< Back to search result

01 January 2000
The day I lost my toes but found the cratur
By Nigel Vardy

Malt whisky and mountaineering are inextricably linked in my mind. I could even say that I was introduced to them both at the same time, and they have remained my passions ever since.

In 1994, I returned from a Raleigh International expedition to Chile. A reunion party was held on the Isle of Skye, and when on Skye, one does what all climbers do: visit the Cuillin Mountains and the Talisker Distillery. From that day on I have never looked back.

My most recent trips to Scotland have brought me to the Highlands, climbing Cairngorm and Torridon. After a long day's climb it was good to warm my bones with a dram. Visits to Glenfarclas, Cardhu and Edradour Distilleries filled the days when bad weather kept me off the mountains. Then, in mid 1998, the opportunity arose to climb the 20,230 ft Mt. McKinley in Alaska. McKinley is a legendary mountain in the climbing world. Nowhere near the highest, but with challenging routes, dreadful weather and surrounded by miles of wilderness. It was last April when two friends and myself finally flew to Anchorage.

Alaska is a country of vast diversity. The capital, Anchorage, is a cosmopolitan city surrounded by miles and miles of wilderness and tundra}}. The Yukon flows through the heart of Alaska, and is still flanked by small isolated towns of wooden houses. The gold rush may have gone, but oil has taken its place.

The only way to get near McKinley is to fly deep into the Alaska Range in a ski plane. It's quite an experience gliding between snowy mountain peaks to then land on a never-ending strip of glacier. There we were, 7000 ft above sea level, standing on a sea of ice and ready to climb. The next sixteen days were spent hauling equipment and stores up to 16,300ft, high enough to attempt the summit. Many people ask, 'Why do you climb'?. I come to these places for a variety of reasons: peace, solitude, incredible views, the exhilaration of climbing, to get away from society, the list goes on. Mountains hold a powerful magic for me, something which is indescribable.

After a hard day's climb we failed to reach the summit by 300 ft when gale force winds pinned us down. We were forced to dig a snow hole and shelter from the atrocious weather. It was heartbreaking to get so close and yet not make it to the top. A night and a day at 20,000 ft in temperatures of -30C gave all of us severe frostbite and hypothermia. Fortunately for us, we were rescued the next day by the Park Ranger Service and taken to hospital in Anchorage. We were lucky to survive.

Two weeks later, we were transferred to Nottingham City Hospital Burns Unit for continuing care. It was here one day that a parcel arrived. For the last few months I had been working with a Society member and was keen to find out more. The parcel was my Society Membership, complete with a bottle of you know what. It was a wonderful gift. I asked the staff about drinking because of my medication and was surprised to find out that both my consultant and anaesthetist were also members! What more can I say?

Talk between us soon left medical matters to concentrate on who was buying what, reading the Society Newsletters and talking whisky. Friends kept buying me more bottles as 'get well presents', including Ardbeg, Highland Park and Bowmore. Going into theatre for surgery was in itself an adventure. Again, whisky was the talk of the anaesthetic room, (so that is what all the cupboards are for!). I never got to see the theatre, since I was always asleep.

I lost all my toes, a length off all my fingers and required plastic surgery on my nose. Life will never be the same again. I am now back home, but still have a long way to go before I can lead a normal life again. But every cloud has a silver lining: my passion for climbing is undimmed, but it is now joined by a passion for fine malt whisky. I have been lucky: I can still hold a glass, and with a little help, open a bottle.

Share this article