From climbing up mountains to jumping off them
Below the tip of my toes is a 300-metre drop onto the glacier below. My foot is curled over the edge of the rock. Gaining maximum purchase as I push off at a perfect angle, pre-determined by a thousand other jumps. Ingrained into my muscle memory. Practice doesn’t necessarily make perfect, but it does make permanent so I’ve made sure to practice perfectly.
Dawn is just breaking in over the horizon. Zohre is perched on a limestone ledge, hanging out over the abyss, tethered to the wall with an anchor. As I take a photo she is painting her nails. It’s not a vain plight for the instagram followers but a sign of liberty. Out in the mountains she can show her personality. The mountains for most offer freedom, but for Zohre it’s freedom in the most literal sense. The mountains are a place where she can dance, put on her lipstick and wear the clothes that express herself as an individual, such things would be frowned upon in the cities.
DAY 1
We drove for 5 hours over rough tracks, through rivers and over makeshift bridges. Heading deeper into the valleys of the Tien Shan mountains. Each valley led to another, branching off again and again until finally a wide river stood between us and our base camp. We had driven hundreds of kilometres but as the crow flies we were only 50km from our hostel.
It’s fair to say lock down has effected us all. The most important lesson I learnt while serving in the Royal Marines is to adapt, improvise and overcome. My international travel plans and work had been cancelled for the year. I was fortunate to be stuck in Switzerland with it’s lax lock down rules. It was time to focus on the climbs and flights I had my eye on for years but had been too distracted before.
Tonsai is a paradise. Even with the whole world crumbling around us. Anxiety had hit the climbers in Tonsai. Last minute flights were booked in fear of being locked out of their own country. Apart from the wifi connection updating us with the progress of the virus, we were isolated. Disconnected from the world. Instead we spent our time focusing on the moves on a route or meticulously packing our parachutes.
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I was dropped off at the Mozambique/Malawi border by a three strong gang of motorbike riders – I had a lot of kit. Behind the haze huge granite domes loomed in the distance, a seemingly endless amount of granite. I was surprised how swiftly my visa was issued but before both feet left the room I was ushered back in to see a ministry of health representative. After much rustling of papers he mentioned my paperwork wasn’t in order, but five dollars would fix this problem.
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Growing up I was surrounded by sailing. I would walk to nursery along the foreshore listening to the cables slapping against the masts. But while my friends grew up to become national champions and presidents of the local clubs, I instead looked up to the mountains. On ski holidays I would gaze up at the snowy summits and wish to climb them without the use of lifts. As a christening present a family friend promised me a set of sailing waterproofs when I came of age, and on my 21st birthday he reminded me of this offer. Instead I asked for a contribution towards my first parachute.
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You don’t know until you know. I recited this in my head as we walked in the rain and then later as we bivvy’d in the howling wind. At 7am Nick lead the first pitch and the conditions were the best we could have hoped for. The rock quality was superior. The conditions were not going to be an excuse to bail. I knew we were going to complete the route.
Deep water soloing makes me push myself harder than any of the other climbing disciplines. The fear of the fall motivates and gives me the appetite to finish the route. The cold British waters, jellyfish, wet shoes or a redraw back are enough to put me off falling at all. And these are always in the back of my mind, but once I’m focused on the rock and have set aside these fears, I can climb freely and in relative safety without ropes. Though this mindset can sometimes be hard to achieve. The water is a fine line between being a safety net that urges you to climb higher, and at the same time makes you dread falling, as you realize it could mean hitting the water uncontrollably onto your back from 10m. Winded underwater, then coming up spluttering and gasping for air.
Access
Traveling from Stanley to MPA at around mile 22 a prominent crag can be seen on the right.
Description
The quarzite rock is of good quality, lots of top anchors and mostly good protection, tho the routes will probably need cleaning. There is a lot more chance for development in the area the north side of Mount Harriet has some long slab crack climbs, and the south face has some steep climbs with small roofs that could make for some hard routes.
When we first had a chance to climb in the Falklands I did a lot of research and contacted people to see if there any any routes had been recorded, apparently a scrapbook of routes does exist in the Gyms office on the camp, though no-one knows of it now, so for that reason I believe that some of these climbs might have been climbed before, but here is the first record of it online: