spread our gear all over the drying room and retired to the bar. It was a Burns’ Night Special, so haggis all round, although I sensibly passed on the whiskey and Karl was a wuss with the (very bizarre) pudding, leading to his 3-0 drubbing at pool.

A couple of the pairs we had seen on the hill turned up and we compared notes. The guys we had seen early and who set off up a route they thought to be Curved Ridge but wasn’t, had got 4 pitches up, then come down after one of them had taken a fall and had a bit of a mare in deep loose snow. They were camping in the field behind the inn – rather them than us. The pair that had been in the gulley to our left at our high point also appeared, with the less experienced guy having a large strapping on his arm and holding it in a strange way. Apparently, just after we saw them, they moved across the gully together (i.e. neither of them were belayed to the hill) and a load of snow sloughed them off and down about 30 metres. They both had bumps on their heads and the strapping was holding together quite a large gash across his arm from crampons. It explained why we hadn’t seen them again on the hill. This had happened 30 metres from us and we never knew a thing about it. It was time to go to bed and think about what to do the next day.

The morning papers carried the ‘freak avalanche’ story on the front page, in Scotland and in the nationals. Apparently a climber high up the gulley had triggered it, bringing a lot of snow hundreds of feet down onto a large group, 2 of whom were caught but unharmed and 3 of whom were buried. They dug 1 out straightaway, found another about 20 minutes later and the third about 40 minutes later, with the help of the Glencoe Mountain Rescue team, who had arrived by this time. All three buried climbers were airlifted to Fort William but all died shortly after. Needless to say, it was a sombre mood at breakfast.

Karl and I had a decision to make about what to do. The weather forecast was for strengthening southerly winds, backing to easterly, with snow showers. This put anything technical off the agenda, plus most northerly slopes would be off limits. After looking at a couple of options we decided to walk part of the West Highland way, up a thing called the Devil’s Staircase onto a gentle ridge and a fairly low peak, Stob Mhic Mhartuin. It would at least mean our legs get a work out and we wouldn’t have to carry loads of gear! We checked out and drove very carefully up the drive across freshly fallen snow to drive the couple of miles to Altnafeadh, where a few cars had been left overnight. From here there is a very clear view into the coire where the avalanche had been and as we got our coats on, a few middle aged guys were walking back towards the cars from a cottage on the other side of the river, carrying boxes of gear. They stopped to say hello and ask where we were off to – on hearing we were heading up the Devil’s Staircase, they appeared relieved. These guys were the surviving members of the party that had lost 3 men the day before and were packing their gear up. Sons, fathers, grandfathers, brothers, husbands – somewhere, 3 families were without these individuals, the roles they fulfil, the support they offer and the love they represent. We offer them our sympathy and our thoughts are with those left behind.

The walk up Devil’s Staircase was not as bad as we thought, although Karl soon discovered what breaking trail means. Patches of deep snow meant disappearing up to your arse was common unless you trod with care. About halfway up I showed him how to do a block shear test, a technique for assessing the avalanche potential of a slope. The block slid easily, revealing a very weakly bonded layer about 9 to 12 inches below the surface. On steeper ground, this would have been a major problem, but with the wind pushing us up the hill, we could avoid it easily and at the col, turned west to trudge up to the summit. Large patches of windslab were everywhere, again needing careful route selection and after 30 minutes or so, we were on a very desolate and windy summit. Turning back the way we had come necessitated the use of ski goggles to see where we were going, although with Karl’s being in the car, his efforts were somewhat hampered. Once below the col, the wind dropped and there was even time for a photo before we returned to the car, stripped the worst of the wet gear off and headed south.

A fabulous burger (for me) and a club sandwich (for Mr. Lah-dee-dah) while watching Edinburgh vs. Leinster at the Cameron House Hotel was a suitable tonic for having been stomping around in the snow for most of the weekend. Kirsty and I stayed in the Cameron House for a week after Archie’s funeral, feeling slightly surreal, and it was with some trepidation that I returned. However, the place has had a major internal redesign and I thoroughly enjoyed our brief visit. Back to the airport a few hours early meant another mocha while we repacked our bags (no rope in the hand luggage was the new rule) and when it was time say goodbye to Glasgow, Karl and I separated, having shared a physically tough and thought-provoking weekend.

An early morning train to London the next day offered time for reflection. We had deliberately put ourselves in a situation where the possibility existed that we may not return. I re-ran the decisions I had made over the course of the weekend in my mind, trying to work out if we were masters of our own destiny, or just recipients of better fortune than others. We had been in the mix and got away with it. Some did not. This has always, thus far, been the case and while it is tempting, and certainly comforting, to think it was our hand that steered us through, luck must have been a part of it. However, if I believed that the success of my time in the mountains fell on the toss of a coin, I would never go back. It does not and so I will return, if a little wiser and a little older.

New year, new job and smiles

2009-01-06T14:04:00.000-08:00

After infecting everyone in Scotland with our French flu bug we went to Northern Ireland for New Year and ended up infecting everyone there too. Ross on the other hand improved and by 28th December was more or less back to himself. His improved form resulted in him pleasing us hugely with lots of smiles, something that he has only being doing for some weeks - we hope it's a sign of some progress.

I started my new job in Leatherhead yesterday and it looks like it's going to work out ok. More confirmation that the decision to move back to UK has definitely been the right one. The support I've received from people I've worked with in the past has been amazing.
Ross's Grandparents arrived to give us a hand to settle into our temporary housing in London and brought his new glasses which we got made in Scotland. He seemed to wear them ok first time and perhaps he even seemed to be seeing things more clearly - time will tell how big a benefit for him this is, but I think you'll agree that the ladies will love his baby-blue frames.
There's been some more activity on the fund-raising front. Plans are progressing well for a charity Burns Supper in a few weeks being arranged by some friends at work, and a friend of a friend managed to raise £900 by doing some sponsored facial-hair growing before Christmas - thanks James! It's great to see this sort of support, and as you can see below, Fin appreciates every single penny!!!

Antibiotics and inhalers for Christmas...

2008-12-26T07:17:00.000-08:00

So Ross seemed to get over his vomiting bug only to come down with a chesty cough, which made him vomit... We saw a doctor on 23rd and got some antibiotics to combat a bacterial infection but he was not in great form and still was not feeding very well.

On Christmas morning he was really chesty, with laboured breathing, really shallow and wheezy. We called NHS 24 and got sent straight to the A&E department of the local hospital. There the doctor siad it's likely a viral infection (which antibiotics dont work on) and gave him some inhaler which eased his breathing straight away. He suggested keeping him in for monitoring but we've had our fill of hospital wards this year and agreed that we could monitor him just as well at home.

OnBoxing Day morning he seems a bit better although he did vomit up all his medication. We've been giving him the inhaler regularly and following 2 massive poos (last one was 6 days ago...) he seems much better this afternoon.

Fin, on the other hand, has had a fantastic Christmas!

Merry Christmas!!!

2008-12-23T03:46:00.000-08:00

Move went well, although the first night in or new house saw both boys very sick!

Fin was up vomiting all night but seemed to get over it with the help of lots of cartoons on Saturday morning. Ross on the other hand is into his 4th day of sickness but seems to be a bit better today. He's been not keeping much down and we got the doctor to check him out yesterday in case he was getting dehydrated. Our biggest concern has been getting is medication to stay down long enough to be absorbed.

Anyway, he's hopefully over the worst and we can now focus on full-scale Christmas celebrations! Click below to see our Christmas routine featuring Fin and Ross...

Back in UK

2008-12-18T14:22:00.000-08:00

Eurostar back to UK this afternoon. Only planning on speaking English for the coming weeks (years). Kids all over the place with different beds / houses / countries so sleeping a bit of a premium this week. Training non existent.

Not sure what Rich is on about below...

Karl the illiterate...

2008-12-17T12:38:00.000-08:00

His hair is obviously using his brain to fuel its growth. I didn't know there was a comedian in the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The dangers of relying on the spill chicken...

Rich the comedian...

2008-12-16T08:27:00.000-08:00

I neglect to get a hair cut for a few weeks and he starts on me...he's been trying to perfect his Red Hot Chilli Peppers look for years!!!

The real reason Karl is moving back...

2008-12-16T01:49:00.001-08:00

It is great that Karl is moving back to the UK - it is all very well speaking on the phone and offering lots of support, but with him being only a few hours away, we can see them more and help lots more. Also makes the sneaky weekends away to the hills less of an expedition to organise. I have picked out a route on Stob Dearg, Curved Ridge (see below), which will give us both a good work out. I did my back in (again) a few weeks ago and consequently the running has dropped right off. Bad news all round.

It is great news that we know Ross can see - Kirsty reckoned it was obvious when she went out at the end of November, but it is fantastic to have it confirmed. Another small step away from the abyss. Anyway, back to the real reason Karl is returning to the UK. Despite his best efforts, and those of Clair, he has not developed his French enough to be able to get a barber to understand him...

Ross can see!!!

2008-12-13T14:27:00.000-08:00

We took Ross to see the eye specialist today, and he is very sure that Ross can see! He'll need glasses but it's great to know that he can see us - great news for Christmas...

End of the expat era...

2008-12-12T09:55:00.000-08:00

So the moving men arrive on Monday and by the end of next week we'll be surrounded by boxes in our temporary house in near London.

We decided to move back to UK after giving it a go here in France, but given everything that's going on with Ross, we decided several weeks ago that we need to be back in UK in order to make everything just a wee bit easier, to be a bit closer to friends and family, to ensure Ross gets everything he needs, and to make sure we get the help required to keep us sane.

My employers Unilever have been fantastic; they have been very sensitive to our personal situation, and have gone beyond the normal expectations to make our move back as easy as possible. I've worked for them for over 12 years and how they have managed our changing circumstance confirms that they are without a doubt the best company in the world to work for.

Rich and I have also planned some training for Mont Blanc. At the end of January he plans on getting me up this - Buachaille Etive Mor at the top of Glencoe in Scotland. I think some jogging either side of Christmas dinner may be required.

Ross has been pretty content when awake the past week or so - we're hoping it may be a turning point in that he may be becoming a bit less agitated. He has also slept until 5am a few nights recently - a vast improvement on 3am...

We're off to see a specialist eye doctor tomorrow - apparently he'll be able to tell us if Ross is seeing anything or not so we're keeping our fingers crossed for some good news. Will let you know.

Fancy dress parties and fundraising...

2008-11-21T05:43:00.000-08:00

So this was something quite normal, and we were doing it! Kids fancy dress party for Halloween, and we all managed to go, and stay for the duration!

Fin was a spider, and Ross was a pumpkin, obviously. At least until his laxative kicked in, after which he had to get changed into a monkey outfit...

Good time had by all, and shows us that it can be done. Next stop Christmas parties...

By the way, the fund-raising for NSE continues! My cousin Julie's husband Rory and Dave, a good friend from when I worked in Bedford, have both signed-up to run the London Marathon in April 2009 in order to raise money for the NSE. Plus, a group of slightly crazy kite-surfers, including my brother William, are planning a sponsored crossing of the Irish Sea in order to raise money for the NSE, Guide Dogs for the Blind, and the RNLI, all fantastic charities.

The money raised for NSE will be used to fund research into epilepsy and, you never know, may lead to a breakthrough which will help Ross. The link to Dave's fundraising webpage is http://www.justgiving.com/runforross and I know the other 2 are being finalised, so I'll send them out as soon as they're ready.

An amazing effort from all these guys and I look forward to Ross thanking each of them personally when they finish.

2008-10-28T06:22:00.000-07:00

Great to see Rich back on the Blog. I feel like I have completely monopolised it since Ross was born, but it was set-up to record our journey from deciding to climb Mont Blanc up until when we actually do it, and what’s happened over the past few months is now completely intertwined with that. As Rich mentioned the coming months will be tough, especially for Rich and Kirsty with the 10th anniversary of Archie’s death. Christmas will be very different for us this year; I think we’ll be comparing it to what it could have been, but at the same time we know we have to make the most of it.

We had another consultation with the doctors in Necker Children’s Hospital yesterday. For some reason it seemed to be more positive than the previous ones, but I think that was more to do with having a different, more enthusiastic and optimistic doctor, rather than due to any breakthrough with understanding Ross’s condition, as overall Ross’s condition in much the same as it has been for the past few months. I must admit though, despite the fact my French is pretty good now, I really struggled to understand a lot of things the doctor was saying – I think it’s just that I don’t have the energy available…

The doctor was very pleased to see that Ross has now been seizure free since he started the steroids back at the beginning of July. The team there honestly were not expecting them to control the seizures at all. Anyway, they are controlling them for now and we are extremely thankful for that. Last week’s EEG results show that his brain activity is still completely erratic, although again we are pleased to see that it has not gotten any worse.
We still don’t think Ross can see anything (although we need to see a specialist opthalmist for confirmation), but we do find that sometimes we can soothe him now so hopefully that means he is aware of us on some level. But he is having a terrible time with lots of wind after his bottles and constipation due to the cocktail of drugs he has to have (cue even more drugs to counteract the effects of other drugs!!!). This results in him being very agitated a lot of the time he is awake and us getting not a lot of sleep. I know all babies wake at night a lot of the time, but there’s normally an end in sight…

So all in all, still very tough, tiring and frustrating. Fin is our little angel though and is keeping us going.

Quick update on the training; I have been for 2 runs in the past fortnight, including one where I got lost in a hilly forest in the Black Forest during a work trip. Definitely not enough to get me fit enough to climb Mont Blanc, but there’s plenty of time, isn’t there? Plus there’s the Wii… I see Rich think’s he’s Rocky; maybe we’ll get the gloves on some night and see who’s left standing. Charity boxing anyone?

By the way, assuming you’re starting to think about Christmas already, why not buy your Christmas cards and help a great cause at the same time by clicking on this link NSE Christmas Cards.

And finally, many of you will know that I’m a bit of a rugby fan, and as such I was touched by the story of Daniel James, especially when I read Brian Moore’s article which he wrote for the Telegraph; to read the article, and come to your own conclusions on it, click on this link Telegraph.

'Tis the season...almost

2008-10-24T01:33:00.000-07:00

The nights are drawing in, the glass is falling and there's a storm a-brewing. Winter is on its way and with it (hopefully) snow, ice, coldness and general brrrrr. Let's hope for a good season so I can give Karl another taste of winter climbing, complete with hot aches, chapped lips and wind burn. Lovely.

There is another feeling that this time of year brings - particularly when the clocks go back. My body is conditioned to associate this change in season with Archie's death. He died on the 14th of the November 1998, a day that also coincided with a light dusting of snow. Hence I can get a bit miserable at this time of year - it is not Seasonal Affective Disorder, but is nonetheless a bit sad.

This time round of course it will be 10 years, which is a long time and feels like it should be some sort of milestone. It doesn't stop hurting, but luckily for us, the time has been filled with plenty of moments of joy, courtesy of Kirsty, the children, family and friends which combine to make the periods of hurt less frequent. Without this, time would indeed play heavily on me.

We have been to see Karl and Clair, Ross and Fin in Paris a few times, Kirsty and Maddy have another "girl's only" trip booked in November and we hope to see them this side of the water before Xmas. The house next door to ours was up for sale a while ago but I couldn't convince them to buy it - something about Nottingham's reputation for gun crime, I think...either that or Karl doesn't want to share the Wii Fit. I feel like I'm in Rocky IV - he's got all the technology of Ivan Drago, while I am out running up and down hills in the cold. I seem to remember Rocky gave Drago a good shoeing...

No convulsions, but no development either...

2008-10-15T14:57:00.000-07:00

So here we are mid October and Ross is already 5 months old. Thanks to the combination of anti-epilepsy drugs and steroids he's getting every day, he has now not had a seizure for 3 and a half months which is great, but as he gets older and bigger it's becoming more and more obvious that he's not really developing mentally.

His eye patterns are random and he doesn't respond to us, which is extremely hard, he has no sleep pattern, his feeding is a bit erratic and he now pretty well hates getting his many syringe-fulls of medicine (3 times a day...)

Summer being finished he picked up another cough - cue another rushed trip to see the doctor, antibiotics etc. I wonder how many times we'll have to do that this winter? Me being back to work makes it even more difficult, especially for my wife, but it at least gives us some sort of normal weekly pattern.

And whilst the medical care Ross has received in hospital in France has been great, we now see a huge gap between the help we know we'd get in UK and what's available in France. You don't see many disabled kids around where we live for some reason...

We've a few hospital trips coming up, next week for another EEG to monitor Ross's electrical brain activity, and one the following week with his doctor at Necker. Hoping for some (any) good news!

We have had some ups too, Fin singing for Ross (see video above), Fin's 3rd birthday party was great, and then we had one night off when we left my parents with the boys and a mountain of drugs for Ross, and we headed to London on the Eurostar for the National Society for Epilepsy annual fundraising ball. We were joined by some of our great friends in London and whilst parts of the evening we found emotional and difficult, it was great to see everyone, and to do our bit (including some ridiculous bidding in the auction) towards the NSE raising £75k that night. Thanks Max Clifford for your support and encouragement!

Rich has been frantically jogging/cycling apparently and we're looking at options to get some mountain training in over the winter. Easier said than done. At least I'll keep up those late night training sessions on our new Wii Fit...that's bound get me up Mont Blanc!

"What do you mean you're going back to work Dad?"

2008-09-10T14:13:00.000-07:00

1st September saw me back to work and Fin starting nursery school (30 x 3 year olds, one teacher, all in French...) all in one week. Quite a shock to the system and a change from the little routine we'd got ourselves into, but we need to have some sort of normality in our lives and that means work and school.

Ross continues to grow - he's pretty much filling 3-6 month clothes now - but his movements are still random and his eyes don't fix on us at all. He seems to like the baby massage which we were shown how to do by a friend in NI, and he loves his baths where he just chills out. We need to find more stuff he likes...

Amazing sums of money being donated on http://www.justgiving.com/archiesmountain where over £8200 (plus £1500 Gift Aid) has been raised to the National Society for Epilepsy on top of the £5150 raised for CLIC Sargent. I hate to single out anyone who has sponsored us, but we really must say a huge thank you to Simon, Emma, Darcey and Dillon for their very kind gesture of asking guests at Dillon's Christening to make a donation of sponsorship rather than buying presents - over £600 raised! Also to Clair's Auntie Anna who raised money by hosting a Virgin Vie party (whatever that is - I'm sure there was wine involved...). Thanks also to Simon N and Joao C for your very generous sponsorship.

Trying to stay optimistic - those of you that are praying for Ross, please keep doing so.

Summer tour of wet UK (and first chest infection scare...)

2008-08-20T13:58:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of August we met Rich and his family when they came to stay around Paris. It was great to see them and we're all looking forward to actually doing the trip we planned together for this year at some stage next summer.

Ross then spent the past 2 weeks with us staying with our families in Scotland and Northern Ireland. It did stop raining a few times...

During this time our families got to spend some quality time with Ross, but going hand in hand with being in contact with lots of people goes the increased risk of infection due to Ross's immune system being reduced due to the steroid treatment. As a result we did spend some time with doctors and in hospital, but that was a 'blip' on an otherwise enjoyable trip, including one sunny day on Portsteward Strand beach!

My fitness training has been a bit erratic but having seen the total amount on archiesmountain.com increase to over £13,000 including Gift Aid I'm determined that Rich and I will climb Mont Blanc during summer 2009.

The total has been increased dramatically thanks to £1100 raised by my Auntie Kathleen from her 60th birthday donations and £325 raised by my future sister in law Leanne and her friend Julie from their own half-marathon efforts. A huge thank you to them!!!

Welcome to Holland

2008-08-06T08:05:00.001-07:00

Ross will be 3 months old this week, 3 months in which so much has happened, and yet in Ross's little world so little is happening. The combination of anti-epileptic drugs and steroids seem to still be keeping his convulsions under control which is great, but at the same time it's becoming more obvious that he is not developing mentally.

We went for another EEG scan of his brain activity last week and as soon as we saw the patterns on the screen we knew his brain activity was not improving. The doctors confirmed this and acually suprised us somewhat by talking more about how to ensure Ross's limbs don't cease up etc as they now don't expect him to develop mentally. This is obviously not what we were wanting to hear, but it's amazing to think that we've got to the stage now that we can hear such terrible news and remain calm...

Our friends and family are being incredibly supportive, but at the same time are struggling to understand how we feel. We find that these words written in 1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley based on her own experiences sum it all up very well.

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Tehcysu03EI

Little progress...

2008-07-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

The past 2 weeks have passed in a bit of a blur. We've been giving Ross his drugs, feeding him and keeping him comfortable. Still no more convulsions, which is great, but during our last hospital appointment the doctors were concerned to see Ross's movements when he was awake. They confirmed what we had suspected following his last EEG, that his brain activity is not normal and that his brain is not developing.

When he is asleep you could swear there is nothing wrong with him, but awake it's obvious that something is wrong. We still have no confirmed diagnosis beyond a rare type of epilepsy and it may be that we never get a diagnosis.

It's been difficult, especially as Ross isn't responding to anything he sees and so is not responding to us. Fin continues to be great and is a very doting big brother, and we're trying to have as normal a summer as possible.

We should have been heading down to Chamonix tomorrow for our family holiday and for Rich and I to climb Mont Blanc, but obviously that has all changed. Rich and his family will be coming to Paris for a few days at the end of July and then, thanks to the doctors giving us an ok for Ross to travel, we're taking him to visit our families in UK.

We continue to hope to see some positive progress...

More drugs, but less convulsions...

2008-07-02T08:36:00.000-07:00

So 2 weeks today since we got to bring Ross home which means he's been getting steroids, on top of the anti epileptic drugs, plus lots of vitamins and ant-acid to counteract some of the side effects, for 14 days now. 14 days of 9 different drugs, 3 times a day.

The good news is that he seems to be responding to something; following a few days of the steroid treatment we noticed that the number of convulsions, which had been sitting about 10-15 per day reduced to almost zero. In addition his general condition seemed to improve; his skin which had been bad with eczema cleared up and he become more like a normal baby.

The doctors had warned us that the steroids would likely make Ross hungry, that he would put on weight and that he would become agitated, especially in the second week of treatment. As a result we have been very confused about what could still be movements linked to seizures still happening in Ross's brain and what is just normal reaction to the steroids. The main thing we've been waiting on this week was another EEG yesterday; it showed that Ross's brain activity was still very abnormal, but that it was 'less bad' than the previous EEGs. Good news? Who knows...we really seem to be in a wait-and-see situation with respect to Ross's future development. Another appointment in Necker next week so maybe we'll know more after that? In the meantime it's great that Ross is settled and that as he's at home we get to spend some time with Fin. I'm off to Great Ormond Street on Friday to meet the best expert there to see if they can help. Unilever have also kindly agreed to let me have some leave for July and August so I'll use that time to try to understand Ross's condition better and we'll try to get into some sort of routine that means that we can manage as a family once I do go back to work come September.

The response to the fund-raising has been amazing; almost £5000 including gift aid raised in the past 5 weeks for the National Society for Epilepsy. Plus I know of several events being organised to raise more. Thank you, thank you, thank you...

By the way, after 7 weeks without any training, I've managed a few 15 minute jogs in the last few days; it's amazing how quickly your fitness disappears (might be something to do with the endless supply of chocolate being delivered by concerned relatives...)

Home at last!

2008-06-21T05:32:00.000-07:00

After 2 further few weeks of trying different anti-epilepsy drugs at different dosages, Ross's convulsions continue and a further EEG test this week showed that his brain activity is still abnormal. As a result the doctors do not seem very optimistic about being able to eliminate Ross's convulsions, or his chances of developing normally. As a further attempt to treat Ross they proposed to try a course of steroids on top of the anti-epilepsy drugs, which will be hard on Ross's body, but given there is a chance it may help we have to try it. This was obviously not what we wanted to hear, but the good news is that we can manage this treatment from home, returning Ross to the hospital a few times for monitoring, so on the evening of Wednesday 18th June we brought Ross home. Fin was over the moon...

Since Wednesday we have been giving Ross his 9 different medications 3 times a day and looking after him as best we can. We're still hoping for positive news when Ross has his next EEG in 2 weeks time.

The response so far to our fundraising for the National Society for Epilepsy has been staggering and quite overwhelming; including Gift Aid we already have over £4000 for the NSE (on top of the almost £5000 for CLIC Sargent); thank you very much to those of you who have donated via our Archies Mountain website. I also cannot thank enough those of you who have sent us emails or text messages of support - these mean so much to Clair and I.

For now, now that we have Ross back home, we will concentrate on trying to get some normality back into our lives.

CHANGE OF PLAN

2008-06-03T14:34:00.001-07:00

11th May 2008 - Ross David Donnan born weighing 8lbs. All well.

13th May 2008 - Ross was transferred to intensive care in a specialist neo-natal hospital after suffering convulsions. His brain activity was found to be irregular and he was given convulsion controlling drugs. These knocked him out for most of a week but unfortunately when the level of drugs in his system reduced the convulsions returned. An MRI scan showed no brain damage (initial hypothesis) but repeated EEGs showed continuing abnormal brain activity so doctors started to suspect a metabolic disorder.

26th May 2008 - Ross was transferred to the neurological ward in Necker Hospital for Sick Children in Paris where different convulsion controlling drugs and vitamins treatments were started. A rare type of epilepsy is suspected but numerous tests and drug trials are required to confirm which type. After peaking between 80-100 convulsions per day, the drugs at least started to reduce the number of convulsions. 3rd June 2008 - Ross is still in hospital and is having 5-15 convulsions per day, although in between these he at least now sleeps, feeds and poos like a normal newborn. There is still no diagnosis beyond a rare form of epilepsy, so we still have no idea when we'll get Ross home or what his development will be like.

I have agreed with Rich to delay our Mont Blanc attempt until Summer 2009 and to raise some sponsorship for The National Society for Epilepsy. Visit our website http://www.archiesmountain.com/ and follow the links to donate. Please give generously, and also feel free direct any family, friends and colleagues who you think would be willing to sponsor us to our website.
Thank you very much to everyone who has sent us messages of support - they really do keep us going.

Thankfully one of us knows what we're doing...

2008-05-08T06:11:00.000-07:00

As you can see below, Rich is an old hand at all this stuff and is taking everything into consideration. Good job as I'm not sure my Duke of Edinburgh award expeditions plus the trips we did in Scotland and Wales really qualify me fully for this, but I trust Rich completely to get both of us up and down safely.

As you can see in Rich's note below, even experienced people can perish on Mont Blanc, so we really will trying to complete this successfully whilst taking the least amount of risks possible.
- Objective number one is to get back down the hill safely
- Objective number two is to get to the summit

Jogging has been going ok, although I must admit it can be a bit dull - where's that rush of endorphines everyone talks about? I did a good run a few weeks ago in Edinburgh with my mates Bungee (his wedding day!) and Kit (ex military); that little jaunt up and around Arthur's Seat was a bit faster, steeper and longer than my normal runs, but it was good to know that I could keep up with these two. I plan to start doing longer runs from now on, but then again, baby is due to arrive today (no movement yet...) so I am concerned about being able to keep running whilst still working full time and on little sleep - I'll find a way.

Money is coming in steadily - we're nearing on £3500 already and I've still to put the word out in Northern Ireland - that's the next job...

Route selection...

2008-05-08T02:32:00.000-07:00

With just over two months to go until we set off to the Alps, most of the technical training done (we will do some glacier travel work when we get there) and the focus shifting to stamina in the training, it is time to have a proper look at our acclimatisation schedule and route selection.

One of the mysteries of physiology is the large differences that are seen between individuals in their ability to cope with the reduced oxygen levels experienced above around 2,500m. Simply being fit is no guarantee that someone will cope well at altitude and there is currently no way of prediciting who will have difficulties and who will not. The only guaranteed way of finding out is to go up there. However, with the risk of altitude sickness, this mustn't be rushed, so a gradual programme of height gain is required.

Given that Karl has never been to altitude before (I have been to 4,200m with no ill effects), we need to start gently. Our first trip will be up the Albert Premier hut (at 2,700m) to stay the night. We will walk in from Le Tour, at 1,400m, allowing us to acclimatise psychologically to the scale of the place - this walk is only just over 3km long but gains the height of Ben Nevis, Britain's highest mountain, in that distance. It should sort our legs out! The following day we will climb Aiguille du Tour, at 3,500m, before descending back to Le Tour. This should give us some clues as to Karl's reaction to altitude, as well as to our overall level of fitness, and help in our acclimatisation.

After a few day's rest we will take an early morning cable car up to the Aiguille du Midi ski station at 3,800m. We will spend all day up high and sleep in the Cosmiques hut at around 3,600m. Sleeping at altitude is a great way of letting your body get used to the thinner air, without making too many demands on it. From here we will have a look at our route up. As Karl did very well in the training - not being psyched out by the exposed positions and being competant with ice axes, ropes, harnesses etc. - it should be possible to follow the route in the picture below.

1. Cosmiques hut (3,613m) - leave at 1am

2. Mont Blanc du Tacul (4,248m) around 3.30am

3. Mont Maudit (4,465m) around 5am

4. Mont Blanc (4,9810m) around 8am

Return the same way, catching a cable car back down to the valley floor for mid afternoon.

If the weather, our legs or our lungs are not ready for a summit bid, we will try and do Mont Blanc du Tacul in order to get more altitude in, before returning to the valley floor and resting for a few more days and trying again. We have 2 weeks to do this in, but the longer we take, the less time we will spend with our families - something we are not that keen on!

As I write this, a British climber has been killed on La Tour Ronde (on the other side of the mountain to this picture). An experienced climber who slipped and fell, this acts as a salutory reminder that, no matter how many people say Mont Blanc is easy, all mountians are potential killers - knowing this allows us to understand the risks and make informed decisions. If we are not sure, we won't push it.

Training in North Wales

2008-04-10T14:19:00.000-07:00

Karl here - spent the first weekend in April walking, scrambling and climbing in North Wales with Rich, in the sun and the snow! I'll let Rich try to spell all the place names correctly in his bit below; needless to say, I spent the whole time in Wales wondering where all the vowels had gone.

We had a late arrival at the hostel where we were staying thanks to some spurious excuse from my favourite budget airline and after a few hours sleep headed round the valley thanks to Eric the toothless bus driver and up the steep side of Tryfan.

The weather was very changeable but when it cleared the views were great. Some expert

scrambling (always maintain 3 touch-points they said; I reckon 70-80% full body contact with the rocks is more efficient) and before we knew it we were at the peak.

Along the ridge and down the far side stopping for lunch by a lake before heading round the Snowdon Horseshoe. On Rich's

advice, we ducked out of a bit of ridge-walking in pretty gusty winds, but still made it round and up Snowdon, over the ridges beyond the peak and back round again to the valley floor and the hostel.

A pretty full-on day's walking and my legs were pretty burst by the end of it...

The overnight hail and covering of snow forced a change of plan on Sunday morning and we headed out to do some proper climbing.

This was my first real rock-climb and I was pretty pleased with myself that I made it up (again making use of hands, feet, knees, shoulders, stomach etc) and down the 'easy' walk-off route (overhanging abseil...).

An awesome pizza in Pete's Eats on the way back to Liverpool to start my epic budget airline journey home (cancelled flight, no apology, 40 hours and 2 nights in a dodgy hotel later - I did ask them if they'd make a donation in return for me not slating them on the website, but no response, so...it was Easyjet).

Fitness is now the main training, so if you're in St Germain en Laye forest in the coming weeks, and you see a sweaty, wheezing jogger, offer some words of encouragement. The target has been set and I have had an idea of what will be expected, at least without the altitude. To tackle that (and maybe even generate some additional PR) I'm planning on being the first person to climb Mont Blanc with the use of oxygen...just don't tell Rich.

The donations seem to be adding up, and we haven't really told many people about our website yet - if you've stumbled across archiesmountain.com and are inspired to make a donation, no matter how small, please go ahead and do so. Please also feel free to forward our website address to your friends and family if you think they'd be interested.

Next stop for me is the world of no sleep, with new baby arriving early May - ideal preparation for an ascent of Mont Blanc...

Snowdonia in April...

2008-04-10T03:05:00.000-07:00

The second of our weekends away started in typically complicated fashion - a meeting in London until 5pm, a crowded train home to Nottingham, drive home for tea and to pack the car, a phone call from Karl to say his plane is delayed, another call to say he is boarding (What! I'm 2 hours drive from the airport!), a rather hasty dash across the A50 and M6 to Liverpool airport (mmm, Runcorn, what a place), avoiding the racing fans arriving for the Grand National the following day, another hasty dash along the A55 to Llanberis to get to the
Pen-y-Pass youth hostel for 12:45am to find the door code we were given didn't seem to work. Staring down the barrel of a night in the car, I gave it a good tug and open sesame - Karl was obviously being a bit weak...

A reasonable night in the dorm saw us tucking into a big fry up and working out how to get round to Ogwen, leaving the car behind. As if by magic, at 8:45 the S6 bus hoved into view and through a combination of body language interpretation, wise nodding and smiling, we got two tickets to Capel Curig. I think the driver had forgotten to put his teeth in. From Capel we stuck out a thumb and the first car round the corner was a lad up from Birmingham who fancied taking his dog for a walk up in the Glyders - we know this because he stopped and in we jumped - good man! He dropped us in the large lay-by at the foot of the Milestone Buttress shortly after 9am and we were ready to start on hill number one, my favourite British mountain, Tryfan. I first did it when I was about 15 with my Dad and mate John and have loved it ever since.

The initial pull up from the road is pretty steep and got our lungs working - it was fresh, dry but a bit cloudy, and as we climbed I wondered whether we would be lucky and have a clear view - a strong northerly wind was keeping the clouds moving and I kept my fingers crossed. The higher you go up Tryfan, the less grass / heather there is and the more rock and soon we were picking a line up through the rock buttresses that loomed above us. One of the great things about Tryfan is that I never seem to go the same way twice - you can avoid a lot of the difficulties or set yourself a challenge by taking a more interesting line. The hard bits never last that long but give you a real sense of exploration. Karl's first taste of tricky scrambling looked like ending in a tie but I think he sneaked a win on points - judicious use of the knee securing him the first of a series of victories!

As we moved up, the rocks started to be covered in a thin layer of ice and some small rime ice growths. The wind was fairly strong but the summit was clear of cloud more often that not and I was becoming more optimistic of having a good view from the top. I was starting doubt however that we would be able to complete the traditional jump between the 2 stones on the summit, Adam and Eve.

I had done it on my first trip and I was keenfor Karl to become a 'Man of Tryfan', but the closer we got, the more it was clear that it wouldn't be prudent to try it. Icy rocks and a strong wind are not a good combination when jumping across rocks 6 feet in the air on the top of a very exposed mountain...

Descending to the south west, pausing only to say hello to Spencer, a friend of mine I used to work with and was out enjoying the conditions (small world!), we reached the col and moved up the classic scramble of Bristly Ridge. This dark looking gully brings the climber out high on the NE shoulder of Glyder Fach (hill number 2) and gives you a great sense of exposure. The climbing is not sustained but is in a great position - unfortunately, the cloud had descended again, meaning we couldn't see much. It all added to the sense of adventure and when we suddenly found ourselves on the summit plateau, I felt a sense of shame it couldn't have gone on for longer.

We passed the summit (where has the OSBM gone?), the cantilever stone and Castell y Gwynt (Castle of the winds) and dropped down to the col between Glyder Fach and Glyder Fawr. The intention was to turn south and drop all the way down to Pen-y-Pass so we could then go on to the Snowdon Horseshoe. It is not a descent I can recommend, being very wet underfoot, steep and covered in heather-bound boulders - ideal for disappearing into an unseen hole and twisting as ankle. It is also quite a long way down to Llyn Cwmffynnon and entailed crossing a river - regular readers will know I do not have a distinguished track record in this area, but this time at least I stayed dry. We had lunch by the lake in a delightful spot that would be great on a hot summer's day with the kids, before dropping the rest of the way to the youth hostel.

We refuelled on cake and water and set off up the Pyg track at about ten past two. The wind seemed to be getting stronger and was very gusty and as we got to the point where the path splits, between Crib Goch and the Pyg track, we started up to Crib Goch but after a few hundred metres I was not happy with the conditions. I knew the rocks on this very steep and exposed mountain would be icy and the Northerly winds would be trying to blowing us off the knife-edge ridge, as most of the time you are on the South side of the ridge. Given this, we decided to not risk it and traversed across back to the Pyg track. A disappointment, as Crib Goch is one of the finest ridge scrambles anywhere, but it will be there another day - and so will we.

A rather dull trudge up the Pyg track was enlivened by the fabulous views of the summit - covered in snow and ice, no cloud and occasionally bright sunshine. In fact, when the sun came out on the upper reaches of the path, where we sheltered from the wind, it was very warm. We passed all the day trippers coming back down, many of them in jeans and trainers which never ceases to amaze me, until we reached the col at Bwlch Glas. From here we were a short but windy trip up to the summit (number 3), currently undergoing a massive redevelopment for the tourists, and timed our appearance on the summit so that we had it to ourselves. One of the finest places in Britain, it is said on a clear day you can see 4 kingdoms - the kingdoms of Wales, of England, of the Isle of Man and of Heaven. We could certainly see the coast of Pembrokeshire, a good hundred miles or so south. I grimmaced in a T-shirt (it was a very cold wind!) and we set off down, south-east toward Lliwedd at a little before 5pm.

We dropped height quickly and got a good view of the crags on the north side of this impressive hill, where legend has it King Arthur's knights wait for his return in a cave somewhere. My intention the next day was to do one of the easy long rock climbs so wanted Karl to see where we would be climbing the next day. As we toiled up to the summit, the odd pangs of cramp setting in, the pace slowed and we both started to get tired. It feels like you are not getting anywhere on Lliwedd, but the twin summits suddenly appear (number 4) and we had a great view of the Crib Goch ridge, the stragglers coming down the miner's and Pyg track before setting off down to the valley floor. The miner's track provided some relief for our knees and thighs but not the balls of my feet which were on fire! We arrived back at the hostel for around 6:45pm - around 18km covered, 1600m climbed and nearly 9 hours on the hill. A good parallel for the sort of thing we will need to do in the Alps. Only at altitude.

Once back in the hostel, somewhat stiff in the legs and nursing sore feet, we showered, changed and set off in search of dinner. The famous Pen y Gyrd hotel doesn’t do bar meals in the evening, presumably to keep the riff raff like us out – and in case that didn’t work, the officious manner of the lady behind the bar certainly did - we dwelled long enough only to read some of the famous climbers and explorers who had signed the ceiling before heading off to Cobden’s in Capel Curig. Unfortunately the back bar was closed, so we nabbed a table in the main bar and ordered a couple of massive burgers. It wasn’t a formal competition, but Karl left more chips than me because he is a wuss and overdid it on the garlic mushrooms.

We limped / rolled back to the car, absolutely stuffed and drove back to Pen y Pass in the heaviest hail storm I have ever seen – rather disconcerting when driving a Skoda Fabia. We had a beer or two in the bar, made it to 10pm and made our excuses, going to bed worrying how the legs would feel the next day…

The answer came at 7am the next day when one of the other occupants of the dorm awoke, looked out the window and said ‘Snow’. Oh. Wasn’t expecting that. Getting gingerly out of bed to find the lower half of my body had survived the night, I checked on conditions and found there was a think layer of hail / snow that made conditions underfoot very icy. These conditions, the serious nature of Lliwedd and the relative inexperience of Karl meant that this was probably not the best place to go. I decided instead we should go round to the Idwal slabs and do something less committing.

We packed up and arrived in the Ogwen car park in beautiful sunshine, conditions that made the gentle walk in to Cwm Idwal feel very relaxing. As we approached the crag, I was disappointed to see someone had beaten us to it and was approaching the first belay on the classic easy line, Ordinary Route. I thought briefly about trying something harder, but conditions took a turn for the worse – a snow storm swept up the valley from the north and before long we were in a blizzard. This was going to be fun!

Ordinary Route is not technically difficult and as the party ahead of us moved up, we started climbing. The rock was very wet and in places held a reasonable amount of snow, making the whole thing feel quite adventurous. A tricky step at the beginning of pitch two led to an open groove, where I caught up with the couple ahead of us. The leader was taking his time and I waited, chatting to the second (a lady from Kenilworth, but she didn’t know my friends who live there) who was on her third trip on outdoor rock. She was doing alright, but wasn’t really prepared for the conditions – small rock boots and no socks!

Eventually they moved up and I brought Karl up a few more pitches, all the time being chased by a party of three who were moving very quickly. The top of the route peters out somewhat, leaving us with an exposed and exciting scramble while we looked for the descent. We found the couple ahead of us still roped up and looking for the descent, while an RAF rescue helicopter that was presumably on an exercise in the valley came and had a look at us. I think he was just showing off.

We found what looked like the descent, but as it was covered in snow it looked quite serious so we set up an abseil rope. The group of three behind us had caught up and agreed to throw the rope down after us, which was great as pulling abseil ropes down always runs the risk of it jamming. Karl went first and as he reached the lip and looked nervously down, I shouted a few words of encouragement – something like ‘Come on, get down there’ I think. He eventually did, and I set off after him, to discover the lip was in fact an overhang, explaining Karl’s hesitation. It was a little entertaining I have to admit. The long scramble back down past Suicide Wall was done in reasonably heavy snow, so by the time we reached the rucksacks at the bottom of the crag, they had a good covering on them. We stowed the gear and set off back to the car.

On the walk out the storm cleared, the sun came out and we had a fabulous view of Cwm Idwal, Tryfan and the Ogwen valley, crisp and white. We were back in the car for 1:30pm, plenty of time for the traditional stop off at Pete’s Eats in Llanberis. Pete’s has got bigger since I was last there but the hot chocolate is still great, as was Karl’s pizza. My chilli was odd, as it didn’t come with anything, which was strange and a disappointment – I could have done with a massive infusion of carbohydrate. We set off back to the airport and, bar the enormous queue of traffic caused by an unnecessary (as far as we could tell) coning off of one lane, the journey back was much more relaxing than the journey out. I dropped Karl off at Liverpool airport and set off home, interrupted only by a traffic jam on the M6 and Karl phoning me to say his flight had been cancelled and the next one wasn’t until Tuesday. Bloody Easyjet. What a bunch of jokers. I arrived home safely after 7pm, tired but happy to be back where I belong – among my family.

Next time we meet will be in the Alps and Karl will have another baby – I can’t wait for either…

2008-03-24T13:49:00.000-07:00

Rich again...

An Easter break in Cornwall, visiting parents and dipping tootsies in the sea, saw me try a couple of runs but there is something wrong with the roads down there - they all seem to be very steep! I really noticed it in my legs and didn't get anywhere near as far as I had wanted to. Add into that the choco-fest that is Easter and suddenly the 2 weeks until we go to Wales doesn't look long enough. I hope Karl is feeling as fat and unfit as me or I could be in for a shoeing...

2008-03-12T06:29:00.000-07:00

Well, I seem to have recovered from the stomach bug and 2 of the lost 4lbs have gone back on, which is still a victory as I see it. Put another short run in at a decent pace and it was okay, but it seems each time brings a new ache - this time in the arch of my right foot. Luckily, some really bad storms have hit the UK and running looks rather unattractive. So I shall break out the bike and turbo trainer and sit on that for an hour. It's a great way of getting your heart rate up and down, only it can get a bit dull - but that's what iPods are for, right?

Started pushing the website now (thanks James at KentLyons) and the money has started to come in. Two things have struck me. First, we are doing this for real - this is real money, that people are really giving (and therefore going without) that is really going to help children and families like us. Second, people's capacity for kindness and generosity is, as far as I can tell, bottomless. I am deeply humbled by their commitment and I hope that they know it...

2008-03-06T13:22:00.000-08:00

Karl here...

Not been into much exercise since I hung up my rugby boots as Ireland had overlooked me for selection, but given the impending challenge I’d been jogging a few times every week since Christmas so was pretty sure I’d cope ok during the first of 2 planned training weekends prior to attempting Mont Blanc. 22nd Feb I flew in from Paris and met Rich and his friend Nick before heading up to Bridge of Orchy, where we were staying in a bunk-house.

After a very interrupted night’s sleep, between the frog-chorus snoring and the rain on the window, then a huge Scottish fry-up, we got our gear on and headed out into the horizontal rain. We hadn’t gone very far on the very wet, boggy ground before it became clear my boots had lost whatever waterproofness they ever had – to be honest they looked more like trainers next to Rich and Nicks’ professional kit. The low cloud meant we couldn’t see to far ahead but Rich had his map out and led us up to Coire an Dothaidh. We were aiming for the summit of Beinn Dorain but the weather was awful so we decided to head over the saddle in search of some snow for some winter-skills training.

We saw some deer and an arctic hare on the way up, plus Nick rescued a sheep which was stuck in a bog; all grateful distractions from the rain constantly hitting your face. We found a slope with some snow and spent some time practicing stopping with the ice axe if you fall, and walking in crampons, before heading back down over the saddle and down towards the valley floor. The highlight of the morning for me was watching Rich demonstrating how to jump a stream and ending up in the fast flowing water to his waist; shame I didn’t have a video camera as Jeremy Beadle would have loved it…

We then headed to the climbing wall in Kinlochleven where Rich taught us some basic climbing skills, after which we watched Ireland beat Scotland in the Six Nations. Headed back to Bridge of Orchy for a massive serving of haggis whilst watching England beat France (in a bar full of Frenchmen…)

After another night of snoring, this time enhanced by some pretty strange aromas in the room, and another big fry-up we headed north to Glencoe and started walking up towards Coire nan Lochan on The Three Sisters. The rain had stopped and I was finding that my new mountain boots purchased in Kinlochleven were a great investment. As we reached the Coire, above the snowline, the cloud came in and snow started swirling around. We found a bit of cliff and Rich set-up some ropes for Nick and I to do some climbing – scrambling might be a better name for it.

After some food we got the crampons and ice-axes out and headed up a gully just to the east of the summit of Stob Coire nan Lochan. When the angle got to about 45 degrees, Rich got the ropes out and we roped up, belaying each other up the rest of the gully. It took 4 belays to reach the summit ridge, the gully getting steeper up to about 70 degrees just below the summit. I’m glad we were doing this now in Feb rather than closer to July when we go to Mont Blanc as after some of the belay ascents, where you’re moving each hand and foot in turn to try to stay secure on the steep snow and ice, I was pretty knackered.

The rate that the weather can change up there is amazing, one minute it’s clear enough to see all the way to Ben Nevis, the next it’s a complete blizzard. It was 4pm when we were on the summit ridge at 1080m and we needed to get off the hill before dark. We headed down the ridge and across a snowfield back down to the Coire. We made good time heading down the track back towards the road, pausing to appreciate the amazing scenery and beautiful evening glow on the rocks across the valley, and were back in the car for 6pm, tired and smelly but very happy with a good day’s work.

All in all, I felt really good at the end of it, with a few creaky joints and knowledge that I need to get fitter. Bring on our next trip to North Wales in April!

Couple of 5 mile runs last weekend were pretty hard work, and I’m struggling to find time during the week. Might have to get a personal trainer…

2008-03-06T02:10:00.000-08:00

Done a few gentle runs to see what effect the weekend away has had - the first one hurt like hell but the second was much better. Then succumbed to the stomach bug that has gone through the family and have lost 4 pounds overnight. There goes any hope of running in the next few days - mind you, if I weigh less, will I go faster? Perhaps some Lucozade will help...

2008-03-04T05:48:00.000-08:00

Rich here...

Started running again in the New Year, being very wary of the dodgy achilles tendon in my right ankle. Felt a bit stiff (must be my age!) as the miles built up but as our first trip away got closer, the number of runs decreased as the distance increased. With a week or two to go, a hilly 8 miles was taking an hour and felt pretty good - although my ankle is a definite concern!

Also started to review gear - I need two of everything, so started borrowing as much as I can from mates (thanks Julian!) and buying things that I think I'll end up reusing. Getting a bit fed up with Ebay as people keep out bidding me but http://www.theoutdoorshop.com/ ends up being just as cheap for brand new gear a lot of the time! Not sure how they do that but they seem to be really cheap. Had a problem with helmets but found a great place at http://www.expedition-logistics.co.uk/ where I could hire some very cheaply. Good stuff.

A trip to Glencoe was planned and travel ended up being nicely complicated. A lift to East Midlands airport with a friend and his wife, fly to Edinburgh, hire a car, wait for Karl to arrive from Paris with his wife and son, squash everyone and everything into the car (thanks goodness we got an upgrade - thanks http://www.1car1.com/), drop them off at Falkirk and drive to the Bridge of Orchy (via legendary fish and chip shop in Callendar, complete with Hungarian waitresses). Packing climbing gear for a flight is always a challenge, especially on the budget airlines. 20kg and 1 bag in the hold proved impossible, so paid to have 2 bags in the hold and put anything that was heavy but blunt in my carry-on luggage (and put my mountain boots on!). Ended up spot on 20kg in the hold but was nearly thwarted as Nick tried to take his crampons through security and onto the plane. They said no.

The weather as we drove up the A82 was grim - windy and squally showers, which in the dark on unfamiliar roads in a hire car is always fun. 'Nevermind' on the CD player though and we made it alive, despite my driving. The Bridge of Orchy Hotel (http://www.bridgeoforchy.co.uk/) has an excellent bunk house next to it, complete with drying room and is in the middle of nowhere. A good choice, as the next morning we were on the hill for 8:30am, heading east up to the col between Beinn Dorain and Beinn an Dothaidh in the driving rain and gusting winds, pausing only to haul a stranded sheep out of a bog.

Once in the lee slightly south of the col, we found a decent patch of snow on which to practice ice axe arrests. Before going anywhere serious or steep, I had to have confidence that Karl could get himself out of trouble as quickly and easily as he could get himself into trouble! Once you overcome the initial alien feeling of deliberately throwing yourself down a snow slope, it is actually fairly easy - you just have to keep a cool head. Karl got it no problem, although found out why so many winter climbers wear salopettes as his topped filled up with snow! A quick look at crampons and two things became obvious - firstly, Karl needed a decent pair of boots and second, he needed to get step in crampons. Other than that, our first piece of learning was a success. Being thoroughly wet from the rain, we returned to the hotel, pausing only to watch me fall in a small but surprisingly fast flowing river. What a nimble footed mountain goat I am.

In the afternoon, we drove up to Kinlochleven to the indoor climbing centre The Ice Factor (http://www.ice-factor.co.uk/). A well equipped shop solved Karl's boot problem, the harnesses came out and we got on the walls. Being able to put on a harness, tie in safely and belay well is mandatory for Karl so we practiced for a few hours, which also allowed Karl to discover the muscles on the inside of the forearms, just below the elbow. Not ones non-climbers use very often, so to find them aching suddenly was a bit of a shock. Luckily it didn't affect his ability to hold a pint while we watched Ireland beat Scotland in the 6 Nations in the bar.

A return to the hotel and another cold one was waiting for us while we ordered haggis and mash and settled in to watch the France - England match. Weirdly enough the bar filled with Frenchmen and as the best haggis I have ever had disappeared, it became clear they were on a canoing trip. Fortunately the English pack wore the French down and a late try from the new scrum half Wigglesworth sealed the victory. Phew. An early-ish night and a night of unheard snoring followed...

Up and on the road for 8:30 on Sunday morning and the wind seemed to have dropped a bit, the lashing rain had eased and the temperature had dropped - all good signs. We parked next to the helipad in Glencoe and started up the steep pull into Coire nan Lochan. Karl's new boots didn't seem to be causing any problems, but his lungs did - a pack full of climbing gear and a steep path is guaranteed to get you puffing. An hour and 40 minutes later and we were on level ground at the head of the Coire.

From there we had a great view of the summit crags of Stob Coire nan Lochan, the day's objective. We found a small buttress and set up a fixed rope so the boys could get used to the feeling of climbing wearing all their winter gear over rocks covered in snow, ice, dirt and heather - a bit different from the nice colour-coordinated holds of the indoor centre! A quick abseil with a prusik safety ensured that if things got gnarly on the steeper ground, we could back off in relative safety.

Then we had a bite to eat and set off for the bottom of one of the gullies that leads to the summit. The ground got steeper, the snow turned to some great nevee and we roped up by a small rock outcrop. Having seen the discomfort moving on rock had caused, I picked a line that stayed on the snow and ran out a couple of rope lengths. Karl belayed admirably and Nick followed on, clearly enjoying himself. As we approached the summit we were hit by some fairly nasty swirling winds, but they only lasted a few minutes and after four pitches (including one unpleasant belay off two axe placements when the rope wasn't long enough to reach a rock outcrop) we pulled over the steep (about 70 degrees) top of the gully and looked back at the journey we had made. It was a little after 4pm, we had the place virtually to ourselves and the view was something else.

Moving East, we descended over broken ground, taking great care over our foot placements as most accidents happen on the descent, until we could turn North and rapidly descend the long and easy snow slopes that took us back the Corie floor, which we reached around 5pm. Stowing the climbing gear, we slipped our headtorches into our pockets (just in case) and stomped off to the valley, reaching the car at 6pm, just as the light started to fail. A drive back to Falkirk to drop Karl off and a night in a Premier Inn saw us dropping the hire car off early the next day and a delayed flight back to East Midlands. My wife picked us up and I was at my desk working away before I knew what was happening. Blimey.