It seems a long time since the Summer of '95. With a cold winter almost behind us it's nearly time to dig out the Griffin guides and go plundering again for ideas and aspirations for .html Alpine season. But it was back then, during a successful stay in Chamonix, that I began to let winter routes in Scotland catch my attention. Some routes always linger in your imagination - not as a possibility but not as an unrealistic dream either. I was therefore with a great deal of trepidation that I found myself mentioning Point-Five, semi-seriously, in those "won't be long till winter" conversations. As term progressed the idea mulled itself over happily in the back of my mind and I got on with more important things like work (yeah - right!!!). However, by the first Scotty trip in Lent term the idea had resurrected itself as being a distinct possibility later in the season - so long as I'd satisfied myself by then that it was not just an over ambitious desire for a "big tick". I was certainly not going to be "dragged up" by anyone and, given the choice, I would easily have said no - I wanted to climb Point-Five, not get up it. Everything from then was going to be seen as a stepping stone, not to climbing the route, but to seeing if I realistically could climb it - it would be fun finding out!!
It was a funny winter. Record freezes before Christmas, plenty of cold air around - but a distinct lack of snow. All efforts to engage in some winter mountaineering had tended to concentrate themselves in the Cairngorms, with some unlikely sport to be had in Glencoe and one random weekend in the Lakes which was as warm and wet as anywhere! As term wore on with conditions remaining very thin, especially on the Ben, interest swayed to the mid-winter rock venue of Froggatt (a renegade cartel also took the University Bouldering Competition by storm the same weekend). Scotland looked like a lost cause as the end of term approached and a traditional (in all senses...!) trip to Cornwall loomed on the horizon. Mind you, I could hardly complain. Although I hadn't done anything of comparable difficulty I'd actually managed sufficient routes, not least a "baptism of fire" on Centre Post, Meagaidh, to satisfy myself that Point-Five was far from an unrealistic proposition - it had been a satisfying season. Just as thoughts were returning to warm sunny rock, one last "car load from Cambridge" set off north in the dubious knowledge that someone had said that Green Gully, on Ben Nevis, was in good nick.
For once we were in luck. Green Gully was in perfect condition, as was Comb Gully which we completed afterwards. The weather, mind you, decided otherwise and although it faired up by around lunch time several parties had retreated from the cliffs. We wondered if Leyla and Matt were out of the tent yet - the four of us had been all that had stopped it blowing away during the night. (We learned later that soon after our departure it had collapsed!!) We decided upon a Tower Gully descent, if we could find it, and a possible ascent of Tower Scoop, but our real motives were to go and look at the line that had escaped our reach - for this season.
As we gazed upwards to the deep cleft between Observatory Ridge and Observatory Buttress, we could clearly identify the main pitches that formed Point-Five. Both of us agreed that it looked quite thin low down, but after the first pitch or so it seemed to be holding lots of ice. It certainly looked to be climbable. We dropped back down to the CIC hut and found the others who had pitched the "reserve" tent. A couple of conversations later it transpired that the route had been done mid-week on perfect snow-ice and several other parties had their eye on it. We decided to get an early night and see how we felt in the morning - the decision was already made.
We arrived at the foot of the route early, but had a long wait to let a party of three in front of us to clear the first stance and let us have a clear run at it. It didn't matter since the sun was out and the sky was blue. We were as surprised as each other by where we were and what we were about to do. It looked like being a wonderful day and we both thought about topping out to a breathtaking panorama. As we sorted out gear, cries from above rained down taking the form of "Christ's sake! This is f*?king thin/hard/steep - just watch me on this bit!!! Suddenly Amos and I both needed the toilet.
We eventually got going and sure enough the first bit was, as suspected, rather thin - on the gear front as well. Our blows at the ice were occasionally uncovering big patches of underlying rock which didn't inspire confidence but after the first pitch the ice coverage seemed much better. The second chimney pitch was STEEP! It eased a little after about 10m (which was still well short of any gear!) but it was really confined and restricting and felt quite awkward. A huge lump of ice decided to deaden my arm - needless to say, that wasn't very nice - nor was the even larger lump that decided to contact my head (I think I'm now only about 6' 1''!).
The third pitch, which should see the end of the difficulties, was harder than it looked but then easier than it felt (it makes sense, honest!) which was just as well given the belay that Amos had created. From here we moved together over a series of steep icy bulges (finally getting a good ice-screw in here!) and a steep chimney. The "easy" snow slopes in between were easy but several inches of windslab made them feel precarious and several small avalanche runnels were visible. Unfortunately, our hopes of a sunny summit vanished about an hour from the summit. Cloud poured in, engulfing the summit and we plodded upwards into its murky turbulence. We moved together swapping lead a couple of times until I could feel the rope go slack. A short pause later it pulled steadily for a few seconds and then went slack again. "He must be up." I thought and sure enough the rope was soon being taken in quickly. I marched up the wide open slope full of delight and enthusiasm. We weren't off the mountain but I could feel a huge sense of satisfaction - 24 hours ago neither of us would have thought we'd be topping out of Point-Five Gully. What made it so good was the spontaneity with which we'd decided to go for it - the chance came up and we took it. That's part of what makes mountaineering so exciting - opportunity knocks now and again and it's great if you're there to grab it.
As I ploughed my way over the cornice, exhausted but exhilarated, I was buffeted by the wind and engulfed in swirling spindrift. I had an enormous grin on my face and as I joined Amos he screamed through the wind, "That's it - we've done it Dave!!". I cried back, "Opportunity knocks...it's the best way to do it. Lets get down out of here!"