How Not To... Fay Manners & Freja Shannon

Something many, if not all, climbers and alpinists dream of is to establish their own route. To venture into the unknown. To be the first one to have had the vision for a new line. Such an ambition is inevitably driven by something inherent and unique to each individual. Fay Manners and Freja Shannon, both curious in nature and with a shared desire for exploration set off to the Arctic Circle this March.

They wanted a challenge and they knew exactly where to find it: on Senja Island. Recommendations from friends and fellow climbers were endless. The decision became obvious; to test themselves against the infamous wilderness and harsh conditions of this Northern gem.
Above and beyond their wish to climb in the extremities of winter in snowstorms and minus degrees, their goal was to find and attempt a new line. They wanted to learn and somehow try to understand what is required in the process. They found that it proved to be so much more than just rocking up and swinging their axes. Read more to find out some of the lessons they learned the hard way!

  "Ironically, the day we went to climb the route of our first ascent, it felt effortless. The sun was shining and we told ourselves we were only going in to have a look, taking all the pressure off. Standing at the base of what felt like a Norwegian Ben Nevis, we spotted a runnel of neve which seemed to continue into some corners with at least 200m of climbing. The line that we later called “How not to” was actually based on everything we discovered about how not to put up a first ascent.

Prior to our trip, we had longed to go through the motions of finding a new route, from desperately failing to flirting with success. We only felt excitement. But, then during our trip, it felt hard, at times it felt impossible. We were no longer succeeding to climb routes everyday, we were only searching and then bailing. We had moments of feeling out of our depth, climbing in conditions that felt too serious or on mountains that lacked the level of protection we were comfortable with. Countless days went without “success” and mental energy was spent to keep spirits high. But in the end, we climbed something that was our own creation, a vision we first saw, a logical line of ice on a mountain, a route that is possible, safe but still exciting. Isn’t it better to succeed at something seemingly impossible than it is to succeed at something that is quite probable? For us, the satisfaction of climbing something so undefined which we had to figure out ourselves, no matter what the grade, is exhilarating. 

We have found that it is not about success, but about getting the satisfaction from trying something unknown. Finding and climbing a new winter route isn’t just for professional climbers, it can be for everyone who is in search of an adventure with the right drive and skill. We want our story to be relatable and to inspire people to go out and give it a try.. During this process, we learnt some valuable lessons and wanted to share some of these with others that might want to try new routing.

So here it goes, our 5 “How not to’s”
 

1) Make Sure To Explore The Local Classics

This was something we actually got right. Before setting off on our quest to find a new line, we repeated some established routes on the Island to get a sense of the lay of the land. As with all climbing we wanted to get a better feel for the type of rock, weather and conditions in Senja. It also helped us gain an understanding of what kind of lines people look for and have successfully climbed before. This proved spicy enough in itself!

Since information and condition reports were scarce, repeating routes felt wild as all we had was a line on a photo and the knowledge that the route had been climbed at some point. There was quite a bit of winging it and figuring it out for ourselves.

In the first days of our trip we climbed Aegir on the North face of Segla,  reaching a pitch that was described as a WI5, but ended up back-and-footing an offwidth chimney where said ice was meant to be. Soon after, we climbed the classic WI6 Finnkona, getting soaked to our bones from the dripping water in the afternoon sun! Both excursions taught us that the ice conditions were not prime at that time and our goal should be focused on mixed climbing up gullies.
 

2) You’re Not Bolder Than A Snowstorm

We thought new routes have to be in gnarly weather and tough conditions or you’re not a true alpinist. Wrong!

This lesson was brutal. Cultivated on an attempt of an unclimbed face of a popular ski touring peak. On a typically bad weather day, we slogged up the three-plus hour approach to the base of the mountain - or at least what we thought was the base as we couldn’t actually see anything.

Freja relays the story quite eloquently; Fay won the rock paper scissors and quested up some vague line while I clung onto the belay device for a good hour or so hoping to see or hear from Fay between the showers of spindrift. Suddenly crampons, axes and  raspberry colours burst out of the heavens above, landing beside me at my stance. “There’s not much gear up there, and hey, what do you think about the weather?”
 

3) Take The Line Of Least Resistance

We started off trying to find the biggest, baddest line of them all. Disillusioned by the grandeur of legendary first ascents across the globe, we momentarily thought they need to be groundbreaking and epochal. Wrong! Several retreats from obscure lines around the island made us realise that taking the line of least resistance is the way to go. Which, for the record, proved hard and challenging enough on its own!
 

4) “Fail, Bail, And Try Again”

We spent hours, days even, scouting and squinting through binoculars, staring at maps and quizzing locals. Good and bad weather days were consumed by retreating off “could be” lines, regrouping at home and starting all over again. It was a huge challenge for us both to accept the constant otiose. Being at peace with not succeeding felt  vital. Aside from the complexities of winter climbing in itself, we found this to be the most difficult aspect of the whole trip. We would take turns in holding each other up when we lowered down to the belays with the words “this is too hard, I can’t do it” or “there’s no gear and the conditions don’t feel right”. Bags would be packed and unpacked constantly, along with a new idea and inspiration for the next day, for another line.
 

5) Fay and Freja Are More than a Climbing Partnership

Basically, we’re just climbing partners. Wrong! When we are climbing together, we can be found whooping and smiling our way up any route, joyously almost forgetting where we are or what we are doing. When the climbing gets tricky we feel confident, knowing that we have each other on the other end of the rope. When the day doesn’t go to plan, our friendship grows even stronger, on the drive home we sing in the car together and make a pinky promise to keep trying.

We treat one another as equals, we listen to one another, we share the same climbing ethics and risk tolerance. But above all, our friendship reaches beyond simply climbing partners. We always joke about all the memories we will have to share when we are wrinkly old grandma’s and how we will hopefully still be as audacious as we are today! 

While in Senja, we became so obsessed with one line we had spotted from the shore that we had a fishing factory and a french kayaking guide involved with helping us paddle across a fjord to reach it. Luckily, we were stopped in our tracks before any amateur crossing commenced and we were forced to find our line elsewhere. Together we are powerful, but with that, we need to control our limits!

The line we climbed in the end was up the enchanting north face of Grytetippen.

When we reached the final pitch, with the sun baking the summit, the once frozen turf became soggy moss and the fun came to a halt. We were certain that the logical line must end here as after thrutching our way through all our options we were forced to retreat. It didn’t matter. We had climbed a logical line, the only line that has been climbed on that north face. We had put all of our mountain skills together, on top of everything we learned from the past couple of weeks into 250 metres of climbing and that felt like everything we had come looking for. Even so, repacking our bags at the base some 12 hours later in the dark we were still smiling. 

What we learned during our stay on Senja was so much more than just climbing. The confidence gained in ourselves and in our partnership is invaluable and I can’t wait to apply this to future climbing objectives. 

We hope that this inspires you out there to go and try an adventure for yourselves! "