Chamonix adventures

I think Chamonix is a bit like Marmite…you either love it or hate it, or it would certainly seem that way from most people’s initial reaction when you tell them you’re spending time there!

Personally, I’m totally unashamed to say I love Chamonix (and Marmite incidentally…wonder if there’s a correlation there?!)…yes it’s expensive, full of pretentious people with too much money, waltzing around in Norrona onesies (or other kit that they’ve obviously gone into a shop and asked for the best and most expensive kit available), you are more likely to hear Russian, or English, spoken than you are French in Chamonix town centre, and it’s a brutal game of every man or woman for him/herself in the lift queues each morning…but despite all this, there is something undeniably unique and special that you can’t take away from the place. I hear loads of people, friends and others, talking about how they hate Chamonix and all those things about it (and more) that I mentioned above…in some ways it’s almost like it’s become “cool” to say you “hate” Chamonix, especially if you’ve been going there for years and seen it change …” I mean it’s like so busy and full of tourists, you know?” ….But I can’t agree with them…I absolutely love the place, and to be honest, if everyone really hated it that much, then why do they keep coming back?! And after all, aren’t we all tourists unless it’s somewhere we call our permanent home?!

Lenticular clouds showing high winds above the Mont Blanc Massif from Chamonix centre

Every time I drive up the Chamonix valley, I find it hard to keep my eyes on the road. Towering above you on either side are incredibly beautiful, awe-inspiring mountains and glaciers. You can pick out the more familiar and recognisable ones, the ones you’ve climbed before, the ones you dream of climbing, the ones whose epic first ascents are legendary. Since the first ascent of Mont Blanc in 1786 by local alpinists Dr Joseph Vallot and Jacques Balmat, there have been hundreds of years of history of mountaineering and adventures on these peaks, and when you are surrounded by all those stories, legends and history, it’s hard not to feel inspired, motivated, excited, and maybe a little bit intimidated. It’s a pretty magical place.

Big mountain skiing amongst the crevasses of the Mer de Glace

There is no denying, whether you love, or hate it, that Chamonix is quite simply an amazing place for off-piste skiing and mountaineering. Whilst many other Alpine resorts may have more pisted area and boast more runs, few can compete with the amount and variety of easily accessible off-piste terrain. From mellow angled glacier runs, to steep narrow couloirs, ski tours over classic cols and up to famous peaks, and even straight-off-the-lift off-piste, Chamonix has them all, and as a skier and mountaineer, it’s hard to resist that allure when choosing a place to visit.

Skinning up from the Vallee Blanche towards Italy

With some mountaineering knowledge, experience, and equipment, you can soon escape the crowds of Chamonix, and find yourself with deep, untracked powder, and few people around. Which is exactly where a group of us found ourselves last week. Despite a huge queue for the first lift up to the Aiguille du Midi, it seemed at least half the people on it were purely sightseeing, and most of the rest were in guided groups, 5 or 6 roped together, that we were luckily able to start the plod down the snow arête ahead of.

Lucy setting off down the snow arete from the Aiguille du Midi

There had been a good 30 cm of fresh snow at Les Houches, at about 1500m the previous day, so here at 3800m it was going to be deep. We decided to head down via the Grand Envers route, and once off the top and out of the wind that had been blowing spindrift around and making visibility difficult, we struck gold. Several pitches of at times waist deep snow, saw me whooping my way down, with a massive grin on my face, aided by the fact that I’d chosen to hire some fatter skiers with a rocker (non-tech speak= easier to float on or near the top of deep snow and manoeuvre than my normal skis). I couldn’t believe the difference…..every turn felt effortless, I was floating and gliding my way down through some of the deepest snow I’d skied in, feeling fast, in control, and like I was starring in some kind of awesome skiing diva movie!!

Loving the fat skis!

(Well, there may have been one occasion when I got a little over excited and bounced myself into a forward somersault…but I was just doing a little avalanche control, checking the snowpack out and all that….!) 

Stuck in the deep stuff!

I felt relaxed, and was enjoying the deep stuff way more than normal, instead of feeling like it was all very hard work…needless to say, a set of fat powder skis have been added to the “To Buy” list for some point when I can afford them!

Slightly scary snow bridge crossing with big crevasses either side! (You can't see my concentrating face!)

The only thing that did feel hard was breathing….Now I suppose the views up on the Vallee Blanche are pretty breath taking, and doing anything physical above 3000m tends to feel a little bit harder than down at the altitudes us Brits are mostly used to, but I’d been up there quite a bit since arriving in Chamonix, and today felt very different. I knew I had the start of a cold, but for me that’s normally a couple of days of a bit of a sore throat and a sniffle, and as hard as I tried to ignore it, this was a bit more than that. My breathing was shallow and fast, and I couldn’t slow it down or take a deeper breath as it was really painful. Climbing the steps up to the train at Montenvers felt harder than ever, I was literally gasping for breath, and being overtaken by overweight tourists on their way back up from visiting the ice caves on the Mer de Glace! Anyway, I chose to ignore it, and told myself to man-up, the snow was too good to not go up a second time! 

Deteriorating visibility up high

Arriving at the top again, conditions had deteriorated quite a bit, and by the time we’d stowed skis on packs, put crampons on, and walked down the arête, there was absolutely zero visibility. A couple of guided groups had turned around and were making their way back up to get the lift down, and although the group of 6 of us were all competent in the skiing and route-finding to get down, a heavily crevassed glacier is not really somewhere you want to be when you can barely see a few metres in front of you. So we started the slow plod back up to the lift station. It was here that I knew something was wrong. Someone seemed to have replaced my normally reasonable volume lungs, with those of a baby sparrow’s. I could literally drag myself slowly up 3 steps and then have to stop for a minute to try and get some kind of breath back. My chest was burning with the effort of getting air in and out, and my body felt completely drained, like it wasn’t getting any oxygen to any of my muscles. I was feeling a bit lightheaded, and terrified of trying to go any faster to keep up with the others, in case I felt more dizzy and tripped or fell (a narrow snow arête with several thousand metres of freefall down to Chamonix is not really a good place to trip). I felt like I was on Everest with the effort each step was taking, not at less than half the altitude on the Aiguille du Midi!! Anyone who’s gone up too high, too fast in the mountains could easily say that what I was feeling was just the effects of altitude. But having felt those before, and being pretty well acclimatised from a month in the mountains, I knew it wasn’t…

When I got down that evening I literally collapsed into bed and slept for 16 hours, waking only to cough a painful deep, chesty cough that as much as I tried to ignore it, I knew was a chest infection.

A trip to the Dr’s the following morning confirmed what I already knew from the horrible hacking cough, the aching limbs, swollen glands, and generally feeling absolutely terrible L Along with the  antibiotics came the scary word ‘Pneumonia’, a referral for a chest x-ray and blood tests given my sky high temperature and low blood oxygen saturation level, and a stern telling off from the Dr for going up to altitude when I kind of knew something wasn’t right… but it was a powder day I’m glad I didn’t miss…;)

Ben and I on a bluebird day trip up to find fresh tracks :)

Grands Montets runs in poor visibility!

A week on and the drugs are kicking in, I don’t feel unwell anymore, I can breathe a bit more normally which I guess is always a good sign (reckon I’m at about kitten size lungs, which is obviously an improvement on the sparrow’s, but hoping I get mine back soon!), I’m sounding less like an 80 a day smoker with each passing day, and I’ve been back out on the skis and climbing too. Nothing too strenuous at too high an altitude, but it’s good to feel psyched again. It’s been snowing a bit this week in Chamonix, so there’s been some great days out with friends finding the best snow…Vallee Blanche runs and skinning up towards Italy with Ben and Leanne, laps in terrible visibility off the Grands Montets with Ben, Nick, Jim and Leanne, climbing fat hero-ice in Cogne with Jim and Ian, and endless laps on great snow (and rewarded with tasty cakes!) at Les Houches with Anest. I even ventured out on my first ski de fond (Cross country skiing) experience today!

Ian climbing up to the belay in Cogne

Jim leading up the main pitch of E' Tutto Relativo

Skiing at Les Houches with Anest

First ski de fond experience...think Bambi on ice!

Crazy skinny skis!

Made it around the red circuit with Leanne

I can't believe I'm down to my last week here in Chamonix before I head back for a quick turnaround and the start of the next adventure....time indeed flies when you are having fun!

Alpine adventures to start a new year...

There can't be too many ways that are better to start a new year, than by being out in the mountains, with bucket loads of fresh snow, sunny, clear, cold skies, incredible views, and days filled with adventures shared with like-minded new friends. Where the hardest decision of the day is whether to put some fresh tracks in this untouched vast expanse of deep soft "hero snow", or the equally attractive looking section of slope just over there...argh....such a difficult decision! ;-)

Fresh tracks coming down the Gros Rognon onto the Vallee Blanche

After an epic 19 hour solo drive to get there, I arrived in La Grave early on a Sunday morning, to meet Lucy and Jake, and lots of their friends, apparently just in time for some incredible conditions. The night before I arrived the snow gods had obviously decided to be kind, and dump a much needed fresh load of silky soft powder in the French Alps. There had been tales of bare, patchy snow cover, and normally well-covered rocks poking out to trash the bases of your skis and provide additional hazards to avoid throughout December, so I had definitely arrived at the right time. Even better, the skies had cleared and for most of the week we were treated to cold, sunny, alpine conditions, keeping the fresh snow soft, and making for the kind of weather you wish for when out in the Alps in winter.

Lucy and I opted for a chilled out first day at Monetier les Bains, part of the Serre Chevalier ski area, and some fab lift-accessed off piste in the trees. Most people there were predominantly skiing on piste, so we were treated to run after run of soft light powder and fresh tracks with no-one around, a great way to find my ski-legs again after a couple of years off, and to get the first couple of crashes out of the way and start to relax a bit! The benefit of powder is that at least it’s soft when you land!

Sunshine and snow = big smiles

Lucy at Monetier

La Grave is famous for it’s classic easy access (ie roadside) ice climbing, but also amongst skiers as some of the most easily-accessible and varied off-piste terrain in the Alps. One very long lift system (plenty of time to eat your sandwiches, faff with kit, discuss the state of the world economy etc etc) takes you up to the edge of the glacier, and a multitude of options for descending. There are no pistes, no marked runs, and therefore no inexperienced skiers. This is big, serious, mountain terrain, where without good mountain sense, you could easily find yourself in trouble. There are steep, narrow couloirs, cliffs, ice falls, dense trees, rocks and other hazards lurking under the surface of the snow, variable snow conditions, and of course the risk of avalanches. It’s also North facing, so whilst you can see the sun on the other side of the valley, it never touches you on the hill, and it can therefore be bitterly cold. It can feel an intimidating place as you step under the rope at the top for the first time! But the skiing is totally awesome. I was lucky to be surrounded by a group of people who have been visiting the area for a long time, and had an in depth knowledge of the layout of the mountain. 

Welcome to the La Grave adventure playground....

Hilda enjoying the awesome terrain 

Ruth heading down on a slope that's steeper than it looks!

What followed was an epic day…one long run followed another, deep snow, great skiing, a tricky, steep, rocky and icy couloir entry, a beautiful run of fresh tracks in “hero pow” on the glacier…and just when I thought my legs couldn’t take any more, I seemed to find myself in the last group of 4, where an executive decision was made to race half-way down the mountain to get the last lift back up from the mid-station. My thighs were screaming, the thin, cold air was making my lungs burn, but I still didn’t know the mountain well enough to make my own way down, so I had to try and keep up! We reached the lift just in time, and I was promised more stops on the last run down. From having got on the first lift at 9am, we skied non-stop, and finished that last run in the dark, discovering what the term “combat skiing” really meant on the way. Tight trees, stream crossings on tiny snow bridges, icy narrow tracks, traverses above big drops, rocks and bare earth…not easy to negotiate your way around when your legs feel totally destroyed! Needless to say, I slept pretty well that night!

  

New Years Eve we awoke to another day of weather that Dave aptly described in his best French accent as “Grand Uber Beau Temps”. A leisurely tour up from Le Chazzelet took a big group of us up to above a vast untouched snow field of an aspect and angle that were a good option, given the current high avalanche risk.

We're going on a pow hunt....

Touring up to the pointy peak top left to find some fresh tracks!

  

Touring up from Le Chazzelet

Sunny skies and freshies :)

Unfortunately, the snow pack throughout the Alps has been pretty unstable at the start of this season. Put simply, due to the conditions and temperatures in December, there is a very weak, unstable layer in the snowpack, which after a whole load of new snow falling on top of it, means the chances of natural and human triggered avalanches occurring are very high on many slopes. There have sadly been a lot of avalanche victims already, and a great deal of caution, knowledge and careful conditions and forecast studying is needed in deciding where and where not to go. I’ve been very lucky to be skiing with, and staying with and near friends and others who are guides, instructors, or locals with a good knowledge of the area, and so have been able to ask questions, learn a lot, and add to the general snow safety knowledge I’ve built up over the years I’ve spent in the mountains. Every day’s a school day and all that….

We saw in the New Year in one of the bars of La Grave, and despite feeling that ever present sense of sadness that it was the start of another year without Gareth, and remembering all the New Year’s Eves we’d shared before, I was surrounded by new like-minded friends, and know that he would have thought that being in the mountains and having fun, was an awesome way to start a New Year. I didn’t really feel happy and excited enough to get involved in dancing, but there were plenty of people to talk to, and adventures for the following day to plan!

1st January 2014...a good way to start the New Year

Whilst most of the group had decided to take a rest day to recover from hangovers, especially as the forecast had been uncertain, it was just Jon, Rachael and I who headed out on a bright and sunny New Years Day, to tour up from Le Chazzelet, and go in search of more untouched “neige de hero” and freshies in the pow…and we certainly found it!

Our hidden valley :)

Jon breaking trail

Rachael's first ski tour...I think she'll be hooked :)

Dropping into a hidden valley, we were treated to incredible soft, forgiving snow, and a sense of total remoteness in a beautiful area. Thick, fresh snow, glittering in the sun just seems to make everything clean, and kind of softens the sound around you too, making it seem completely peaceful and still. It was staggeringly beautiful, and a fantastic way to spend the first day of 2014.

The following day was Snowmageddon. There’s something that still makes me feel as excited as a small child in a sweet shop when I wake up in a morning and see big snowflakes falling from the sky, and this was one of those days. In fact it snowed heavily all day, and a group of us spent the day shredding deep powder in the trees at Monetier. Unfortunately, if you crash in deep soft snow and lose a ski, it can take a loooooong time to find it, as unfortunately Jon and Lucy both discovered, as well as the phrase “No friends on a powder day!”…but they did both eventually find them thankfully!

Silky soft snow in the trees at Monetier

Lucy gets her request of only wanting to ski in fresh powder!

Jake dropping in 

As I don’t ski often enough to warrant or afford to have several sets of skis, mine are a do it all, one ski for touring, freeride, piste and off-piste kind of ski….which whilst I love them, means when it’s a powder day and everyone has their super fat powder skis out to float on the surface of the deep stuff, I’m more ploughing through it with my skis several feet under, or leaning way further back than I want to to stop my tips from burying themselves…oh well…when I win the lottery…;)

Les Drus in the sun

Staring at giants

Following New Year week, I drove with Lucy to Chamonix….ah Chamonix, it’s always good to be here J The drive up the Chamonix valley always fills me with excitement and awe as you look up at the towering giants of mountains around you. It’s actually the very first place I skied as a four year old in the Panda Club in Argentiere, and after so many amazing summer trips here, I’d been really looking forward to spending some of the winter here. Jim and Alison kindly let me stay with them for a few days until I could move into my rented flat in Les Houches, and it was lovely to catch up with them both, and to get out skiing with Jim, Ian and Lucy over the next few days.

It’s now a week since it snowed, and in fact it’s been sunny, warm and clear blue skies all week, but thanks to the opportunities to get up high on the glaciers, we’ve been finding soft powder all week!

The first day here we spent skiing the deepest snow I’ve ever been in from the top of the Grands Montets lift, down onto the Glacier d’Argentiere. Snow so deep that sprays of powder hit your face on every turn, making you feel like you’re a skiing goddess in a ski movie…”neige de hero” indeed!

Thanks to James Thacker for the above photos and somehow making me look like I knew what I was doing!

Then it was through the tunnel to Italy and Cormayeur, where it seems there was even more snow than on the other side of Mont Blanc. With the top lifts only having been opened that day for the first time since the fresh snowfall, there were endless opportunities for freshies, and ear to ear smiles…I was beginning to think I’d now only been able to ski in deep powder!

Jim shredding it through the trees

Sunshine and snowy trees :)

Since then we’ve had 2 days up on the Vallee Blanche, one purely gravity assisted descending, and the second a bit of touring up towards the Dent du Giant to find more fresh soft snow. At this time of year the walk down the snow arête from the Aiguille du Midi Cable car is not equipped with ropes, and so it’s an airy traverse with crampons and an axe to get down to skiable slopes. Slightly intimidating, but it has the benefit that fewer guided parties are on it!

Lucy descending the snow arete from the Aiguille du midi

Although the skiing is not difficult, it’s amazing how the fact that you are on a glacier, with crevasses all around, some hidden, some exposed, makes you tense up and ski completely differently to how you would on a slope with less inherent dangers. Wearing a harness, and carrying a heavier pack than normal, and knowing you have to ski in control and not fall  all add to this!

Big crevasses on the way off the Glacier d'Argentiere

Skiing down from our tour up to the Dent du Geant

It’s quite a long time since I’ve been on the Mer de Glace, and I’d forgotten how far it feels like you have to walk up the hundreds of steps to get from the glacier to the bubble lift that takes you up to the Montenvers train. It definitely felt like there were more steps up than I remembered….and there were. On the side of the steps are markers showing the level of the glacier at various years. When I first climbed in Chamonix in the summer of 2003, the glacier was 75m higher than it is now….that’s a lot more steps they’ve had to build each year. Even more staggering, is that I know my Mum and Dad skied the Vallee Blanche the year I was in Panda Club, which must have been about 1986, and at that time, they must have pretty much just stepped onto the train! The glacier is retreating currently at a rate of 30m a year…that’s a huge and very visible amount….I wonder if I’ll still be lucky enough to be skiing or climbing in another 30 years time, and how different the Mer de Glace will be then?

Lucy heading down towards the Mer de Glace

So, today’s a rest day, after a tour part way up the Glacier d’Amethystes and the Col de Tour Noir yesterday made me realise how tired my legs were! After only ever really having had a week or two to ski each year, I’m used to skiing every day and not taking any rest days because I don’t want to waste any precious skiing days. But I’m slowly realising when you’re here for over a month, you do occasionally need to stop and recover! Still, it’s sunny, clear and cold, there’s a superb view of beautiful snowy mountains from my apartment balcony, and though I wish I were sharing it with Gareth, there aren’t many other places I’d rather be right now J

Sunshine lights up fields of super soft powder :)

Mud, rain & riding in shorts...must be winter in the UK!

This time last year, I was out guiding in Tenerife, basking in a pleasant climate where it was possible to still wear shorts when riding each day. This year, for the last month, it's been so mild I've been doing the same! Admittedly it's been a little bit colder than it was there, but at least I've saved money on sun-cream?

December has flown by in a haze of some expensive work on my poor van (it has worked quite hard this year!), maintenance jobs on my house in Sheffield (keep the tenants happy etc. etc), and continued slow but steady sorting of mine and Gareth's kit and accumulated paperwork from many years. Those have been the hard jobs, but fortunately, I've been able to balance them out with some awesome riding with lots of friends, old and new, and visits to catch up with people I haven't seen for over a year.

Mid December, I made the trip down to the Surrey Hills for a weekend to catch-up and ride with a few friends. I have to admit to being slightly sceptical about the quality of riding to expect...I mean, are there actually any hills in the South? And surely there can't be any riding to talk of when you compare it to the hills of the Peak, Lakes, North of England, or Scotland?

Anyway, I'd been promised good riding, and by people who I knew would give an honest appraisal of it, so I drove down early one Saturday morning with an open mind, eager to sample the best that southern riding had to offer!

I met up with Chloe, Jim, Andy, James, Susan, Sam and Toby, and a whole load of other people I didn't know but who vaguely knew some of the others, in the car park at Peaslake, and we headed off to shred some trails. For the rest of the day, I had a permanent grin on my face as I followed down some ridiculously fun trails. With names like "Curly Wurly", "Cat's Tail", "Yoghurt pots", "The Deer Run", "Barry knows best", and many others, pretty much every trail that we rode left me giggling with delight. I have no idea of the route we took, that's the benefit of riding with locals who know the trails like the back of their hand, but I do know that I absolutely loved every single bit of the riding. It was completely different from local trails in the Peak, or the riding in general in the North, where rocky, rubbly, natural trails make up the majority of the riding. These were flowing, fast, swoopy, bermed, jumpy, rooty, loamy singletrack paths, that have been well thought out, built and maintained by riders. Kind of like a natural trail centre, but way better. Even on Sunday when it poured with rain and the trails became muddy and slippery, they were still great fun, you just had to ride them a bit differently. With a bike shop, pub, village store selling mugs of tea and cheese straws to refuel mid-ride (a local speciality I'm told!), Peaslake is the perfect base for riding the Surrey Hills. We rode for hours on both Saturday and Sunday, and all the time on different trails, I have no doubt there are many more I still haven't ridden...but that's just a good excuse to go back. And I will definitely be going back for more :) It was an awesome weekend, thanks guys!

Watch Sam's self edit for a sample of Surrey Hills riding here!

Next riding destination was back in sunny Sheffield, but a new trail to me...

Parkwood Springs has been open for almost a couple of years now, but having not been in the country much, and when I have been, not always spending a lot of time in Sheffield, I'd never got around to visiting until a couple of weeks ago. It's a short, purpose built trail, right within the city, in fact only a couple of km from where Gareth and I lived. The area that it's been built on is not really the nicest part of Sheffield, and I was wondering if it'd have been taken over by threatening looking youths in hoodies, ready to mug you and nick your bike, or littered with broken glass bottles and used syringes...but thankfully it appears not! It's a great little loop, with a nice climb, complete with some optional step ups and rock skinny sections for skills practise on the side of the trail, and then a fun, bermed descent which can all be steadily rolled for less confident riders, or jumped and whooped down by those happy to carry more speed. Esther and I spent a couple of hours riding laps of the trail on a sunny afternoon, with only a couple of other people around, so it felt like we had the place to ourselves. It's pretty novel to be riding a trail centre on a hill above a city, with urban views instead of fields!

Sheffield's Urban Trail Centre

 Next up was Coed Llandegla, a trail centre near Wrexham, North Wales, and two trips within the space of a few days. First, a catch up with Fay and Lee, an awesome couple who I was lucky enough to meet at the TransProvence race. They both love biking as much as me, and are the kind of people it's just easy to chat to and have fun with. We had a wicked day chasing each other around the swoopy Llandegla trails, followed by mugs of tea in the cafe and more nattering about bikes, trips, races, all sorts...a great day out.

Then a couple of days later I was back there with a huuuuge group of people for a Christmas social ride organised by JJ, someone Gareth and I met in Whistler, who now runs his own coaching company A-Line Coaching. There were a few others I knew from Sheffield too, and a chance to meet and chat to some more people whilst enjoying the climbs, and during post-descent regrouping stops!

A-Line Christmas social (photo; A-Line Coaching Facebook page!)

 In amongst other rides, and many cups of tea at friends' houses, in a final effort to avoid the fact that Christmas was approaching, I've been out on some solo exploratory rides near my mum and dad's house. Despite the fact that Cheshire is pretty flat, I was inspired after visiting Surrey, and realising you don't need a lot of elevation to make a good trail...there HAD to be some good riding somewhere nearby! I grabbed the local OS map and headed off exploring, finding some cracking little paths that I doubt many people use either on bike or foot, as well as some fun singletrack through the woods that judging by the tyre tracks, someone else nearby has found before me ;) Not the kind of trails you'd make a big journey to get to, but fun in their own way, and sometimes it's just nice to get out on your own and explore, for a different sense of adventure than you get just following the same trails you always ride.

Since my last big riding day, it's been Christmas...  

Christmas tree full of 30 years worth of homemade childhood decorations...

 Christmas is not an easy time of year when you’re not in a relationship, and even more so when you have lost someone very close to you. You are surrounded by TV and radio adverts, billboard signs, song lyrics, shop banners, that seem to bombard you with the message of how it’s the time of year to celebrate with your loved ones, buy presents to show them how much you care for them, snuggle up through cold dark winter nights…it makes you feel incredibly alone, because if you believe the marketing hype, that’s what everyone else in the world except you is doing. It’s even harder when you can remember feeling excited, happy, and full of that festive cheer in years past, but no longer do now.

I’d been trying to avoid the “Christmas spirit” if I’m honest…it was easy last year in Tenerife as I was busy working during the days leading up to Christmas, had no TV on which to witness the deluge of cheesy adverts, and because I was living near the beach, it didn’t feel like Christmas at all. Christmas day was inevitably hard, but I spent the day running, sunbathing, eating pizza and generally glad I was on my own and could take the time to take myself off and think of Gareth, cry a little, and remember good times together.

This year, I managed to avoid it until the last minute by keeping busy, travelling to see friends, riding my bike, and the fact that I don’t watch TV, listen to radio, and hate shopping so never go into town! But there's only so long you can avoid the fact that it's Christmas...

Two years on from losing Gareth, I still can’t get used to waking up alone, and on Christmas day, this feels really hard, when it feels like everyone else is waking up next to the one they love, and celebrating happiness, love, and being together, it only reminds me how alone and lost I feel without Gareth.

I felt the most down that I have for ages when I woke up on Christmas morning, it took a couple of hours after waking up before I could stop myself from crying and head downstairs to see my family. It was hard as I wanted to make an effort to feel happy and cheerful for their sake, because they all support me so much, and I am so grateful and thankful for the fact I have such a wonderful loving family, but I just didn’t feel like I know I should have. I was on the edge of tears all day as I constantly thought of Gareth and Christmases spent together, and what he’d be saying or doing if he was still here. It’s just so empty and quiet without him at family occasions such as that, and I feel like part of me is missing too. I was thoroughly spoilt with some lovely presents from my family, my mum and sisters cooked a delicious meal with one of my dad’s home grown Turkeys, we had a nice walk to the pub, and I had so many reasons to be cheerful, surrounded by them all….but I just felt empty and numb, the opposite of all the things everyone tells you you should be feeling at Christmas.

As soon as the day was over, it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders…I didn't have to try and be overly happy and festive, and as hard as it was, I’d survived another Christmas day without Gareth.

I know as soon as the presents and Christmas dinner were over he’d have been thinking about plans for New Year activities, we always used to go biking, skiing or climbing up in Scotland for a week together over New Year. This year I’m doing the same....turning my thoughts to my next plans. Tomorrow I’m setting off for the long drive out to the Alps, where I’ll have a week of fun around La Grave with Jake and Lucy and friends, and then a month in Chamonix for as many winter adventures as I can pack in J To say I am excited would be a gross understatement….!

It won't be as green as this but I'll be seeing you soon Chamonix :)

 Here's to 2014, to a New Year of adventures, fun, health and happiness to all my friends and family, and massive thanks as always for your continued love and support.

And as always, here's to Gareth, who wherever he is, inspires me everyday, gives me strength and courage when I need it, and reminds me that everyday should be lived like there's no tomorrow...x

Gareth ski touring in the Cairngorms

Julia's First Enduro!

Despite guiding all summer on one of the most well-known Enduro format races, and spending May to October in an area famous for being the birthplace of Enduro racing, with races nearby almost every other week, I’d never actually raced myself until late November this year.

Photo/Banner: Gordon Mackintosh

I’d seen and heard about the Dudes of Hazzard enduro race up in Scotland from a few friends who’d raced last year, and I liked the sound of the relaxed social atmosphere, and the chance to ride some more trails around Kinlochleven. I passed through here on the West Highland Way when I rode from Lands End to John O groats last year, and the descent down to the little town nestled at the foot of the Mamore hills and the head of the loch, was one of the best of the trip, so I was keen to see what else the area had in store.

I’d been wanting to enter an Enduro race for a while, just never had chance, most of the races are throughout the summer when I’ve been working. As a bit of a “Jack of all trades, master of none” I thought Enduro racing might suit me quite well…I’m reasonably fit, good at pedalling, and have a good amount of endurance, and I can ride most stuff technically ok, with a reasonable amount of speed. I’m no Cross Country whippet, or Downhill machine, but I’m ok at both. Plus, I like the opportunity to push myself in different ways, and racing every so often is always a good way to do that! Most of all, they just sounded like great fun!

Stage start and finish signs - Dudes of Hazzard style!

The format was 3 timed predominantly downhill special stages, linked by 3 rideable climbs as liaisons. Overall the distance was only about 25km, but with over 1000m climbing, and punishing, technical descents, that was a deceptive distance. Saturday was open practice day on the three trails, and Sunday race day, so effectively, most people, including me, did the full route twice, as there were no short cuts to reach the top of the stages…you had to pedal the full route to get to them, meaning you were only like to ride each one once.

I decided to get out early on Saturday, as the weather looked set to worsen during the day. The great thing about this race format, is you get to meet and chat to people during the practice day, and on the liaisons, as there’s no time pressure, and I was soon pedalling alongside a group of guys from Wick, chatting about bikes, trails, bike holidays, the weather, all sorts, as we headed up to the start of one of the stages.

That stage, (number 2, the furthest away so I wanted to practice it first) was called “The Kennels”, no idea why, and was the longest of the 3 timed sections, but definitely my favourite. It started off straightforward enough, rocky, a few drops, nice corners, couple of drainage ditches to hop over, but soon became increasingly difficult, with multiple deep, rutted, rubbly lines, front-wheel-sinking boggy drops, slimy rock slabs covered in greasy off-camber tree roots..it was brilliant J To end with, there were some muddy, slippery switchbacks…such a good trail. There was no point in trying to remember specific lines…it was too long and there were too many options to remember for the race run, so I just enjoyed the run down, feeling like I was riding pretty smoothly.

Slippy-slidey rocks on stage 2! Photo: Alba In Focus

Stage 3, Sook’s Pipes was next, and it couldn’t have been more different! I witnessed about 3 people go swan-diving over their bars within 10 m of the start, and I’m sure many more followed. The reason was a deceptively deep patch of moss covered bog, lurking at the bottom of a steep roll-in, ready to catch out anyone who hadn’t thrown their weight off the back of the bike to prevent the front wheel from nose diving. I silently thanked those 3 poor riders in front of me for alerting me to the fact it was there! The first half of the stage was all like this…boggy, super-slippery, sketchy riding, with tight turns around trees ready to grab your handlebars if the mud sent you skidding slightly off your line. It was carnage…there were people lying in piles of mud and heather all the way down! I managed to stay on my bike for most of it, and then the bottom half had a flat-out pedally section, into some nice smooth-ish gravel trail. I finished and immediately predicted I would spend more time falling off my bike in the race during that stage than on it!

No expense spared on the race signage ;) Photo: Andy McCandlish

By the time I got to stage 1,The Grey Mare’s Tail, it was grim, the rain was horizontal, in a way that only Scotland seems to be able to provide, and you had to pedal directly into the wind and the rain. The trail was loose rubbly rock, which resembled riding in a deep stream there was that much water in it. Further down, it became steeper and rockier, and threw in a couple of technical rock garden corners, that I decided I was quicker jumping around than the speed I could ride them!

I was glad to get back to the race base at the Ice Factor Climbing Centre, where hot showers, bacon rolls and mugs of tea awaited J. Conveniently my van was parked up for sleeping in the car park, so I stayed and chatted to a few other racers at Saturday night’s party before being able to crawl into my cosy van and get a good night’s sleep ready for race day.

Sunday dawned dry but very cold, and with a start time of after 10am, it was hard to drag myself out from a 4 season down sleeping bag, even though I could hear the Red Bull Truck playing music and people getting ready to set off. When I eventually did, and started to get ready, I learnt the first of many lessons that I would take away from the day…

Lesson 1: It is wise when racing over 2 days in Scotland in Winter, to bring 2 full changes of kit….including shoes and knee pads, so you don’t suffer on day 2!

Pulling on almost frozen, heavy-with-water knee pads, and putting my feet into sodden cold shoes was grim, and my feet failed to warm up all day! Not a good start!

We were set off in groups of about 8, at 3 minute intervals, with alternate groups going to stage 1 or stage 3 first…the idea being to spread the field out and minimise the chance of everyone queuing at one stage. Our group naturally split after a while as we all had different paces that we were comfortable to climb at..unfortunately on stage 1, I spent a bit too long riding at a pace that was too slow for me, and therefore I was barely warmed up, and shivering with cold hands and feet by the time I reached the start of the timed stage…..(although I had made some new friends!)

A rider on the stream crossing of stage 1 Photo: Alba In Focus

I was also suddenly REALLY nervous. I’d had a couple of messages from friends who were seasoned Enduro experts the day before with some pro tips: Don’t tense up because you’re against the clock, ride smooth, stay loose and relaxed on the bike…..all of which I forgot as soon as my timing chip beeped at the start L

I rode terribly….I was nervous, tense, making mistakes on every section, crashing multiple times, then scrabbling around trying to get back on the bike, conscious of being timed, and also of being caught by the person setting off 30 seconds behind me. I found bits which I’d cruised through in practice really difficult, and then crashed on the last corner in front of lots of people watching, and spent about 20 seconds repeatedly falling over as I couldn’t get onto my feet on the muddy slippery hill! And then to top it all off, I couldn’t find my timing chip under my jacket to “check-out” of the stage and stop the clock,(I was looking on the wrong arm…) and when I did, I was holding it in the wrong place on the timing box, so it failed to register for another 10 seconds! I felt rubbish…I knew I could ride so much better than that, I felt like a complete beginner with the number of crashes I’d had and mistakes I’d made. More lessons to learn…

Joe Barnes shows how it should be done on stage 1

Lesson 2: Make sure your timing chip is secure, easily accessible, and most importantly you remember which arm it’s on, so you can end your timed stage when you ACTUALLY finish, and not 10 seconds later!

Lesson 3: Calm down, relax, and ride smoother and slower to go faster!

After a slightly faster paced ride up to stage 2, I felt a bit better, and had been chatting to a guy who’d had an even worse run than me, puncturing right at the start, and then having to run down because his pump was broken, after he’d already replaced the tube! I was determined to just enjoy this stage, forget I was being timed, and just ride it as though it was a test to ride as smoothly and stylishly as possible. And apart from one more small lesson learned, I did J I whooped off drops, held my speed round corners, took good lines through the technical sections and ruts, and was slick with dibbing my timing chip in and out at the start and end of the stage. 

Not me, but another rider enjoying the amazing views, cracking riding, and muddy fun of stage 2. Photo: Andy McCandlish

I was grinning from ear to ear by the time I’d finished, completely out of breath from the sprint to the finish, and having to peel my hands off the bars they were so pumped after 7 minutes of fast technical downhill riding. I felt like I’d been super smooth and relaxed, and hadn’t thought about being timed at all, I’d just enjoyed riding the trail in one go, as fast as I could. The only way I would have been faster, was if I’d known lesson 4, before starting.

Lesson 4: If someone asks if they can go in front of you whilst you are queuing at the start of a timed stage, unless you know they are a pro, or have seen them riding and know they are a lot faster than you, then you should not feel intimidated and say yes.

Unfortunately, after feeling pretty rubbish at the end of stage 1, when the two guys behind me asked if they could start stage 2 before me, I assumed it was because they must be really good, and as I didn’t want to hold anyone up, I agreed. Stupid really, as they didn’t ask any of the blokes in front of me if they could go past them too…they’d just assumed that because I was a girl, I was going to be slow and get in their way. Actually it was exactly the opposite. I caught the one who’d started 30 seconds in front of me after a couple of minutes, and spent 20 seconds or so waiting for him to find a spot to pull over and let me past while he continued to mince his way down the course, then caught his friend who’d started a minute ahead, not long after him. He was even slower, but fortunately I spotted a cheeky inside line on a corner and pulled off an overtaking manouvre that Gareth would have been proud off (he was renowned for his cheeky “race tactics”). I was a bit frustrated with myself for letting myself be intimidated, and ultimately, losing a bit of time because of them, but also secretly smug that I hope they were feeling stupid for assuming I was slow, and gutted for being overtaken by a girl…ha!

Anyway, then it was on to stage 3, where having started in one of the last groups, I was one of the last people to go down. This was where I learnt lesson 5.

Lovely Scottish bog...not sure it's great for bike components though! Photo: Trev Worsey

Lesson 5: If there is a particularly boggy, slippery, muddy stage, and during practice day it rains heavily whilst 350 people are riding down it, then that is probably the reason people are choosing to go to that stage first on race day.

I hadn’t really thought it’d matter what time I started, or what stage I did first, so I’d not requested a start time, or stage preference like some people in the know had. But when I got to the start of stage 3, I soon realised my error. It was unlike anything I have ever seen, including the infamous 24 hour race at Mtn Mayhem that I did, which until now, held the record for muddiest race ever. You could even see it from the other side of the hill as you pedalled up…tape marking out a wide black streak all the way down the hillside. No pictures could show how bad it really was…it was so bad it was funny. In fact it was completely ridiculous! 

Stage 3 mud...this wasn't even the worst bit! Photo: Andy McCandlish

For the whole of the first half of the stage, the track varied between a sheer, super slippery mud slope with no way of braking or gaining any traction, unless you hit a tree, interspersed with sections of shin deep bog, usually at the bottom of the steep sections, so that anyone who was riding ended up being thrown over the bars when their front wheel stuck solid in the bog. As the day had progressed, racers had obviously ridden wider and wider within the tape, desperately seeking a less boggy, more rideable line, but by the time I got there, there was no-where left to ride! I ended up running/bum sliding down most of it, and was even complimented by a few spectators that I had been one of the fastest down that particular section because I hadn’t even tried to ride it!!! Anyway, after this, there was a lung-burning flat out pedal on a flat gravel track, followed by some quite nice swoopy fast trail to finish. When I did finally get to the end, all I could do was lie down and laugh at how crazy a stage it was.

I was glad to have survived the event in one piece, and actually, after the disappointment of letting my nerves get to me on the first stage and riding so badly, I’d had a brilliant day. I had no expectations of having done very well in the results after all the crashes, bum sliding, timing chip faffing, slithering about trying to get back on my feet after coming off etc, but I didn’t actually care! In the end, there had been a fault in one of the timing boxes, so no-one knew the results for a couple of days, and it was actually really nice not knowing, and instead just being content with having had just about the most amount of fun I think I’ve had at any kind of race before, regardless of the results J

I eventually came 6^th in the women’s, which wasn’t as bad as I thought I’d have done, and quite encouraging given how much time I know I’d have saved from all the totally amateur mistakes I made, without even riding any faster! I will definitely be entering some more Enduro races, and almost certainly going back to next year’s Dude of Hazzard Enduro if I get the chance! And hopefully remembering what I’ve learnt from my first Enduro experience!