CHAPTER 49
It was indeed a learning process, which sounds redundant when talking about being a student, but there are far more things involved in learning than tick-box exams for tightly-defined subjects. It wasn’t just Tref’s porridge milk; both he and Lee needed a little housebreaking, initially in the concept of washing up and then the revelation that homes didn’t come with such things as a Magic Toilet Roll Replenishment Fairy. I will not mention toilet seats.

A housewarming party left a surprisingly large quantity of litter for a thankfully small amount of damage, but none of us were really traditional students in the ‘party on’ manner, so that was one fewer thing to worry about.

The course grew more and more absorbing, and when we started to touch on that ‘mental health’ business, I found myself seeing so much of Mam in the techniques, above all ‘active’ listening and the odd trick of avoiding agreeing with someone while not letting them notice. Alys, for her part, was really hitting the books each evening, and an outsider might have thought the four of us all hated one another, because we spent so much time in our own silent space. Silent, that is, apart from the music playing through our headphones.

We were doing a lot of water-based activities when the wind was right, and Neil’s wetsuit was a godsend for the canoeing and sailing. I learned early on that a vacuum flask of hot coffee or soup was a real pleasure, almost a necessity, because one of the most important things to learn in canoeing is that when you tip over, it is far better to be able to tip back up, rather than dropping out of the thing and swimming it to the bank.

I was also learning to ski, and I think my backside might forgive me some day, but it won’t be soon. I took some time to realise that if I stayed upright when going downhill, the skis went that way quicker than my body. Artificial slopes are painful.

The serious learning took that session with Mr Lewis, where he had stressed the needs of other, weaker climbers, and took it far further. We did sessions on the climbing wall to build up strength and personal technique, but out on the real stuff, which was mostly traditional rock rather than slate, we effectively worked our way through that pair of Bill March books. Ricky, the Brummy lad, summed it up one day.

“Hey, you lot? Remember those things the yachties do? Like a display thing of all sorts of different knots? That’s us, that is!”

I saw exactly what he meant. Knots: fisherman’s, double fisherman’s, figure of eight, prusik (four kinds), bowline, bowline on a bight, double bowline, tape, lark’s foot… Hitches: clove, Italian, Munter…

That last one set all the lads chuckling, so of course, stupid me had to ask why. Lee slipped an arm over my shoulders after he had explained.

“I have a book I will lend you. Comes from up my way”

“Not that Geordie dictionary you showed me?”

“No. This one’s a lot bigger”

It turned out to be a huge extended joke about swearing, and was called ‘The Profanisaurus’. I will say no more about that.

The sessions on real rock could best be summed up as ‘rope and casualty management’. Our instructors weren’t just showing us how to do things right, but what to do if and when said things went wrong. They even had some commercial feature films for us to watch, as a panel of critics. That was fun’; they weren’t like those Dad had shown that evening, with Pete Livesey and the rest, but feature films with big name actors in them. Roger Moore, Stallone, Eastwood, plus a few lesser luminaries, or at least actors on rather lower pay rates, grunted and sort-of-climbed while we sat and noted everything they did that was wrong. When Moore put a Friend into a crack for no discernible reason, Ricky had to strangle his words.

“What the fu… What the hell is he doing with THAT?”

Matt grinned.

“Note it down, lad! Note it down”

We only saw the relevant parts of the films, as Matt happily pointed out that the plots tended to be more than a little simplistic. Lee’s was the next outburst.

“Bloody hell, that’s Agag’s Groove on the Big Buchaille! They’re on a real climb, there”

Matt confirmed the fact, then paused the video.

“Major faux pas here. More than one. Starters for ten? Lee?”

“They’re standing all over the rope. They’ll shred it”

“Indeed. Enfys? Anything else?”

“Um… Yes Is that second actually belayed? She’s not got the rope. Oh, and the leader? He’s just got one anchor”

Matt picked up the remote control.

“Shall we find out?”

I actually felt my stomach lurch at the fall that followed, and then the class went completely to town on the abseiling technique. There was then a clip of some more abseiling, before Matt stopped the film.

“Right, that one has a lot of meat, so I will do a little dissection. Has anyone spotted the impossible bit in the first clip?”

Lee laughed.

“Rather than the stupid bits?”

“I will give you that one. Kerry? You got your hand up first, I think”

“Impossible bit, yes. The leader was on a single anchor, using an indirect belay. He was part of the system. How did he get out of it to abseil?”

“Exactly! Two really important lessons there. More than one anchor is absolutely essential. If one fails, you still have the others. We will be showing you techniques for anchor management, so that it isn’t just one rope clipped into several krabs. It is also good technique, especially when acting as an instructor, to be able to get out of the system. A direct belay is your friend, along with those prusiks or something like an ascendeur—Jumar, shunt, that sort of thing. Now, has anyone any thoughts about where the abseiler ended up?”

Trefor had his hand up.

“He’s below the casualties, he’s on a single rope, I can’t see anything like a Shunt. How’s he going to climb back up to rescue them? And how’s he going to get back to his high point unless he solos it?”

Matt laughed again.

“I think you’ve shredded that one almost as badly as they did the rope. Next one…”

We finished with some buts from a real film of the Eiger Nordwand, and Matt turned a lot more serious.

“This part tends to be painful to watch. They do nothing here, but it was what happened to the first to climb this part of the route that hurts. Now, that polished slab is called the Hinterstoisser Traverse, and what you see here is how it was originally done. Climb up, fix a high anchor, then it’s a pendulum. All clear with that?”

A murmur of agreement, and he advanced the video.

“Now, see this side. There is nowhere to climb up to fix a high anchor, at least not feasible in mixed rock and ice and big boots. The original party got a lot further than that, then had accidents, and had to retreat. They hadn’t left a rope in place for the return pendulum, and they couldn’t climb it. Unsurprisingly, as you can see. They ended up having to abseil multiple times down the face”

Trefor had his hand up once more.

“Did they get down, Matt?”

“No. Last one died twenty feet from rescue. He was called Tony Kurz, and he was only twenty three. That has haunted me since I first read about it, but it is a really vital lesson: don’t go anywhere that you can’t get out of. Same as that belay in the Agag’s Groove one. Options are your friends; keep them open”

It was the first real and official nod to the risks inherent in my sport, and it left wounds. I found myself thinking of that crewmember, foot jammed in the rocks.

I took a long while to get to sleep that night.

As the weather improved, or at least as the rain got warmer, many of our outdoor sessions were devoted to navigation, and not of the kind that involved GPS. The instructors were insistent that we practised with map and compass, as “They don’t need batteries!”, and more than a few times we were deliberately taken up through the cloud base into thick, wet fog, where we practised things like square searches. Apparently, when done in better conditions, students were prone to cheating. How astonishing!

It was absorbing, interesting, and so often fun. I was actually surprised by the arrival of the Easter holidays, when our lives went weird. I was obviously down for working in the bunkhouse, and our landlord was still taking rent, so we still had the place. Trefor wasn’t going home for the break as he was very clear on not wanting to be “stuffed back into the closet. Lee was away home, though, and Alys and I could have done the same, but, un shirt, we were happy where we were. I don’t mean that the house was some palace of wonder, but that we were together, as we needed to be, in our own place.

Each of us had our own licence now, even if mine was a for a bike rather than a car—how else could that be, knowing my family? No way would Dad let me do any serious riding without a full licence, and he had surprised me with a bike to go with it, but made sure it worked.

Each morning, then, I would leave my lover in bed and crank up my Honda to ride home, as I still thought of it, do some housekeeping and light maintenance, and then ride straight past that home to my other one.

I may just have dropped in for dinner now and again, but that was purely manners. Purely.

We did stay over some nights, Alys and myself, because my harp would have pined. I had always loved my time down the Cow, but it wasn’t as much fun that year, as Steph-n-Geoff were on a year’s career break, the lucky sods. She had tried not to gloat when she revealed their plans.

“Sarah’s suggestion, sort of”

“Whose?”

“Friend of ours. Does birdwatching as well”

Alys sat up straighter.

“Tell all, then!”

Geoff put on his nonchalant, mock-whistling pose, the one that meant “Blame Steph, not me” as that one grinned.

“Career break thingy. We have a leave banking system, where we can store up leave for a specific purpose. This is it: we are off to Oz and En Zed”

Alys opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, before settling on a muttered “Lucky sods”, followed by a grin.

“Got the guides? I have, and they are HUGE!”

They settled into discussing bird types, while Geoff and I discussed the overall plan.

“I’m really looking forward to it, Enfys. Four months in each, and we’ll finish the New Zealand bit in their Alps, do some proper snow and ice routes. I might let her watch a few birds. You know, as long as my tea is there on time”

That, of course, triggered one of their mock fights, which never fooled anyone, mainly because neither one could stop grinning. ‘Lucky people’, I thought, and then, as Alys squeezed my hand, ‘that’s four of us lucky, then’.

I found myself thinking of them again when I was down the Cow for the folk night. The older woman, Pat, was there, along with her taller friend, and quite a group of young women and girls and yes, I could clearly see which bus they were on. It was the same odd mixture of cockiness and fear, and the dynamics were suddenly clear to me.

It was some sort of fostering group, the two older women the carers, and while their charges were all the same, some of them were obviously on their first steps out of that closet Tref had spoken of. Smile at Alys, don’t frighten the nestlings, and enjoy the music.

The next surprise was at the bar, where Illtyd collared me.

“Quiet word, love, about that one with the girls”

“Ah?”

“She’s been asking about our red-haired friend. I don’t think she speaks anything but English, but still going to be careful. I think she knew her in her previous identity, if you see what I mean. Owen remembers. HE used to be a regular here for the folk nights, and always pissed, always miserable”

“Doesn’t sound like her”

“Well, she wasn’t herself then, was she?”

“Fair point. What did you tell her?”

“Ah, was the new lad. Made up some bollocks about people coming over and over again, then disappearing. Shut her up, anyway. You might want to let the girl know”