It’s all about sole (and gaffer tape)

Wednesday 23rd August 2023

We enjoyed a leisurely start to our day today as our single, seemingly simple aim was a two-and-a-half hour hike up to a mountain hut at 2,802 metres. The following morning we would be climbing the Großes Weisbachhorn. At 3,564 metres, the third highest mountain in the Hohe Tauern region of Austria. It was all set to be a fun couple of days. Or so we thought.

The toughest part of the day initially was fighting with the hundreds of tourists who cramed on to the buses up to the reservoir and barged past in the hope of a window seat. A mistake that at least one woman won’t make again. Barging past a heavily laden rucksack fair bristling with sharp pointy things like crampons, ice axes and walking poles, whilst wearing a hijab and associated loose fitting clothing is a recipe for the kind of entanglement bound to cause embarrassment.

To her credit though, she did nab a window seat.

The Karlingerkees glacier from the bus stop.

Mrs P is all better now and she set off on our estimated two hour hike up the mountain with a gusto that has been sadly missing these last few weeks.

Don’t let that lovely sky over the lower lake fool you. That weather ain’t gonna last.

Even the rain, thunder and lightning didn’t put us off.

Mrs P donning her waterproofs ahead of a torrential downpour and short lived thunderstorm.

After about an hour-and-a-quarter and 500 metres of climbing, we caught up with a young couple sheltering from the storm. They didn’t seem to have any waterproof clothing and he was looking somewhat nervous. He explained that they were afraid of the lightning (understandable) and that he “…didn’t want to walk in cloud.” Being from England where such an attitude would mean you never got out of bed, I thought this a little odd. But, new to the mountain environment he was understandably nervous. Mountains are intimidating things in bad weather. We were only around 200 metres below the hut and I tried to encourage them to follow us, suggesting that since we were both laden down with metal items, any lightning strikes would hit us first. He didn’t find this anywhere near as amusing as I did and they elected to sit out the storm underneath their little rock.

Very (and I do mean ‘very’) shortly after this encounter, something happened that caused Mrs P and I to turn round and go back down the mountain, get on the bus and return to the valley.

There was something stuck to the bottom of my boot. I shook it, but it was still there. I could sense it was big. Walking was tricky. I stopped. I looked…

I swore.

“Tarnation!” I cried. Or word (just one) to that effect.

Mrs P assumed I must have forgotten something, usually my glasses, but no. It was worse.

This photo was taken back at the campsite when the gaffer tape had fallen off

The sole of my boot had become detached at the front and the back. Only a few centimetres of the instep were still attached. I looked back to see a trail of red foamy plastic on the trail behind me. I could no longer walk.

Sensibly, we both carry a length of gaffer tape wrapped round our walking poles for just such an emergency. Less sensibly, I rarely remember to replace any that I use, so there wasn’t much. I managed though to cobble together a vague fix that at least allowed me to walk.

More gaffer tape please

Like new (not!)

In defence of a fantastic pair of boots

In the above photos it will be obvious to many that this is a pair of La Sportiva, Nepal Trek, Evo mountaineering boots. Please do not think that these are rubbish boots to be avoided.

These boots are old, really old. At least 17 years old and they were resoled around 5 years ago. They have carried me across the Tyrolese Alps and on many mountain climbs. They have been brilliant and I will definitely be buying a new pair of exactly the same boots. I heartily recommend them to anyone who is into mountaineering.

The defence rests.

So, there are many reasons for aborting a climb on a big snowy mountain; weather, recent heavy snowfall, rockfall etc. but this was one eventuality that we certainly couldn’t have predicted.

We were very sad to be going down. We called and cancelled our booking at the hut, passed the disconsolate pair still sheltering under their rock, gave them a quick pep talk and wandered on down.

As we descended, as if to rub it in, the rain stopped, the clouds parted and the sun came out.

As Billy Joel said, “It’s all about sole”

Every now and then Mrs P could be heard to mutter, “I just don’t believe it!” and occasionally expound on the subject of fate and the existential theory that “Everything happens for a reason.”

She really is better.

A new pair will cost me around £500 by the way. Donations gratefully accepted.