Ever become endangered on the mountains or moors?

[hannah_f]

Have you ever been endangered on the moors or mountains? I'm a final year university student at Sheffield Hallam and I'm doing some research into mountain rescue and the problems people run in to on mountains, hills and moors. If you could tell me if you've ever run into problems that would be great! If you have what problems were they? How did you deal with them? How did you feel? and did you have to call out a mountain rescue team?

 

Thanx for all your help

[happyjed]

Me and my ex had a bit of an incedent in the lake district a few years ago.

We had done a few walks that were rather easy so I decided to do something a bit more challenging, I bought a guide book for the most chalenging walks in the lakes. I picked 'hellsvelen' (dont think thats hows its spelt) it pointed out that the last section called striding edge was more of a climbe. Anyway long story short the weather came in, we had no proper equipment just trainers and light coats. eventually in the wind and rain made it to the top but it was that foggy we could not see anything, we then realised we did not know where we came up from so basically we were lost!! ended up seeing a path and taking it just to get off the mountain as there was not much daylight left. unfortunatly the path took us straight over the mountain, the car was on the oposite side! We managed to get a lift around from a guy who was doing the walk the next day.

He told us that people had fallen off the mountain in this weather in the past and been killed.

The situation we were in only sunk in having a pint later on.

 

If I ever do anything like that again I'm gonna get proper gear, check the weather and make sure I know where I'm going.

[SHsheff]

I've had cause to meet some of the Mountain Rescue people in Snowdonia. The tales they tell (somewhat scornfully, tbh) of the folk they've had to risk their lives for (or, certainly, give up HOURS of their free time for) to 'rescue' have made me n' my walking buddy overly cautious! I NEVER walk without a full pack including sufficient food, water, first aid eqpt, full navigation eqpt (depending on where we're walking etc) and a whole host of other 'essentials' including the wherewithall to make a fire. We also have an amount of knowledge and experience that I trust will, under foreseeable circumstances, will be sufficient to see us thru' most walks.

 

I'd like to think that the only time we'd have to be rescued is if one of us suffered for eg a broken ankle - and, even then, the other would be able to give an accurate map reference and the injured party would be encompassed within a survival blanket etc.

 

Sure, it's over-kill on most walks. However, when the weather suddenly changes and the clouds or snow move in, you do realise that it's a potentially serious situation. It can all change so quickly.....and then, it can truly be a life or death situation. Casual walkers don't always realise that.

 

So, in answer to the question, nope! Tho I'm sure if you get in touch with the Mountain Rescue people throughout the country, you'll get loads of tales. But I'm sure you've done that already.

[Cis_H]

I would echo what SHShef had to say - be prepared!!

I remember when I was younger and would go walking with the family - we would always carry map and compass, full wet weather gear and plenty of supplies (Kendal Mint Cake!!) - and one day we set off to climb Scafell Pike (Lake District). It was a warm sunny morning and my younger sister was moaning about her pack and asking 'why should I be carrying all this waterproof gear - its a nice day?'

Well, by the time we got 2/3 of the way up it was snowing!! She was pretty glad of the extra gear then. Goes to show how quickly it can change.

Also, when we got to the top, we found people asking us where the path we were on had come up from - there was zero visibility, thanks to the snow and fog and because the rock up there is iron-bearing, compasses didn't work properly. We made darn sure we knew which path to head down on!

 

We never needed rescuing - Scariest moment we ever had was also on Helvellyn (I think thats the right spelling?) - a thunder storm came right overhead as we were on the last bit of path to the top, which is pretty exposed - and there was a flash of lighhtning with a pretty much simultaneous roll of thunder and something made us jump, in a tingly sort of way. Mum and Dad rekoned the tops of their heads were warm after....

 

Cheers

Cis

[redrobbo]

I count myself as an experienced mountain walker, and have spent several weeks a year for over 30 years in Snowdonia indulging in my passion for the mountains. But once, about a dozen years ago now, even I made an error of judgement.

 

One April day, I was taking a 14yr old lad and a 21yr. old man on an ascent of Cadair Idris. Both were inexperienced mountain walkers. Dark, black clouds were hovering on the mountain top. We took a short cut around the hidden lake, and took the unofficial route up an exceptionally steep climb. This cuts out a much longer climb. However, there was a huge snow overhang when we reached the ridge, and we had to punch our way through it. Once on the ridge, we were in falling snow.

 

Although only a short distance to the summit, my instinct was to descend due to the poor weather conditions. My companions expressed severe disappointment, and I was persuaded, against by better judgement, to head for the summit. Despite the lying snow, this was reached within about 15 minutes, and so we went inside the stone shelter to eat our food and drink some warming soup.

 

Ten minutes later, we emerged to discover the snow was now a blizzard. All trace of the footpath and our footsteps in the snow had been obliterated. Sky and land merged into one - and I realised we were in what is known as a 'white-out'. It is a frightening experience, and I was fully aware that anyone of us, or even all of us, could so easily walk off a precipice on that mountain, of which there are many.

 

Fortunately, I am extremely familiar with Cadair Idris, and knew the route down, using boulders and rocks as well-known identifiers. We descended to where we had come through the snow overhang. However, it was too dangerous to attempt a descent via that route. The only way down was to ascend another summit, cross behind it, and take a twisting path down to the hidden lake...... and safety.

 

The 21yr old panicked. We argued. In the howling winds and icy blasts of snow, he believed that the only way to get off the mountain was to keep going downhill. I could not make him understand that our only way to safety was first to go up another summit. To him, this was completely illogical. He was scared. So scared that he told us to go our own way, and he would head off downhill. I knew that his route would eventually lead to steep cliffs, and almost certain death. Despite my pleas, he set off.

 

What to do? I had the safety of a 14yr old in my charge to consider. The white-out was truly frightening, and yet I believed I had sufficient skill and knowledge of the mountain - even in those horrendous conditions - to get us to safety. But only if we all kept together. And that golden rule determined my reaction. We followed him.

 

As we struggled through deep snow, getting more and more exhausted, I told him that we would reach a fence, but to climb over it and continue going downhill would be fatal - as it was there to protect sheep from the nearby cliffs. Although I could not persuade him to return to the route we should have been taking, I did gain his agreement that if we did indeed reach a fence, he would listen to my suggestions of how we could get safely down the mountain..... by going back up it!

 

I hadn't actually ever seen this fence - as I'd never walked in that direction before! But I was aware of a fence descending from the summit that we needed to reach, and that it guarded sheep from a cliff. So it was a calculated gamble that we would indeed reach a fence. And we did! The fence provided my companion with some sense of security, and the fact that I had been proved correct in predicting the existence of the fence made him realise that I did indeed know Cadair Idris. We were incredibly tired tramping through deep snow. We were still exposed to biting winds, and the fast falling snow stung your face like hailstones in the blizzard. Heaven and earth merged into one white blanket. We followed the fence, going uphill.

 

We were now a long way off our route. It was a hard slog, but eventually we reached the summit, crossed the style, and began our descent. Soon we were in the lee of the mountain, where we were sheltered from the appalling winds, and the snow turned to rain.

 

We eventually reached the car, feeling incredibly tired, footsore, wet and hungry, but alive. We knew we had been close to death by literally walking off the mountain top, or through exposure. It was a salutory experience for all of us, but especially for me. We had all the correct footwear, socks, wet weather clothing, food and drink, First Aid kit, thermal blanket, whistle, torch, etc. And yet we were caught in sudden and unexpected weather conditions - even though we had obtained a mountain-top weather forecast (which was proved wrong!) before setting off.

 

Mountains are dangerous places in the wrong conditions and if you've not got the right gear. I learned an additional lesson on Cadair Idris on this occasion - if it starts snowing, get off the mountain straight away!

[garydickson]

I can sympathise with Redrobbo - white outs can be really scary, just try walking to the shops with your eyes closed and you'll get the gist of it if you've never been stuck in one before.

I've been in one or two in my time, but always been lucky enough to know the hills well and where I was at the time.

 

 

Anyway, probably the closest I've been to danger was also leading some novice winter walkers (experienced in summer though) in Glen Coe. At the end of a long day it was just starting to get dark just as we started to descend the mountain. One guy had trouble with a crampon that kept coming off (my bad, I should have checked it fitted before setting off) and the lass was panicing about not getting back before dark, started crying and ran off down the mountain! I was stuck in the middle trying to get them both down (a grade 1 gully) safely. I caught up with the one that ran off, calmed her down and we both went back up to the one with crampon problems (felt safer leaving alone him as he was slightly more experienced) and took our time coming down in the dark. I could and should have managed the party better, and I think that was the biggest danger - lesson learned.

 

 

I've had some friends been involved in mountain rescue callouts, they were climbing a multipitch route in Snowdonia, but started late after spending all morning in a cafe! (Pete's Eats :-) Anyway, by the time they got to the top of the climb it was dark and they got stuck on a ledge with no torch, no overnight kit. Luckily they were so late, MR got called out for them and they were lead off safely. There used to be a report on the incident on Ogwen valley MRs website (http://www.ogwen-rescue.org.uk) but it seams to have disappeared (shame it was useful to embarrass my friends :-)

[redrobbo]

Seems garydickson and myself have both experienced similar problems on the tops due to one of our party throwing a wobbly.

 

A few years ago, whilst doing a traverse of the Glyders and Tryfan with two friends and my son, I twisted my ankle. It wasn't broken or sprained, but it was painful to put weight on it. My companions provided me with shoulder-lifts, but progress was very slow. We got off Tryfan in complete darkness - but completely safe.

 

They say that the Rhinogs are the toughest mountains in Wales, and I agree. Four times I have attempted the southern range, always starting with Rhinog Fawr, but never got further than the red ridge, before bad weather closed in from Cardigan Bay, and we've had to descend.

 

The worst occasion was when I was walking with 14 yr old Alistair. We got to the tops of Rhinog Fawr, Rhinog Fach and Y Llether, when yet again the weather turned, and we were soon in low cloud and driving rain. Aware that the weather was going to turn, we had begun our descent toward Maes-y-garnedd farm, where my car was parked. The light soon faded as we got caught in the darkening clouds. The rain pelted down (so much for the weather forecast which had predicted rain the next day!). We were using a waterproof map, but I misread it, and realised my mistake when we unexpectedly came upon a large bog! That made a long detour necessary, and it was then apparent that we probably wouldn't get down before nightfall in the atrocious weather conditions we were experiencing.

 

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, a gap appeared in the clouds, and in the distance, we could see the farm lights. This was a bonus, and so we then just headed in that direction, although the cloud had once more encircled us. We reached the car safely and without incident.

 

We had been severely delayed, and could not reach our holiday cottage before the agreed time of 21.00hrs. We stopped at a phone box and rang Dolgellau police station to report who were were, and that we were safely down off the Rhinogs. Our companions back at the holiday cottage were naturally worried for us, and when we failed to return by the agreed time, one of them rang Dolgellau police to report their concerns, and, if necessary, to alert Mountain Rescue. The police were able to reassure them that we were indeed safe and would be back with them later than I had calculated.

 

It is vitally important that someone knows where you are when walking on remote mountains, and that you agree a time by which you should be back. Failing to return by the agreed time should then trigger a call to the local police - who will mobilise Mountain Rescue. Mobile phones can help, but you cannot always guarantee reception when you are on the Welsh peaks.

 

Fed up of never ever managing to reach Diffwys on a traverse of the southern Rhinogs, our party did it as a solo walk last year! It didn't rain!

[garryn]

I’d not been into climbing for long. Time had been spent indoors and doing single pitch routes on Stanage etc. My climbing partner had been at it for a few years, we’d hooked up after his previous climbing partner moved to Wales.

It was suggested that we go to Snowdonia for the weekend and do a few routes out there, this would enable his previous partner and myself to meet.

Various reasons meant our first climb was going to be a multipitch route. 400ft. It was raining, and by the time we reaching the route and the route leader was ready, it was obvious to me we’d be pushing it to complete it by nightfall.

I suggested that the other two do it alone and faster. I’d walk the 30mins back to the car with the superfluous gear. I got persuaded otherwise.

By 9pm the light was disappearing fast. We were on a ledge 3ft wide, 200ft up. My ‘buddies’ couldn’t decide which direction the route went. It was decided we were going to stay the night. My partner had triple goretex clothing, his mate a survival bag. I had the crappest set of waterproofs in existence. My fags were soaked and even if they hadn’t been, my matches wouldn’t have been much good. The fog and chilly breeze came in and I spent the next 6 hours alternating between being still and violently shivering.

4:30 the sun started to rise. It was light but the fog meant you’d got at best 10ft of vision The 2 others were arguing again about which direction the route took. When they asked me what I thought my response was, “I don’t care, just get me off this F*****g rock!”

We descended and started to walk back to the car. My mate started to stride off and within 30 seconds the fog had enveloped him. That left the 2 of us, unfortunately we now got disorientated and wandered round for the next 2 hours til the fog lifted enough for us to actually recognise enough landmarks to find our way back.

 

What did I get out of this? 2 things

1 I’ll not let myself get talked into something I consider unwise again.

2 Guess I can now recognise the onset of hypothermia!

[BrainThrust]

I once nearly fell off Beine Eighe next to Loch Torridan in Scotland when I was mountaineering.

 

We had just completed the final ascent and reached the top of the mountain (in february I'll add). We stopped for something to eat and then realised that visibility was getting slightly worse. This meant that we decided against carrying along the ridge and descending from the other end of it, as we hadn't seen the conditions there and if we got there and it was impossible to get down, we would be in the dark halfway up the mountain.

 

This presented us with another problem though. The final ascent onto Beine Eighe on the way we had gone was very steep and we had no desire to go down that way but we were out of options.

 

As we began to descend from the top of the Munro, we got down about 50 feet before I slipped, I was sliding down a 55 degree snow and ice covered rock slope. One rocky outcrop and i would have had a broken bone at the least. At 55 degrees I knew that my own weight would slow me down to a stop eventually but as to whether that would be before I'd broken my back or fell off the ridge we'd ascended on and down a cliff to a messy end I didn't want to chance it.

 

Now I'd been trained to deal with this but still it doesn't stop your heart stick in your mouth and you panic for a few seconds. After that survival instinct kicked in and I remembered what to do. I was holding my ice axe liked trained and rolled over onto my front, putting all my weight behind it, using my hands really just to direct the point. First time I did this the point didn't stick, either I didn't put enough force behind it or I was unlucky to hit a spot where the snow was deeper than expected. By this time I'd slid maybe down twenty odd feet and was begining to edge to the side off the ridge. I rolled over onto my back and tried to hit in with my ice axe again, once again, it didn't take. I was getting worried now and was tempted to try and put all my weight in the direction away from the edge to try and keep on the ridge and down to the slope about 100-200 feet below which levelled off a lot and I'd stop properly.

 

I gave my ice axe one last try, not really expecting it to take in the mountain. By some chance though, it did. So amazed was I that I hadn't held onto the axe properly this time and it slipped out of my hands, me still sliding down as it stuck fast between two rocks.

 

I panicked here, I'm not ashamed to say, this was scary biscuits but before I had time to fully freaked out my arm was jerked upwards nearly wrenching it off at my shoulder, or so it felt.

 

I'd forgotten Iwas tied onto my ice axe at the wrist. I was now on my back stopped from sliding by a bit of rope. I've never been so thankful for a bit of rope in my life. Obviously I wasn't thinking this at the time as my heart was racing so much I was runnign purely on instinct. I remember I couldn't hear anything as the sound of blood rushing in my ears was so loud.

 

After a few seconds of complete silence and me catching my breath (I don't think I'd actually breathed at any time during my fall). I kicked my crampons back into the ice and began to inch back up to my ice axe, taking most of the weight of my wrist (bruised to black for at least 2 weeks after).

 

After that, there were no more hiccups and I was much more careful on the mountain, almost to the levels of paranoia, our descent became much slower but I'd climbed down the hardest part and nothing else was hard.

 

Wilf