[Paul B]

sharp

[account_inactive]

And shit

[Bonjoy]

we climb at Kilnsey on Sunday. It is colder than Hell;

Now i know you're a boffin rather than a god-botherer, but colder than hell could be quite warm. It covers a fair range, anything from say just cooler than a raging inferno which burns for eternity, right through to absolute zero.

[TobyD]

so... in the true spirit of WWJD, are you going to lose the deckchair, and break out the One Summer era purple lycra hot pants for sending glory? You know it makes sense.

I could read this shit all day long.

agreed.

[abarro81]

I love chairs at the crag. The Spaniards have got it right on chairs, high quality climbing and shouting at you whilst you're trying hard. So everything except for the shit.

[gme]

Glad to here deck chairs are coming back. They were all the rage in the early nineties at kilnsey my personal favorite was a proper striped beach type chair that was angled perfectly to avoid kilnsey neck.

They also pre dated the gri gri but worked just as well by winding the rope round the leg a few times whilst the climber rested on the rope.

The BMC should stump up for some nice reclining benches below the best routes, outside climbing seems stuck in the dark ages compare to the luxury's you now get at the wall.

[Stu Littlefair]

I love chairs at the crag. The Spaniards have got it right on chairs, high quality climbing and shouting at you whilst you're trying hard. So everything except for the shit.

And Mullets.

Bonjoy, In Dante's Inferno, the ninth circle of Hell contains Satan frozen in ice. Brrr.

[north_country_boy]

I love chairs at the crag. The Spaniards have got it right on chairs, high quality climbing and shouting at you whilst you're trying hard. So everything except for the shit.

And Mullets.

Dreaded Mullets. Obviously.

[Bonjoy]

Ah well now, if you'd said "Colder than Dante's ninth circle of hell" in the first place.....

[comPiler]

We can rebuild him...
9 June 2011, 12:30 pm

Well, as i mentioned, I decided it was time to get a coach. Everyone who's everyone has their own coach these days. Last night I went for my assessment session with Tom Randall, all round nice guy and wide crack fetishist. It was good of Tom to squeeze me in, as his little girl Hannah is only a few weeks old, so he can't be getting much sleep. Hannah was very cute, and impeccably behaved whilst I was there, by which I mean she was unconscious.  

The assessment session is meant to assess my strengths and weaknesses, so that Tom can tailor my training plan for maximum effect. To this end, Tom has built an impressive array of torture devices designed to narrowly focus on one particular kind of strength. His "crack cellar" is infamous, but pales in comparison to the horrors of the lattice board; a diagonal grid of identical edges designed to test strength, endurance and recovery to the max. No subtleties or places to hide here, just an endless series of good edges on a steep board, circling and circling until you drown in your own lactate.

It was interesting to see how accurate the lattice board was as a predictor of climbing ability. I exploded off the board after 68 moves. Apparently, 70 moves is the standard target for those wishing to onsight 8a; therefore the board neatly agrees with my own idea if where my climbing is right now.

After the board we tested some core strength and did some routes down the wall to assess technical ability and my climbing style. It mostly flagged up that I can't see a hold in front of my face. We also did some front levers to make me happy, and some flexibility tests to make me sad.

I await Tom's assessment with bated bated breath...



Source: The Spherical Cow

[comPiler]

Dead shit birds who stop climbing
13 June 2011, 3:29 pm

Got the Randall assessment thru the mail last night. Not too much controversy there; I was pretty amazed to hear him praise my above average technique and footwork, and totally unshocked to find that I'm a bit stronger than I am fit. Other than that, the take home message seemed to be that I'm reasonably well rounded, but with some weaknesses we can work on. He reckons with a couple of weeks work I can be onsighting 8b+. Well, maybe not, but there are things to work on at least...

This weekend we were full-bore, all guns blazing up to Malham so Jules could put some more time in on the proj. My goals were less clear; the hurty elbow is still quite hurty, and I've received some conflicting advice about cause and treatment. I think this means I must exercise some caution and restraint with the hurty elbow. Still, after warming up it seems to hurt a bit less, so I figured I'd put in some big links on Bat Route. After many, many days struggling with the crux on this, it is starting to come together, thanks to slightly larger biceps, and a radically different sequence. In fact, in the back of my mind is a little feeling that the route might actually go sometime soon. This feeling is elusive, and scurries away every time I notice it. To be honest, I'm trying not to pay it too much attention. If I ignore it completely, there's every chance I'll tick the route before I've had a chance to stress out about it. This is going to take some mental fortitude, and a bit of luck on the route itself...

Unfortunately, mother nature has failed to bend meekly to my will. A swift has made its home in just about the only hold you can't climb round. Damn birds. I hang on the rope looking bemused at this turn of events and debate in my head whether the route is worth becoming an evil bird-murderer for. My better angels win out, eventually. I need another project for the nesting season.

Idefix won't do. It's quite horrible and sharp. I make sure I tick it quickly, so I never have to go on it again. Urgh. On Sunday I have a quick look at Cry Freedom. My previous on this route involves yarding past most of the climbing to get to the top crux and completely failing on it for a best part of an hour. I've always felt a bit disappointed in this route. The climbing to get to the crux is fabulous and really involved; it really makes me want to climb it. Unfortunately the great climbing only takes you as far as the decidedly reachy and totally un-great crux. I can just about span between the two holds, but only with a couple of fingers, and only with very high and burly feet. With an extra inch it would be much easier, and that's not a very satisfying kind of move to spend your days falling off.

This time up things go a bit better and I actually manage to do the moves about one go in three from hanging on the rope. Bizarrely, this makes be even more ambivalent about the route. At least when I simply couldn't do the moves, it was a clean cut not-project. Now it occupies the hazy nether world of the possible project, which makes the prospect of repeated reachy failure high up both more realistic, and more intimidating. One to leave until I've ticked Rainshadow, or grown a bit, whichever comes first.

Still, Jules doesn't tick, which means I'm still in need of a Malham proj; Totally Free II? Hmmm..

Source: The Spherical Cow

[Fiend]

From the post title I thought this was about Magpie for a mo   

[comPiler]

In search of the perfect rock shoe
27 July 2011, 7:17 pm

Well, where are we? Last time I wrote Jules was working predator, and looking good for a quick ascent. My elbow was sore and giving me considerable worry. I was keen to start red pointing on Bat Route, but nesting birds had postponed plans. That was over a month ago now. Such is the breakneck pace of my life that as of today, we're pretty much in the same place.

The birds have hatched on Bat Route, and the peregrine has totally failed to do my dirty work for me. The Internet doesn't know much about how long swifts take to nest, but I'm guessing I'm gonna be in business in a month or so. I've done the links to and from the nest without much rest, so if the birds leave and it stays dry, we're game on. That's if hurty elbow allows; he's still a lot hurty.

Jules still hasn't done predator, but is ridiculously close. Her Spanish coach/Torquemada has her training harder than anything I've ever seen. Watch this space.

The only news of any note is that the quest for perfect climbing shoes continues. Why am I so obsessed with shoes? It's probably because for a (not so) modest outlay of cash, you can improve your climbing. It's an instant hit! Previously my heart has gone out to the Sportiva Miura VSs; they're just so precise. But they're not green. The new 5.10 Hornets are the coolest looking boots I've ever seen. That counts for something. Sheffield coffee shop impresario and one-time training guru Matt Smythe used to recommend wearing a baggy harness; it makes you feel thin, and if you feel thin, you feel good. Stu feels good, Stu climbs good! So I quite fancied a pair of green shoes and the fit in the shop felt amazing. £110 duly parted with.

The shoes are also quite a break from the norm; there's no midsole and the rubber is only 2mm thick. They're so soft you can crush them in the palm of your hand. Sadly that means that they're too soft for me, at least on British limestone. The quest continues. I wonder if these are any good?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad



Source: The Spherical Cow

[Nibile]

hurty elbows and shoe fetish?
seems like we share a lot!!!
ps. how do the Hornets feel like? I am very tempted to get a pair, I only have one pair of Dragons still in the box, don't want to run out of shoes all of a sudden.

[Stu Littlefair]

If you mostly climb on steep rock, the hornets could be amazing! They feel like hyper-sensitive dragons, and are actually kind-of OK for edging, given their softness.

I'm struggling to get on with them for two reasons.

1) They're a bit soft for UK rock, and you can't put a lot of weight on really tiny edges in them.

2) The rubber is so thin you can feel the rock through them, and I think I "back off" and put less force through the rock than I otherwise would. Presumably you'd get over this in time; I remember thinking dragons were shit the first time I put them on, too...

[Paul B]

I can't help but think that the latest range from 5.10 would be the bees knees if they just had a little bit of backbone to them, Quantums especially so.

[Nibile]

If you mostly climb on steep rock, the hornets could be amazing!

IF?
thanks Stu!!!

[comPiler]

Coach's orders...
2 August 2011, 11:39 pm

I'm quite a few weeks into coach Randall's plan now. It's quite a break from what I've been used too. Out go the endless circuits on the foundry bouldering wall (to the delight of the regulars). In comes 4x4s on the lead wall and 'continuity' sessions where I try and climb an "easy" route as many times as I can in 10 minutes. Then do it again. And again. And again, until my eyes bleed.

This weekend I ended up doing 50 for 5 at Kilnsey about 15 times in under an hour. It's surprisingly invigorating and aerobic as you're moving fast enough to get your heart pumping and a proper sweat on. The 4x4s have been the real killer. Initially I was making them a bit too easy, but some stern words from Tom, and a bit of competition to keep up with my training partner (the awesome Emma Twyford) means I've racheted up the intensity, with routes between 7a+ and 7c being lapped in short order. Brutal, but the missus says she can see the difference already, so by the time the nests are vacated, I'll be in crushing form!

The new regime has one slight problem. Tom is a wide crack fetishist, who thinks that real climbing consists of doing a thousand sit ups with your body contorted like a car crash victim. Since I don't routinely climb routes with my legs, he thinks my core strength is lacking. Once a week he's got me doing the core endurance session from hell. A million crunches, side crunches, dishes, leg raises. By the end of it I can only curl up on my bed and whimper. I think he hates me. But you've got to have dedication, and keep your eye on the prize. As Jules' coach wrote to her in an email; NON STOP, NON STOP A MUERTE!!!!!!!!!!!!



Source: The Spherical Cow

[comPiler]

Drudgery
20 August 2011, 2:12 am

My job is a privilege. I get to travel to exotic locations and do anything my curiosity drives me to do, provided I can justify it to the taxpayer. The observatories where I work are breathtaking locations. The night sky contains views like these:

So I love my job. But sometimes, just occasionally, it's a pain in the ass. As part of my job, I help operate a special camera for astronomy. I wrote about it here. I'm out supporting other astronomers who want to use that camera, and it's been a total bitch. We've had loads of technical trouble, which means I'm up all day fixing things and up all night operating the camera for other people. I've been averaging about 4 hours sleep a day. It's all a bit like hard work.

On top of that, I'm trying to keep training whilst I'm out here. I've still got a set plan from Coach Randall, so I'm trying to do all of that all my portable fingerboard that the nice boys at Beastmaker made for me. This I have achieved with a clever combination of bungee cord, pulleys, weights and a harness. There's even a winch in the optics lab where I can train with the lights on, and not worry about disturbing the telescope. It's a weird place to train, amongst the lab equipment, and I can tell you now that stamina training on a fingerboard is pretty damn boring. So work feels like work, and even climbing feels like work.  

But I don't care. I've got my eye on the prize, 'cos I'm coming home to September; the month of crush. I've got two weeks at Malham and a 10-day climbing holiday to look forward to and I'm going to be in the best goddam shape of my life, because nothing prepares you for heroics like sleep deprivation and hanging from planks of wood. Plus, I've got the Patxi training bit from Progression playing on a permanent loop on my laptop. So that's nice

Source: The Spherical Cow

[comPiler]

Tangible
23 August 2011, 3:35 am

I've been an astronomer now for over 13 years. One thing that surprises many people is that professional astronomers don't have much of a visceral connection with the night sky. When I'm operating my telescope for work I sit in an air-conditioned control room with fluorescent lighting. Images come from the telescope to my PC where they're often analysed automatically by software written for the purpose. Most of of the time I interact with a stream of numbers, and never even see the pictures.  

I don't even need to know my way around the constellations. The telescope's computer-controlled mount takes care of finding my targets for me. I just type in the co-ordinates and off we go. There was a time when I'd been a professional astronomer for nearly 5 years, and didn't know more constellations than Orion and Cassiopeia!  

My relationship with the night sky changed a few years ago, when I started to use my spare time at observatories to take pictures of pretty parts of the sky. No telescopes here, just a camera, some lenses and a mount that will track the rotation of the stars in the sky. I've had to actually learn where things are in the night sky. And then there's something truly amazing about pointing a camera at a patch of sky, opening the shutter for a couple of minutes and seeing a beautiful picture of some galaxy or cluster appear on the CCD screen. Suddenly those objects I've known from catalogs and papers seem incredibly real. Tangible. One photo and I know, with a certainty I've never had before, that the Andromeda galaxy is there, hanging in the patch of sky near Cassiopeia.

So tonight I have one of those rare things at an observatory; a night off. Actually, I'm supposed to be working, but the telescope is broken so I've got some spare time, and having worked the previous 11 nights straight, I don't feel like trying to write papers, or analyse data. So I've spent the night outside, under the Milky Way. I set up my camera and my fingerboard, put the Smashing Pumpkins on my iPod at full volume, and hung under the stars whilst my shutter clicked repeatedly. During rest periods I watched for shooting stars. I could get all hippy on you at this stage, but suffice it to say it's been a pretty fucking amazing night. And now, at the end of it, I'm 0.005% stronger, and have this picture to show for it....



Source: The Spherical Cow

[Andy F]

Quality musings Stu, and a cracking music choice as well 

[comPiler]

The Circle of Life
5 September 2011, 3:12 pm

The death of the humblest creature may provide sustenance for the King of Beasts. And so we mourn not the passing of any creature, because all creatures are connected by the great Circle of Life (apart from Jellyfish).

As with nature, so it is with climbing. I have returned from my self-imposed exile in the Canary Islands, and am eager to begin battle proper with the mighty Bat Route, which soars imposingly up the centre of Malham Cove. Regular readers of this blog will note that I was having a little trouble with squatters on this route. I was sure that with the onset of Sendtember, the nesting birds would have begun their flight to Africa, and I could destroy their home whilst they weren't looking. I was a little sad to see that the Peregrine had beaten me too it; the nest was in turmoil, and a suspicious looking hole had appeared in the front of the outer wall. Sad news for the swifts, good news for me!

And so the siege begins! Bat Route consists of a short 7b into a orgy of thuggy undercut moves through the main overhang. These bring you, panting, to a perfect double knee-bar rest. Whilst hanging upside down in the middle of the cove you can wave to the tourists and contemplate the next section, a bouldery runout on terrible smears. If you have recovered enough, then a tenuous layback move, miles above a pathetic rust-stain pretending to be a bolt will bring you to another great rest, this time on enormous jugs with poor feet. From here you have only the final 7c/+ section on smee smears and tiny crimps between you and the top. It's just that this last section is about a million moves long.

Day 1 sees me get much higher than I thought I would; through the pant-filling runout and into the good rest. From here you can kid yourself that you're going to crush the headwall but most goes see me fade out by a hard move halfway up the headwall. This is a move that tall people can lank past, but most will have to pull on a despicable side pull, rendered useful by dint of a tiny tiny thumb-catch. When I get here I feel as if all strength has been sucked form my arms, and I can't even crimp up. I leave the crag psyched to get this high, but wondering if I'll ever have the stamina to pull through this move.

Day 2, Go 1 answers that question with a resounding yes! Everything goes wrong on this go; the holds have filled with mud and water, and I have to clean them off after each jug. Worse yet, my feet pop on the runout, draining my bowels along with my reserves of stamina. Nevertheless I manage to shake out a little before the hard headwall move and cruise through it. Suddenly there are only three moves between me and glory! Move one, piss. Move two is piss. I feel strong, quite fresh and the sound of angels singing Glory! fills my mind. I get so excited I miss out the little intermediate crimp I always use, which turns out to be an appalling mistake. Disaster! My left brain is pleased to reach this highpoint, and cooly logs it to feed future optimism. My right brain has a proper paddy and spends ten minutes shouting and cursing, before sloping off to its room for a sulk. From this point on, things go from bad to worse. The sun comes out, instantly turning the cove from a piece of rock into a creeping wave of slime. Worse still, I am struck low by the worst migraine known to man. Instead of dusting myself off and finishing the route I am left to lie on the catwalk and gently whimper.

So now the wait begins. Will it stay dry for a whole five days? Who knows - the forecast is for rain and I may yet see my victory snatched from my grasp....

And what about Jules, I hear you ask? Well, Jules is still trying Predator. Despite having made it through the hard climbing about a month ago, wet rock and life have got in the way and she had yet to regain that highpoint. On Sunday, despite poor conditions she was determined she would at least make it through the crux again. Four red points later and she had failed at the last move each time. At this point other people would see sense and give up. Indeed, everyone else had gone home and dusk was falling as Jules tied in for an epic fifth go. Obviously tired, she fought her way to the last hard move and strained through it, finding herself on the easier headwall for a second time. Cool and collected she cruised through her previous highpoint and was looking good for the tick when a flash pump threw her confidence and her right foot slipped! She was robbed!

In fact, we were both robbed and on the same day.  Climbing can be a cruel mistress sometimes; run a good time in a 100m race and you go home feeling happy. Yesterday Jules and I were a whisker away from our best climbing performances ever, and we go home totally empty handed and with 'what-if' ringing in our ears...

Source: The Spherical Cow

[comPiler]

Operation Grade Chase
2 October 2011, 9:43 pm

8a. It's a grade. It's the grade, if we're honest. It's not 7b.nu is it? I've been slogging up the steep hill of progress for many years now. A few years back I reached a bright and sunny plateau, where on sighting 8a felt like the kind of thing I could do pretty regularly. I've never reached that beautiful spot since. But I've been slogging around the hillside some more since then and I reckoned I was ready to try again. So. 6 days. South of France. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to onsight every 8a you can find in the guidebook. This blog post will self-destruct in five seconds...

Day 1Jurassic Park. Grade chase status: total failure.

Our ex-pat hosts take us to meet other ex-pats Mike and Elaine Owen at their favourite crag. Everyone is english, just like the costa del sol. Don't even get on an 8a, but do fail to redpoint 8a+. Chapeau Monsieur Littlefair.

Day 2Jurassic/Cayenne. Grade chase status: dismal failure.

More classic tufa action. I don't understand tufa. There seems to be jugs everywhere but I just end up getting massively pumped and baffled. More brits at the crag today, including Al Cassidy, who floats up Diplodocus (8a). He makes it look so easy I get on after him and totally balls it up. Redpoint yesterday's 8a+ to make me feel better. Go to nearby Cayenne; looks awesome. Fail to get on an 8a.

Day 3Deverse. Grade chase status: almost successful (i.e failed again)Really psyched. Today is the big one. Deverse Satanique; the best 8a since they were invented. Snaky tufas snaking up a big overhanging wall. I'm so psyched for this one I watch videos of it all night, and bring them to the crag. Nothing's gonna stop me here. I pull on, cruise through the bottom and balls up the first hard move. I see a theme developing here. Balls up another 8a on the RHS, even though it would get VS in Cheedale. Not a happy bunny.

Day 4St Martin Vesubie. Grade chase status: are you still even asking?



What an amazing crag. Really; it's completely incredible. Cool features. Enormous routes. Beautiful locations. There aren't any 8a's here. I don't even know why we came.

Day 5Jurassic/Cayenne. Grade chase status: I'm so depressed.



Actually tried an 8a today. Fell off it.

Day 6 St Cezaire. Grade chase status: YYFY!

This crag is British. It's got crimps and everything. Finally, finally I onsight an 8a. I think it's soft. It gets 7c+ in one guide. I'm taking the tick though. In fact, you couldn't prise the tick from my cold dead fingers.

All in all a great trip. Thoroughly recommend the area to all looking to fall off 8as. One thing puzzles me. Every day we drove past the "Easy Love, Love shop". Looks like a classy establishment, but can any of my worldy wise readers tell me what the duck is all about?





Source: The Spherical Cow

[SA Chris]

but can any of my worldy wise readers tell me what the duck is all about?

Have you dared looking on their etherweb site?

[Stu Littlefair]

I think Jules and Sheila looked, but they were sn**gering so much I didn't dare ask them