[Stubbs]

Great post Stu, although I agree with JB, 16 m a day seems fast! I guess manpower was pretty cheap back then...

Also I reckon looking south from Hadrian's wall would have been a bad idea for a centurion, unless he had a homie watching his back!

[grimer]

Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.

The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.

The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.

Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.

Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;
There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.

She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.

When I'm a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.

[comPiler]

Damn You Evolution!
31 October 2011, 1:29 pm

No, this isn't some anti-Darwin rant, just an outpouring of frustration about the difficulty of Jerry Moffat's Raven Tor "creation" (ahem).

I've had a hate-hate relationship with this route in the past, largely born out of not being able to do the moves, or in many cases hang the holds. Over the years I've been making creeping progress. Each year I inch a move or two closer - a reminder that I am still getting stronger, if only in certain styles and at a pace that would make a sloth blush.

This year I have returned for a dabble, making good use of the freakishly good October weather. I have reduced the "moves I cannot do" count to one, although the "moves I can barely do" count is still pretty high. Perhaps a winter's training will improve my crimp strength and hip flexibility enough to start red pointing?

When I did Make it Funky, back in the year 2007 AD, I couldn't do any of the moves at all on the crimpy headwall. By contrast, pocket power midget Ru Davies was enjoying a career break. Between law school and donning a silly wig Ru took time off to write THE peak bouldering guide, go climbing a lot and get freakishly, stupidly strong. His levels of crimp strength reached McClure-esque heights, and it is amazing (and a great shame) that he didn't tick Evolution back then. Here he is, captured in all his glory, by ace cameraman Rich Heap. Watch it and weep....

from Rich Heap.

Source: The Spherical Cow

[Stu Littlefair]

In my experience straightforward manual labour is actually very satisfying as long as you can see the job progress. Which these guys would have done. Though most of them were probably slaves, which would make 'job satisfaction' a rather facile term.

The wall was built using centurions, not slave labour, apparently. Although that's the wall building, so I guess it leaves scope for enforced labour in the nearby sandstone quarries.

Some great responses to that post; Grimer the Kafka link is awesome, though I had to read it more than twice to get my head round some of it.

16m a day is incredibly fast, but also incredibly slow compared to the size of the job. There's a new bridge over the Colorado above the Hoover dam which took a decade to build, so it's not like we've stopped building projects on this scale, but somehow it doesn't seem quite as awe-inspiring...

[north_country_boy]

A decade to cross the Colorado you say? I guess that puts the Qingdao bridge in perspective....42.4km in 4 years! I bet the working conditions were better back in 122 AD working on Hadrians wall....

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-13976281

[comPiler]

The Games
8 November 2011, 11:43 am

"It's really great if you do hard outdoor climbing, but you cannot say you're the best. The only way you can say you're the best is if you compete with the best and show the best - I'm the best" - Reindert Lenselink (World Cup Official)

Last night was the start of the Foundry Bouldering League. I used to love bouldering comps; I went to them religiously, got a spot on the GB team, had some mediocre international results. Hard to believe that was back in 2001. Back then Tony Blair was PM, and still the apple of the nation's eye. Many of the events that shaped the modern world were still to come - 9/11, the invasion of Iraq, the launch of Facebook. But last night there was a funny wind in the air, and for the first time in ten years I really felt like going to a comp again. I felt youthful and strong, so I went along to show them all who's best.

Well, the best stayed away (they'd probably heard I was coming), but there was a really good scene down there. Rob Napier had done a great job with a brand new set of Core holds and there was 25 problems to have a crack at and a lot of keen folk around to have some banter with. The Foundry guys had also come up with a new twist on the comp format; as well as the standard problems there was also a "Flash Problem", which gave everyone who flashed it the chance to win a cash prize in a raffle.

The best bouldering comps are the ones where you can drop the 'easy' problems. It keeps the nerves jangling. Last night was a great example of this. Many of the 'hard' problems were fine, but the easy probs were also easy to drop, with some awkward lurches, some technical grooves and some graunchy traverses thrown in to mix things up. I was quite pleased with the way I climbed. Only two problems gave me any real trouble - a desperate slopey yellow and a huge dyno to a large red ball. Both succumbed in the end, but I had to get really angry on the dyno and embarrassed myself with a bit of a roar when I caught it.

It was great to watch the other climbers, too. There were some really cool displays of technique, especially from the females. Leah Crane, Emma Twyford and some young blond lass I don't know climbed really well. These girls have really precise, and very different ways of moving on the rock; I think I could learn a lot from them, if I could get my hips to actually move more than 5 degrees in any direction. There were some great displays of tenacity too; one tiny pre-teen girl kept setting up for the dyno, even though it was much further than her body length. She never got close, but optimism like that is gonna get you up something well hard someday...

There was good cake as well. Basically I had a ball, and I won the aforementioned raffle, so went home with enough cash to take Jules out for dinner. Heartily recommended.

Source: The Spherical Cow

[SA Chris]

You heartily recommend taking your wife out for dinner?

Good work Stu, reminds me of the bristol bouldering comps - you flashing everything, me not doing any of them.

[Jaspersharpe]

Just seen the Evolution video, how did Ru not tick it? He was absolutely pathing the fucker! 

[Stu Littlefair]

Frightening isn't it? I asked him about this vid at the weekend, because he does some of the moves differently to me. He said that he's a bit shaky on the video because he didn't feel very strong that day 

[cofe]

that is a ridiculous video.

[Ru]

Just seen the Evolution video, how did Ru not tick it? He was absolutely pathing the fucker! 

I went on holiday the week after I dropped the last move and it was wet when I got back. Then it was summer and I went to europe, then I became a barrister, then I had a kid. 

[Doylo]

unlucky Ru!

[robertostallioni]

He wouldn't swap.

[Jaspersharpe]

Just seen the Evolution video, how did Ru not tick it? He was absolutely pathing the fucker! 

I went on holiday the week after I dropped the last move and it was wet when I got back. Then it was summer and I went to europe, then I became a barrister, then I had a kid. 

Excuses excuses.   

[shark]

He wouldn't swap.

He evolved

[comPiler]

Lessons from the CWIF
11 March 2012, 10:50 pm

I was really excited about taking part in the CWIF this weekend. And I man really excited, like can't sleep, Disneyland excited. It would be my first international comp for nearly 10 years, And I was feeling quite strong, so hoped I might do OK. This is what I leant...

1) It's OK to tank

And I really tanked. To say I wasn't close to qualifying is a minor understatement. Qualifying and I weren't even on speaking terms. Still, I had a brilliant time, questing round with a great team, and today I got to go to the plantation and climb in the sun with a great group of people (and Will).

2) Never give up.

Part of the reason for the aforementioned tanking is that I threw in the towel far too early. Almost straight away I had a shocker on two reachy problems which totally shut me down. Two fat zeros, lurking on my scoresheet like toads. After that, I thought I had no chance, and lost my focus and aggression. I started having lots of fun, but making tons of mistakes and not trying nearly as hard as I should have. In fact, looking back, if I'd kept my shit together I'd still not have qualified. But, if I'd kept my shit together and been less short, inflexible and technically inept I probably would have.

3) We are so lucky in the UK...

...to have some of the best routesetters in the world. The qualifiers consisted of thirty problems which had to provide enough fun for those who came down for a laugh, and challenge some of the best in the world. They are set on the main circuit section of the Works, so the potential for disgusting "dirt vert" is high. All 30 problems were great, requiring a potent mix of brains and brawn for success. I don't think I've ever competed on problems of such consistently high quality. Chapeau, route setting team!

4) Legs.

Strong legs are useful, as are butt-cheeks, shoulders and (a distant fourth) fingers. As I write this my legs are in agony, and don't even ask about my backside.

5) What good climbers look like...

The display of bendiness, determination and strength I saw from Ned and Barrans today was awe-inspiring. Watching those guys contort their way up the groove of despair in the finals, all I could think was how good they must be in the sack...

6) The Brits are "quite good"

Finally - the Brits won the CWIF! An inspiring effort from Shauna, who dominated the women's field, and brute strength on a stick from Dave Barrans, who squeeked it in the men's. It all came down to the final problem; Dave had climbed three problems, and Guilliane Glarion-Mondet, the French Sideshow Bob lookalike, had to top out on the final problem to win it. It was one of those situations where you're screaming support, but at the same time praying he won't make it. Guillane fought his way to the last move of the last problem, but could only wave at the finishing hold as he flew past it. Barrans Wins!!!

Source: The Spherical Cow

[comPiler]

The risk business
3 April 2012, 10:03 pm

Those of you who take four hour lunch breaks to surf the web have probably wondered why this blog has had so few posts in recent months? I've heard a few rumours; perhaps I'm working on something big, and have gone dark so it'll be big news when it breaks. More likely; in recent months my life has been boring even to me, so I'm not going to lumber you lot with it. Train, work, sleep. Work, train, sleep. 3! = 6, but even that's an exaggeration; not every way of arranging sleep, train, work is practical.

However, something has cropped up, so I'll share it with the world. Either because I'm a sharing kind of guy, or because I'm an egomaniac whose voice needs to be heard. Your choice - you get the info all the same.

This weekend I've ended up watching two films on a similar theme; the deadly side of motorsport. One was "Madness on Wheels: Rallying's Crazy Years" by none other than climbing's own Rich Heap. You can catch it here for the next few days, at least. It's a great film; by rarely showing the accidents it avoids the uncomfortable rubber-necking feeling it might produce. But there are plenty of accidents here, under the surface. In a few years when several rally drivers, and more spectators were killed, it's hard not to accept that rallying got out of hand. And yet; at the end of the film the drivers involved look back on it like it was some golden age.

All of this pales in comparison with TT: Closer to the Edge, which follows several rider's quests to win the 2010 TT races in the Isle of Man. The TT is quite simply insane. Between 1907 and 2009 there were 237 deaths. Two hundred. And thirty seven. 2.32 deaths per TT. The attrition rate is mind-blowing. We like to think climbing can be a risky business, and yet if there was a similar fatality rate in climbing it would shock and appall us there.

And that got me thinking about how different cultures shape our approach to risk. Two things struck me about the TT. One was that really serious accidents (and I'm talking about the bike exploding at 180mph  kind of serious) didn't put racers off. From their hospital beds they vowed to be fit enough to race next year. Since the accidents didn't affect their attitude, I can only assume they've made their peace with death before they race. TT riders have accepted there's a good chance they'll die, and decided to do that anyway.  Climbers don't do that. I think it's because climbing is just safe enough that we can avoid it. We can pretend instead that accidents won't happen to us, and the deception works because accidents are (thankfully) rare.

The other thing I noticed was how old some of the TT riders are. Joey Dunlop won 26 TT races, including his last in 2000. He was 48. Shortly afterwards he was killed in a race in Estonia. This didn't seem to be a rare example either; plenty of the top riders were in their 30s or 40s. As climbers, it's rare to see anyone pushing it outside their twenties. There are old climbers, and bold climbers, but there are no old, bold climbers. I used to think this had two causes; that people mellowed with age and found risk unjustifiable, and that the boldest climbers kicked the bucket before they got old. Thinking about the TT, maybe it's because our climbing culture actually discourages risk; sooner or later the young tigers get the message, chill out and start warning the next generation to be careful.

Either way; I also just watched the excellent life on hold, and was impressed by the boldness of the under 30s on their campaign to highball everything they can put a mat under. I just hope they're being careful...



Source: The Spherical Cow

[Nibile]

Wise words Stu. I have often found myself thinking the same as of late, especially when receiving Michele's news.

[comPiler]

Life on Hold
5 April 2012, 12:54 pm

Two years in the making, the british bouldering film Life on Hold, from Outcrop Films (Nick Brown and Richard Sharpe) is finally available. Obviously I downloaded it straight away. When I went to the shop I got a pleasant surprise. The 720p download available for only £10, which is a bargain price, cheaper than almost any comparable climbing film I can think of.

The film itself starts with a beautifully shot and edited sequence of Ned Feehally on Careless Torque; the tone of which is judged perfectly, with a quiet background of strings and piano accompanying the action. The film then embarks on a tour of Yorkshire, the Peak and Northumberland. For the most part, Ned, Dan Varian and Mickey Page are the stars, but there are cameo appearances from a whole host of world-class boulderers, and Dave Mason.

The filming is beautifully done. Some shots are breathtaking, and Outcrop's now-hallmark time lapses are interspersed between the climbing sequences. This is actually done to great effect, and really fits well in a movie about UK bouldering, where the changeable weather and frustrating conditions are such a big part of any climber's life.

The structure of the film itself is very much "all thriller, no filler"; there's very few interviews and almost no exposition. Generally, this works well, letting the problems be the stars and allowing the climber's personalities to reveal themselves through the action. It's also a good call since some of the people in the film (no names, Ned) are best described as reluctant interviewees. At times, however, it works to the film's detriment. In particular, the film follows a non-linear narrative, cutting away from attempts on, and returning to ascents of, key problems. Without any narration to put this in context it's a little jarring, and hard to follow. Where the narrative works best is where interview audio is overlaid over climbing action - for example Ned expounding his highball philosophy whilst soloing The Pride in the Churnet.

In fact, it's the highballing that is the real draw of this film. Dan and Ned have gained a reputation for bringing a new approach to grit climbing, with increasing higher and higher routes falling to a ground up, above pads approach. Most of the time this is a natural application of modern technology, whilst at times it seems to descend into madness, with crazily high and committing routes being highballed above tiny pieces of foam. Sometimes the film does a great job of capturing the gripping nature of this style; watching Ryan Pasquill and Dan on the Return of the Jedi the tension mounts slowly until Ryan takes a nasty looking fall onto distant pads stacked over jumbled boulders. Watching Ned on the Promise is another occasion. His pads seem impossibly distant and, for once, Ned actually looks scared. Then he falls off and the lob is almost anti-climactic. In fact, this is the biggest problem with the highballs in the film; sometimes the falls look suprisingly tame!

In summary, I really loved this film. It is gorgeous, well-paced and features some truly inspiring ascents of world-class problems. Recommendation: download ASAP.

Source: The Spherical Cow

[Jaspersharpe]

"and Dave Mason" I just lolled sat outside The Sheaf. Stop looking at me.

[tregiffian]

How now round cow?

[comPiler]

One funny turn deserves another
7 May 2012, 8:02 pm

Six or seven years ago I returned from a work trip, severely sleep deprived, and crashed out in our Exeter bedsit. A few hours later my wife came into the room to find me awake, and talking nonsense. In hindsight, my unconscious brain was clearly concerned with the inner workings of astronomical cameras,  but as I ranted about rows and columns not being properly aligned I became increasingly angry at my wife's refusal to understand me, whilst she became increasingly concerned at my unhinged state of mind. Just before she decided to take me to hospital, something more like conscious thought returned and I slowly began to realise that my mutterings were somewhat deranged.

A few similar attacks occurred over the years, always following heavy work trips in which long series of consecutive night shifts left me floundering when I returned to the UK. Thankfully they are now much less common than they were. The most recent was last year, when on holiday in France I found myself in the bizarre position of completely freaking out at the crag. The sloping ledges beneath Castillon are not a comfortable place to have a picnic, but for experienced rock-cats like myself, they are a pretty tame environment to hang out in. And yet, roping up I felt a growing unease. Alarming thoughts would swim up, unbidden, and I'd shudder as a vision of the knot untying fizzled across my brain. Ten minutes later things came to a head with me hanging on the fifth bolt of my warm-up, sobbing uncontrollably and begging to come down. Thankfully, this has never repeated itself, although this weekend I got a little reminder of this unpleasant occurrence.

Having come home from back-to-back work trips to Hawaii (poor me) and La Palma (I know!) I was feeling pretty drained and jet-lagged. Rather than bang on with the hard limestone we thought a change was in order and this saturday we drove over to N Wales for a day on the slate. To be honest, I thought we'd just pootle about on mid-grade sport routes, and that's what we started out doing, but the great grey bulk of the rainbow slab was like a siren call and we headed down and launched up Pull My Daisy. I had such a great time that it makes me wonder what I've been doing on sport routes all these years! The route is famous for a monster run out in the upper reaches and, to be honest, I only just about held it together. Still, I gave myself a good talking to halfway up and climbed well, even though my head was raging. After that we did another few routes and I drove home feeling really content and relaxed.  On Sunday we drive up to Malham - the first time we've been back since the mega-day when Jules ticked Predator and I fluked my way up Bat Route.

Walking into the cove I felt a familiar feeling creeping up on me, along with a growing feeling of unease. It is really upsetting to find yourself in a totally familiar situation having to try really hard to keep your head screwed on. It's a bit like how I imagine the tourists, gingerly stepping their way around the catwalk, must feel. Warming up on the catwalk almost everything would make me flinch - heart-stopping jabs of adrenalin from ropes pulling through the chains, or the sound of laughter. In a bid not to be beaten by this mood we head 'upstairs' and I tie onto the most exposed route at Malham. At 7c, "Free and Easy" takes a slabby line perched in the middle of the cove. Gained by an exposed traverse to the belay of the groove, the route is perched high above the beck, with it's gaggle of neck-craning tourists. Out here I pretty much freaked out totally. Muscles locked taught, only a constant internal litany of swearwords allowed me to bolt-to-bolt the route. Back on the half-height ledge I lay down with my eyes closed and tried and find some equilibrium. It worked enough to allow me to have another go, but I fell off anyway! The unsettling feeling never quite went away, and after Jules had crushed her route (Obsession), we went back down to the Catwalk. By comparison the situation felt quite relaxed, so I was able to climb again, and feel the pressure release with every lap of the familiar routes.

Today I feel back to normal - a long lie in, and a relaxed day of reading, eating and doing chores has let my head settle. Still - a nasty warning of how fragile the mind can be, and a reminder to make sure I rest properly the next time I return from a trip abroad!

Source: The Spherical Cow

[Nibile]

Very excellent Mr. Stu. Welcome to my world.

[Oldmanmatt]

Amen.

And you're not alone.

[SA Chris]

hanging on the fifth bolt of my warm-up, sobbing uncontrollably and begging to come down.

Sounds like me on a good day.

I think everyone gets them now and again, I have had them surfing solo before; just an overwhelming feeling that all of a sudden all the unlikely odds of something going wrong were stacking up heavily against me.