The cultivation mountain mindsets

2 days ago, I took myself to the mountains with the aim of having a big snowy day out, and in that I succeeded. However i’m left with numerous thoughts and feelings that I want to straighten out.

To set the scene, it was on the larger side of outings, over 7 hours on the mountain in the bitter cold. The snowline was at around 500m, and at 600m, everything was pretty much covered in a layer of ice. Because of the conditions, I chose a familiar route; the north side of Tryfan, onto Bristly ridge and the Glyders. A common link and a great scrambling day out that I’ve enjoyed a handful of times. Equipment-wise, I had my big boots, micro spikes and walking poles. More prepared than I have been, less prepared than I’m going to be.

I had a great time up Tryfan, yanking myself up the terraces, feeling fluid and moving solidly. In its nature, Tryfan offers lots of options for alternative routes and side missions. And in the Ice this became super useful. In the upper sections where I was moving more slowly and carefully, if something felt a little risky, there was a second and third option waiting for me.

I stop for a snack below the summit and find a good spot to admire Adam and Eve from afar. I push through over the top and down the south side with a big smile on my face. The plan was to make the decision about continuing up Bristly Ridge when I got to the junction. So I stopped, had lunch, and assessed energy and conditions. Some clouds were coming in, but nothing drastic. And I felt great. It felt like a goer. So I start walking along atop hardened snow up to the start of Sinister Gully.

The entrance of the gully looked more serious than I’ve ever seen it. A dark entrance of jutting rock and sharp icicles falling like teeth of the edge of layered drops, where a small stream sometimes drips. I didn’t clock the seriousness presented. Rather, I was in pleasant awe as it stood forth to me. Like some sort of grand entrance, the only thing that was missing was an archway curving over it. And as you should with all worthwhile entrances, I entered.

The gully is really cool, you can see about 50 m upwards, and it doesn’t look particularly steep. It’s really enticing and enabling to see exactly where you are heading. (From last time) I remember the hard step in the top section of the gully, but I also remember it not being a show stopper, so I moved on through the gully with relaxed positivity.

Pretty quickly, I realise the ice here is different to on Tryfan. Thicker and older. With it being a gully and less exposed, collecting the water from the nearby areas, it made sense. The beginnings of a more focused alert headspace began to form. I began moving a little slower, becoming more certain of each movement. When I reached the hard step, things became completely elusive. Neither of the two options I could see for moves through the section felt solid. And I was beginning to feel the necessity of solid movement, meaning the move doesn’t solely rely on momentum or friction, movement that has 2/3 trusted points of contact.

The dance between conscious and subconscious thought becomes very apparent on a day like this. The energy and tone you set throughout the day, creates the environment for your subconscious to exist in. Small touches of calmness, playfulness, and awareness set the tempo. Your reactions become responses and reinforce a calm environment for the subconscious. I think making active behavioural choices throughout the day to support this energy is a very useful strategy for keeping calm in the face of risk. I found myself stooping low, examining an icy puddle for a little longer than I normally would, and then searching for the most satisfying ice-breaking noise I could.

These things build toward an atmosphere that can be beneficial later on in times when the environment starts to challenge you. So when I met with the iced up hard step on sinister gully and the down climb that didn’t look like a better option. There was a mild, cheerful calmness that meant I stayed in an open state, happy enough to keep looking for options and alternatives. After about a minute of faffing around, testing positions, holds, and variations of potential steps, I found my way through the movement and out above the step.

All that being said, I think the only reason I feel so acutely aware of everything I just spoke about is that I was right on that edge. I remember a moment, as I first realised how dire all the movement options were, where the alternative mindset knocked on the door of my consciousness, and I sensed it would bring in fear and panic. The step marked a transition in my internal approach for the next couple of hours.

I think if I’d been in a more ‘mission’ oriented mindset, I would have found a lot of the upper sections of Bristly more mentally challenging. That’s not to say it was easy, because fundamentally, I’m writing this. After all, I came away from the experience having felt tested in some way.

Bristly ridge took me around 2 hours to complete; there were sections where my pace slowed to about a metre a minute. The snow was rock-hard frozen, and rind/ice covered the handholds. It felt like around 80% of the movement options that came in the form of holds and foot placements were gone. The difference between early winter and late winter conditions became very apparent to me. When scrambling in summer, you move fluidly over the rock. Barely pulling, pushing and stepping, generating forces of upward travel. Whereas in the snow and ice, you need to make yourself known much more. Brushing and chopping and kicking at the white stuff, clearing and compacting a path forward.

So I held a state of intense concentration for around 2 hours. Every step, every hand placement was considered. With so little friction around, A slip would be fatal. The awareness of that crept into me, ‘A slip is not an option’, and slowly that thought bled into the energy I had cultivated throughout the day. I can picture my mindset as a glass of clear water, the thought of a slip as red dye. In a harder move or a more tired moment, a small injection of red dye would flow into the clear water. The dye would sit there, obvious and jarring in its slow linger. However, it always dissipates with time. The cultivated mental environment pulls away at it. But there’s a limit to the amount and frequency of injections, each time leaving the water a little less clear overall. Until you’ve just got a glass of murky panic-filled dread.

Now I was dealing with small injections here and there, but what this makes me think of is doctors, firefighters and police offers, people working regularly in front line type scenarios, where the injections are full on floods of dye, cultivating a mindset that can cope with external stresses and stay clear throughout is amazingly useful and a characteristic I’m compelled to admire.

It has to be said, there was a sharp feeling of relief after topping Bristly Ridge, but through the puncture hole of relief, a slow, steady satisfaction rolled in. I happily plodded along the top plateaus of the Glyders and was awed at the conditions on the mountainside around. I was sure I’d sleep like a baby that evening, but to be honest,t I woke up at 3 am completely awake, and having some distance from the adventure, I can see that my body was completely jacked up with what feels like suppressed adrenaline. I’ve learnt a lot. I’ve been tested a little more. At times, it felt like the mountains wanted me dead. And in every way, it was a big success. Outdoor pursuits continually give me great opportunities to grow, learn and introspect. It feels like I'm finding my own steady way. Learning little bits here and there, and playing within varying shades of risk and danger, is ever so rewarding.

One thing’s for sure, I want a pair of axes.