The Gear Spotter: Lowe Alpine Alpine Attack 45:55 Backpack Review

Introduction

I've seen in my time outdoors and in retail that packs, especially small-to-mid size packs are often underanalysed, when in truth they should be the cornerstone of a climber's gear. After all, they carry all your gear to and from the crag or up and down the hill - if they're badly designed or uncomfortable they can turn a good day bad and a bad day utterly awful.

Lowe Alpine is a solid, well-respected brand in the Outdoors world, building packs and clothing (intermittently) since the mid 1970's, drawing on experience gained by the Lowe family in climbing and alpinism. Today it's owned by Equip, a UK based company but still churns out extremely high quality gear for both outdoors people and photographers with their Lowe Pro range. Everything is designed to be sleek, go-faster, no massive frills and functional.

The Review

In use as a daysack on Etive Mor, Jan 2014

This pack has been with me everywhere since I bought it in mid-2013, from simple weekends at music festivals to carrying all my gear in Scotland and Wales. It's been used as a shopping bag and a haul sack, a pillow and a seat,as well as its intdended use as an alpinism pack. And after all this use and abuse over almost a full year, it barely looks used a day. The build quality and resilliance on this is absolutely astounding - even for a Lowe Alpine product. I had an Airzone 35:45 before that started to give way after about a year of continuous use - I've used this the same, if not harder and as I said, it barely looks like it's been taken out of the packaging. It's been used to carry gear and rack for a day on Ben Nevis and everything I need for a weekend's climbing and camping in Froggatt - there's nothing I've thrown at this that it hasn't been able to do.

The overall design of the pack is simple, streamlined and functional - a single large sack, a lid with two pockets and an excellent back system. The back itself isn't adjustable, so I'd recommend trying on in store before you buy - the 45:55 is longer and wider, for larger backs, whilst its smaller 35:45 brother is far more suited to narrower, shorter backs. If that doesn't work, they do a 'women's fit' ND version, try that on for size, it's just harder to find in store. On the standard size fits like a glove and I can honestly say it's never given me any kind of back pain, even with heavy weights and long distances. The straps are a little narrow, especially higher on the shoulder but give good stability when on the move, and the chest strap on the new (2014) version is, I think, far more prone to failure than the tried-and-tested version on my (2013) model but that's the only gripe on the load-bearing system I can think of. I'm yet to find anything that matches it as an alpinism pack. I would have preferred some extra external storage - some pockets or somesutch so I don't have to dive into my actual pack for a thermos or gloves, but I know why they haven't and I can live without them.

The headlocker system in
play - beautiful and simple

The buckle design, whilst not being ground breaking and innovative is extremely strong and effective. Unlike quick-release buckles that tend to have a tendency to fail at the worst time and let all the stuff stored under the lid spill down the side of a crag, the solid metal double-back buckle is absolutely bombproof and even comes in handy as an emergency bottle opener for summit brews! The webbing that makes up the rest of the buckle is solid, as would be expected, but the stitching and attachment points are all absolutely fantastic - almost up to the same kind of standard as used on climbing harnesses, so you can yank it down as hard as you want and it'll just ask for more - a good thing to have in a pack with floating lid capacity.

The lid itself is another work of simplicity and genius - a total floating piece, adjustable to an enormous degree to allow for the stuffing of those jackets, ropes, racks, shoes, small children and baguettes that just won't fit in the main sack. It could be potentially improved by making the lid totally removable without extensive fiddling to act as a simple sack, but that's a tiny gripe for such an impressive pack.

One item of note is the headlocker ice axe attachment system - it's simply brilliant, yet such a simple system that I'm honestly surprised that no one thought about it before. A single attachment bar passes through the leash hole that's found in the head of every axe and two attachments higher up. No matter how technical or simple the axe it'll fit, and it's not going anywhere unless you want it to. Tighten the pack up and the system is tight. Simple but brilliant.

Conclusions

Huge recommendation for the Alpine Attack packs - the one thing I'd say is to check what size you're using at the moment and work out if you need more, less, or the same space. They swallow a surprising amount of kit and when under-loaded the straps can sometimes can lack a bit of adjustment. But for the sheer amount of stuff you can...well stuff into one of these and the load remain stable and comfortable, I'd say it's definitely worth the investment. And just like any gear, look after it and it'll look after you - but this one can take a hell of a beating

Pros

+ Excellent back system for alpinism and climbing - hugs the load to the body

+ Fold-away waist strap padding makes it comfortable with and without harness

+ Headlocker ice axe system is both simple and incredibly effective

Cons

- Simple sack system lacks any exterior pockets

- Shoulder straps are a little too narrow for those with wider backs

For more in the Gear Spotter range of reviews, check them out here

What a difference a year makes

For those of you who have followed this little corner of the internet since its birth, it will be common knowledge that this blog is now a year old. So too is my love affair with climbing. A chilly evening in late January, my boss (at the time) and a measly £25 joining fee and gear rental was all that it took to spawn what is, at its barest an obsession with going up things and being extremely cold.

I would say I've done quite a lot for only a year's climbing - I've gone from top-roping 3's and 4's indoors to comfortably leading 5+ and attempting 6's indoors and  VDiff outdoors. I've gone from absolutely no knowledge of technique both technical and physical, to at least a solid base understanding of knots, their uses, weight transfer, footwork, body positioning, crampon use, ice axe technique and all the other things fundamental to climbing and mountaineering. I can build a safe belay and bring up a second, rig a recoverable abseil and use it safely, I can front-point, plunge step, (just about) climb Scottish mixed and navigate my way off a mountain relatively safely.

In the mountains I've experienced the highs and the lows - from seeing the sun rise over the Western Highlands from 500m up Etive Mor to suffering debilitating wind and rain on the summit of Glydr Fawr. I've learned success is never guaranteed - you're at the mercy of the mountain, the weather and your own physical condition. Self-reliance is a huge part of climbing - knowing that you set that bomber anchor, you placed that cam properly, you tied those knots right. There can be no space for 'that'll do' or 'I hope this works'. It must be perfect every time. The responsibility is huge, lots of the time even as a second you're attached to another human being by two dozen meters of 11mm dynamic kernmantel climbing rope, and if you fail for a split second that could be game over. It also teaches you maturity - the mountains are no respecter of manliness or drive - if it's time to back off you pay attention and listen. It's not a game for those of a nervous disposition.

The people I've met have been amazing - from building a solid friendship with Charlie, my climbing partner (who will hopefully start to contribute to this place soon enough...) to industry reps, professional climbers and enthusiastic amateurs. Being a climber is like being in a massive extended family - everyone knows what you've been through or are going through, or are looking to you for guidance. Everyone has a story and most everyone is willing to share. Even those not of the climbing fraternity, but those who support them like the lovely staff at Pete's Eats in Llanberis or the lovely couple who put us up for a whole weak in Strathssynt, Glencoe. Everyone has a part to play and I can say I'm very glad I got to meet them.

It's also shown up flaws in myself - arrogance, impatience, lack of physical condition and a penchant for obsession I didn't know I quite had. Before I started climbing I would occasionally browse motorcycle websites, glance at properties to rent or browse 9gag. Now my internet history is filled with endless climbing blogs, route plans, gear offers and inspirational videos. Hardly a day goes by when I don't think 'hey, that looks fun to climb', even wandering around the artificial landscape of London. I'm forever annoying Charlie with pipe dreams of Alpine glory or a daring first ascent in one of the unconquered ranges that still exist in the world. He quickly brings me back to reality but it doesn't last long - I'm soon dreaming again.

I've been climbing for a year and I've had a wealth of experiences that some climbers wouldn't have in their entire lives - indoor, midlands gritstone, bomber indoor ice, patchy neve, powdery welsh windslab and slabby scottish mixed. The plans for the future go even further and farther afield - Finnish waterfall Ice, French Granite and hopefully even some Alpine routes. The training is upped, but so is the interest - I've gone from having a casual interest to seriously considering this as a career. I could quite happily spend the rest of my life going up and down mountains in all conditions and sharing that with anyone who wanted to listen. There are even first steps of that happening already.

I hope you've enjoyed being with me on the trip so far, and I hope you'll continue to follow me for a long time to come. It should be a blast.

Winter in Wales - Glydr Fawr and Crib Goch

There's an old adgage that I've stuck by all through my time in the outdoors, one my father told me. "Any fool can rough it, but it takes a skilled man to make himself comfortable in any situation." This has resonated with me; where others will take only the bare essentials and suffer the consequences, I've been happier to carry a little extra weight for a lot of extra comfort.

However, there are times when even the most prepared man has to rough it. I had to do it, in driving horizontal sleet on Glydr Fawr. In winter. Boy was I roughing it.

The storm that the UK's been suffering for several months showed it's teeth whilst we were there - on our first day we started out on a bleak, damp midwinter's day which quickly developed into the worst conditions I've ever experienced on a mountain. Horizontal, 45 mile an hour driven sleet, rain and hail greeted us in different stages. The wind was just about bearable, but me and Charlie are both 100+kg and it was giving us difficulties, especially on the higher slopes. Whilst it didn't make the ascent any fun per se, it did make it a challenge. Even putting crampons on was sketchy, as everything threatened to get blown over the ridge line at a moment's notice. It was even windy enough to affect the outcome of an HDR shot I took of the mountain.

After we crossed the snowline (which was only around 200m below the summit) the ascent got nice and fun.
With crampons on we tramped up the approach slope, careful to give a wide berth to the cornice sat in the nearby saddle. It wasn't technical, it wasn't difficult but it felt fun to front-point up the last of the slope, haul myself up onto the summit ridge and then tramp the last few hundred meters up to the summit.

The decision on the summit was that we really didn't want to hang around - when you have to bellow to be heard and can barely open your eyes because you've got vicious winds being driven at you, you don't want to hang around on the most exposed bit of mountain. Not to mention we were both soaked to the skin having forgotten to bring waterproof trousers. We thought we'd make a swift descent to the car, dry socks and warmth. Charlie, being more sure on his feet than me in the deep powder snow we were encountering trotted down rapidly, whilst I took the slow, steady 'plunge step' approach.

All in all, though, it only took us 3 hours to go up and down a 1001m mountain - a massive improvement on my pace from Scotland, which is a positive. However we were absolutely drenched - I had pools of water in my boots and I stretched my softshell trousers beyond their elastic limit - they went all baggy! I'll tell you something for free - the drying room at the hostel was very well used that night, and I was very, very thankful we decided to stay in a hostel rather than camp. We'd have had a mare of a time if we'd done that...

Day 2 was to be a winter repeat of a route we'd done the last time we were here - the Crib Goch route up Snowdon. Whilst you might say what's the point, it's something you've already done, it's a totally different undertaking when covered by a thick blanket of snow and blasted by icy winter winds. Especially when that snow is poor condition, thick, deep and exhausting. Much of it was the same, yes - but much of it was different, and it was an interesting approach. It took longer than last time, and we had some whiteout, which was an interesting experience. Everything just dissappears and you lose all perspective of distance, space or even direction - thankfully I had a massive yellow lump to follow who knew the ridge and the line we had to take. At least there was one of us...


The walk off Snowdon, however, was the most difficult bit of the day. The snow was terrible - incredibly deep and seemingly hollow underneath - me and Charlie both repeatedly fell into the snow up to our crotches, but only one leg at a time, so the other would fold comically underneath us as we struggled to use our axe and hands to stand up. I even snagged some pleasant holes in my softshells, including putting my front points through the back of my knee, which wasn't too much fun. It's just another thing to buy, I guess...

All in all though, this trip was more a battle with poor conditions and exhaustion than a technical challenge, orfun per se. But hey, you've got to have the bad days to make the good ones worth it. Hopefully a period of calm some time in the next month or so will allow us to have some fun before this winter season ends. Having said that though, a good portion of me is excited for a summer's climbing. I graduate university in May, and after that all I have to do for summer is find a job and climb.

The Gear Spotter: 66° North Snaefell Jacket Review

Introduction
66° North is an Icelandic company, founded in 1926 to design and build clothing to protect Icelanders from the extremely harsh condition of their home. In 2014 it is a major player in modern technical outdoor apparel, with close connections to companies such as Polartec, YKK and eVent. All of their products are borne out of necessity and are designed for the Icelandic climate - so they are very demanding on the materials they use and many of the designs they come up with are innovative and well-thought through.

The Review

Around a year ago I managed to get myself one of the new Snaefell jackets (not to be confused with the down-filled, longer cut Snaefell Parka) through work - after reading up on the new fabric it used and several positive reviews (although from 66 staff...) I decided that i needed a new shell, and it was worth a punt. I mean, the Icelandic Mountain Rescue teams use the Snaefell jacket and they know a thing or two about existing in extreme climates. The jacket and its membrane also won an ISPO and Scandinavian Outdoor awards in 2011.

I've now had it for almost a year, and can safely say it was most definitely a wise investment. I've used many jackets over my time including softshells, hardshells, GoreTex, eVent, Windstopper and I can't quite place the Snaefell into any one category. One one hand it's fully waterproof (10,000mm hydrostatic head) over and above most of what the casual walker and climber would need, but it's also a semi-stretch membrane and extremely breathable, which are normally reserved for softshell. With the advent of these new high-breathable waterproof membranes I'd almost suggest a new term, between hard and softshell of 'firmshell'. It doesn't quite have the waterproofing of the solid hardshells or the breathability of a softshell but a bit of both to make it a great all rounder.

The cut is short, much like a softshell, with a good wide chest and shoulders for someone of my build (although the cut seems to narrow slightly in the smaller sizes, so you thinner ladies and gents won't feel like you're wearing a tent). The arms are pre-curved to give good movement, but a standout point must be the hood; it's got a solid peak to keep rain and snow out of the eyes, is fully 3-point adjustable for use with and without a helmet, has a high zip to keep stuff out of your neck and is also semi-mobile thanks to the stretch in the membrane, making looking around a far easier experience. It's got a good, heavy rubberised waterproof zip to keep bulk down and clean, velcro-adjusted cuffs. It's worked fantastically in both summer showers and around town in winter; the face fabric is hard-wearing and I haven't had any problems with it just yet, except for people thinking it's odd to see someone in a bright yellow jacket on the tube in the morning rush hour.

There are, however a couple of negative points; when using it climbing the jacket is cut very slightly too short and doesn't quite have the stretch to compensate; as a result it has a tendancy to rise up and out of the harness, which can be an awkward thing to correct halfway up a face. This could possibly be sorted by tightening the waist cinches, but I don't like that. It's all individual, after all. The pockets, although very well sited on the jacket have, I've found, been a tad too small to use with thick winter gloves; the massive pockets on my North Face Point Five jacket are I better and more useful for storing easy-to-reach spares when on the mountain. The pockets are mesh, so they don't affect breathability very much at all. 

All of these negative points are relatively minor, however, and I still believe this is an excellent jacket.

Conclusions

Overall, I'd definitely recommend the Snaefell jacket. Whilst being more on the pricey end of the scale, you get a very solid all-rounder of a jacket which can be used for pretty much everything from running in the rain to winter mountaineering. The cut is good and fitted without being tight (for me) but I would definitely recommend trying on for size before you buy.

They are available in both mens and womens in a range of colours. Check them out on the 66° website.

Pros

+ Very breathable with semi-stretch to aid movement

+ Pocket positioning is excellent

+ Fantastic, semi-mobile, 3-point adjustable hood

Cons

- Cut is slightly too short - tends to rise when wearing a harness

- Pockets are a little too small to get gloved hands into

For more in the Gear Spotter range of reviews, check them out here

Adventures in Scotland: Day 5 - Number 3 Gully

Sorry for the late post guys, yesterday was pretty busy what with unpacking from our jaunt and repacking and checking and all the things you do when you leave a hotel.

So we had another crack at Ben Nevis today, after our abortive almost-summit on Monday. We decided to go for a proper north face route, attempting one of the numbered gullies (we eventually settled on No.3 gully). As we'd been hampered by time and my slowness on our last attempt, we decided to start even earlier, and we found ourselves at the start of the walk in for 7.40am. It seems my fitness has improved over the week, because we were up to the fork in the paths almost 20 minutes quicker than monday, which meant we had more time to play with on the face itself.

After making the long, laborious and somewhat scrambly walk along the north face access path we reached the CIC hut at the bottom of Ben Nevis' north face. The CIC hut is pretty much the start point for every route on the face. The Charles Ingis Clark memorial hut has been around since the late 1920s and has served as a home and base to many north face ascent parties over almost 100 years of continuous use. It is entirely self-sustaining and solidly built. You can stay there overnight - as we arrived a group of 5 climbers were leaving to return to home after a week in the hut. I was sort of jealous - at least they got a bit of a lie-in when climbing, no walk in for them...



Having taken a break and assessed what the snowpack felt like, me and Charlie geared up and headed out onto the approach slopes of the gullies. Initially progress was good; overnight rains and freezing temperatures had formed a thick, solid crust of snow that made progress in crampons quick and relatively easy. Every now and then Charlie would check back over his shoulder, double check I was okay and crack on - no hunched over my ice axe this time - I was feeling fit and the progress was good.

As we got higher, however, conditions worsened. The snowpack got thicker, more powdery and significantly less stable - even with crampons and axe I kept slipping and having to clamber out of knee-depth snow on a 45 degree slope. Charlie stopped about 30 meters ahead of me and I could tell he wasn't confident by the way he was prodding at the snow with his axe.

"I don't like it" he called over his shoulder, prompting me to quickly catch up to discuss with him.

"What don't you like?" I replied, settled below him on the slope.

He cast his gaze over towards the immediate approach to Number 3 gully "The snow is getting worse, conditions are getting worse. This is sketchy for me, so it'd be difficult for you. And if the snow is like this in the gully we are going to have no fun, and your lungs are going to fall out"

I immediately nodded; Charlie is the one with four seasons of mountaineering experience. It was his call. "Okay. Let's back off this thing then" I replied. He kept apologising for not being able to complete the route. Honestly, and as I told him, I didn't care - better retreat and stay alive than attempt a route, get stuck in conditions that were beyond my capabilities.

So, unfortunately our last day on the mountain and last attempt at the Ben for this trip was over; just a long walk back to packing up for our return drive home. I can't lie and say I'm not dissappointed we didn't summit, as I was feeling fit, strong and willing to go ahead. But there was literally nothing we could do about it. Maybe if we'd both had more experience we could have battled through, but I didn't want my ambitions to put either of us in danger.

Just means we'll have to return. I don't see that as a bad thing.

Adventures in Scotland: Day 5 - Ice Factor

Indoor climbing has always had several advantages over outdoors, especially when it comes to ice. Firstly, the condition of the ice is always guaranteed - you never have to bank on good weather for safe climbing. Secondly, they are easy to get to - the walk in is only ever a few feet from the car, rather than a two hour uphill slog. And lastly, you can source yourself a lovely hot chocolate to warm up when you take a break.

With that in mind, we decided that if we were going to get some actual winter climbing in on this trip, we should head over to the Ice Factor National Ice Climbing Center in Kinlochleven for a try on their indoor ice climbing walls. The walls are graded from Scottish winter III to VII, so everything is technically beyond what I've climbed so far, but in some ways pure ice is easier than mixed climbing - you can properly sink the axes, not hold the points on narrow, iffy rock holds!

We had a bloody early start this morning - because of my lack of bolt-tightening abilities we had to make a trip in the dark to Jewsons to source some temporary replacements for the last couple of days of our trip. Not suprised to say, Charlie wasn't hugely impressed and I was left with death-glares until breakfast. I've ordered an official DMM replacement set, but I need something to keep me going, so Jewsons it was.

Anyway, the Ice Factor is bloody good fun - there are both rock climbing areas and an ice room, which we had all to ourselves for the few hours we were there for the measly sum of £25 each. We kicked off with some easier stuff, then steadily moved harder and harder - the routes didn't seem to be graded as we were used to, but I reckon that I completed at least one Scottish IV and Charlie a V or VI. They were made easier by the fact they were all top-roped, but still. It's something. We made some good shapes and had a lot of fun as we did so.

Climbing on pure ice was fun, and required a different kind of thinking - axe placements aren't necessarily as bombproof as you'd like, as I found out to my cost when my adze blew out and smacked me in the nose, leaving me dazed and smarting, and Charlie cracking up with laughter as he lowered me down. It's a little bit more think-y than mixed climbing, but it some ways it's nicer than rock climbing because every foothold is solid and every handhold is a massive jug, so it's easier to hold on. It does pump your forearms quite quickly though, with some of the longer routes giving you a bit of numbness.

We had a bit of fun with the cameras taking some video, so I should be able to put up some interesting stuff when I get back and my internet connection is a little faster. It's not movie-quality stuff but it's still fun to look at.

Anyway, today was a bit of fun and a confidence boost for tomorrow - it's our last day in Scotland and we're looking to go out with a bit of a bang and summit Ben Nevis via an actual north face route. We need to complete something whilst we're here...

Adventures in Scotland: Day 4 - I'm an idiot

Only a short one today.

It's our (well-earned) day off, so we had a lie in, a hearty breakfast and shot into Fort William with the single-minded task of sourcing Charlie the brightest, lariest pair of softshell trousers possible. Now, before I go on I must say that Fort William is quite probably the most depressing place in the world. It's uniformly grey, there's absolutely no colour and it's just...bleak. The kind of place you get into and out of as quickly as possible. The place doesn't even have a coffee shop, to Charlie's extreme dismay.

We didn't get lairy softshells, but Charlie did get a rather loud Haglofs midlayer, which he was very pleased about. He hasn't yet shut up about it.

We got back to the B&B, and after planning our final climb on Friday (conditions being good, we're looking to do No.3 Gully on the north face of Ben Nevis) and started to sort our kit out. I went to file down the pick on my ice axe when I discovered that one of the bolts that hold the pick to the handle had...gone. Fallen out at some point, probably from being under-tightened. So bugger.

Thankfully it's not the crux bolt, so in an emergency I could climb on it, but I really don't want to be climbing up No.3 gully with a wobbly ice axe pick. It's hard enough without worrying about the positioning of a specific axe. So tomorrow morning, before we go for a spot of indoor pure ice climbing at the National Ice Climbing Center, we're headed to Jewsons to pick up a pack of bolts. It's odd how rare stubby M8 bolts seem to be in Scotland. I've got to buy a pack of 100 bolts, to replace one for a short period. Got to love this economy.



Bugger.



(The Adventures in Scotland series is a collection of all my posts from my first foray into winter mountaineering. Find all the others here)