Her Head in the Clouds: Vertical Chill

Vertical Chill

London Friday 13th January

I first spied Vertical Chill back in November. I was killing some time skulking around Ellis Brigham in Covent Garden before a North Face talk featuring Simone Moro and Cory Richards.

"That looks like fun", I thought.

So I made some enquiries and spoke to a couple of fellow tweeters about it...I got some advice...."Don't get an ice axe in your face" (Cheers Colin) and happy that I knew what I was getting into I set about recruiting some friends (Ben, Nick & Richard).

I chose Friday 13th for no other reason than I thought it would be fun. The others weren't too impressed.

"I broke my back on Friday 13th" mumbles Nick.

"My plane had a near miss on Friday 13th" chips in Ben.

"ach...ssssshhhh" I order them.

We gather in t'basement to sign our lives away. No-one bothers to read the small print. Yeah yeah yeah.....just get us on the wall.

A small crowd is beginning to gather around the viewing windows and I suddenly realise that for the next two hours we will be like creatures in a zoo. Marvellous.

We kit up and meet our two fab instructors Ed and Sam.

Poor Ed and Sam have their work cut out with us today. Before we've even entered 'the fridge' the smuttiness and innuendos have begun. They are unable to use such phrases as "follow through" or "make sure you're nice and wide" without their childish students sniggering. I'm sure they both thought that it was going to be a long afternoon.

I don't like my helmet very much (helmet was another no-no phrase!).

I have chubby cheeks and don't want it on too tight. So I perch it on my head and loosen the straps, but Sam says it has to be secure and gets me to pull it tight around my porky jowls making me feel like a sperm. I sulk a little as I know I'm going to look crap in any photos taken. I ask Ben how I look. We've been friends for 16 years and I trust his opinion.

"Honestly?" he gently says.

"Honestly" I repeat.

"You look like a skateboarding squirrel Karen".

Squirrel

Once inside 'the fridge' it's time to climb. Ben and I stare up at the dominating ice wall and it's clear we're thinking the same thing. That this is going to be harder than it looks. A lot harder. But we're used to hard. Just two months previous we scaled Mount San Antonio together at 10,063ft. If we can summit her we can summit an 8 metre wall in London God dammit.

We let Nick and Richard go first and second. They manage it but it's still clear it's not easy. Ben has now decided that he won't be able to reach the top and ring the cowbell.

"Positive mental attitude" I remind him.

And then it's my turn. I'm surprised by the amount of adrenaline charging through my body. Too much methinks, as my arms have suddenly turned to jelly and my legs have gone all wobbly.

I'm aware that the boys are watching and with a steely determination I charge up.

Except I don't charge per se. More of a creaky, wonky, geriatric ascent.

The boys try their hardest to put me off but I'm having none of it. Ice is splintering, my crampons are slipping, my axes are too high, too wide....so I let out a big "Oh F*** off!" and the fridge falls silent. Ha!

I'm about a metre from the cowbell when panic suddenly sets in. I'm thinking too much. Ed is belaying me but he's chatting away to the lads about boy stuff below. I think I hear the word 'tits' and resign myself to the fact that if I slip and fall I shall probably die. And all because of someone else's tits.

But I don't and I ring that old cowbell with full force. Yee haw!

Ben is up next and he does pretty darn good. Very good for someone who says he "stands no chance". He is literally a few feet from the top when he begins to struggle. The fridge falls silent and all we hear are Bens puffs and pants and groans. It's a bit uncomfortable to listen to so Rich breaks the silence with "Ben. Are those your sex noises?"

We laugh but it finishes Ben off, so with an almighty groan (yes it sounded like a sex noise), he pulls out his axe (no pun intended) and sighs "I'm done" (typical man).

I'm gutted that he didnt ring the bell but he knows his capabilities and if he felt he couldn't then so be it. I think he made the same mistake as me and put all his strength into hanging from the axes and didn't trust his crampons. If you place the weight through your core and down through the legs the job almost becomes easy as I found out on my next climb. Flew up that wall I did.

Yeah Baby

The atmosphere is fun though. We take loads of pictures, have plenty of banter and genuinely hit it off with our instructors. We admire Eds axes and recoil at them being £400 per pair. I don't even think my car is worth that.

Richard and Nick tackle the overhang and entertain us using up the last 30 minutes. Richard is last on the wall and about 2/3rds up the tough route when he shouts "whoaaaa"!

We then see the top of the axe falling to earth. He's only gone and broken the bloody axe. The £400 one. So he's suspended up there with one axe and thinking fast of what to do next as his crampons are telling him to move.

I decide to be a smart arse and yell "What would Ueli Steck do?"

He doesn't really respond. More of a smattering of mumbles under his breath that sound a lot like "f*** Ueli Steck, dont give a shit, get me bloody down....." and he is immediately hoisted down....to a big cheer of course.

Before their untimely death

And then it's all over.

Yes I'm aware of his las tminute tit grab!

We're gagging for a drink and dash to the nearest pub to guzzle Guinness whilst bragging at what amazing mountaineers we are. It's time for food and the evening is rounded off perfectly at Wong Kei's in Soho. Famed for being the rudest restaurant in London. Sadly our waitresses are very polite and cater our every whim.

Perhaps they heard some hero mountaineers were in town........