[gme]

I'm only looking to lose about 1-1.5 kg, which takes me nowhere near Megos territory who is 173cm and 57kg. 

That amazes me i would have put him down as a good 10kg more than you. Not that he is big just thought you were in the proper pre pubescent category not just the teenage one.

Bens lighter than you mind by a good few pounds and 5`10"

[Doylo]

Moony and Mcclure have the best strength to weight ratio in the country.

[petejh]

Combined, still.

[Fultonius]

I've always thought skinny wee Ondra was 58kg and 180cm (5'11"). He was. Now the heavy fucker is 68kg!  How can I only be 4kg heavier than Ondra and still be so shit hahaa.

[jwi]

I've always thought skinny wee Ondra was 58kg and 180cm (5'11"). He was. Now the heavy fucker is 68kg!  How can I only be 4kg heavier than Ondra and still be so shit hahaa.

68? Surely, that's including a rope, a rack, the shirt on his back, and the alpine boots?

(1.795 m, 70 kg. Two kg less would not take me up a 9b+)

[Fultonius]

That's what he said in the recent interview. It could all be lies!

[comPiler]

Staycation
14 April 2015, 2:57 pm

Weight: 61.5 kg (for you euros out there)Bottles of Pepsi Max: 56Finger Tendon Integrity (FTI): 0.72

This was a mistake.

Jules and I huddled together in our tent for warmth as the gales drilled the rain sideways. Earlier still we had gazed into the hollow eyes of the only other team fool enough to stick it out on the Catwalk. And, before that, a text from Toby - "If you're heading to Malham, turn round now". Not an auspicious start to our 2 weeks holiday in the Dales. The following morning revealed the full extent of the damage; Malham had soaked up the rain like a sponge and sulked with a black face at the head of the dale. In the pub we checked flight prices, EU breakdown cover. Too expensive. Time for plan C. We packed the sodden tent and went home.

Take 2: LPT. Different crag, same scenes. We try to press ourselves into the cliff face to escape the showers and icy wind that is howling round the bay. If we could summon the energy to look up it would be clear that Welsh climbers are a hardier lot than their Yorkshire counterparts. Every dry route is adorned with a suffering climber. It's too much for us, so we head back upstairs to the relative shelter of Parisella's Cave. Between the wet streaks are some damp holds, and we manage to warm up for the first time in several days. I get some nice ticks by performing extended hikes from one random point to another. Apparently, this passes for a boulder problem in the cave*. It's clear that my strength and fitness is on the up! Later on, Caff emerges from LPT to show us what real men are capable of - quietly confirming he despatched his 8c+ project despite the damp holds and arctic weather. We head to the Bangor Travelodge for some sleep, then bang out another Parisella's session the next day. It is wetter. We go home again.

This holiday is becoming a farce. It's clear that something radical needs to be done. But what? We look at buying a house in Spain, or giving up climbing, but in the end we decide to go Trad climbing. Once we've managed to find our rack we drive down to Pembroke and our punt pays off - we pass the Gower to emerge blinking into the Sunlight. The strange warmth of the Sun on our faces is like the best food or drink I've ever had - enthusiasm and energy floods back into me as we sit in the tent, waiting to go climbing.

However.

I'd forgotten I'm the worse trad climber in Britain. I kick off the weekend with an attempt to romp up the classic "Get Some In". My body doesn't quite know how to behave. I try to dance lightly up the rock but my arms are locked rigid and my hips are fused by nervous tension. If this is dancing, I'm listening to Kraftwerk. In the mistaken belief that I can banish my fear by sacrificing my wires to the crag, I empty my rack into the cliff. Nut after nut vanishes into the depths. Unsurprisingly I become pumped, and climb down to the ground to stare meaningfully out to sea until the pain subsides. Then I repeat the whole shameful exercise, only to run out of wires entirely shortly before the crux. Any resolve I have disappears with my last wire, and I lower to the ground.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Jules staring meaningfully out to sea. This is what Pembroke is all about.[/td][/tr]

[/table]

Thankfully, the brilliant thing about trad climbing is that it's brilliant. So I spend the next few days climbing classic E1s and E2s in the sun, and remembering how gear works, and what ice cream tastes like. Jules outdoes herself. She used to have the worst trad-sport differential imaginable; failing on VS in the same month as climbing 8b. This weekend she takes it all in her stride and leads her hardest trad routes in all environments, multi-pitch, tidal - you name it. By the end of the weekend we are emptying our racks into routes of the same difficulty, so she's officially better than me now, since my sport onsight grade is higher. It's the best bank holiday weekend in ages, and ages and ages. But you can't just spend all your time having fun, can you? And Malham must be dry by now. So we drive north with tanned faces and smiles that run deep.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Enjoying the Malham sun in our massive tent[/td][/tr]

[/table]

Malham is dry. And hotter than Venus. A cruel twist of fate - the heat we prayed for a week ago has undone us. But heat at Malham is only an issue for those without patience. We drink coffee and lie in; waiting for the sun to drift away from our projects. Some mornings we enjoy our newly discovered love of trad by sampling the crusty classics on the right wing. The evenings are reserved for Rainshadow efforts. It is going well; I feel strong on the crux, and easily better my best links from last year.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Malham in the evening sun. Ellis-Butler Barker finds out that Bat Route is longer than Anstey's Cove[/td][/tr]

[/table]

When we were living through the ice-age at LPT, Caff and I had been chatting about Rainshadow. He said he'd be red-pointing if he'd done the links I had. The thought squatted in my mind like a toad. So when Saturday came and the mercury dropped I squeaked my boots and set off from the ground for the first time...

...and promptly fell off.

Actually, I did alright. There are two really hard moves on the crux - an optimistic lunge for a tiny RH pinch on the lip of the roof, and the following snatch to a much wider pinch above. I managed the first hard move, and fell of the second. In theory only one hard move lies between me and a chance to break onto the easier upper wall. However, progress towards that move can be measured in a million tiny increments. On my first RP I had about 500,000 tiny increments to make up. My second and third RPs were much worse - I barely managed the first hard move at all.

But we're away! I am officially on RP. I'm also starting to lose finger tendon integrity (FTI) on the crucial finger, so attempts are going to have to be few and far between, and I'll try and make them count. Because if that lanky clown Barrows can climb 9a, then anyone can...

*only kidding Parisella's. I love you really.

Source: The Spherical Cow

[Jaspersharpe]

Great stuff Stu.

[a dense loner]

Yep nice ramblings there

[Stu Littlefair]

Cheers guys. A compliment from dense. I just fell in my soup.

[Falling Down]

Great writing Stu.. UK Climbing at its worst and best.

[a dense loner]

I didn't expect to be taken seriously 

[Nibile]

 
Good stuff Stu!

[bendavison]

I like it!

[Johnny Brown]

Hilarious. I guess cos you're trying Rainshadow you thought you'd piss Get some in, eh?

[Stu Littlefair]

No. I thought I'd piss it because I usually piss Pembroke E5s.

[Johnny Brown]

OOOooh! Except when you don't.

[willackers]

Great blog as usual! Cheers   

[abarro81]

Should've done more deadlifting probably.

[nik at work]

Stu I think your blog is brilliant.

[duncan]

Great stuff as usual.

Begs the question, which Pembroke E5s should I be aiming for? I've been spanked on Sunlover wall and done the usual suspects in The Leap other than Darkness at Noon. The latter is screamingly obviously My Sort Of Route that I would have just answered my question except it is hard to get tides, conditions and fitness to coincide.

Climbing was slightly frustrating given the great conditions, several of my long-term targets were well-chalked.

Get Some In is/was a target since I attempted it onsight in 1980, before the first ascent. I got about 3/4 way up before running out of gas. I abbed for the gear and and checked the moves but unfortunately it pissed down all day the following day and we had to go back to Sheffield. It would be good to go back and finish the job.

[Doylo]

Easiest two I've done are Ships that Pass in the Night and Headhunter.

[Johnny Brown]

From what I remember Get some in wasn't too bad but offers a perfect scenario for a flash pump. Nasty landing, undercut start, comes at you straight away, fiddly gear whilst you're low enough to need to keep placing it.

[shark]

Easiest two I've done are Ships that Pass in the Night and Headhunter.

 

If you like susatined, well- protected, bridging then Beat Surrender at Lydstep is another option.

Dogs of Hoare was tough at E4 but I didn't question the grade at the time and is now given E5 so must be bottom end. Great route but funny glassy rock

[duncan]

I've done Headhunter.

Ships... is on the list. I'm generally OK with routes where the gear is spaced but these days I need to know I'm definitely not going to hit anything. I presume something in that gear cluster before the jug is A1.

I can see Get Some In requiring some creative down-climbing. I'm OK with that.

Beat Surrender is an interesting suggestion. I have particularly inflexible hips but I'm usually fairly good in corners if the bridging is not too wide.

My forte is routes that are a bit run out, requiring commitment but not seriously dangerous. Endurance rather than bouldering. 3D weirdness like chimneys is also good. Keep them coming!