[comPiler]

Northumberland with the ‘Odyssey’
19 May 2012, 10:15 pm

For the last week, I have been traveling with the moving circus, that is the ‘Odyssey’. Film makers at ‘Hotaches Productions’ have teamed up with climbers Hansjorg Auer, Caroline Ciavaldini, James Pearson and myself. The idea is to climb a lot of UK trad, film it, and hopefully make a really cool film with the footage. So far, in the endless battle with UK weather I think we’ve come out on top, having climbed/got footage every day but one, and that was a day driving. However, we have been very cold, climbing, filming and camping. I can’t remember a May in the UK that has been this cold.

It’s been quite intense climbing UK trad for the cameras, especially since I haven’t done it for a year. However, Caro and Hans have never UK trad climbed, so I only have to look at their efforts to see that I have no excuses.

So what’s been happening? We started with two days in Northumberland. In terms of climbing, the most productive event was James’ flash of Crisis Zone, E7 6C. Caro also showed amazing form at ticking off a number of trad routes, from E2 to E6, picking up trad skills at a remarkable rate. It terms of footage, perhaps the most productive event was catching Hans, James and myself take ground sweeping, neck-jerking falls off tiny pieces of rock. My fall off the ‘direct’ of Charlottles Dream (E7), Back Bowden was especially entertaining as I narrowly missed Hans’ head along with the ground. James’ fall off ‘Off the Rocks’ E8 6c, was also pretty brutal.

Although the rock in Northumberland is really nice and the movement pretty special, after taking 3 falls off Charlotte’s dream, fumbling a leap in to a pocket each time, I decided enough was enough and I didn’t want to break my ankles on a silly eliminates. I think the rest of team were also feeling a little tired of having too many close encounters with the ground, so we decided it was time to head south to North Wales .

There are pictures and some short clips on here https://www.facebook.com/hotaches



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

North Wales, the Odyssey continues
20 May 2012, 7:47 am

We arrived in North Wales in full rain and fog, Llanberis style, but our forecast told us to expect otherwise so we made a plan for me to do the Cad the next day. We woke up in the morning to rain and wind and very cold temperatures. Although the Cad is meant to be easy physically, it’s not one you want to fall off of because you numb out. A little worried, we set off for the coast anyway.

Fortunately something that often happens in North Wales is that you’ll get perfect blue skies on the coast even when it’s pissing it down in Llanberis. Luckily for us, it was one of those days. ‘The ‘island of Gogarth’ as Hans calls Anglesey, was blessed with perfect blue skies and it was ‘game-on’. We did Blue Peter to warm up, which turned out to be quite bold for E4, on snappy rock, which didn’t bode well for the Cad.

So how did it go? Pretty good. I didn’t really feel like I was going to fall, and the tricky climbing was above OK gear, albeit a long way above that gear. I spent a long time trying to find gear on the start of the route. I think I’m a bit out of touch at finding weird gear having sport climbed and trad climbed on granite for most of the last year. Anyway I suppose it’s better to take a long time and walk back from the crag, than rush and end up splattered on the floor.



The next day provided full entertainment as we all launched oursleves on Strawberries. We all tried really hard which was great to see, but Hans came out on top with a smooth as onsight! It was really cool to see him do it, well done Hans! I really want to go back and finish it, its an amazing route.

The guys wanted some shots of the slate quarries so I did a little solo of Soap on a rope, which I really enjoyed. It felt nice to climb without a rope and rack.



Me and Caro also got a chance to get on Gin Palace. I tried it 3 years ago but fell off devastatingly close tot the top. I’ve always wanted to finish it off and was psyched to do it first try. Caro, really impressively did it second go. For those of you who don’t know Gin palace – it’s an incredibly awkward tight slate chimney. Most chimneys I’ve climbed are granite and you can smear quite easily, but you can’t smear on slate, which makes this ’7c’ extremely difficult. It mostly requires extreme perseverance to stay in the chimney.

All in all, North Wales blessed us with good climbing, good footage and blue skies!



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Pembroke with the ‘Odyssey’
26 May 2012, 9:10 am

All of us were most psyched for the Pembroke leg of the trip, but when we got there we had a look around and realised that most of the things we wanted to do were wet. Given that Huntsman’s Leap and Stennis Ford were mostly wet we had to make a change of plan. Hans and I sort of wasted the first day checking things out to find them wet. James onisghted Big Softy E7, which was a good effort given its condition. Hans managed to flash it the next day, with some info about the gear from James. It was one of the scariest leads I’ve belayed, given Han’s erratic style and lack of concern in the face of minimal gear and wet rock. As I jugged out (I was resting) nearly all of his pieces pulled out with a slight pull of the rope.

The next day things were looking drier in the leap and Stennis Ford, but unfortunately the military chose that day to start blowing things up in the range, so we were only allowed in at 4pm. To make the most of the day we went to Mother Scaries first. Hans lead Just Klingon (which felt much easier than when I seconded Neil Mawson up it (I think he went the wrong way)) and I did the E6 to the left Fireball XL5. It’s amazing that the Cad and Fireball XL5 get the same grade. They seem to represent opposite scales of the spectrum. Fireball feels pumpy, steep but mostly a clip up, using a lot of threads, insitu and otherwise. Whereas the Cad has much easier climbing, is not pumpy but, has very limited or poor protection.

Although I wanted to try Ghost Train, and Hans, Point Blank, we only really had time to film James and Caro on the Jackals, a cool looked E8 in Stennis Ford. Caro worked out the moves and the gear, did it with relative ease, and then James flashed it using her sequences and gear beta. Although me and Hans were annoyed not to try our routes, it was cool to see James and Caro dispatch E8 so casually, and we got to solo Manzooku as the sun set, which is a really nice route at Stennis Head, and one of my first E1s when I was younger.



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Nesscliffe: flashing, onsighting , flonsighting and head-pointing!
26 May 2012, 9:23 am



Hans left us, which was very sad, but we did smash Nescliffe. We went there for a day, but it felt like a year. We were there for 12 hours, filmed 9 attempts on different routes, racked up 63 E points and all in rather sweaty conditions. I had to hand it to the film crew (Matt, Dom, Diff, Dave) who worked super hard all day and our lovely chef Jon and driver Andy who brought us up soup and tea at 5 o’clock, nice!

I didn’t really feel like I got to climb much in Pembroke, so when I got to Nesscliffe I was psyched to climb something hard, perhaps a headpoint. But I abbed down a few E8s and they all seemed too hard. My Piano is one of the coolest looking lines, but I found that I could only do the starting moves in a really sketchy style, using the worst smears on rock. The sandy nature of the sandstone means that poor smears do not stick like granite or grit. Since the start is unprotected, and above some boulders, I decided to think first of my ankles and second of the route. Caro, however, utilising her longer legs did the start nicely and kept a cool head on the run out at the top. She also checked out another E8 Gathering Sun, which even she – with her longer legs – found a move that was too reachy. Knowing James was taller, she suggested ‘the method’ and the gear, so that James could flash it, which he did, making it look about VS.

Disappointed at not doing My Piano I looked for other impressive lines, and was drawn to Crispin Waddy’s E7 Tombola, named after his children Tom and Lola. Last time I was at Nescliffe, 5 years ago, I did the line to the left (a Johhny Dawes special 10’o clock Saturday Morning, E7) and had always fancied this beautiful looking corner, but I’d been too scared. There is a peg at 2/3 height, and a break at half height but below that it looked like you would have to be very creative with the gear, on sketchy rock. The line also didn’t seem to have had many ascents for quite some time. Abandoning routes at Nesscliffe can turn big jugs into sand-filled horror shows and good footholds into leg-shaking sandy nightmares. I also know Crispin quite well as he is a good friend of my Dads, so I also know that he can be a cheeky ****er, perhaps placing crucial pegs in awkward places, he is also not shit at funky corners, nor a scaredy cat. All this combined left me feeling quite worried about the prospect of breaking my legs. So Caro offered to go down on an ab rope to give it a clean and check that the gear wasn’t so bad I would die. She came down with encouraging comments, so I went for it.

The climbing below the break was easy enough not to worry about the fact that I had only a tri cam and a cam shoved into rotten sandy pockets. There was just one tricky move to the break, which I laced with gear when I got there and felt pretty happy about it. Knowing I only had the peg to the top I left the rest of my rack there, minus a quick draw. This was a good thing indeed, when I realised that I could not reach the peg, like everyone else, with my foot in the break. Whilst doing some of the hardest moves on the route, staring at the peg, that I then had to clip from a horribly awkward position, I was cursing Crispin Waddy for not being smaller, nor caring about those that are.  Anyway, I can’t complain because I clipped the peg, did the crux – which is a series of weird palming, shuffling, bridging moves that felt very nice – and pushed on to the top.

It’s sort of annoying that it wasn’t a true onsight, given that Caro cleaned the route, and suggested I take tri cams, but I felt like it was pretty close and a good effort. What I have learnt from this trip is that ‘flashing’ is a very strange and complicated thing in deed. James and Caro have mastered the art of flashing, given that they work as a team, going on routes and telling each other the exact gear, movements and holds. James’ attempted flash at Mui Caliente took flahing to a whole new level, seeing as James trained with the idea in mind for several months. James’ attempt was an awesome effort, and moreover, an awesome idea, showing that given enough fitness, talent and effort, routes this hard and bold can be done without top roping. But this idea of a ‘flash’ is quite different from your mate suggesting you take tri cams, a piece of information that one with tri cams might guess from the ground, given that there are pockets in view. I don’t really know either way, flash or onsight, and it makes me a little tired to have to think about it. Sometimes, I think that climbing is a very silly sport given all these labels we use to name certain efforts. We try to label routes definitively with grades, and then styles of ascent with ‘onsight’ or ‘flash’ or ‘headpoint’, but often these labels really detract from what’s going on, and it all begins to feel like a silly game.

So, my first E7 onsight? First flash. Perhaps I’ll settle for a ‘Flonsight’ and be happy to have done a cool route.



I’ll move onto the rest of the day, and it was a BIG day. Caro tried to onsight Yukan 2, a beautiful line in the main quarry, and one I tried 5 years ago, but never got. She fell in the awkward crux low down, but managed it second go. I threw down a top rope, worked out what I wanted to do and then also did it. I really love that route the climbing on it is very special I think. Then it was James’ time to shine, onsighting My Piano, despite fluffing up a lot of the sequences. He then repeated Nick Dixon’s new E9 A Thousand Setting Suns. What a day! I was especially impressed with James, seeing as he seemed to tick a lot of the hard routes at the crag in a single day.







Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Last day of the Odyssey – first day in the lakes
31 May 2012, 10:06 am

My first time climbing in the Lakes! I never have, largely because when I check the weather for the Lakes, there appears to be an entire lake hanging over the weather map. Ironically we had the clearest, hottest day there. We chose a good venue though; Pavey Ark being a little higher and more airy.It really is,very beautiful in the Lakes. It seems like a lot of the crags look a little messy from afar, as they’re mountain crags, but when you stand beneath the routes, you realise that the rock is actually really nice and clean, and the routes long enough to be inspiring.

Caro and I warmed up on an E4 called Fallen Angel. Caro started to lead it, but didn’t feel good about her gear, or the dirtiness of the rock or the fact that it was a bit wet. She decided to back off it and I took the lead.

I really admired Caro for this. She hasn’t done much trad climbing, yet she is onsighting E6 and headpointing E8, it took me years to get to that level, and most never do. But, she still has a lot to learn about placing gear, spotting gear and knowing what gear to trust. The good part is that she knows this, and is therefore willing to back off things when she doesn’t feel comfortable. Despite being ridiculously bold for a sport climber, it’s good to see that she has a sense of self-preservation, understanding that although she’s climbed E8, she might be risking too much on an E4 with tricky gear. Having taken the lead, and finding the gear to be a little fiddly, I was glad she backed off too.

I wanted to onsight Sixpence E6, which is meant to be a 3 star classic. And it didn’t disappoint! It was for sure one of the best routes I’ve done this trip. Cool rock, good gear, good holds, techy, airy. Just beautiful!

James abbed down Impact Day E9 6c to clean the holds and look at the gear, to go for the ‘flash’. He got really high on his first go, taking a big whip. Then got it next try.

All in all, the two weeks with the ‘Odyssey’ was a fun trip. We did a lot of good hard routes, and it was amazing to climb with such talented and varied climbers. It was quite tiring at times, having to get out of a van after 6 hours of driving, then summon the psyche to onsight another hard trad route. Hard trad climbing, especially onsight trad climbing – which is mainly what I did on this trip – is really mentally draining. Unlike embarking on a sport climb, when I embark on UK E6 and above, rightly or wrongly, I think a lot about the chances of me hurting myself and how I can reduce that risk. After a while this can be quite tiring. Perhaps a good solution is to minimise the really hard onisght trad routes to those that you really want to do, then spend the rest of the time either working on red/head point projects, and mileage on easy stuff.

George Ullrich on Impact Day, stolen from: http://steepmedia.blogspot.co.uk



Source: hazelfindlay

[benpritch]

..

[comPiler]

Back to the Lakes
6 June 2012, 8:14 pm

I really enjoyed the last day with the Odyssey up at Pavey so I thought I’d come back and climb with local lakelander Pete Graham. We had some good days ticking off classics E3-6s. Most of the routes up at Pavey are really good, especially Fallen Angel and Mother Courage. I definitely found lakes grades to be harder than other areas in the UK. RnS Special E5 6a on Raven Crag, Langdale felt like E6 seeing as the meat of the route is protected by one rotten peg.

I also liked Hell’s Wall E6 at Hell’s Wall. It’s basically a sport route (at about 7c+) because it’s so pegged but the climbing is really nice and pumpy. I sort of felt like all the pegs detracted from the route a little bit. It didn’t feel like a trad route at all, so unless someone takes the pegs out and does it without them, it seems like it could just be bolted and you would have the same experience. But… alas! This is the UK!

 

 



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

IMPACT DAY ‘don’t you know you’re not supposed to fall head pointing?’
6 June 2012, 9:15 pm

One of my ideas of what to do in the lakes was Impact Day an E8/9 up at Pavey Ark. I looked at it when James did it and thought it looked really cool.

Pete was working one day and it was raining, so I walked up with an ab rope to look at the move I was most worried about – a big last throw to a slopey jug off a mono. I swung around on a gri gri for a little bit and eventually found a pretty easy way of doing it with a really high foot. The move is really fun and I was psyched to come back and try the rest of the route once it had dried off.

Out of a crew from Bristol and Sheffield, Neil Mawson and Charlie Woodburn were up for trying the route with me. We all did a few routes first and ended up getting on Impact Day a little late in the day. Mawsons was up first, top roped it, then dispatched it without too much stress. Then Charlie gave it a bash and fell off the heart-breaker last move.

Before they had tried it, I had decided in my mind that I didn’t want to do it for a few reasons. It was coming up to 9 at night, it was my 7th day on, I was really cold and most of all I didn’t feel happy about the start. The first few moves are quite big, and although Neil and Charlie thought they were piss (having 10 inches on me) I did not. The way I was doing them was quite dynamic and not as controlled as I would have liked them to be. Those moves are also mainly unprotected. A small cam protects some of them, but after that you have nothing between you and a big ledge (and below that, around 20 meters of vegetated blocky slabs and ledges. But seeing Charlie and Neil try the route got me really psyched, and I had top roped it without falling, so I persuaded myself the start was fine and that I should go for it.

Well that turned out to be a big mistake. I set up for the first move and was a little surprised that I actually had to try hard. Basically I had the whole head pointing mentality all wrong. I wanted the moves to feel easy because I knew I couldn’t fall.  But being on the sharp end doesn’t make the moves easy, they were still hard, and I still wasn’t supposed to fall. Anyway, I did fall and I hit the ledge, and then the cam ripped and I launched head first down the slabby ledge system below straight onto the belay. I ended up about 6 metres below a very shocked Mawsons hanging by my ankle.

I was really, really lucky. I escaped with some bruised ribs, whip lash and rope burn but I could have easily damaged my brain (I do actually have one) or broken an ankle or something.

The good thing is that I learnt a number of very useful lessons. The main one being that you should only listen to what you feel about something, and don’t let other people’s experiences effect your judgement. Just because a route has a certain grade, or people say it’s bold or it’s not, your experience of it is relative to you and only you can decide whether to go for it or not.

There was no point where Neil or Charlie suggest I try it, they were good friends and careful not to push me either way. It was totally my decision. But I let the fact that they breezed up the starting moves effect my perception of how dangerous the route is when I shouldn’t have. They find those moves much easier than me and therefore don’t think the start is bold. But, clearly it’s quite bold for me!



Anyway, lessons were learnt, ribs stayed in tact, and I have a cool rope burn on my neck that looks like I just tried to hang myself. Hopefully at some point I’ll summon the bravery to get back on it and finish it off. And more importantly: I’ll not be falling off when I’m not supposed to any time soon.



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Adventures on the road: Ceuse, The Desire and Le Chirurgien du Crepuscule, 8b
23 July 2012, 9:45 am

After Impact Day (the day and the route), I rested quite a lot. My ribs hurt for a while and I felt like a needed a little break.

With my ribs repaired and not one to have unfinished business I was keen to get back on it, but since June was the wettest on record I wasn’t given the chance. This was a little frustrating but at the same time I had a good June, going climbing without an agenda, seeing friends and generally enjoying the UK.

Howard on the mega-flash of Penal Servitude, sandbag E5Lake District’s finest, Peter Graham on Limited Edition, E4 6a in the beautiful/quick drying Hodge CloseBut after a while, waiting for a weather window in the Lake District started to wear thin and gave up on the idea of doing it this summer – it was time to get back on the road and go somewhere where the sun always shines – Ceuse!

Madeleine Cope; Warrington’s creme de la creme was keen to join me on a European road trip. Being a good friend, I did explain to her that our vehicle for the trip had seen better days and that there was a high probability our journey ending with us at the side of the road, hitching to the nearest airport. Although she was a little surprised to see that ‘The (citroen saxo) Desire’ did not start via the conventional ‘turn the key method’, but instead, via the pikey ‘hot wire’ method, for better of for worse, she agreed, and off we went!

These cows were not psyched on us sharing their bivvy spot.The journey down was not without its hitches. We decided to go via Belgium to avoid the tolls, but it turns out that you pay for nice roads for a reason. After sitting in traffic for 5 hours we pulled onto another gridlocked motorway I decided enough was enough and the best idea was to reverse down the hard shoulder, do a U-turn then drive up the slip road the wrong way. This would have gone smoothly, had another women not had exactly the same idea…. anyway it worked out OK in the end and we both made it to France in one piece. The Desire, however, did not make it in one piece and we pulled into the Ceuse campsite with the exhaust dragging along the floor and a boy-racer grumble that no amount of techno could hide.

Ceuse is a great place to start a trip because it beats your body back into shape in no time at all. Keen to get on it, we decided to deal with the car later and go climbing. After a few days, Maddy had polished off some of the hard 7cs on Berlin such as Berlin, Galaxy and the 7c+ Makech Walou. I had done La Privilège du serpent, 7c+ and the direct finish to La Couleurs du Vent, 8a+.

With a few routes under our belts and our fitness increasing, we decided to turn our attention back to The Desire. Since neither of us know anything about cars we thought we should forget about ‘what we know’ and concentrate on ‘who we know’. Much to our good fortune a friend at the campsite kindly offered to take the car to his uncle, who could apparently ‘fix anything’. Since it’s likely that the car wont last much longer anyway the last thing I wanted to do was buy a new exhaust, so I was all for the ‘botch-job’ option. Simone and his uncle did an amazing job, and I can’t thank them enough for helping the Desire get back on to the road in an acceptable fashion.

Lager at 10am and an exhaust to piece back together!Couleurs Du Vent was a really good route, and since it didn’t take me too long I thought I should try something a bit harder. Last year, whilst I did Femme Noir and Femme Blanche I always looked to the right at this really nice looking 8b. I remember seeing a french kid weave his way up the wall, at one point down climbing, and at another – doing some ridiculous cross through off a two finger pocket. Anyway the route looked amazing and I was keen to give it a go.

Le chirurgien du crepuscule taken from: http://pinticlimbs.blogspot.fr photo by Robbie Phillips It turned out to climb as well as it looked. It’s meant to be ‘hard in the grade’, but I also think it’s my style – small holds – so I managed to get it 5th try. I have done some other 8bs, but they were in Spain and Turkey, and grades aren’t as soft in France, especially Ceuse. After Impact Day, UK trad bumbling and not doing that much climbing, it felt nice to do this route and get a bit of confidence back.

It also felt like a nice point to leave Ceuse. I really came to Europe to do some adventurous routes – so back in the Desire and off to Chamonix!



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Alpine Adventures: The Findlay-Geldard Route – Aiguille de Saussure – Mont Blanc du Tacul
1 August 2012, 7:24 am

Aiguille de Saussure, 3839 m After doing Le Cherrurgien de Crepuscule (still can’t pronounce the name) I was ready for an adventure. I really do love sport climbing, and I especially liked this route – lots of two finger drag pockets, a cool face and some crazy moves. But I also like wild places, adventures and may I admit… a little bit of suffering? Ceuse is great, but you take the same path up, past the big group of Austrian 7 year old wads, past the rocks that everyone poos behind, and up to a project that you know most of the moves on… it was time to hit Chamonix!

Final pitch Jack Geldard has usually got some sort of strange mission or adventure playing around in the back of his mind whilst he blogs and updates UKC. This new route idea on the Aguille de Saussure had been on his mind for some time and when I arrived in Cham, it seemed like the perfect mission. Well sort of… I am not the most experienced Alpinist and as we racked up, with me a little confused about the right way to put my crampons on, I could see that when talk turned to reality, Jack was having second thoughts.

Neither were we aclimatised. The Aguille de Saussure is on the edge of Mont Blanc du Tacul and is at 3839m. It took us the best part of a day to walk most of the way up Mont Blanc du Tacul, and descend into the notch between Saussure and the Tacul. Breathing heavily on some very exposed terrain, feeling insecure in my crampons, I glanced at Jack and wondered whether he had actually tied himself to me or just looped the rope through his belay loop!

On these sort of missions, as each day rolls by I get more confident that we’ll escape unscathed and perhaps even successful. In comparison, the next day – the day we got to do some rock climbing – was a joy. We woke up late, drank vast quantities of tea, and set off around midday. Unfortunately it was too dangerous for us to get the very base of the route, three gully systems excreting all kinds of debris would have made for a suicide mission, so we decided to come from the top, and start the route at the base of the rock, not the base of the gully.

ergh gully The climbing was interesting, on that sort of scrittly granite that makes a noise like your lighting a match every time you smear. But apart from that (and some choss) the rock was good. Jack started us off with some easy climbing, which then led to a picth that would maybe get lake-district E5, with slabby climbing but quite spicy in terms of gear and the space between placements. Then Jack got a beautiful splitter, tight hands crack, and I took us to the summit with a choss fest and an awkward chimney.

We then tried to sleep in the freezing snow before the crux – 250m of out-of -condition mixed climbing to get out, ergh! I was glad that Jack took the lead on the melting Scottish grade 6 warm-up pitch. This day, day 3, was definitely the hardest for me. I didn’t want to admit it to Jack, but I think I was very tired. I’ve been described as careless at the best of times, not really a ‘by-the-book’ climber, and when I’m tired this gets worse. And to be very honest I’m not that excited by endless Scottish grade 3 and I found the whole experience a bit of a chore. But, it was good for me, and it’s all experience in the bag for future mountain-based adventures.

The nice pitch So that was that! We were alpine first ascentionists! What heros! I certainly did not feel like a hero, when in my dehydrated, hungry, unaclimitised and fatigued body said no to me walking back up the midi. The crux of the whole 3 days, was not throwing up on all the tourists in the midi station. The final step up the stairs to get the lift saw me gagging and hyperventilating on the floor. What an Alpine hero!

Chamonix is one of the strangest places I have ever been. One minute you can be up there in the cold mountainous world of snow and ice,  crevasses, falling rock, seracs and not to mention your own personal battles with the suffering and the associated risks of being in a place, that really, should not take ten minutes to get to! And then the next minute your down on the valley floor, watching fake-tanned legs walk between overly priced restaurants and Japanese tourists baffle themselves with how to get themselves and the mountains into a camera frame.



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

More alpine rock: Untouchables on The Trident, 7c+/5.13, onsight
7 August 2012, 9:58 am

After the mission that was the Findlay-Geldard I was keen for more rock climbing and a little less faff. The Grand Capucin is only a couple hours walk from the midi, which compared to our 1 day walk in for the Auguille de Saussure, would obviously feel like a walk in the park.



I think it may have felt like a walk in the park if it weren’t for the mine field of terrifyingly deep crevasses. Fortunately I was tied to Matt Perier (Ug), who – being named Ug for a reason – probably wouldn’t have noticed had I fallen in the crevasse; all 13stone of him may have even kept walking  pulling me straight back out! That being said, if he had been the one to fall, it would have been a different story.

Fine Alpine rope work from Ug   Because we had to deal with high winds we chose to do a route on the more sheltered Trident (which is just to the left of the Grand Capucin). A friend of ours had climbed ‘The Intouchables’ and pictures of overhanging splitter cracks lured us in. We made it to the base, at the not-so-alpine start of 9.30 with only one crevasse-related mishap. I broke through a thin bridge of snow and ended up stuck neck deep with my feet waving around in a scarily deep and wide cavernous crevasse. With some careful distribution of body weight I managed to climb out without falling in entirely, but far from ideal.

A pitch that dreams are made of, 7c+?, perfect crack climbing, from fingers to fists!   The route was really cool. Every pitch – even the easy ones – were interesting and varied. The penultimate crux pitch, rated 7c+, was awesome. An overhanging (maybe 30m) crack, which went from baggy fingers at the start to fists at the top, was just a dream to climb. I managed to onsight it, but it certainly wouldn’t have got 5.13/7c+ if it were in North America. I think the grades on granite in Europe are all over the place, sometimes I think the 6′s are harder than the 7′s. But it certainly wasn’t a path and I had to dig deep at the top.



The next day we wanted to climb Gulliver’s Travels on the Grand Cap, but complaining shoulders pushed us to opt for the more chilled Rebufat, 6a, on the South Face of the midi, which is such a nice route, albeit busy.



With the Desire’s exhaust back to what seems like it’s natural resting position (dragging along the road), our travel options are limited, so maybe there will be more alpine smashing, or back to Ceuse!

Ginger Ben – psyched this isn’t his car  



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

More alpine rock: Untouchables on The Trident, 7c+/5.13? onsight
7 August 2012, 9:58 am

After the mission that was the Findlay-Geldard I was keen for more rock climbing and a little less faff. The Grand Capucin is only a couple hours walk from the midi, which compared to our 1 day walk in for the Auguille de Saussure, would obviously feel like a walk in the park.



I think it may have felt like a walk in the park if it weren’t for the mine field of terrifyingly deep crevasses. Fortunately I was tied to Matt Perier (Ug), who – being named Ug for a reason – probably wouldn’t have noticed had I fallen in the crevasse; all 13stone of him may have even kept walking  pulling me straight back out! That being said, if he had been the one to fall, it would have been a different story.

Fine Alpine rope work from Ug   Because we had to deal with high winds we chose to do a route on the more sheltered Trident (which is just to the left of the Grand Capucin). A friend of ours had climbed ‘The Intouchables’ and pictures of overhanging splitter cracks lured us in. We made it to the base, at the not-so-alpine start of 9.30 with only one crevasse-related mishap. I broke through a thin bridge of snow and ended up stuck neck deep with my feet waving around in a scarily deep and wide cavernous crevasse. With some careful distribution of body weight I managed to climb out without falling in entirely, but far from ideal.

A pitch that dreams are made of, 7c+?, perfect crack climbing, from fingers to fists!   The route was really cool. Every pitch – even the easy ones – were interesting and varied. The penultimate crux pitch, rated 7c+, was awesome. An overhanging (maybe 30m) crack, which went from baggy fingers at the start to fists at the top, was just a dream to climb. I managed to onsight it, but it certainly wouldn’t have got 5.13/7c+ if it were in North America. I think the grades on granite in Europe are all over the place, sometimes I think the 6′s are harder than the 7′s. But it certainly wasn’t a path and I had to dig deep at the top.



The next day we wanted to climb Gulliver’s Travels on the Grand Cap, but complaining shoulders pushed us to opt for the more chilled Rebufat, 6a, on the South Face of the midi, which is such a nice route, albeit busy.



With the Desire’s exhaust back to what seems like it’s natural resting position (dragging along the road), our travel options are limited, so maybe there will be more alpine smashing, or back to Ceuse!

Ginger Ben – psyched this isn’t his car  



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Adventures off the road: blondes try DIY auto-repairs and Alpinism
13 August 2012, 10:45 am

I drove down to France with Warrington’s finest female climber, Madeleine Cope. Even though she was crushing many hard pitches including L’ami Caouette, 8a I thought it was high time I recapture her for some mountain-based adventures. Given that the health of the car had deteriorated since last seeing her, the rescue mission was aided by Chamonix residents Jack and Sandra along with Cheddar resident Sef.

Back in Chamonix Maddy was keen to reacquaint herself with granite in a less committing environment before heading up the big hills of Chamonix. So I thought we should drive to Italy in search of single pitch granite trad. With the Desire’s exhaust last seen dragging along the ground it was clear that some sort of patch up was in order before leaving the safety of Cham.

It’s safe to say that Maddy and I know almost nothing about cars. But we do know that we can tie something up to stop it dragging along the ground… so we bought some wire. And that the more airtight the seal the better we can appreciate techno… so we bought some tin foil. And that many hands make light work… so we asked our visiting friends Clare and Helana to help us out. Unfortunately, 5 girls who know nothing about cars is just as useful (not very) as two. But Clare has got ridiculously small hands, so she was put to good use.

Back at Sandra’s and armed with a car-jack the match was on: 3 blondes, 2 brunettes, wire, wire cutters, and some tin foil, versus the snapped exhaust. After 3 hours of shuffling around under the car, we were well-primed for some off-widths and with an exhaust that looked like a fancy-dress robot we thought the girls had come out on top. Ready for Italy!

Bomber! After driving for a few hours, the exhaust was still safely secured in the correct position and we were feeling pretty smug. Unfortunately, with our attention fixed on the exhaust we failed to notice that the car was steadily overheating. In fact we continually failed to notice, until the car would no longer go in third and there was a strong smell of burning!

We pulled over and after checking the exhaust – which we were pleased to see was still looking good – we opened the bonnet to find smoke pouring from the engine. Luckily a nice Swiss-German road biker and a young lad stopped by to help us out. They spoke no english, but this turned out to be OK, since all they said was was ‘Scheiße’ and ‘sehr heiß’, which we fully understood.



Anyway, we poured water into the car, called the breakdown man, who was an incomprehensible Indian-Swiss-German but seemed to think that the fan had broken, but that now it was fixed, and we could get back on the road. Hoping that we had understood him correctly, but not wanting to risk entering Italy, we timidly drove back to Cham.

“Sorry, are you speaking Hindi or German?”  After that failed mission, we decided it would be best to stay off the roads and make the most of Chamonix. Maddy had always wanted to climb Republique Bananiere on Aguille de la Republique at L’Envers. It’s not graded super hard, with the crux pitch at 6c+, but it’s a mega route at 25 pitches long, topping out at 3305m.

Being a bit lazy,and more interested in writing about the car than climbing I asked Maddy to write a guest entry (with some editing) about our adventure:

Where is the crag? MADELEINE COPE guest entry:

We walked the three hour approach to L’Envers the day before, leaving good time to do some cragging and find the base of the route. As it happened we did one pitch (the really nice first 7b pitch of Retour a la Montagne) and spent the rest of the evening making numerous tracks up and down and around the (wrong) glacier in an attempt to find the base of the route. How long does it take two blondes with one ice axe to find the base of an alpine route?… about 4 hours!

Shouldn’t that 12 year old boy be at soccer practice? Not running around on a glacier? Anyway, we found it in the end and stashed our stuff (being true alpine-tacticians). In the morning we reached the base at the serious alpine start time of 7am and the two blondes set off, opting for the light and fast approach, i,e, sans long johns, sans fleeces, sans sandwiches… momentarily delayed by chasing a sliding rucksack down the glacier.

Maddy struggling with the moat-straddle/sit start crux to the 6b corner pitch The route was really nice, with a soft touch final pitch, and some amazing perfect open-book corner climbing. Fortunately, Hazel’s light-and-fast approach made up for Maddy’s a bit lighter but not-very-fast approach and the team summitted in a ‘race-for the-nose’ style sugar-high, after chain eating 4 sweets. However, sugar highs are all too quickly followed by sugar lows and the millions of abseils passed in a blur of head ache as we abbed down the wrong couloir. When darkness came the abseils became pretty draining for team blonde but fortunately we were led by ‘Britain’s best Mountaineer’ (qoute: The Sun) and feet were firmly over ‘the moat’ and back onto the glacier, ready for chicken noodles at a good time of 10pm.



A lot of the rock at L’Envers looks quite messy and chossy from a distance, which it sort of is, but on a macro-level, when you get up close, you realise that there are big and beautiful features of perfect rock, like this 50m 6b+ corner (Maddy above, me below)



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

CADARESE: Sweat, blood and ‘The Doors’ 8b, 5.13d trad
19 August 2012, 12:46 pm

After our failed attempt at getting to Italy in the Desire, and then our failed attempt to go shopping in the Desire we were ready to accept that the driving days of the little saxo were over. Luckily for us our friends Dave and Sandra were keen to go.

Cadarese is just south of Domodossola, which is just over the border from Switzerland in northern Italy. My friend tipped me off about this beautiful crack line there called ‘The Doors, rated 8b. I googled it and found a video of Matteo Della Bordella climbing it after taking all the bolts out of it. It’s sort of amazing that anyone would ever see this line as a sport route, but then again we’re in Italy now, not the peak district. But the route just looked amazing and I instantly had my heart set on trying it.



We arrived in Cadarese and we were at first a little underwhelmed by how the crag looked – sort of vegetated, broken rock and in the trees. But then we got underneath the routes and we were instantly psyched! The routes are a good length, the rock quality is basically perfect and the lines, are well, lines – big corners, beautiful cracks of all sizes up slabs, steep walls and even roofs.

Maddy on a nice cornerThe downfall? The bolts! Having done a philosophy degree I generally like playing devil’s advocate and tend to argue against the staunch British anti-bolting ethic. I don’t mind bolts, I can tolerate them on granite routes, in between cracks and at anchors. I have also been known to argue that in the UK our history of obstinate no-bolts ethic has done a lot to hinder the progression of British climbers. However, all this ‘open-mindedness’ flew out the window when I saw these perfect cracks with a line of bolts next to them. My heart sank and I felt deeply unsettled at the prospect of climbing these beautiful cracks with only quick draws on my harness. Clearly I can’t shake off my British roots after all!

On the first day we did a bunch of these ‘sport routes’, and slowly I eased into the idea of them. We were all climbing them a lot quicker than if we had done them on trad, and Sandra and Maddy were probably getting back into the granite at a quicker rate than if they had been placing gear. That being said, I still felt a little sad. Dave and I did a really cool 8a called ***, which would be fully protectable on trad, and would have made an awesome E8, or 5.13 R. Any Italians keen to chop?

Feeling a little sad I was psyched to sniff out ‘The Doors’, which I knew to have had the bolts chopped. And I was so pleased that it had – what a line! One of the prettiest cracks I’ve ever seen, and close to 40m. ‘Splitter’ enough to look nice, but broken enough to have some really interesting movements.

One problem with Cadarese is that I really do not think it is a summer venue. With expected highs of 29 degrees, we thought we could just wake up early and climb in the cool morning air. Unfortunately, it never got anywhere close to ‘cool’, even in the middle of the night. What’s more – we were also faced with ridiculously humid conditions. All in all, I don’t think I’ve sweated as much as I have in Cadarese since being in Thailand 4 years ago.

So what of The Doors? I was told it was 8b, but I felt like I should try to onsight it anyway. It may not be the best idea if you want to be tactical in terms of saving energy etc, but I feel like trying these things makes you a much better climber over all, and you never know – you just might get lucky! I managed to get past the tricky start and the section of baggy fingers/ring locks, which I was quite pleased with. But then I miss-read the first proper crux and fell off in a sweaty heap. I then went to the top and set up a top rope to give it a proper look. The first crux is really cool, with some thin locks and a big move off a side pull. Then it gets easier to a cheeky sting in the tail with a big move to final jug. All in all, I have to say that this route is, as the yanks say ‘totally bad-ass’.



The next day I warmed up, worked out a few more moves and gear and then went for the lead, take two. My tactics were to climb as slowly as possible. There are enough rests so I knew I wouldn’t get particularly tired, but the main crux would be not over-heating. We had found that as soon as you over heat, you can’t cool down again and you become a hyper-ventilating mess of sweat.

Imagining myself to be a sloth or something, I slowly made my way up the rock, managed to stay clam and therefore reasonably cool, completing the route that try. I really enjoyed the route, but I must say that it would have been much more enjoyable and probably easier, if it had been cooler. And what of the grade? I think 8b or 5.13d is a little steep. Dave and I thought it to be more like 13c, or 8a+. We in Europe, are no crack masters and given the conditions, perhaps a visiting American would think it easier? As always, I find anything to do with grades, hard to say.

The next day, our final day in Cadarese, I was feeling particularly tired, but there are actually a lot of cool ‘clean’ lines in Cadarese at ‘sector trad’. Robo-Maddy, always up for ‘one more pitch’, launched herself up a 7b flared-chimney at the hottest part of the day. I really think that her efforts far surpassed mine on the Doors. With her power-screaming, close to an asthma attack and dripping sweat like a shower onto me belaying below, I sort of wished she would just give up and let the suffering be over. But Madeleine Cope, never gives up and she saw herself clipping the chains, a broken, but successful lady.

Is it raining? Oh no wait, it’s Maddy’s sweat Every single route I did a Cadarese was good, from 6a to 8b and we left Cadarese content, albeit slightly worn-down, all of us keen to return at some point soon!

Water!



Source: hazelfindlay

[Fiend]

Route looks great. Good effort!

[comPiler]

An end to the summer
29 September 2012, 10:30 pm

After the Doors the rest of my European trip was spent in the mountains for a few days with my new friend Victor Estringen, who is a very strong French man. We tried Le Tresor De Romain on the Grand Capucin, put up by Nicolas Potard. I met Nico on Golden Gate, they were trying El Corazon and putting in a great fight on the final 13b pitch. Since then I keep seeing his name around, him and his wife Martina certainly explore a lot and have a pretty impressive tick list between them. Nico named the 8a+ pitch after his new son ‘Tommy’ and is definitely a tricky one. Victor sent it, but I found it too hard to do in a day, 8a+ at 4000 meters is no joke.

Vicor on the really cool 7b pitch Then me and Maddy then went back to Cadarese to do some filming on the Doors for a short BD profile film. It was a fun few days shooting with Ian Burton. Alongside getting back on the Doors, which felt a lot easier in cooler temperatures, we managed to get on some other cool stuff done. Maddy lead a nice offwidth and I tried to onsight Mustang, a cool route given 7c+ or 8a, I fell off first try but managed to drag myself up it groundup. A really fun one, maybe only 7c.

Then the summer was over! Europe is such an amazing place to be as a climber, there seems to be so much good stuff to do, whether it’s sport, trad, or in the mountains. A lot of people think North America is the place to be if you’re a trad climber, and yeah, the granite and sandstone over there will keep bringing me back, but there is endless stuff in Europe as well.



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Squamish and The Adder Crack: 5.13 R new route
29 September 2012, 10:53 pm



Yosemite is of course somewhere I want to be this Autumn. But the valley is still pretty hot in September so I thought that Squamish would be a perfect warm up venue. I also had some British friends out there, Malcolm, Pete and Neil.

I’ve spent three summers of my life in Squamish, and every time I’ve had a lot of fun and done a lot of amazing climbing. The local climbers of Squamish are a good bunch and always seem AMPED for Squamish routes and climbing in general, with high fives getting passed around quicker than a bad rash. I missed out on Squamish scenes last summer, so I was psyched to be back.

The idea was to do a lot of climbing in preparation for the valley, but that didn’t go quite as planned. The weather was absolutely perfect the entire time, cool temperatures and sun everyday, so that’s not my excuse, my excuse is that I got sucked in to a project.

British Tom offwidthing at the Longhouse A week after arriving my friend Paul introduced me to a new crag called Long House. A few of the local Squamish climbers had been going up there recently cleaning lines and putting up new routes. The cool thing about Long House is that it’s in a really nice part of forest in between The Squaw and the Chief. Lovely green moss, old growth and beautiful trees, it seems very Tolkienesque and you half expect mythical beings to pop out from behind the trees. The other cool thing about the Long House is that the cracks aren’t like other cracks in Squamish; they are really steep and often wide, climbing more like the cracks of Yosemite than the Chief. On the first day I had a go at some of these routes, but my eye was drawn to a thin seam amongst all the wider stuff.

Joshua Lavigne cleaned this line, thinking that at a glance it was a ‘5.12 finger splitter’, after trying it and realising that fingers don’t fit in the crack and the crag is actually overhanging, he pulled his rope. I have to thank him for cleaning the line and allowing me to try it, because it turned out to be really cool.

The Adder Crack between the trees The start is super thin, not even locks for girl fingers, so I worked out this weird sequence using laybacking and imaginary finger locks. It took me the best part of a day to link that crux sequence. Then there is a higher crux, maybe 5.12b ish on it’s own, into a really cool 5.11 finish. The main difficulty for me was to find a way of protecting the crux, which goes from the ground to five or so metres up. The gear is quite bad and fiddly to place in the thin seam at the start, but the main problem is that the moves are too hard for me to place gear. Luckily I have a cunning friend Neil who suggested that I place some wires in the thin groove to the right, climb down and then if I fell off I would take a nasty swing, but hopefully not hit the ground. It did take some of the cool factor away from the route, to not protect the moves in the same crack. But the fact that this method required the use of two ropes, small wires, and cutting the first rope loose when I reached better gear, seemed aptly British. It took me three days to work out all the moves and the gear and then on the fourth day I did it.



Whilst working out the low crux I thought it was the hardest thing I’d ever tried, but once I’d figured it out and also waited for the sun to go away, it felt much more doable. I had a few set backs when a foothold snapped off and I needed a new sequence, but apart from that I had great weather and some friends psyched to come up and try the other stuff Long House had to offer. I didn’t mean to get sucked into a project, but I couldn’t say no.

And what should I grade it? I’m really bad at grading, I think maybe because I’m a different shape to a lot of climbers who climb 5.13 trad I find some things more difficult and other things easier, so grades always seem off to me. So I just compared it to the other hard trad routes I’ve done in North America and I thought it was harder than 69, which is 5.13b also in Squamish, Air Sweden 13b in Indian Creek and Magical Dog 13.b. So I thought I would give it 5.13 R, probably more 13c than b.

And the name… I started calling it Seam of Death at first, because it was really thin and pretty grim for the fingers. But that would mean that I have two routes in Squamish: Hazel’s Horror Show and Seam of Death. I really want people to get on this route, because it’s a good one. And not wanting people to be put off by the name I thought the Adder Crack was good, because it’s like a less cool, less bad-ass, thinner, slightly venomous, more British version of the Cobra Crack. But comparable to the Cobra in the sense that even if it isn’t as cool, it could definitely be a classic if people can be bothered to walk up the hill to try it.

Lake District’s finest about to get stuck I also did the line to the left, which shares the same finish as the Adder Crack and starts up a wide right leaning squeeze slot. This route is also not one to be missed. Drawn to moss and suffer-fests Pete eyed the line and cleaned it. But unfortunately he found that he was too big to fit in the crack and begrudgingly passed it over to me. This route I’ve graded 11a for the top section, but a lot of climbers will probably find the offwidth the hard part, at least I did, in fact I probably tried harder on that than the Adder Crack! I think I will call this one PG Tips because you’ll need a lot of builders tea to get psyched for it.

4 is not a crowd, Peter, Neil, Jen and I on the awesome 12a crack of Warriors of the Wasteland We did some other cool routes in Squamish and generally had a nice time wizzing around in the Ford Taurus. Thanks to Chris Trull for the hang out, a place to shower and generally being a good egg, it made our stay a lot nicer. All in all, a fun trip to Squamish and a 5.13 new route… can’t complain. Now I’m off to Yosemite, not in the best shape, but psyched for El Cap!



Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Free adventures on El Cap: The PreMuir, second ascent, 5.13c/d, 33 ish pitches
23 October 2012, 7:45 pm

Last year I freed Golden Gate with my friend Hansjorg Auer. This was the perfect big wall and the perfect difficulty. I found The ‘Move’ pitch especially hard with my short limbs, and although frustrating at the time, provided the perfect challenge. Yosemite, and more specifically El Cap holds a special place in my mind when I think of what inspires me and what I want to do in climbing, so although I’d freed El Cap – something I’d always wanted to do since seeing Masters of Stone 5, and hearing about Lynn Hill on the nose – of course I’d be back for more.

Me on the Move Pitch Last year my friend James Mchaffie was also in the valley, but suffered from an improbable bout of bad luck. In 8 days something unlucky happened on every one, included falling cams which impaired his partner Adam Hocking, falling rocks nearly killing him, falling friends at the crag breaking their legs and much lost gear including Leo Holding’s portaledge. At the time Caff was cursing the valley until the cows come home, swearing on his mother’s life that he would never come back. But British winters are long and childhood dreams of freeing El Cap hold fast. I think I was sport climbing in Spain when I got a little facebook message from Caff hinting at the idea of us climbing something together in the fall, in no other place but the unlucky Yosemite!

To Quote: ‘I felt like a donkey with three legs last year in the valley, but I’m getting an itch looking at the headwall pitch’

It seemed like we were both psyched for the Salathe. I’m not sure when it changed to the Muir; progression of ideas are usually hard to track. Looking back it’s easy to see why I suggested we do the Muir instead of Salathe. Yes Salathe is cool, the headwall pitch looks like a must-do if you can climb the grade… but… the Salathe is one of the busiest areas of the wall. I just wasn’t that excited about dealing with aid parties, other free parties. But most of all, in my mind it didn’t seem like much of adventure. I know a lot of people who don’t come to Yosemite for adventure, they come to stash gear, climb hard and fast and throw masses of fixed lines up and down various projects. I think this style of climbing has it’s benefits and is cool in it’s own way, but when I’m sat at home in the fog, or sport climbing in Spain, it’s not what gets me excited to book my flights and come to the Valley. I already know what and where the pitches are on Salathe, I’ve spoken to numerous people who’ve been up there, and I’ve already done the first half of the route. I was psyched for something a bit more obscure… and I had also heard that the crux was a beautiful, flawless stem-corner, and I love stem corners.

The Beautiful Muir Wall corners. Photo: Tom Evans Many months later, a few weeks before heading out to Yosemite, I found myself in Squamish. The day before I’d just done my 4-day project; a new route I called the Adder Crack, at a crag called the Long House. I gave the route 5.13c R (8a+ or E8) but wasn’t entirely sure it was that hard, even though I myself had found the moves really difficult. I was at a friend’s house, Chris Trull, who was kind enough to let us shower and use the internet. The night before we were celebrating Peter’s birthday and I had drunk a few more beers than usual since I had done my project. In a slightly hung over state I skyped Justen Sjong to collect beta about our up-and-coming adventure. Even though I don’t know Justen, I got his contact from a mutual friend Tim Kemple and was pleasantly surprised when he was keen to devote an hour of his time to chat beta.

Justen and his friend Rob Miller put the route up in 2007. They wanted to free Muir Wall but discovering that there was chossy ground, right above the busiest part of the wall (The Nose), they had a look around for other options. They discovered a perfect open book corner in the corner system just to the left of Tommy Calwell’s route ‘The Shaft’. They called the route the PreMuir because they thought that the corner systems above were the most appealing line, but would go by later parties at a harder grader of 5.14. They also thought the line was one of the best on El Cap (I agree).

Enticing photos of enticing corners Talking to Justen made me psyched, but to be honest, the over-riding feeling was one of doubt in my abilities to climb something this hard. In Squamish, it had taken me 4 days to climb 13c, on the wall I would have to climb a 13d and I’d have to do that after many hard pitches and hauling. The second to last pitch was 13c, which I’d have to climb, most probably after 5 days on. The other pitches are no joke either with only a handful of 5.10-5.11, 12 5.12s and 4 other 5.13s. Justen patiently went through each pitch; sentences like ‘you need pegs to protect here’, this is a really slippy pitch you can fall off at any point’, ‘the crux stem corner is much harder than Book of Hate’ etc were particularly fear-inducing.

I was also worried that I would be the weakest link in the team, possibly a dead weight. This past summer Caff climbed 9a slab and the previous summer he’d climbed 9a on limestone. I was proud of my 8b at Ceuse, but this is far from the  level Caff climbs. A late addition to the team was Neil ‘Mythical Being’ Dyer, who is the definitive dark horse of British climbing, being known for climbing 8c with ease and drinking a whole can of King Cobra mid-problem on the famous valley V8 ‘King Cobra’. King Cobra is probably the height of my bouldering achievements and my ascent was definitely sans beer… Along with Justen’s exclamations at how hard the route was, my friend Alex Honnold was also shocked at our proposed attempt ‘why don’t you do Tommy’s variation, the corner is supposed to be heinous’. Filled with doubt I tried to remind my self that that last year I had had the same thoughts about Golden Gate.

The Team! The coolest of cats… I arrived a little later than expected in the valley. We pulled into the campsite at 3 in the morning and bumped into Caff and Neil who were leaving camp4 to climb the Muir Blast (the first 12 pitches of the route up to Heart Ledge). The plan was for them to do it, then haul, then do it again with me before setting off on the wall properly. Caff came down with a big grin on his face, he’d freed it all and Neil had come pretty close.

Before setting off on Muir Blast I did the Rostrum as a warm up, and the 11d off the ledge Blind Faith. I’d done both these routes before, but for some reason I felt terrible climbing them. I felt really shaky and not confident at all. In fact I had felt a bit weird about my climbing since doing the Adder Crack, and I wasn’t sure why. Either way, I felt like I wouldn’t be able to drag myself up Muir Blast, let alone the rest of the route.

The Frenchies on the crux 5.13b of Muir Blast. Photo:Tom Evans But Muir Blast went really well, some of the best climbing I’ve ever done and I flashed all 12 pitches. Perhaps it was because the climbing was so amazing, but I felt really relaxed and (something which the sceptical Cumbrian Caff hates me saying) full of ‘flow’. I managed to flash the 5.13b pitch, which had some of the best technical, bad-feet, smeary climbing I’ve done. Doing Muir blast filled me with confidence again. I still felt like I was more likely to fail than succeed in our free bid, but at least I felt like I would be able to try my best, and if that wasn’t good enough, then so be it. I know that Caff felt the same as me, and Neil, being one of the nicest, most chilled guys around was happy to come on the wall, do some good climbing, have an adventure, and not worry too much about getting the pure free ascent.

The Silver Fish Corner: the first of many hard corners on the Muir, but a really beautiful one, 5.13b After the flawless Muir Blast, we set off a few days later but had some difficulties with an Aid Party. Despite us doing the 12b and 12d in the dark we had to wait 3 hours for an aid team and found ourselves on a hard 13b corner in full sun. We tried our best, but completely baked we were far from our planned bivy and decided to come down. In hidsight this was a blessing in disguise, because a few days later it started to rain. After the bad weather passed, we jugged back up to our high point on Grey Ledges and went from there. In cooler temperatures we managed to do the corner straight off, both of us leading, but I got horribly flashed pumped which stayed with me for a few days.

Looking down Silver Fish corner

Such beautiful pitches on such a cool part of the wall, the Nose dropping away beneath Caff as he seconds me up a pumpy 12a layback. Worrying that this is one of the ‘easy’ pitches I won’t go into masses of detail of all 30+ pitches.. or I’ll try not to…basically what happened was that Caff and I freed all pitches, and some of them by the skin of our teeth (especially me). Looking back there didn’t seem to be a ‘hardest part’ or even really a hardest pitch, the whole thing was very hard. Not a single day or even really a single pitch, passed with ease. The 2 5.10s were the only pitches that I didn’t have to try on, even the 11ds, in my tired state were a complete battle.

The beautiful 13c/d crux corner: Here I’m lowering off to the portaledges after working the route, we spent the next 8 or so hours hiding from the sun before finishing the pitch that evening. Photo – thanks to Tom Evans! The crux pitch has to be one of the best pitches I’ve ever climbed. It starts up a perfect 90 degree corner, with no face holds and no foot holds. In the back there is a crack, but it only really takes small wires, mostly RPs. Luckily for us we knew the Frenchies Nico and Pollo were climbing before us, and we had asked them to leave in a few pins, which Justen had said to be essential. The pins were really useful, mainly for stopping the wires from lifting out. You’re bridging so far away from the crack that your own rope lifts them out, but putting the pegs on shorter slings can easily solve this problem. Caff aided the corner the evening before and tried some moves. The corner was climbed with pre placed gear on the first ascent and this is how we planned to climb it as well – to place the gear on lead would be near impossible. Clipping the gear is hard enough because you have to climb the corner as quickly as possible to prevent your calves and shoulders from getting hugely pumped. We all tried it in the morning, but soon enough sun stopped play. Thankfully we got to work out the upper section, the difficulty of which we weren’t prepared for. After the corner you get a thank-the-lord no hands rest, but then you have to finish with a 13a bouldery lay back, which I was so worried about dropping if I managed to get through the corner. We hung out for what seemed like an age, hanging in the portaledges, with sleeping bags hung up to shade ourselves from the sun. When evening came I was psyched to lead it and managed to get it first go. Caff wanted to chimney it at first but the angles don’t allow it, in the end we found that all you can do is bridge the whole thing! I was really psyched to climb that pitch because it is a full glory pitch, but I was also psyched to climb it so quickly – basically with one top rope burn. Neil also did amazing; getting through the corner, but not knowing the top, fell off the second crux. Psyched by our efforts, Caff also pulled it out of the bag.

Staying as still as possible… welcome rest from the not so welcome sun. There were celebrations on the ledge, but for me there was a bit more going on in my mind. Up until this point I hadn’t felt huge amounts of pressure because I hadn’t expected to do the crux so easily, if at all. But now that I had, the game was on, and I could feel the pressure of the pitches above weighing down on me.

The next day was one of the hardest, in full sun, climbing pitches that in my mind, just didn’t seem to let up. The 13a traverse above the corner started with a double handed dyno, ended with a super technical crimp traverse and required a bit of working out in the sun. The apparent 12b up next was impossible for me, with a huge move. Caff basically dynoed/campussed it and I was really worried that my free ascent would be hosed by one big move. Luckily for me, the El Cap gods, like they were on the move pitch, wanted to allow little people to go past free as well, and instead of going left I found some hidden crimps that led straight up to a ledge, which I then down-climbed to join the belay of the next pitch. After a cool 12d we reached a big ledge system, traversed around an arête left and found ourselves on an awesome bivy ledge (Chicken Head Ledge) on the west face of El Cap. Up until this point the west face with Salathe wasn’t in view, but now I could see the headwall and the A5 traverse. I could also Pete and Howard questing towards the headwall on their 3 day Salathe mission.

Neil stretching to reach the ’12b’ reach move. Photo: Tom Evans

Chicken Head Ledge, an amazing bivy for two nights. Here Caff and Neil jug up in the evening light to try the final crux 13c corner The last (5^th) day was quite stressful because we were really tired, knew there weren’t much supplies left and we still had the final, second 13c crux pitch to go. It turned out to be my style, thin locks, lay backing and stemming, but my arms kept giving up. Neil impressively flashed it on second, but Caff, also very tired was having problems as well. It’s the sort of pitch you just have to climb, you can’t really work out the perfect sequence, and I don’t think I ever did the crux section the same way. This made it quite difficult to deal with because I never started up the pitch knowing what I had to do. The heat was also a problem and we had to wait until it was dark before trying it again. That evening was a very strange evening, the three of us perched on this tiny ledge below the pitch, head torch beams lighting a small circle of rock on such a big wall, each of us dealing with our own mental demons and lactic acid filled arms. We kept checking the time to see if we had rested enough but Caff kept trying without much rest at all. He amazingly pulled it out of the bag on something like his 7^th attempt. I had given it 3 goes already and my arms were telling me to pack it in for the evening, but Caff’s send made me psyched to give it one last shot. I somehow managed to scrape my way up it and when I got to the top I had no idea how I’d done it, nor could I remember any of the moves. Not one to say words like ‘flow’ or ‘zone’ I was surprised to hear Caff mention that I looked ‘in the zone’. Back on the ledge we had a group hug (also a rarity for the Cumbrian and the Welsh man) knowing that with only a 5.10 to go the free ascent was in the bag.

On the crux corner Back on the ledge we realised that we only had 4 litres of water, and would need to top out the next day anyway, so it was a good job I had decided to have that last go!

I think that when I look back at our PreMuir mission, what I will remember most is being on that ledge at 9.30 at night almost too mentally and physically tired of trying hard to enjoy the moment. We could taste the relief that was to come, but still there was some small doubt that we wouldn’t be able to pull it out of the bag. But skill, or good luck, or effort or something else was on our side and the next day we found ourselves at the top, too tired to sing and dance, but happy nonetheless.

I can’t thank Caff and Neil enough for such an amazing adventure!

Three muppets

The Mythical Being on the summit – proud that his plums survived!



Source: hazelfindlay

[Tommy]

Absolutely cracking read.

[andy popp]

 

[comPiler]

The last 5 months: Choss paradise in Oman, rain in the UK and my first 8b+ in Spain
23 February 2013, 3:27 pm

I’ve been a bit quiet on the blogging front; consequently the last 5 months are here condensed into a mega post.

After a week on the ground after El Cap I went on a North Face expedition to Oman for three weeks, climbing choss, deep water soloing and sailing around on a catamaran in one of the world’s most beautiful places. I’d like to write about it, but since there is article coming out in National Geographic, I’ll let everyone read that first.



Even though I was traveling from paradise, to England in late November I was so happy to be going home. I’d basically been traveling for all of the last year, and was happy to just chill out in the rain and see family and friends. It was also nice to have a mental and physical break from climbing. I’m not massively in to Christmas and New Year celebrations, but it seems like a good time to have a look back at what you’ve done in the last year, and plan the next one. But the novelty inevitably wore off and I was itching to see the sun and go climbing every day. So off we went to Spain!

Winter climbing with Peter in the Lake District

Days out in the Peak District My Dad has chosen to spend yet another winter in Thailand (many don’t blame him), and I managed to commandeer his car. This Audi estate is no high top VW but it’s definitely a step up from a Citroen Saxo Desire.  Bonuses are that we can sleep in it, the exhaust isn’t falling off, and I don’t have to hot wire it to start it.

Orange rock and light in Siurana The good thing about having some time off is that when you do go back to climbing you are really psyched. Or I was anyway – every crimp seems like a gift, getting pumped is awesome, and waking up with sore muscles is a novelty. The bad thing about having some time off is that you’re really shit at climbing. The first day we had on rock was horrible. I couldn’t do the moves on F7a, and I was cursing myself for having gone back to rainy England. Cursing myself for not having trained more down the wall. But the next day I climbed 7b+, pumped out my mind, hanging on for dear life. Two days later, 7c, then 7c+, then before I knew it I was onsighting 8a and climbing 8a+ second try. It was really nice to see this kind of progression, I think if you go sport climbing for a few months and you get some fitness, when you go back to it the gains are much easier to get back.

Peter racing through the grades on his first proper sport climbing trip. Jam Session at Bruix, Terredets We moved from Siurana to Terredets to Masriudoms and Chulilla and then back to Siurana. Masriudoms is an awesome crag, especially if you’re in Siurana and it gets chilly. The grade range isn’t massive though – it’s best to be climbing between 7b to 8a+.

STEEP and LONG pitches at Masriudoms

Another 8a succumbs to Howard’s impeccable technique at Masriudoms Chulilla is an amazing place. Such good routes, but hardly anyone goes there – maybe because there is no guidebook, or maybe because climbers are like sheep and all go to the same places. I hear there is a guidebook due to come soon, so I have no doubt that popularity will grow. There is a lot of rock left to develop there as well.

Chulilla – where climbing dreams are made Now, we are in Siurana. With big forearms but little biceps – I wanted a project. So I tried an 8b called Ramadan. I knew it was supposed to quite soft for 8b, but I also knew that it’s very bouldery, so I thought it would take me a couple of days at least. The first time I tried it, I thought that maybe I couldn’t do the move at all, but then after a bit of tinkering I found I could do it. Since the climbing after the crux is relatively easy, I started throwing myself at the route. On my third go, my fingers popped off and I knew that I could probably do it. It was so cold though, and I was taking up a lot of Peter’s belay time, so I barely had 10 minutes rest and went again. I got through the crux, but found I was really tired on the ‘easy’ 20 metres to finish. Luckily I managed to stay with it. I was quite proud to do my supposed project in a morning and decided I need to try something harder.

Me on Ramadan, 8b, Kate Keltie photo So next came Kale Borroka, 8b+. One I’ve wanted to do for a while, having seen pictures and video of Lucy (Creamer) on it. The line is amazing, a 40 metre crack line through a massively steep barrel shaped wall. The rock, however isn’t great. Before coming to Siurna, all I heard was that it’s the mecca of sport climbing, and in my mind it became a sort of fantasy land for bolt clipping. However, overall I would say that I am slightly underwhelmed. I’ve done some amazing routes here, but I’ve also come across a lot of choss, a lot of bad rock, and a similar theme of uber crimping (which is great, but not what you want all the time). It’s certainly a world class climbing destination, but no more so than most the other Spanish crags i’ve been to.

An OK line, Jack Geldard photo (chief editor of UKC) When you do something thats at your limit, its easy to get carried away with how good a route is, and I did find myself falling for Kalea Borokka somewhat. This being said, the numerous loose holds and the dirty/polished/slimey lower section of the route, were ample reminder that this isn’t the best pitch I’ve climbed. The crux headwall, however, has some amazing moves on it and it felt great to be up there. Despite the bad quality rock, it is a mega line, and a mega classic.

It was also a pleasure and a surprise when I finally did it. The weather has been pretty on/off here in Siurana, and with Kalea Borokka being a very conditions dependent route (the start gets very slimy in wet conditions) I was worried that I wouldn’t get a chance to do it. But after the rain, the sun came out and a light breeze dried it off, giving me a chance. I think it was my 5th day that I did it. So this is my first 8b+! After doing 6 or so 8bs I thought I was capable of climbing 8b+, but not many of them, not without the mega-siege anyway. Although Kalea isn’t massively my style (being so steep) it is an endurance climb, and that suits me much more than something bouldery.

I sit now, with water streaming from my eyes and nose with the worst cold I’ve (probably) ever had. This, along with the snow that has settled on the ground outside, makes me even more psyched to have done Kalea when I did. Now I hope to rid myself of this cold then return to dry rock in the UK so I can use my new found sport fitness on some home ground.

Filed under: Hard Routes, Sport Climbing Tagged: 8b+ Hazel Findlay, Chulilla, Kalea Barokka, Lucy Creamer, Masriudoms, Ramadan, Siurana, Terredets

Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Chicama, E9 6c, second ascent
23 March 2013, 2:11 pm

Dom Bush photo. Dom and Matt (Pycroft) kindly came down to film the ascent for reel rock 8. Cheers! * For non-uk readers this E9 is like a 5.13c R/X.. maybe… Returning back to the UK after two months in Spain I was greeted with beautiful sunshine. Getting a sun tan at Gogarth with Callum got my hopes up that March would be the UKs 2013 summer and I would get to try all the trad projects I was keen for. That isn’t exactly how things have turned out. And now, 3 weeks later, sat looking out at a blizzard, it certainly doesn’t feel like summer.

Main Cliff, Gogarth, early March – why couldn’t it have stayed like this! A fun day with Calum Muskett on Eraser Head, E5 Winter returned! (The slate quarries) But despite the bad weather I’ve managed to get one project done. Chicama is an unrepeated Tim Emmett route, 10 years old, at Treaddur Bay, Holyhead. The route is ridiculously steep – 45 degrees overhanging. Therefore working the moves proved to be very difficult. Since there are quite big spaces between the geer, lowering in from the top means that a toprope fall sends you a good couple of metres out from the rock, with no means of getting back in. It’s also really difficult to reach the base of the route at anything but low tide since the route comes straight out of the sea. You might think that it would make a great DWS, but there is an unfortunately positioned boulder right in the landing zone. All these things make this route an absolute mission to check out, belay and lead. The other thing about the route, is that there isn’t really a wealth of natural gear. There are a few cams and wires, but apart from that the route is largely peg protected. Whilst working the route, 3 pegs fell out spontaneously, without much force, and two of them snapped. This meant that I didn’t really trust any of the 10-year old pegs and was therefore inclined to bash some more in. Being in-experienced in the art of pegging I asked my boyfriend Peter to take a look. Mr patience spent a good few hours teasing some pegs out and putting new ones in, which gave me much more confidence when going for the lead.

Thanks Peter! So why get so psyched for a route that is such a mission to try, and is very peg-reliant? Because it’s a really cool route. The climbing is amazing. It starts off with small crimps, luckily there are enough of them in such steep ground, for it to be possible. Then the holds get bigger and the angle even steeper, before it eases off at the top. There are wild heel hooks, egyptians and knee bars – not your standard trad affair. It probably gets about F8a+, but its hardly one you want to lob off, with long run outs and reasonably sketch gear.

What happens at low tide… no more water and a nice belay spot! Neil Dyer I worked the route for 3 days. Which sounds like a lot, but most of that time was spent faffing with ropes and gear in attempt to touch the rock. The second day down there Neil Dyer and myself successfully managed to set up a tensioned rope between the pieces of gear, which we could then clip in to and work the moves. But this took us the majority of the day – I don’t think Neil even put his rock shoes on! The third day was more productive and I finally worked out all the sequences. None of the moves are that hard, but all together – they surely induce a healthy dose of lactic acid.

Day 1 – can we touch some rock? Caff trying When it finally came to tying on the sharp end, the faff continued. Whilst warming up another peg fell out when I weighted it, and I had to get the hammer from the car and bang it back it. Not a good start. With bad weather coming in, I was eager to get it done, but unfortunately the tides were bad – with high tide at 2.30pm. Not to worry – we can make a belay for Peter above the sea! I had the idea that Peter could ab down, clipping into the old pegs of ‘Treacherous Under Foot’ an old E6, make a belay, then I could join him down there and start rock climbing. 2 hours later, Peter was in a precarious positions, only a foot above the sea, and one wire-popping incident away from being totally submerged. Luckily Peter managed to make it down without getting too wet, and I joined him.

The morning was a bit of a stress, with pegs falling out, high tides and even a bit of rain added to the mix, so when I actually set off from the belay I was feeling tired, cold and anything from composed. Images of decking off Impact Day a year previous came flooding back… but at the same time, I was keen to go climbing, get my weight off the rope and do the route unhindered by fixed lines and top ropes. It went without a hitch. I was quite pumped at the top, but two months in Spain helped massively and the lactic-acid levels didn’t feel too disastrous.  There are a few places on the route, where it would be ill-advised to fall off, and whilst climbing, although I was aware of those spots, I’d rehearsed the route enough, and was fit enough for it to go smoothly. I learnt from Impact Day, that I shouldn’t expect the climbing to feel easy on the lead, and as a result – I didn’t make the same mistake again! (of falling off where I shouldn’t.. and hitting things I shouldn’t)

Dom Bush photo. Dom and Matt (Pycroft) kindly came down to film the ascent for reel rock 8. Cheers guys I love little missions like this – that require a bit more from you than sport climbing arms, with swinging around on ropes trying not to get wet. It would be a lot easier to go to Spain and climb some 8a+ there, but I’ll certainly remember this 8a+ more than those. One problem with missions like this though, is that often they rely on the good-will of others. I couldn’t have done this route without help from my friends. Caff, Neil and Emma (Twyford) all kindly came down with me, to hold my string, faff with ropes and have a play themselves. Levels of faff-psyche permitting I’m sure we could see some more ascents of Chicama, especially since all of them are complete wads. But an extra special thanks goes to Peter, because without him and his Cumbrian pegging skills, the route would be a lot less safe. And not many people would have had his patience to down-aid the steepest cliff in Wales, belay me and then jug back out. So thanks!

Dave Birkett’s Once Upon a Time in the South West, my first E9 (Dave Pickford) This is my second E9, the other being Once Upon a Time in the Southwest, in Devon. They are both sea cliffs, but that’s about where there similarities end. Once, is a technically difficult slab on a monster of a wall with 30 odd pieces of gear. Where Chicama is a full endurance battle with a few cams! Are they E9? Which one is harder? I have no idea, and I don’t really care much about answering these questions. They are both great routes, and I won’t forget them.

Filed under: Hard Routes, Trad Routes, UK Climbing, Uncategorized Tagged: Chicama E9, Emma Twyford, Hazel Findlay Chicama, Hazel Findlay E9, James Mchafie, Neil Dyer, Peter Graham, Tim Emmett, Treaddur Bay

Source: hazelfindlay

[Fiend]

That's the beauty of the English grading system, that with a look at the style of the route and the sort of protection it entails, E9 covers such disparate routes so well

[comPiler]

Filming and Training
11 June 2013, 10:37 am

This winter/spring is be a big time for me in terms of my climbing career! The holly grail for professional climbing is being in the Reel Rock tour in terms of media exposure. Its a collaboration between Sender films and Big Up productions and it’s the most successful climbing film tour/dvd going, especially in the States. When those guys asked if I wanted to be in the film, I felt flattered. The plan is for me to be in a 20/30 minute segment, some of which will be me climbing in the UK, with most of it being about Emily Harrington and myself in Morocco. With this being such a successful film and it being very good for my career as a professional climber I wanted to make sure I did my best.



Fist things first – I needed to get fit and that’s what I did in January and February, culminating in my first 8b+ in Catalunya. Next up, I needed to get filmed. I had planned to set aside March and most of April to concentrate on climbing and filming in the UK. That resulted in climbing and filming the E9 ‘Chicama’ in North Wales. This March displayed some of the most awful weather on record and given that most animals weren’t able to survive a night in the fields I was psyched to do even one route. Dom Bush and Matt Pycroft filmed this and I was happy to get started on compiling footage for the Reel Rock guys.

Chicama, E9 (Matt Pycroft) It’s amazing how much work goes in to 10 minutes of footage. The audience will never know how many hours goes in to one minute, well its hundreds. Chicama was only one day of footage, but to make a good film you need more and I guess it is also important for the film guys to get to know me, so Bret and Josh Lowell from Big Bup came over from America for a visit. They wanted to do interviews and also film me on another bold trad route in the UK. Having just hurt my knee in the climbing wall I wasn’t sure I would be able to jump on another project and get it done in the seven days that they had over here, so I suggested that they film me on something I’d already done, and the obvious choice was the other E9 I’ve done ‘Once Upon a Time in the SouthWest’ on Dyers Lookout.

Dave Birkett’s Once Upon a Time in the South West, my first E9 (Dave Pickford) It was really strange filming that route. Usually when you climb something bold the desire of doing the route to overcomes any sense of fear you have. However, having already done the route so there was no desire at all, (other than to make the film) so I found myself feeling quite terrified to be back up on that slab, trying to remember the moves. That wall is really impressive so I look forward to seeing what it looks like on the screen.

The main part of the film will be about Emily and myself trying a big wall in Taghia, Morocco in May. Since Emily and I haven’t climbed much together and we have been mostly doing single pitch stuff – a good idea would be to go training together! My idea of training is a trip to Spain, so that’s what we did.

This was our biggest training day, where we tried to climb the length of Babel (800m) – we didn’t come close and it was still a lot of climbing! Unfortunately it rained almost solidly for a week, so instead of climbing the vertical stuff similar in style to Taghia, we ended up climbing steep stuff. Not to worry, it’s good to have your arms in shape no matter what and we got a lot of climbing done, not to mention the crucial bonding time we spent together.

After Spain I spent a week at home, climbing, seeing my boyfriend and friends before the month away. A lot of professional athletes don’t get to do their sport much just for themselves. For example big mountain skiers and will only ski big mountains if they have a heli in tow shooting everything they do. I think this is a shame and I love the fact that this isn’t the case with climbing. During my week at home, I went to Pembroke and saw so many friendly faces. Things were pretty chilled out on the climbing side, since I wanted to be rested up before Morocco, but I got a few classics done, like Ghost Train, which is a route I’ve been meaning to do for a while, and it didn’t disappoint!

Off to Morocco! Tagine for a whole month!

 

Filed under: Uncategorized  

Source: hazelfindlay

[comPiler]

Run Out in Morocco: Two Girls One Big Wall!
12 June 2013, 12:15 pm

Emily Harrington photo Here it is – the mega blog about a mega route. Beware – it’s long! I put important parts in bold, to be cheesy and assist the skim-reader.

Taghia is one of the most beautiful places in the world and it just so happens to have world class climbing as well. I went there for the first time last year with Alex Honnold. It was a very different scene from this trip; it was just us, a rope, some gear, no film crew, no photography bar our iphones and a lot of climbing got done.

Paradise! That’s Oujdad in the back ground This trip has been organised by Emily Harrington, a fellow North Face athlete and funded by The North Face, under the premise that it will be documented by the Reel Rock film tour guys, for the up and coming Reel Rock 8. Reel Rock is a very successful enterprise and we were psyched that they wanted to film our trip, and of course The North Face is psyched that they get the exposure when the film comes out with us in it wearing nice North Face jackets. So what does that mean for us?

Emily enjoying the bumpy ride to Taghia It means we get a free trip to one of the most magical climbing destinations. But it also means that we have 2 or 3 film guys with us most of the time documenting what we do.  A free trip, free jackets and all you have to do is get a camera wagged in your face every now and then? Of course things aren’t always as simple as they seem and having done a bit of this now, I knew this trip was going to be a lot different from mine and Alex’s almost exactly a year a go.

The idea of the trip was for Emily and myself to climb (and for those guys to film) one of Taghia’s hardest routes. ‘Babel’ put up by Titi Gentet, Nicolas Kalisz, Stephanie Bodet and Arnaud Petit. I really have to hand it to those guys; they spent 15 days putting up a magnificent route, in a very admirable style.

Arnaud on the 7c+ crux. Arnaud Petit photo from Alpinist website. Quoting Arnaud Petit from this Alpinist news article (http://www.alpinist.com/doc/web07f/newswire-morocco-taghia-babel) because he puts it better than I could:

The route is consistent at variations of grade 7, and the climbing is always runout, sometimes dangerously. We opened the line with minimal bolting, free climbing between the protection points and hanging on hooks, nuts, or pitons to haul the drill and place the bolts. This approach is referenced by some as “Larcher style”: sparse bolting and mandatory, engaging free climbing between bolts. On our route, the obligatory free climbing between bolts registered as difficult as 7a+ (5.12a). On the hardest pitches, bolts were spaced 4 meters apart. On easier sections, around 6c (5.11b), we placed bolts every 7 to 8 meters

The psychological aspect of the climb is just as (if not more) important as the physical and the technical

The overall difficulties, the beauty of certain pitches, and the environment and breadth of the wall combine to make Babel an exceptional big-wall free climbing experience

The line marks 700 of the 800m of Babel. Photo: Arnaud Petit from Alpinist Magazine website With big wall free climbing being the thing that most excites me in climbing, looking at this picture and hearing Arnaud’s words, I couldn’t not try Babel. Although not as high as El Cap, the style of climbing and run out nature of the pitches put Babel up there with routes such as Free Rider and Golden Gate. Having now done both Babel and Golden Gate, I must say that this is true. The crux pitch is 7c+/5.13, which is the same as Golden Gate and Free Rider, but nonetheless it’s hardly cutting edge standards of rock climbing. Despite having such low graded pitches Golden Gate and Free Rider are sought out prizes in climbing, with a free ascent of El Cap being a life time goal for many climbers. I think you could happily put Babel into this category; where it  is less of a route in terms of height, it’s certainly more of a route in terms of (in the words of Tim Emmett) SPICE, with some pitches having 4 bolts in 60m and sustained climbing, with only 3 pitches of grade 6 in 20.  For the brits out there – it’s a 800m E7.

So how did it go?

We arrived in Taghia on the wrong foot harbouring some Moroccan fauna of the diarrhea and vomit inducing variety. We climbed the first day (which resulted in a little accident) but found ourselves too sick to climb for a few days after that. Eventually our stomachs grew accustomed to their new inhabitants and we managed to drag ourselves up Fantasia. Fantasia (read about it here http://www.alpinist.com/doc/ALP14/climbing-notes-kaszlikowski) is 700m, 7c and a great route.. an amazing route! I tried it up to pitch 6 last year with Alex, but we got too cold and tired and came down. This year me and Emily did it, I did it free and onsight (apart from vague memories of last years efforts), which I was proud of, and Emily came close, falling only whilst onsighting this really tricky 7b+ pitch. It’s a must do for those climbing the grade.

Eliza Kubarska on Fantasia Photo: Kaszlikowski from Alpinist Although Babel is ‘only’ 100m bigger and one + grade harder, having done them both – they are not in the same league. We hoped, having done Fantasia that we would be in good stead for Babel, but we were soon to find out that the brutalities of Babel were far and above anything we saw on Fantasia.

Although many people approach routes like this by coming in from the top and working things out, potentially stashing gear, or even going slow and taking portaledges, we thought that the route was within our means to go for the ground-up, in-a-day approach. We also thought it would be a lot more fun to try it in this style. Unless a route is dangerous (like many UK single pitches) I always aim to try routes ground up. It’s not about ethics, it’s about whats fun, and getting the most out of a route. If you come in from the top, you loose that element of the unknown, you loose that amazing feeling you get when you’re slapping around on a route trying to find the best holds, thinking as hard as you can to unlock a sequence before your timer runs out. They are the most fun and most engaging moments in climbing – and we were bound to have lots of them on a ground up attempt of Babel!

The wall is separated at it’s base by a big ledge and although there are three pitches in the canyon below the ledge, the meat of the climbing is above. We chose to take the advice of the previous ascentionists and try the first pitches before the rest of the route… and we were glad we did! The first pitch is a run out adventurous 7a+, probably about E6, and the second pitch is a run out 7b+, about E6 or 7. I got the second pitch, and I was proud to onsight the weird moves and keep my cool. It’s almost like these first pitches are the gateway to the route; if you get through unscathed, then you can attempt to fight the dragon!

Emily got shat on by a bird seconding one of the more run out pitches – we were glad she wasn’t leading! We set our alarms for 3.30am, but in hindsight maybe we should have set them later, not because we were fast, but because I probably lost us more time trying to onsight the first 7b+ pitch off the ledge as a warm up in the dark than if I had tried it a bit later in the light. This type of limestone slab climbing, with no chalk and smeary feet is difficult to read at the best of times, but with my head torch casting weird shadows, I fell off not knowing where any of the good feet were. I think at this point – even though I wouldn’t have verbally admitted it – I knew we were in for a bit more than we bargained for. Not wanting to start the route in a bad style, I looked for the good feet, lowered back down to a big ledge (where the real climbing starts) and re-climbed the hard climbing I’d just done, this time I got past it, only to pull off a hold I couldn’t see was loose right near the anchor. What bad luck! Or bad climbing… Yet again I lowered back down to the ledge and re-climbed the pitch. It was an hour in to our ascent and already I’d climbed the same pitch 3 times!

Me gurning (Kris Erickson) The next few pitches went a lot smoother and we found ourselves on the 7c pitch, which although not the crux on paper, was deemed to be since it’s a technical slab. Emily gave it an awesome onsight attempt, but fell near the top. Seconding, I got a little higher but committed to a wrong slab move I couldn’t reverse and fell. Neither of us wanted to descend into all-out french freeing, so yet again we lowered to a mid height break/no-hands and re-climbed the crux sequence from there. We weren’t sending, but we were yosemite-freeing and that is better than nothing. 

Emily about to enter the crux sequence of the 7c – technical crux of the route? Kris Erickson Babel is like many big walls in that the ‘easy’ pitches just aren’t easy. It’s almost like you may as well look at the topo and it read 7c,7c,7c, 7c, 7c…. for 20 pitches, because bar a few, it felt like I was trying 7c hard on all of them. If they aren’t weird and hard to read, then they’re loose, if you don’t get lost then you’re trying to go fast and you’re getting tired in different ways, if you’re feet aren’t screaming then your hands will be, if some of your arms muscles aren’t tired climbing then they will be when you haul the bag, and it goes on and on until you get to the top. If I didn’t love it, I’d hate it.

The biggest heart-breaker, was watching Emily battle to onsight the crux pitch, only to read the last few moves wrong and fall, literally a few feet from the belay. Although I seconded it clean, I knew that at this point the team was loosing its mojo; we were looking above our heads at 10 pitches left to do with little light and arm power left in the day. 

The next pitches for me – although easing off a bit – were a big test. We were leading in blocks, so  you get a rest in between pitches and I had just started my block after the crux – 7b and 7a+ has never felt so hard! Although I had taken a few falls, I had always lowered to ledges, and although not sending I felt like I was happy with my ascent so far and I wanted to keep it up. But then I had a nightmare 7b+ pitch. It was starting to get dark and I was trying to move quickly, I pulled over a roof into a big undercut flake, only to have it explode in my face. Hmmm, that’s annoying! I inspected the flake, lowered back down and re-climbed the traverse into the roof, only for it to happen again! There just seemed to be no part of that flake that wasn’t rotten! This time I didn’t lower back down (because it was getting silly) and found a no-hands under the roof, but it happened again! I really didn’t want to resort to pulling on the bolt, so I tried again, this time thinking light thoughts ‘don’t break, don’t break, I’m as light as a feather’, and it let me through. It felt like now we were in full desperation mode.

Although Emily had done some cheeky french freeing on the 7c+ pitch (she stood on a bolt to get to the anchor) I was impressed to see her try her up most hardest not to resort to out-right french freeing. At the start of the route, having both fallen, we could have got to the top in no time at all, if we’d moved quickly, pulled and rested on bolts, etc, but either because we’re stupid, or because we’re determined we free climbed the most we could, and in the end we were only a few meters short of an all-free ascent.

Me on one of the wildest pitches. 7a+ ‘swiss cheese’ climbing up big orange holes. Kris Erickson But then, perhaps I let us down! We got to a big ledge and above us there were only 2 more pitches – a 7a and a 6a. By this point, about 9pm, I have to say, we were very tired. I was still having fun… just about, but looking at Emily I could see that for her it was questionable. I was a little bit concerned for our safety. The pitches were getting more and more run out, some of them with only 4 bolts in 60m. I had just lead a really nice 6b+ pitch, and although I did it quickly and found the climbing not too bad, I was becoming aware that bad things could start to happen. It was dark, we were FREEZING cold, dehydrated and I was suffering from bad cramping. I would take my fingers off a crimp and my fingers would be locked in that position and I would have to bend them back against my leg. At this point, I was also too in-the-zone and too tired to be afraid. I found myself climbing, with no thought to the consequences of a fall, essentially I was getting complacent, and this is dangerous. I felt like, in our state it would be very easy for one of us to make a mistake and with 20 meter run outs above slabby and ledgy rock, that mistake could be disastrous if not fatal. Knowing that there was a gully system to the right of the last two pitches, I suggested we climb up that instead. In hindsight I feel a bit bad for this, perhaps I should have sacked it up and lead the last two pitches, they probably weren’t that bad. But like many of my potential critics I say that sat in the comfort of a nice warm house, not 700m off the ground, in a bitingly cold wind, feeling my muscles cramp uncontrollably, worried about our safety.  In our position, the choice of climbing an easy gully, was like having a chocolate cake sat next to a bowl of rotten sprouts – you’d be an idiot not to take it.

Finishing a run out 6b+ – 3 bolts on the pitch? Kris Erickson So that’s what we did, I soloed up 4th class terrain to the summit and there we were – on the top! What a massive day! We were in really good spirits, mostly to be alive and well and not strapped to the side of a mountain any more. The film crew had reached the top before us and we gathered around their fire. Having Kris and Frosty film  on the route, surprisingly didn’t make a huge difference to the way the route felt. They always seemed to be way off to the side or above, and for the most part we felt alone, especially on the first 5 and last 5 pitches – where we were actually alone. I’m not massively in to climbing ethics, but one thing I was strict about, was making sure the films guys didn’t support us. Even once we’d got to the top, they offered us food and water, but we declined. I was very defensive about the fact that this was a sponsored trip and it was paid for and all the rest of it, and I didn’t want that support to affect our ascent in any way. It’s one thing getting the trip paid for, quite another to have a load of subbies carry up your food and water, bivy gear and trainers.

5 hours later… I think we were both thinking the same thing – I bloody wish we’d  taken them up on the offer of food and water! We had exercised for 23 hours straight and eaten maybe a 1000 calories, and drank a few liters of water. The walk down, in some ways, was the mental crux of the day. Usually I bounce down paths and love hiking around over rough terrain. On that night, my legs felt like jelly, like they could just give way at any second. We’d done the descent before (off Fantasia), but not in the dark and our head torches were failing. We spent about three hours trying to find the cairns leading the way down. Going down a gully, looking, not seeing anything, then having to hike back up, getting more tired and irritated by the second. I remember being stood on the edge of a cliff, looking to see if I could see the descent, a hundred meter drop below, thinking that I could easily just sway off it. At one point I think we were both close to all-out hallucinations, with cairns revealing themselves from all directions, taunting us, only to be a weird shaped rock, or a bush.



There are things about that day that I am not so proud of (taking the cake gully) but one thing I am really proud of is that we kept our cool 4 hours in to the descent after a ridiculously long day. We were so close to just curling up in a ball and waiting for the sun to rise, or close to loosing our cool and shouting at each other. But we didn’t and I think that is a testament to our partnership. Eventually we found the cairns and we staggered back to Said’s gite at 3.30am – 24 hours after we’d woken up! 

The next day we felt like we’d been run over by a truck.  I tried to have a shower but my fingers hurt to much to light a lighter and my feet said no to going in anything but flip flops. Alex Lowther (film producer) popped his head through the door and said ‘don’t worry it’s amazing what two rest days will do’. I look at Emily and we each with the silent thought ‘he has no idea’.

To go back on Babel? Maybe in a year or 2 or 3, when I’ve forgotten enough for it to be fun again, but for now, our ascent feels like something to be proud of and I don’t have the motivation to go back for the sake of a few meters of free climbing. There have been times where I’ve been super lucky to do a route and I feel like I’ve just scraped an ascent through the skin of my teeth (The PreMuir for example) so I’m happy to say this is one that  slipped away.

Em finishing a short 7b pitch – tired arms! Kris Erickson Sometimes I think our ascent was a bit lame, that we should have sent. Maybe we should have come down after the 7c, rehearsed those pitches and then been in good stead to do the rest another day.  But I like the way we tried it – putting all our eggs and beans and energy into one all-out attempt. It felt fun and natural and it was an amazing adventure I think we’ll both take to the old peoples home. You don’t remember the easy sends, the quick ticks, you remember the all-out battles, that take everything out of you, right until the sun starts to rise again. Since getting home I’ve chatted a little to Arnaud Petit over email and it was nice to hear his words of encouragement…. sometimes you need someone else to put things in to perspective… it’s easy to berate yourself and say ‘it’s only 7c+’, it’s not even that many pitches, but I know in my heart that it’s never about that, and it never should be. We can ask ourselves whether we failed or succeeded, whether Babel is cutting edge difficulty or not, whether we’re tough climbers or weak girls, we can ask these questions until the cows come home, but at the end of the day, it felt hard as nails and yet we gave it everything we could and well, I think that’s enough. 

So what of the rest of the trip? At first the film guys were a little annoyed when we said we weren’t going up there again, they had a story to tell! There is always a contention between climbing,  professional climbing and documenting climbing because it’s difficult to know where your motivations lie. Sometimes when I climb I feel like Billy Eliot in that film when he dances down the street, not because I think I’m as good at climbing as he is at dancing (he’s really good at dancing), but because you can see its pure joy, and that he’s totally lost in what he’s doing. My point is is that giving everything to climbing isn’t like giving everything to your tax return, it’s a deeply personal thing, and to be done well it has to be entirely self motivated. You can say down in the village ‘yeah I’ll go back up there’, but if it’s for a film, for some idea of a professional climbing ‘career’, then you won’t be holding on to those crimps at 10.30 at night, above a 10 meter run out in the dark when your whole body says no. That’s just how it is. So we didn’t go back up, instead we got to work!

Going back to the top of Babel to get more ‘climbing in the dark’ footage – fun! Emily Harrington Photo Making a climbing film doesn’t just involve pointing the camera at the action, it involves a lot of re-climbing for more footage. They need close-ups of hands and feet, they need different angles, they need the stuff that they missed, they need interviews. So we spent the last week, going back on pitches and doing all that stuff. I know by the end, myself and Emily were very mentally tired from the trip. Even though you try to keep the climbing separate and personal we both felt like there were a lot of other people’s energy, time and money resting on our climbing and the film, and this is quite a lot of pressure. 

Now I’m home, and it’s all done and dusted and I can say I had a big adventure with a great partner, and hopefully there will be a brilliant film about that adventure. I know as climbers, we all have adventures, some of them push us right to the limit and others not. I feel like this will be a great film because the viewer will have either been in our shoes – and can relate to that feeling of having the perfect challenge, or they will be inspired to get out there and find there own adventure, that pushes them to fatigue induced hallucinations! Because really, these are the moments that we relish most.

Camera-hero Robert Frost making sure he misses none of the action A special thanks to the film guys Alex Lowther and Rob Frost who were by no means too annoying and worked bloody hard! To Kris Erickson, for being a true Montana hard man, taking beautiful photos and teaching us the local ways. To Emily for being an awesome partner and friend, and for essentially being the one to make the trip happen. And finally to Titi Gentet, Nicolas Kalisz, Stephanie Bodet and Arnaud Petit for creating a perfect challenge. I must admit guys, it’s a little bit designer danger, but I wasn’t complaining!

VENGA LAS CHICAS!



Filed under: Hard Routes, Sport Climbing, Trad Routes, Trips, Uncategorized Tagged: Alex Lowther, Babel, Big Wall, Emily Harrington, Fantasia, Kris Erickson, Rob Frost, Run out in Morocco, Taghia

Source: hazelfindlay