Into the void

This image channels two blippers whose work I particularly admire. Earthdreamery makes a remarkable speciality of isolated trees, and Arachne has been exploring the possibilities of coloured images that appear to be in black and white.

My objective today was to get up into the 'snow zone' by ascending the nearest (quite modest) mountain, Mynydd Dinas, which overlooks the coast nearby. As I climbed the weather grew greyer by the minute, the view towards the sea became obscured by cloud and on approaching the rocks at the summit the air filled with swirling snowflakes. It was a white-out, I could see nothing at all. After a few minutes the blizzard eased and I had no trouble getting down to the mountain road and heading home with sodden boots and a very damp dog. It was no great feat of climbing in all honesty.

Over Christmas 1913 my father, aged 21, took part in the first winter climb of the Dom, at 4545 m (14,911 ft) the third highest peak in the Alps. I believe that the achievement is recorded in the annals of the Swiss Alpine Club, of which he was a member. Some years ago I transcribed his short account of the climb in the 'Dom summit log' on the internet but since that now seems to have disappeared I thought I would record what he wrote about it here. (He was climbing with another experienced alpinist, Captain Lawrence Bird, and two local guides, the Summermatter brothers.)

We have performed the greatest feat of the season, namely climbed the Dom... they are going to put it in the papers. By God, it was cold, we had to take great care not to get frozen so had to move about all the time. We started from the hut at 5.45 and got to the top at 1 o/c. About 10 minutes rest, no more all that time. There was snow up to our waists in places and on the arête there was a fearful wind... We had to cut steps all the way... the rocks were awful being covered in ice, in one place there was a frightfully steep wall of ice. Coming down, an avalanche nearly fell on top of us, also I, who came third, fell into a crevasse... I must say it was a very unpleasant experience. I was walking along when suddenly I felt myself falling and found myself quite inside a huge crevasse hanging on the rope. It was about 500 metres deep and of blue ice. One could hear a roaring noise at the bottom. I was quite easily held by Capt. Bird and the guide.

This year will be the centenary of my father's winter climb. I'm sure it's been done many times since but probably not with the old-fashioned Mallory-style tweed and leather gear that climbers had to rely upon back them. At least the rope held - otherwise I wouldn't be here now!