Ben Nevis - Garadh Gully

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I climbed Garadh Gully in spring one year, just before the clocks went forwards. Winter had held on well in the mountains and the climb started with the familiar walk up the Allt a Mhuilinn to the CIC hut where we had the customary break, drink and snack. We then headed up the corrie above the hut, heading first right and then traversing left to the foot of the climb.

A nice snow bank was below the first pitch, and we put on helmets, harnesses, crampons and rope there. I was third and last on the rope. I watched the leader vanish upwards, followed by the second and then realised I was sitting there fast asleep! Finally my turn came and I moved up only to have to stop and take out the ice screw which had been the leaders protection. The next belay was at the top of the initial steep section and proved to be a sling round an enormous icicle, at least 1' diameter. It looked bomb-proof! Once again I was waiting whilst the other two climbed and this was enlivened by another party overtaking, who kindly took my belay of the icicle to get theirs in a better position! I knew I was in a safe place (unless I feel asleep in a big way) but our leader got well and truly wound up about it when I later mentioned it to him.

At last I was climbing again. A short snow slope lead to an steeper icy section. I found the joy of sticking the axes in where I could reach, but all too soon the top of this section was reached leaving a long steep snow slope to reach my two companions. Somewhere on this slope some little men, previously hidden in the snow, started attacking my calves with their little hammer. However, I soon joined the other two and we sat on the snowy Col at the top of the climb for a little while. The setting was grand! Soon it was time to leave. This time I was first down, with our leader at the back. The ground felt good and safe but I had to slow myself down a little so as not to pull at the middle man. By the time we got back down to the CIC hut an age seemed to have passed.

As we walked back to the cars there were some splendid views back towards the Ben. I had made the error of not changing my damp socks for dry ones, so my feet were a bit sore when I arrived at the car. Another great day in the hills had been had.

Later I took a good look at the map and worked out that the top of the climb was higher than many Munros, which combined with a start barely above sea-level accounted for the weariness I felt.