RIP BEN LOWE

So what makes someone the ideal rope mate on a big mountain? Competence and good mountain judgement are musts, obviously, and preferably their strengths should back up your own weak points. Being a good user of time matters, as do alertness, determination and neat rope work. Adaptability and keeping a sense of perspective when things don’t go according to plan are valuable assets, and a good fund of stories helps when you’re stuck somewhere in a confined space sitting out the weather. Ben had all these, which is what made days on the hill with him such a great experience. Probably the best Alpine trip I had with him was back in 2004.

For a starter we climbed the Brunegghorn, as Ben didn’t want to start with a big hill and it was a nice pointy peak that neither of us had done. A nasty looking serac threatened the normal route, so we made our own line up a rock buttress instead. By the time we came down the serac had already fallen, scattering ice blocks down our intended line. We shook hands in a very olde worlde English style to celebrate our sound decision.

Ben on the Brunegghorn summit

Trips up the Strahlhorn and Rimpfischhorn followed. Ben, who never took photographs, having to work off his frustration by tromping round in circles at sunrise while I took loads of them. I'm still blown away by Alpine sunrises, awesome in the true meaning of the word.

Weisshorn at sunrise

The Rimpfischhorn summit was occupied by a huge group of Germans who were merrily scattering bits of the mountain around them. Ben pointed out that one of them was sure to fall off soon and five minutes later was proved right as one of them went for a 10m skid before colliding with a cluster of his companions. Luckily they all stayed attached to the hill. We decided to spend a few more minutes enjoying the view from higher up the ridge until they’d finished descending the steep bit. Good plan.

The massed hordes on the Rimpfischhorn

After being snowed off the Obergabelhorn we set off up Monte Rosa. Navigating through steep crevassed ground on the Monte Rosa Glacier in dark and mist proved tricky but we emerged unscathed at the top – earning another handshake for mountaineering cunning. Near the top we caught up another pair who were finding a little groove tricky. A guide and client behind us then really annoyed Ben by climbing rudely over all four of us. As a result he didn’t want to carry on to the Nordend because the guide had gone off that way. He apologised later for wasting the opportunity. We went back down the way we’d come at a fair old rate.

Sunrise below Monte Rosa

New snow then made high rock ridges a bad idea, so we needed a big snow peak that I hadn’t done (as I’m a horrible bagger) and with an aesthetic line (as Ben prioritised quality over size). The South-East Ridge of the Aletschhorn fitted the bill, a new area for both of us. The weather was in a pattern of alternate good and bad days, so our plan was to walk up to the bivvy hut, fester for a day during the bad weather then do the route and continue down to the valley. We stuffed ourselves with huge amounts of “Kaeseschnitten mit Rindfleisch und Spiegelei“ (a sort of cheese bake with ham and eggs), eating so much of it that the waitress remembered us and our exact order the next time we went to the café. It fuelled us up to the octagonal birdcage of the bivvy hut, occupied by two locals who had just backed off our intended route. A lazy day of reading and chatting followed as the storm put down loads of new snow around us, putting the issue in some doubt for the next day. We agreed to get up at 3.30am and at least plod up to the saddle to “have a look”. Both of us knew what that meant. Come 2.30 Ben was up and stomping round raring to go. I hate Alpine starts and was pigheadedly determined not to get up until the time we’d agreed. It was obvious I was awake however and eventually Ben snapped “I thought we came here to fucking climb!!” It’s the only time we ever had a proper argument.

Eventually we left, pretty much at the time we’d originally planned, but only communicating more or less in grunts. Despite this we roped up efficiently at the glacier edge and climbed competently up to the saddle. “We could always do the peak on the right instead” being the most either of us said. At the saddle the sun had risen, the snow was less deep and both of us felt a bit more human so we carried on. The ridge was sharp and needed care but was obviously doable – it just needed absolute trust in your partner as there was no good way to hold a fall. As it widened out and we stopped for a snack Ben said “sorry for swearing at you this morning” and I apologised for being a lazy sod. We carried on in a lighter mood, enjoying the amazing views over the huge glaciers around Concordia. Ben was blown away, as although he’d spent lots of time amongst the Valais peaks he hadn’t realised the Arctic scale of the Oberland – he was already planning more trips there.

The Aletschhorn - we climbed the ridge on the left.

Ben’s mood improved further when I failed on a short ice pitch below the foresummit and he had to take the lead. Our normal arrangement was that I led the rock and he led the ice, and when we moved together I went first (as the cunning routefinder) and he went last (as his ropework was much quicker than mine). The pitch in question looked easy so we had just carried on moving together, but I ground to a halt about 10 feet up. Needless to say Ben dispatched it with ease - I think he saw it as making up for his not wanting to do the Nordend a few days before. Personally I was just glad he was there. The summit ridge threw a few pinnacles at us to make things interesting and emphasize the commitment, and the top seemed almost an irrelevance, although the views were superb. I was with Ben on “route over summit” on this one.

With all the new snow around we didn’t hang about and were soon back on the sharp ridge. The snow was softer now and halfway along one of my footsteps gave way. I got an axe in before I fell off the ridge but Ben already had coils in hand and was ready to throw himself off the opposite side if I went, alert as ever. More rapid descending, buckets of tea at the hut and then we had to head down as Ben had a plane to catch the next day. Downhill I could actually keep up with him and climbing back up from the glacier he slowed down to my pace so that we arrived back at the café together. A great day, one of the best, shared with one of the best. RIP Ben.

Ben below the Bietschhorn

My friend Ben Lowe was a walking guide, mainly in the Scottish Highlands for North West Frontiers, but he also ran his own trips, both in Scotland and abroad. He was always entertaining company and I had some great days with him in Scotland and the Alps. Sadly he took his own life in 2015 and is much missed.

The late Andy Nisbet wrote the following piece about a trip with Ben up the North Face of the Pigne d’Arolla. It was originally intended to accompany a collection of Ben's poems but eventually space precluded its inclusion. Ben's partner Margaret suggested that this would be an appropriate place for it.

Ben was working as a cook for Martin Moran’s Alpine courses in the summer of 1997. The courses were based in Evolene, a short way down the valley from the famous climbing centre of Arolla. I was working as an aspirant guide but I already knew Ben from Martin’s Scottish winter courses in Lochcarron. The Pigne d’Arolla (3796m), and especially its north face, dominates the view over Arolla, but in recent years with a warmer climate, it hasn’t been climbable during the summer (it’s a steep snow climb). But this year the spring had been snowy and the full warmth of summer had yet to arrive, so the Pigne d’Arolla looked in good condition and Ben was keen to climb it.

I think he had thought about going up the normal route and hurrying back down to start work at lunchtime. But then I arrived and I was only working part time, so we got to talking about climbing the prominent challenge of the north face instead. I knew Ben was fit and a good climber, while the route was long but not technical like Scottish ice, so the timescale should be possible if we started early (very early). We drove up in the late afternoon and started up the lower ridge until we found a flat spot to catch a few hours sleep. Neither of us knew the route in detail so it was easier to climb the lower ridge in daylight and then start up the snowy section in the dark when the snow would be well frozen (we hoped) and firmer. We had gone light to make the climbing easier, so our bivouac soon got uncomfortably cold and we decided to start, around 2am I think.

The snow was only just frozen, but enough to make the route safe from stonefall. It can be a bit spooky climbing in the dark and not knowing what difficulties could suddenly appear, but Ben was trusting in the partnership and we made good progress to the bottom of the final steep face which is the highlight of the route. The snow was in good condition, not too soft so you would sink in but not too icy either. I hadn’t climbed with Ben in the Alps before so didn’t know how confident he was. It’s not easy to place protection on Alpine faces so you either tend to climb then quickly or take a long time, rarely in between. We set off moving together with a short rope between us, with the plan that we could start belaying if either of us felt it necessary. I asked Ben a few times if he was happy moving like this with little security, and he always was. So we just kept going, waiting for some difficulties which never arrived, and suddenly we were on the top, about 5am I think.

The only snag is that it was still dark, a lovely night sky filled with stars, and just a hint of pink light where the new dawn would arrive. It was pretty chilly at that altitude, but we were determined to get a view, so we shivered for an hour until the surrounding peaks lit up in a breathtaking view. It was too cold to wait for the sun so we set off down the normal route, which was a straightforward glacier in these good conditions, and reached the hut around 7.30.Neither of us had much money for buying an expensive breakfast, so we just kept going to the car and drove down the valley to arrive back at Martin’s chalet at about 10am. It was way earlier than planned, and a little odd considering we thought we were taking the chance of Martin’s wrath by saying we would be down at lunchtime when that would be pushing it. But Ben’s climbing skills were evident and we had “cruised it”. I never did qualify as a guide, so the days out climbing with friends like Ben were my best memories of the Alps.