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To Do List - Quit Job
16 June 2011, 10:37 pm

·        Quit job

Well that was easy, one brief email and one triumphant post on Facebook and I’m free (apart from the whole working the notice period thing but that will give me time to do the rest of the list)

·        Make celebratory brownies

Made and eaten

·        Buy vanHmmm... more tricky, gumtree and ebay aren’t showing anything amazing (by amazing I mean cheap - and preferably with all its wheels). Quick check in the post office window doesn’t come up with much either, lots of kittens for sale though... could get one of those, cheaper to run/feed and definitely more cute, won’t get me from A to B though... unless it’s more people pick up hitchhikers who are holding kittens, surveys should be done.

·         Find dry rock

Impossible. I managed to get about three feet from the car before it started raining. Maybe it’s not actually impossible, I’m fairly sure that Gully Wall or Pixies Hole will be dry but sometimes I find it hard to get inspired for dingy, polished limestone circuits. Call me picky.

I saw a thread on UKC  http://www.ukclimbing.com/forums/t.php?n=463027&v=1 suggesting there might be an access issue at Chudleigh, I drove past earlier but couldn’t see the sign, maybe the trolls are out. I’m not sure I could live without Chudleigh... maybe I should get out more.

·         Tidy my stuff up

Never gonna happen, don’t know why I bothered to write it down.

·         Get strong

Well if I can’t climb I might as well get strong instead and the fingerboard is calling to me (maybe that’s a bit strong, more like heckling me). Do you think Tim Emmett would mind if I made miniature clones of him:

To the fingerboard...



Source: Climb Stuff

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To Do List - Pancakes
20 June 2011, 1:12 am



 ·         Plan adventures

It’s all coming together, albeit slowly. At the moment I’m trying to match up people, places and crags like a giant game of snap. But I can plan safely in the knowledge that wherever I decide to go it’ll rain.

No van as yet, but there are a few local candidates to check out during the week.

·         Pancakes

The perfect breakfast food! I’m not very good at breakfast; mornings are far too early for eating, apart from chocolate obviously. I can eat chocolate at any time of the day or night, it’s like a superpower.

The only solution to the breakfast conundrum is pancakes... or nutella... or both. Sorted!

·         Climb...

It’s not raining, I have a belayer, life is good. Anstey’s is the crag of choice today and Devonshire Cream is the route; 16m of exquisite climbing with the first bolt at 8m, just after the 6a crux. It’s considered to be bolted by a manic or genius depending on your outlook on life.

·         Warm up

A lap or two of the traverse to get the blood flowing...

·         Reacquaint myself with the moves

Forgot the clipstick but remembered the boyfriend so got the first bolt clipped. I had a feeling I was going to find the crux hard... I try it and it feels easy... I try it again thinking it will be easy... it’s hard. I strip the clips (‘effics’) and sit down for a long hard think.

My thought process goes along the lines of:

“I quite like my legs, don’t really want to break them”

“Easy solution to that, don’t fall off”

“But what happens if I freak out? Agh I’m scared!”

“Man up! Anyway you can downclimb from right before

the crux and once you’ve done the crux it’s all over”

“Umm... I still don’t want to do this but I’ve run out of arguments”

“Perfect, let’s do it!”

·         Crunch time

The tricky part is always the decision making; after that it’s just the follow-through...

It goes without a hitch, no broken legs, no emergency bails into the thorn bush, no panicking, no gibbering. And the best bit...? Knowing I never have to do it again...

...until Sole Fusion

...and Cream Topping

...bugger.



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To Do List - Lemmings
24 June 2011, 2:22 am



·         Get up

A bit of a challenge, my aches and pains from a couple of days of climbing have united to create an overall sense of tiredness and a general feeling that it’s best to stay in bed today.

        ·         Eat

Ugh it’s breakfast time again, that meal comes around with a startling regularity. Maybe I should mix it up a bit, start the day with a roast dinner or a good chocolate pudding?

      ·         Buy sparkly shoes

Ha! I am a girl!

      ·         Climb

Back to Anstey’s again today, like a homing pigeon with a masochistic nature. It’s a lovely scenic crag, overhanging limestone looking over a quiet bay, with just the tweeting of the birds and the blood-curdling screams of coasteers throwing themselves into the sea (strange race the coasteer, must be related to the lemming).

Looks like the pocket on Cider Soak has dried out; good news as I can spend the day falling off a route I might be able to climb one day instead of falling off routes I have no hope of doing or falling off routes I have already done.

Climbing today is a bit of a challenge, it’s one of those days where every time you look down there’s a spare leg hanging in space doing nothing, you can put it on the rock but next time you glance down another leg is floating about. It’s an endless battle to keep the majority of limbs attached to the rock and it’s one that I inevitably lose. Despite this I manage to link a few moves and almost clip the third bolt before wimping off and going for the shiny quickdraw shaped hold. I could climb past the bolt to a good hold but I’m sure it’s easier to get stronger than to get braver.

I think I’ll leave the red-point for another day or preferably another person... Why can’t it work the same way as football? I could be an Adam Ondra supporter and every time he onsights another 8c I get to spend the afternoon in the pub celebrating my team’s success, starting fights with Sharma supporters and growing a beer belly... I think it might catch on.



Source: Climb Stuff

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Update
5 July 2011, 9:11 am



In the last week and a bit I have:

       ·         Bought a van

I don’t know much about vans but this one has wheels (4), goes along at a reasonable speed and plays nice music at me in the mean time.

       ·         Quit a job  

The last day was celebrated as all important times in life should be – with cake and beer.

      ·         Converted said van

As the old saying goes: “Give a man a power-tool and he’s happy for hours”. Thanks to Justin, the van now has a bed, somewhere to put stuff and locks that work!

      ·         Climbed

6 days on, feeling a bit tired now.

      ·         Planned trips

I don’t really do planning, but I have found people to travel with, places to see and routes to climb. Good times!



Source: Climb Stuff

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3 days, 5 crags
22 July 2011, 1:05 pm



Life as a climbing bum is going well: long days climbing with good friends, getting heckled onto routes, falling of projects and embarking on sea cliff trad adventures.

      ·         Tuesday:

Lowman – the windiest place on the planet – a nice trip up Aviation and then run away to...

Chudleigh – An escape from the wind and drizzle and an important stop on a tour of the best crags Devon has to offer for a visiting Northerner in the group.

Jerome’s attempts to persuade me to lead Interrogation had failed, as well as Interrogation SuperDirect, Blood Lust and a number of other Lowman horrors, but I gave in when he switched tack to Black Death. Black Death may not be the most inspiring name but it's an awesome route and, upon completion, you gain free admission to the Black Death Climbing Club. What more could you ask for?!

      ·         Wednesday:

Anstey’s Cove - The drizzle (or mizzle?) was forecast for the morning, so Anstey’s seemed the obvious choice, after all it’s always dry at the cove, right? Wrong! But lessons were learnt:

        ·         Cocytus is really hard in the rain,

        ·         It’s nearly impossible to get psyched for working a project route when you’re cold and wet and the damp’s seeping through the rock,

        ·         Empire of the Sun is the perfect route for getting more and more tired – I’m told this is called ‘training’?!

        ·         Just when you’ve taken all the quickdraws out of every route the sun will come out.

An enjoyable scramble along The Long Traverse to have a look at Sanctuary Wall rounded off the day perfectly.

      ·         Thursday:

Lower Sharpnose – With the sun shining and agreeable tides Sharpnose is an awesome and inspiring place, 3 fins of rock 25 to 30m high and about 2m wide jutting out into the Atlantic. Long routes, big holds (in places), good gear (in places) and rusty pegs. We abbed in and started up The Smile; holds and gear abound but it just keeps going.

My turn to lead next and Wraith was suggested, “an excellent wall climb” not overly reliant on two fairly rusty pegs. It was excellent, the gear and good(ish) holds give you no excuse to stop and ponder and with the crux at the top it’s an all or nothing effort. I sat in the sun at the top belaying with a grin on my face, good times indeed.

Unfortunately it was 3pm I was late for an evening climbing appointment the other end of the county. I left my mates contemplating scary E5 propositions on the middle fin and jogged back to my trusty van.

Sanctuary Wall - 2 hours later back at Anstey’s Cove I met John taking an evening out from his busy schedule to contemplate Madness, a route name that tells you all you need to know! Madness is a traverse of Sanctuary Wall, a loose, intimidating and absurdly steep sea cliff. The first pitch consisted of alternately hand traversing and teetering along a sloping ledge, with the odd bit of gear or rusty peg for protection. At the hanging belay we tried to think up excuses for not doing the last two pitches, we settled for a combination of potential rain, darkness and fear and escaped up the final groove of Call of the Wild.

It was a good end to three awesome days’ climbing, sitting at the top in the evening sunlight, surrounded by gear and a palpable sense of relief, tired and hungry but truly content.



Source: Climb Stuff

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Sun, Sea and Swimming
3 August 2011, 3:45 pm



Today I did what any self-respecting Devon climber should do on the first sunny day in August – I went Deep Water Soloing. I’m very much a beginner at the whole DWS thing, I’ve only been twice and haven’t even fallen off...until today. But John suggested Rainbow Bridge (one of the finest DWS traverses in the world?) and I had no excuses: the sun was out, the tide was high and the bird bans were but a distant memory.

We made the obligatory phone call to the Coastguard to say we were deep water soloing as onlookers have the tendency to phone in. I would have thought the difference between someone having fun by the sea and someone in danger are quite obvious, for example when deep water soloing I climb, fall off and swim to the next bit of rock whereas if I was in dire need of rescue I would scream, wave my arms or just look dead.  But who can tell what goes through the mind of non-climbers!

Rainbow Bridge

We set out from the Great Cave with the sun behind us, glinting off the quartz crystals in the rock. Route finding is pretty easy, keep the sea below you (this is important!) and head sideways, if you’re lucky follow the path of chalked holds. The traverse leads through some awesome terrain from wild overhanging sections on jugs to intricate technical sections on tiny crimps, we got as far as the crux before we greased off the slopers into the sea SPLASH!

I can’t remember the last time I swam but luckily I remembered how to and crawled back onto the rock a bit further along. Well that was the easy bit over with, now we had wet shoes, dripping clothes and no chalk... onwards. It wasn’t long until I was back in the sea SPLASH!

I swam to the ledges at the end of Rainbow Bridge and tried to recover some strength, I was amazed at how tiring I found the traverse being unaccustomed to continuous climbing for over an hour (possibly the last two days of training and plugging away at Cider Soak didn’t help).

Oz Wall Traverse

We carried on with the next part, Oz Wall Traverse, before escaping up the hillside with aching arms. At the top we met a woman who had seen us climbing and was going to call the coastguard... WHY?!

Back at the bags we relaxed in the sun before John suggested Magical Mystery Tour and we were off again.

Magical Mystery Tour

This traverse heads the other way from The Great Cave and is a few grades easier but with tired and aching arms it didn’t feel it. Much wild swinging on good holds followed together with a quick swim across the Green Grotto just when I had dried out again. Towards the end of the traverse is a move that involves falling across a gap to good holds on the other side. I stood and looked at it, composed myself, looked at the gap again, took a deep breath, poised myself to fall across the gap and... bailed out in mid air SPLASH!

At the end of the traverse we scrambled up the hill to relax at the top in the sun having completed around 750m of climbing/swimming, not bad for a mornings work.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Ken Palmer on his Barrel Traverse (F7C)

© Kafoozalem (UKC)[/td][/tr]

[/table]I’ll definitely be back to complete the parts that I swam past but I think it will be a while before I consider Wizard of Oz an epic link up of all the traverses completed by Ken Palmer last summer (excellent write up of the route here).  

For now I can relax and enjoy one of the many reasons I got into climbing; the feeling of a tired body and battered arms after a good day’s climbing.



Source: Climb Stuff

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Cider Soak
6 September 2011, 9:40 am



Afterapproximately 25 sessions at Anstey’s Cove in the last 4 months, about 100hours of climbing, resting or belaying, a variety of conditions from blazingsunshine to horizontal drizzle and one too many fumbled clips I redpointedCider Soak 8a***

It’s been aregular fixture on my climbing week over the summer: turn up at Anstey’s, warmup on the traverse, put the clips in Cider Soak, work some moves, do some linksor try a redpoint, fall off, eat dried apricots, try again... all in all a veryenjoyable experience.

It doesn’t godown without a fight though: first redpoint attempt of the day and I clip thethird clip with relative ease (the technical crux), don’t get too excited atthe break (the psychological crux) and fight my way through the top sequence tothe finishing jug (the physical crux). I pull up some slack to clip the finaldraw... and fumble the clip, my fingers start to peel off the jug and I grab thedraw in desperation. Bugger. So close but yet so far.

Second go Idon’t make it past the pocket, third go I smack my elbow into a bolt on the wayup then fall off reaching for the break. I consider stripping the route andcalling it a day... one more go.

This time I’mat the finishing jug before I know it and I clip the draw like a model climberon Gresham’s Masterclass DVDs. It’s the perfect end to a fantastic summer’s climbingin the South West with a great bunch of friends.



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Project On!
21 September 2011, 10:03 am



The summerof being-a-climbing-bum has given way to the autumn of having-to-work-like-a-normal-person.I’m working at The Quay, the new climbing wall in Exeter, which means that Inow spend 99% of my life surrounded by climbers. This is all well and gooduntil I have to make conversation with non-climbers...

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The Arch at The Quay[/td][/tr]

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Conversationwith a climber:

Climber: Youbeen up to much recently?

Me: Yeah man!Been getting on the trad’s, cos trad’s totally where it’s at, you know? I goton this route up at Wintour’s at the weekend, mainly jug pulling with like goodgear but then there’s this fierce crux. You gotta get this slopey sidepull likethis and yard up to this crimp, and I was pumped out of my skull man!

Climber: Narlydude!

Me: Yeah andthere’s this, like, fierce mantle at the top and your only gear’s this dodgy RPand I brought my mate up and he was all like “Send it!”...

Conversationwith a non-climber:

Non-climber:You been up to much recently?

Me: Yeah I’vebeen climbing a fair bit...

Non-climber:Cool, was it good?

Me: Yeah.

Non-climber:Great... (long awkward pause)

With fourdays off work and a poor forecast Anstey’s seemed the place to be. I thought itwas about time to find a new project (in much the same way that an alcoholic thinksit’s about time for another drink) and Tuppence seemed to be the most popularsuggestion.

The sessionwent well in my opinion, I got about halfway up and there were only a couple ofmoves I couldn’t do. I’m going to bask in some unfounded optimism safe in theknowledge that the pessimism will kick in 3 months down the line when I stillcan’t do the same two moves. Project On!



Source: Climb Stuff

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Devonshire Trad
30 September 2011, 9:19 am



At the beginningof the summer I created a list of local trad routes that I wanted to try. I wrote the list to encourage me to get on routes I had been puttingoff for a while, to eliminate my standard excuse of “I’m not mentally preparedfor leading this route today” and because I quite like making lists.

Daddyhole:

Zuma E4 6a

Suicide Blonde E6 6b

Meadfoot:

Clotted cream E4 6a

Clotted Cream at Meadfoot

Telegraph Hole:

Crinoid E1 5b/E2 5c

Anstey’s:

Lumpy Universe E2 5c/E3 5c

Sanctuary Wall:

Sacrosanct HVS 5a/E1 5a

Incubus E1 5b

Call to Arms E4 5c

Long Quarry Point:

Black Ice E3 5c

Chudleigh:

Tendonitis E4 6a

Black Death E4 6a

Dripdry E4 6b

Major Tom E3 6a

Lowman:

Aviation E1 5b

Interrogation E36a

After asummer of free-time, good(ish) weather and an abundance of climbing partners my list now looks likethis:

Daddyhole:

Zuma E4 6a

Suicide Blonde E66b – Seconded.

Meadfoot:

Clotted cream E46a

Telegraph Hole:

Crinoid E1 5b/E25c

Anstey’s:

Lumpy Universe E2 5c/E35c – Trad at Anstey’s?! You have to be joking.

Sanctuary Wall:

Sacrosanct HVS 5a/E1 5a

Incubus E1 5b

Call to Arms E4 5c– Agh, scary!

Long Quarry Point:

Black Ice E3 5c– Slabs, ugh!

Chudleigh:

Tendonitis E4 6a

Black Death E4 6a

Dripdry E4 6b– Tried, failed, ran away.

Major Tom E3 6a

Lowman:

Aviation E1 5b  

                        Interrogation E36a – Shocking, it's a classic, get on it.

The lastroute to cross off my list was Zuma at Daddyhole, a perfect cool crag for awarm afternoon. It felt good to get stuck into the route after thinking aboutit for some time; there were handholds and gear and even a rusty peg forcompany.... then the pump kicked in. My control and poise disappeared in adesperate sprint for the rest, too pumped to place gear or even contemplate thelargeish fall that would see me landing on my belayer’s head. Luckily I made itand relaxed on the ledge placing gear to my heart’s content.

An easy bit of climbing followed, enough to temptme to believe that it was all over and the final stretch would be a jug-pullingromp to top with more gear than I could shake a stick at. It wasn’t. I managedto get wrong handed and increasingly pumped above a move I couldn’t reversewith only the stubborn determination not to fall off now keeping me on. SomehowI made it to the top and collapsed on the grass vowing to work on my enduranceso that next time I won’t have to make the choice between placing gear and holding on.



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Swanage Silliness
8 October 2011, 7:21 pm



Sometimes Ithink it’s important to remember that climbing isn’t all about redpoints andhard trad onsights; yesterday was definitely a good reminder.

The coldnorth wind at the beginning of the week (and the incessant call of a projectroute) drove me and my climbing partner to Anstey’s for a couple of warm,sheltered days of steep sport, where I spent most of the time falling off thesame few moves on Tuppence and wishing my left hand was better at crimping.

Suitablytired after two days of this silliness and with a full day free for climbing weheaded to Swanage for some of that trad nonsense. We ended up at Fisherman’sLedge and warmed up with a very pleasant deep water solo of Troubled Waters –the perfect kind of climb where you have no intention of falling in and none ofthat faffing around with ropes.

Next on thelist was The Ritz – an absurdly steep route through a number of impressive andimprobable looking roofs. I gallantly offered to belay and thus delayed theinevitable part of actually climbing it. After a while my turn came to second it and I swung out under some roofs and thrutched up past some others to anice ledge where I sat for a while with my back to the rock wondering whatwould happen if I just stayed there. I persuaded myself to carry on and soon Iwas sitting dejectedly on the rope under the lip of a roof with all the exposureI could ever want below my feet. I attempted the move over the lip approximately400 times; I tried heel-hooking, campusing, using technique, using notechnique, just man-ing up, getting-the-hell-on-with-it and shutting-my-eyes-and-hoping-it-would-go-awayall to no avail.

Eventually Imade it to the top with the help of my trusty friends, the prusiks. The goodnews was I could now relax and eat my homemade chocolate fruit slice in the sun;the bad news was that I now had something else to add to my list of 'Things I MustTry To Get Better At'.

We abbed into the next route as the tide, which had stayed in the same place for the last4 hours, had now decided to come in quite fast (the tides do strange thingsaround these parts, I’m told the Isle of Wight is to blame). Limited Edition wasthe route of choice and it was my turn to lead but due to battered arms and anall-encompassing tiredness caused by the aforementioned roof I declined theoffer.

Instead Ibasked in the sun, watched the sea raging below my feet and paid out the ropein an encouraging sort of way. The view of the waves crashing against the rocksending clouds of spray into the air made me wish I could paint and somehowcapture forever not just the power of the ocean and the millions of tinydroplets of water frozen for a millisecond in mid-air but also the feel of thesun on my face, the ache in my arms and the feeling of truly being alive andfree. However as I have the artistic skills of a five year old child this was alittle over-optimistic.

All in allit was a wonderful day spent achieving very little apart from reminding myselfthat climbing isn’t all about a ticks in a guidebook and that roofs are reallyhard.



Source: Climb Stuff

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Polaris
16 October 2011, 7:35 pm

This week’s tripto Swanage was my 4^th trip in as many weeks and I now know the A35like the back of my hand, though thankfully the back of my hand has fewerroundabouts. Alexis and I headed down, as we had for the last couple of times,with the aim of getting on Polaris at Blacker’s Hole.

Our first attemptat the route had ended with a quick abseil down and a long prussic back upafter finding a metre or two of water on the ledge at the base of the climb. Thenext time we didn’t even get that far thanks to a cunning plan of checking thestate of the ledge before startingthe ab. Much consulting of incredibly complicated tide tables followed and wereached the conclusion that the combination of a proper low tide and enoughhours of daylight to climb the route wouldn’t happen until:

 a.)   April when, conveniently, the bird ban kicks in.

       b.)   Someone moves the Isle of Wight.

This left uswith a few options including:

         ·        Bivvying on the route

         ·        Swimming up the first few metres

         ·         Highly trained dolphins

Or moresensibly

         ·        A hanging belay a few metres above the sea

Polaris Area of Blacker's Hole, Swanage

Pitch 1: lead

A pleasanttraverse along a sandy break with some comedy gear involving a knotted piece ofrope wedged in a crack which could have been there since the first ascent in1978.

Pitch 2: second

This iswhere the fun began, I swung around the arête glad of the rope above me and nothaving to hang around and place any gear. A steep few moves up a crack led to a“wild hand traverse” (the guidebook’s words) across a steep wall with verylittle for your feet. The traverse ended in a graceful step, or in my case adesperate thrutch, onto a hanging slab and a wonderfully exposed belay abovethe sea.

Theguidebook also uses the words “very exposed” and “highly committing” todescribe the route as escape from this point would involve:

         ·        a free-hanging abseiling into the sea followedby a long swim to safety

         ·        reversing the first two pitches and climbing an HVS or prusiking out

         ·        Aiding the final pitch

Or

         ·        Deciding to man up and climb out.

Pitch 3: lead

Perfectlywarmed up (pumped!) from the last pitch I set out up the initial steep section onreasonable gear and rusty pegs past a few hard moves to a “thank god” perch.From there the route continues up an overhanging corner that looked like itcould be climbed in a relaxed and comfortable manner if you had the nerve tobridge out across the void. I didn’t and climbed instead like a small mammal tryingto escape from great peril (which was basically the case here). I made it andscampered up the final slab attempting not to dislodge too much rock in thegeneral direction of my belayer. All that remained was a fight through a small blackthornhedge to the abseil stakes leaving my legs looking like they had endured somenew beauty treatment involving enraged porcupines.

We had climbed Polaris; not only had we made it tothe route but we had also made it out again. No falls, no abseiling into thesea just an awesome, adventurous route with breathtaking exposure.



Source: Climb Stuff

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Brizzle Trad
24 October 2011, 7:45 pm



The lastthree days contained of all the necessary components for a good climbingtrip:

Ahimsa on Acid Rock, Cheddar Gorge

          ·        Three star routes at awe-inspiring crags

           ·        Dry weather

           ·        Good friends

           ·        Real ale

Day 1: Avon Gorge

I rolled outof my van feeling bored and lethargic after the tedium of the M5 but it justtook a few metres of typical Avon weirdness on Yellow Edge to restore my spirits.It was one of those days when you really feel that you can climb, you feel fitand strong, your head’s in the right place and the gear goes in first time. Atthe belay I brought up John and Justin and we sat on the ledge and faffed withropes and gear until one of us thought we had better continue and set off up thenext pitch.

I haven’tclimbed multi-pitch routes in a group of three for a while and it was a nicechange to sit on the belay and talk nonsense instead of just sitting on thebelay, thinking nonsense. We covered the topics of religion, literature andwhether a fight to the death on the belay ledge would be a good idea. Moreclimbing, faffing and chatting followed and we finished up the final wild pitchof Captain Swing.

Back in thevan and on to the campsite in Tintern where we convinced John that pitching atent is more fun in the dark and after a couple of pints. He took our sageadvice and we wandered down the road to the pub for food, ale and the making ofill-advised plans for the next two days.

Day 2: Wintour’s Leap

After ahearty fried breakfast (the diet of athletes!) and the arrival of a fourthclimber to the group we set of to Wintour’s for adventures on GO Wall. Hyena Cage was the route I had decided to do in the pub the night before and allplans made in pubs should be followed through to their logical conclusions (inthis case fear and exhaustion). Alexis lead up the start and I followedtrying to psyche myself up for the 50m second pitch. It started well with balancymoves up the headwall leading to the start of the roofs then a steep few moveson good holds to a rest on Kangaroo Wall. I managed to resist the temptation tocarry on up Kangaroo Wall and set off again traversing right over awesomeexposure to a technical groove that took all of my willpower and the last of myquick-draws – the trouble was I still had 20m of the pitch left. After a briefforay to see if the last section was an easy romp to the top (it wasn’t), Iscuttled off and belayed in Kangaroo Wall.

The sight of the Wye meandering through the Wye Valley from halfway up GO Wall is one of my favourite views in the world (possibly becauseI only see it after fighting my way up the crag and when normally when I’mattached to the safety of a belay). With the commentary from the horse racingat Chepstow for company I sat and belayed and watched the sun creep roundtowards me. Alexis arrived and we sorted the gear, he set off up the secondhalf of the pitch and I stretched my toes out into the sunlight like a baskinglizard.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Wintour's Leap

© flash of light Flickr[/td][/tr]

[/table]

The call toclimb came and I started up the pitch immediately glad I hadn’t been foolishenough to continue on lead. The rock was not above suspicion and swallowed mostof a full rack of gear in the fear that you and/or the holds could fall off atany time. The final pitch above the terrace proved too much of a challenge andI escaped, via some rosebushes to the top. A few hours later and we were allback in the pub for more food, ale and recounting of epic tales.

Day 3: Cheddar Gorge

You know thosedays when you really feel that you can climb... this wasn’t one of those.Justin and I set out for Ahimsa on Acid Rock, the walk-in proved problematic, theclimbing more so. I seconded the first pitch feeling weak and uncoordinated andstarted leading the second feeling much the same. Halfway up I ran out ofpsyche and decided to run away... at the only speed you can on a cragwhere you wouldn’t trust the fixed gear to hang your coat on... very slowly.

It was greatto spend three full days attempting awesome routes at three very differentcrags, each has itsown character amd all of them have an abundance of quality routes in wild and exposed locations. But now the rain has set in and I need a rest day...



Source: Climb Stuff

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Rainy Season
2 November 2011, 10:24 am



Well therainy season is here and finding a dry place to climb is now a major challenge;apart from the dank and dingy Pixies Hole at Chudleigh, Anstey’s cove is one ofthe few local crags that tend to stay dry in the rain. Unfortunately most ofthe routes leak like a sieve after a few days of wet weather – Tuppence beingalmost the only exception.

I’ve been working Tuppence for just over a month now andprogress is now slow to non-existent, mainly involving me falling off in thesame few places:

The bottom crux: Abit of a jump from two poor holds. I try this move approximately 20 times persession with a gain of about 5mm. In a couple of years it’ll be in the bag!

The middle crux: Amove off a painfully small left-hand crimp. I’ve heard that both Adrian Baxterand Gav Symonds had to train specifically for this move ... time to get strongI think.

The top crux: Amassive jump. I can’t get anywhere near the hold I’m leaping to but in my dreamlast night I could do it easily so I’m not too worried.



All that said, the process of working a route with such funkymoves is great fun, it has become a very enjoyable feature of my climbing week.I find it useful to have one route to focus on and to train for... I can goaway and hang off left hand crimps for a couple of days, take a rest and get backon Tuppence ... only to find that this time I can hold on slightly longer beforefalling off as usual!

Time to head back down there for another session of jumping,crimping and falling...



Source: Climb Stuff

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The Tricky Part
9 November 2011, 7:03 pm



In summer I find the best way to improve is to go climbingeveryday that I can, get on the routes I’ve been putting off and keep on tryingthe ones I’m falling off. As a general rule this tends to work quite well andthe best part is that it’s exactly what I want to do. However it isn’t summer nowand ‘just going climbing’ is no longer the answer... it’s time for the trickypart... training. This way if the routes I want to get on ever dry out I mightstand a greater chance of getting to the top.

That said for the last three days I ignored my own adviceand used the dry days for bimbling on easy routes and the wet days for hangingaround at wet crags feeling sorry for myself:

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Cheddar Gorge[/td][/tr]

[/table]Sunday: CheddarSunday was dry but colder than my fingers can cope with (thisisn’t saying much as my fingers and toes tend to freeze and the merest mentionof chilly weather). Of course the sensible thing to do would have been to climbon the north side of the gorge in the sunshine; instead we opted for a freezing‘warm up’ climb and then wandered up to the start of the spectacular Space Tourist. I can’t help but enjoy multi-pitch sport climbing; it feels like a bitof guilty pleasure to climb without the usual trad-induced fear but it’s greatfun nevertheless. We reached the top of Sunset Buttress as the sun set behindus and abbed back down to warm socks and a fish-and-chip-based dinner.

Monday: DaddyholeAnother dry day and I had promised to take my visitingbrothers, all three of them, out climbing. I wanted to choose a crag and aroute that summed up what’s so great about rock-climbing and Gates of Eden at Daddyholeseemed to tick most of the boxes:        ·        Adventurous setting        ·        Abseil descent        ·        Sea cliff        ·        Exposed location        ·        Multi-pitch trad.

It turns out that a four person stacked abseil does work quitewell and they all reached the ground laughing and not shaking too much. Ishowed them the route, explained how it all works (emergency exits are situatedhere, here and here... if someone shouts “below” don’t look up...) and set offup the first pitch. At the belay I brought two of them up together with onetrailing a rope for the third brother, only the stopper 5a/b move seemed tocause any problems. Much faffing with gear, ropes and the belay followed and Iset off to the top. They followed using a combination of technique, brute forceand desperation borne of an innate distrust in the whole system. A good day washad by all.

Tuesday: Anstey’sA rainy drizzly day. It had been at least 5 days since I hadbeen to Anstey’s and the desperation to return ate away at my gut like a particularlyunpleasant virus. It was also our only hope of dry rock, a hope that wascruelly dashed upon arriving. For once The Cove was almost entirely unclimbableapart from the first few bolts on Tuppence and A Fisherman’s Tale. As these arethe routes Alexis and I are working we spent the afternoon, hanging around inthe rain, falling off

Time to get inspired: The Dartmoor Webcam

damp holds and eating malt loaf.

Today, Wednesay: TrainingRain, rain and more rain. Time to engage the winter trainingplan I think: train on wet days, climb on dry days. I hope the sun doesn’tshine too much during the next four days at work or I feel my work-life balancemay undergo some irreversible restructuring!

Source: Climb Stuff

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Bad Days
17 November 2011, 10:21 am



The week started well with a trip to Avon for some boldbalancy climbing on Krapp's Last Tape and an ab off the nearby ‘Abseil Station’ –which definitely doesn’t merit the title ‘Station’ consisting as it does of oldbolts, old rusty snap-gates and some faded tape – but it didn’t fail so I can’tcomplain!

Down to Anstey’s on Tuesday, the rock was nearly all dry anda cold easterly was blowing bringing with it strong waves, heaps of seaweed andcold fingers to anyone who stood still. The warm up traverse is tucked awayfrom the wind and I did laps on it until I could feel the blood pumping aroundmy body. Feeling suitably warmed up I got on Tuppence, limiting myself to 5 goeson the inital crux before moving on, this allowed me to try the rest of theroute with some strength left and not to waste the whole day repeatedly fallingoff the same move with no noticeable improvement. The middle section felt goodand I managed to link the hardest move through to the jug, progress! I playedaround on the top section trying to figure out a way to do the move before headingback to the ground for a rest.

The next go went well, I found out a way to eyeball the holdabove the top crux though I couldn't seem to be able to move any limbs to holdonto it, the route felt a step closer nevertheless.

Third go of the day, just one more crack at the bottomsection after this then home. I start off with 5 attempts at the bottom cruxthen up to the middle crux which I can’t do at this stage of the day as my lefthand’s getting tired. The top section still looks like it should work; a fewmore tries pulling off a small left hand undercut crimp and jumping with myright and I might figure it out.

I pull on, push through my feet and reach out with my righthand when I hear a pop from my left and a line of pain shoots through my hand.For a split-second time stands still and I can see two futures stretching outahead of me: One of my normal life, climbing every day that I can, getting onTuppence once a week, trad epics and adventures. The other of injury, pain,weeks or months of rest, rehab, getting weak and frustrated. I slump onto therope clutching my hand and look up, only one future remains.

The pain is in the ring finger of my overtired left hand,too many weeks of crimping and trying to get stronger have taken its toll. Ibelay Alexis on Fisherman’s and again on Tuppence where he kindly takes myquickdraws out for me, he doesn’t even claim them as crag swag!

Slacklining - a great rest day activity

I drive home trying to change gear with my thumb and thedepression sets in. It may sound clichéd but climbing is everything to me: it’sthe reason why I get out of bed in the morning, the reason why I go to work,the reason why I eat breakfast when it’s far too early to eat anything that isn’tchocolate.

Time passes and the shock fades, I see a doctor who knowslittle about tendon injuries and a climbing physio friend who knows a lot more,I vow to rest properly and let it heal. I make a list of things I have been meaningto do but never get round to because I’m always climbing and a list of easyslabs to try out some one-handed trad climbing. Life goes on.

Source: Climb Stuff

[shark]

Bad Days

I pull on, push through my feet and reach out with my righthand when I hear a pop from my left and a line of pain shoots through my hand.For a split-second time stands still and I can see two futures stretching outahead of me: One of my normal life, climbing every day that I can, getting onTuppence once a week, trad epics and adventures. The other of injury, pain,weeks or months of rest, rehab, getting weak and frustrated. I slump onto therope clutching my hand and look up, only one future remains.

Great writing. Good luck for a speedy recovery.

[SA Chris]

Ice ice baby.

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Kernow
25 November 2011, 12:13 pm



The planned three weeks of rest shortened into one weekafter the pain in my finger disappeared and the psyche returned. However, during my week of rest, in proper injured climber style, I turned up atthe local crag where my friends were climbing to heckle, belay and dead-hang off the otherarm. When all your mates are climbers what else is there to do?!

With no work for a few days it was time to head down to Cornwallin The Van (yes, the capitals are required) to see how the injured finger wouldcope with trad. The weather forecast looked good but a big swell was predicted – surely not a problem for Cornish sea cliffs!Tuesday – SennenHeading down to Cornwall at midday gave us just enough timeto get a route in before sunset; we walked down to Sennen with the idea ofchecking out hard stuff but were put off by clouds of spray thrown up by themassive waves. After seeing a wave crash over the rocks we had just walked on wedecided to run away up Monday Face. I topped out with my finger stillpain free and we sorted gear as the sun set from a clear blue sky whilst thewaves crashed on the rocks below – a beautiful place to be and a long way from the bustle of everyday life.Wednesday – BosigranBosi, being as far from the sea as West Cornwall crags get, seemed like the perfect place togo to escape the waves. Alexis got on Saddle Tramp, a rarely climbed route in the Raven Wall Area, which I seconded falling off only when Irealised I was trying a hard move from a very similar set of hold to the ones Ihad injured myself on only this time with numb fingers and feet on lichen-ysmears.

Following on in the spirit of climbing underrated two starlines we got on Dominator which did involve climbing up a small stream butfinished in ape-like fashion swinging from massive holds on steep rock. Anotherday of pain free climbing and another beautiful sunset... time for anotherdinner and pint in the pub.Thursday – Carn BarraThe day started by tramping over heathery moorland, lookingdown fenced-off mine shafts, staring in turn at massive waves and inspiring route-linesand fighting the urge to quit work, move to Cornwall and climb quality routes all day every day.

The guidedtour of Penwith complete, we ended up at Carn Barra, a sheltered choice for a windy daybut a very wavey one when there’s a big swell. We abbed down to the NorthernPlatform and looked at a couple of damp E2s until a particularly large wavesent us scurrying up a V Diff like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The view from the belay ledge[/td][/tr]

[/table]Not content to find somewhere sensible to climb we abbed into Central Wall where the cliff and ledge below the belay prevented us fromgetting soaked... most of the time. I led first, turning occasionally to see acurtain of water at eye level and an excited-looking belayer cowering from thespray. The view from the top was awesome, massive waves crashing against therock on all sides and in the middle of it all a seal bobbing around without acare in the world (at least I assume that was a carefree expression, I've neverbeen very good at reading seal body language).

We abbed back in for another route, Dialectic, and I belayed on the ledge watchingthe waves send plumes of spray higher and higher as the tide came in, feeling glad I was still attached to the ab rope but certain that there was nowherein the world I’d rather be. I seconded the route trying not to barn-door off, unableto feel my fingers or drag my eyes away from the sea. One final VS, Axis, to tick offand it was my lead again. Chalk by this point was only of psychological use andthe gear was dripping with condensation but the granite provided enoughfriction and big holds to prevent any problems.

Soon we were tramping back over the heather towards the vanthinking of hard routes and inspiring lines to get on next time... my name isCherry and I’m addicted to Cornish Trad.

Source: Climb Stuff

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Rehab
3 December 2011, 4:41 pm



My finger’s getting better but it’s still not quite right,rehab at the moment seems to consist of sessions at Anstey’s Cove where I manage to not get on Tuppence (as just about every left hand hold is a crimp) and instead I look at other, less crimpy lines on the wall.

The Lynch was Wednesday’s choice, a route that I’ve been on once before and hated it due to its painful, brutal and generally thuggy style of climbing. I felt sure this would change after getting on it again...but I still hated it, not only was it painful and thuggy but also damp; citing my injured finger, and a general hatred for the route, as excuses I backed off and ranaway.

Thursday’s trip tothe cove was a brief one as just about everything was wet (apart from Tuppence...grr).Instead the day was spent drinking tea and pulling on steep hard boulder problemsin a garage or steep juggy routes at The Quay.

Back to the cove on Friday and, with The Lynch being wet(and horrible), the next route to try was Postman Pat; a fine route that traverses left to right with a couple of killer moves involving a pencil thin tufa before finishing up the wild top section of A Fisherman’s Tale.  It was great to get stuck in to a route even though the killer move is properly hard and I’m not sure I can reach the span on the Fisherman’s move; but these are just excuses, it’s great to be climbing again.

My recent excursions at the cove have given me feeling a zen-like understanding of the place and its routes and have led to the following diagram of Ferocity Wall in all its splendour:





Source: Climb Stuff

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Winter
14 December 2011, 9:13 pm

It seems to be winter. I don’t know why I’m surprised as it comes around with a startling regularity but it takes some getting used to all the same. Finding somewhere to climb, and actually climbing, over the last fewdays has involved tea, down and an unwavering belief that there will be some dryrock somewhere.

MondayAnstey’s Cove was Monday’s choice as it never rains at Anstey’s, true to form the rock was dry(ish) and the weather warm(ish). Having spent a couple of weeks of staring forlornly at Tuppence like a puppy denied a treat I took the decision and declared my finger well enough to get back on the route. Much pulling on, falling off and checking my finger was still attached followed.

Luckily my hand survived the experience and I was reminded of the fun in trying funky moves on pristine limestone overlooking the ocean unfortunately the route hadn’t got any easier or I any stronger and the rain was moving in...

TuesdayWith the forecast for the day looking bad, Alexis and I did what proper Devon climbers should do: we went to Chudleigh to boulder in the steep, wonderful and only slightly squalid Pixies’ Hole. Had we had bottles of meths instead of bouldering mats we would have looked like hobos instead we probably just looked like crazy people. Pixies’ never disappoints; with endless problems to create on slightly polished crimps, pinches and slopers it’s every climbers dream (as long as your dreams feature cold damp caves in Chudleigh... mine don’t).We bouldered until our arms were sore, our feet were frozen and darkness had returned.

Wednesday20 hours later and I was back at Chudleigh staring up at the wall of Combat and Tendonitis psyched for some hard-core top-roping. The warm upconsisted of Oesophagus followed by Combat, a wonderful route which I hadn’t climbed since leading it a year and a half ago; needless to say it feels like a very different proposition when top-roping. Winter tactics came into play by climbing a few routes in succession and then belaying for a few to prevent constant numb fingers. Three laps up Tendonitis later and I could definitely feel my fingers... and my pumped forearms. Next go I had a play on Obstreperous which looks like an awesome route, a pumpy start pulling up on crimps and peg scar pockets to a bit of a rest then a big move before the route merges with the top of Oesophagus; with enough gear all the way it’s one for the ever expanding list of routes to lead.

Three days of dodging showers, dancing around in a down jacketand belaying with climbing shoes down my top to keep them warm. Three days ofhard moves, dry limestone and increasingly tired arms... the rat is fed, it’s time for a rest day

Local hero Dave Henderson at the groove of Combat. © Chris J

Dom on Tendonitis in sunnier times. © Chris J . Source: Climb Stuff

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Escape!
1 January 2012, 10:59 am



Christmas passed in a blur of food, drink and wrapping paper.A good time was had by all but after four days of not climbing I was startingto get withdrawal symptoms and desperately needed to spend some time in thecompany of people who knew , for example, the importance of the onsight and the relativemerits of single vs twin ropes in a trad climbing environment.

Justin and John

The promise of a days’ climbing at Portland shone like the light at the end of the festive tunnel and when the day arrived, with good weather forecast, we were waiting for it with rucksacks packed and down jackets on. John came to pick us up and bounced out of his car like an overexcited puppy; this man is the embodiment of psyche, a couple of hours talking about routes with him and you’ll be itching to quit your job, sell your cat and CLIMB!

Soon we were on the road and it felt good to be heading off to Dorset after being stuck in Devon for the last couple of weeks dodging showers and Christmas obligations. I have a mixed relationship with climbing atPortland: I love the idea of attempting to onsight endless sport routes in thesun in beautiful Dorset however when I go there I remember that I find the routes hard to read, dusty and weird and that Portland isn’t Dorset’s answer to Kalymnos but a windswept spit of land with a prison and some moorland on it.

Trying to figure out the crux of Julie Ocean

Nevertheless, it was a good day. The warm up route, Wonderlust, was excellent, big moves on big holds to a thin cruxy section at the top and with only one loose block which when tapped made a noise that made me want to run and hide in a very safe place. The second route, Julie Ocean, was one of two halves, the first was a gentle romp on good holds while the second half consisted of a wonderful sequence of improbable moves which would be very satisfying to onsight... I imagine.

Next we headed up the coast to Drowning on Dry Land, a route on a cliff that bears a striking resemblance to the piles of rubble you have to walk over toget there. The route itself was surprisingly solid with a beautiful flowstone section that made a pleasant change from the sharp limestone crimps of the restof the climb and was long enough to allow my fingers to go from numb to sweating with only a modicum of hot-aches related pain.

The scary looking Cheyne Cliff. See what I mean?!

On up the coast to Road Rage - a 3 star classic of Portland anda route we all wanted to get on. John set off for the onsight and I watched trying to memorise his sequence with the desperation of a prisoner trying to memorise an escape plan. However the conditions got the better of us with an icy wind freezing our fingers and sea-grease making the middle section unpleasant and insecure. Excuses aside it was a great route with hard moves, small holds and an unrelenting angle, definitely one to get on next time.

Darkness was creeping up on us and it was time to head back.The journey home was filled with talk of dream routes, trips to plans andadventures to be had in the New Year. Bring on 2012!

Source: Climb Stuff

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Dawn Missions
9 January 2012, 6:04 pm



It’s 6:30am and my alarm wakes me up with an unnecessarily cheery tune. For a second complete confusion reigns, I have no idea what day it is or what I’m supposed to be doing, no daylight creeps through the curtains convincing me that it’s still night. The word ‘climbing’ permeates through the fog in my brain encouraging me to get out of bed and get dressed, in the cold dark I layer on clothes to make up for the warmth of the duvet.

Breakfast eaten and tea drunk and I’m on the road, headlights cutting a swathe through the winter morning darkness. The roads are quiet and the dance tunes on the radio help to wake me up. The reason for this early morning activity is simple; I work four days in a row but don’t start work ‘til midday and I don’t want to go without climbing for four days. The answer –dawn missions; if I arrive at the crag at first light I can get a decent session in before work and finding a partner for such an ungodly hour is no trouble as Alexis is just as keen/stupid. We meet at the car park at 7:30,shoulder our packs and walk to the crag in the half-light. Our destination (as ever) is Anstey’s Cove where even a short session is bound to be exhausting.

The crag is quiet and still, a beautiful place to be at anytime but all the more so this morning. In the cold air my duvet jacket reminds me too much of its namesake and I’m loathed to take it off, instead I warm-up wearing it feeling like the Michelin Man with about as much co-ordination. The sun sits like a ball of gold above the sea turning the wispy clouds pink, it brings comfort but no actual warmth at this time in the morning. We’ve been here on early-morning missions in the summer when it’s too hot to climb by 9am and in the autumn when drizzle and rain makes the whole idea of climbing a challenge. Today however, on this cold crisp morning it feels perfect: a sunrise in a bright blue sky, a wood pigeon cooing and the sound of the waves drifting up from far below on the gentle breeze.

The moves on Tuppence feel as hard as ever but I’m climbing and I can’t bring myself to care. My fingers slowly warm up and my muscles wake up, I link moves that I’ve linked before and fall off moves that I’ve fallen off before. As I sit on the rope, my back slowly being warmed by the sun, I can see clouds moving in to cover its brightness but for now it’s just perfect.

Source: Climb Stuff

[Duma]

Quality stuff Cherry, inspiring!

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España
5 February 2012, 7:41 pm



I’ve just returned from two weeks in El Chorro climbing sunnysport climbs, absorbing a much needed dose of Vitamin D and accidentally believing that summer had come and winter was over for the year. My return to England and its rain, snow and sub-zero temperatures quickly disabused me ofthat notion.

We stayed in the Olive Branch, the perfect hang-out for any climbing bum, and our time there fell into a regular pattern; days spent at a local crag either baking of freezing depending on its aspect, evenings spent in the strange improvised dance that happens when half a dozen people attempt to cook in the same kitchen.

Makinodromo The highlights of the trip were: ·  Bouldering in Malaga Airport with John Mcshea, we found a traverse around a pillar which involved wide spans and then matching on sloping side pulls. We got a few strange looks from the other tourists but it was worth it for our first bit of Spanish climbing.  ·  Climbing in Poema de Roca, a massive cave in the side of an immense expanse of rock that puts any cliff in England to shame. We went there on our first day as, much to our disgust, it was raining (and there’s me thinking that the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plains). The routes inthe cave vary from wall climbs to tufa-laden endurance routes to horizontal,and frankly ridiculous, roof climbs. I had a go on Swimming Through a Shark Attackpartly because it looked crazy and like nothing I’d ever climbed before and partly because it had the draws in as I didn’t fancy the logistics of stripping a nearly horizontal route on petzl bolts. The route consisted of swinging between stalactite blobs, finding knee-bars and leg-locks and trying not to become disorientated in a world that is 90degrees away from the norm. I had a few goes on the route but didn’t get further than halfway, I’ll save the route for another day when I have learnt how to roof climb and have the endurance ofa chimp. Redpointing La Villa Strangiato in the Poema de Roca cave. Climbing high above the cloud inversion at Desplomilandia Justin figuring out the crux of Arabesque at Escalera Arabe ·  Visiting Desplomilandia, a shady, north-facing venue perfect for any sweltering climber unsuited to the temperatures of the Spanish Winter. We spent most of our time on the El Triangulo crag, the angle was just what I am used to (cheating really) but some of the routes were 25m long, approximately 10m longer than my stomping-ground Ferocity Wall (and to be honest I spend most of my time there sitting on the rope or possibly linking 2 or 3 moves). Good days were spent there trying the moves of the marvellous Mar de Ortigas which consists of 25m of pocket and tufa climbing – exactly the sort of route I came to Spain for. John on Mar de Ortigas at Desplomilandia Amongst all this bolt-clipping I did have a yearning for some trad climbing, a yearning which was at least partially sated by our ‘rest-day’climb Africa. Just the approach to the climb was an exciting and nerve-wracking affair; after walking to the start of the gorge you embark on El Camino del Rey, a dodgy concrete and metal structure that traverses the entire gorge madesomewhat safer by the via ferrata set-up that accompanies it, although the locals bimble along the walkway with the nonchalance of a French Guide we edged ourway tentatively expecting it to collapse at anytime. The base of the climb is then reached by crawling through a tunnel and abseiling 50m down the side ofthe gorge to a committing position where escape is either up the cliff or an abseil into the river below. The route is partially bolted and gets 6b+ in the guide which makes it easy to forget that you’re embarking on a 4 pitch E3/E4. The route was great though our route-finding towards the top wasn’t and as rest-days go it wasn’t particularly restful leading me to take another rest-day just to get over the first one. Source: Climb Stuff

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Early-Morning Blues
8 February 2012, 10:29 am

I wish I was still inbed...

My thoughts are slow and sluggish but it’s 7.45am, I’m at the cove and it’s one of those days when everything feels like hard work. I try and wake up by getting on the traverse but after yesterday’s dawn session at Chudleigh my skin feels like it’s on fire. I move round to the sloper traverse in the hope that it won’t hurt as much and that I’ll warm up, which I do, slowly.

... my skin hurts...

Though it's gloomy over Anstey's the view out to sea takes my breath away; a container ship sits out in the bay silhouetted against the early morning sunshine that breaks through the layer of cloud in rays covering the scene in a soft orange glow. ... it’s beautiful here...

Under Ferocity Wall the cold easterly wind whips along the base of the cliff stealing the last of my psyche and body heat but we set up anyway as there’s not a lot else to do. I put the clips in Tuppence trying to link sections of the route but the moves feel hard today, especially compared to my last session. On Sunday, back on the project after 3 weeks away I felt fit and strong, possibly the strongest I’ve ever felt on the route; today, however, every move is a challenge.... but so cold...

After a stint of belaying I’m climbing again, trying to ignore the pain but each hold bites into my skin like a piranha, if my fingers pop off a hold the pain increases leaving me hanging on the rope cursing quietly but the move at the bottom of the route is the worst. The big slap to a razor sharp hold requires all-or-nothing commitment, I settle for neither and my fingers catch but don’t quite hold the edge......*&@%!...

Thought it feels unusually hard and painful today, somehow it’s still worth it; every move I try and make with tired arms and worn-out skin will feel easier next time, at least I hope it will! Despite it all it feels great to sneak in a climb before a full day’s work, like I’ve manage to cheat the system just a little.... I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

Source: Climb Stuff

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Training
16 February 2012, 11:10 am



For some climbers training is the bane of their lives, a torture they endure occasionally and only when circumstances force them to. For others it’s the reminder of a climbing lifestyle in an otherwise busy life, an escape from their commitments for a precious 30 minutes spent hanging off a fingerboard or training wall, memories of past climbs and future plans are all the motivation they need.

For my part I enjoy a good training session, I love turning up to the wall with a plan and sticking to it, I love walking away 4 hours later with tired and aching muscles and a very real sense of achievement but most of all I love the focus it requires.

I warm up at The Quay, traversing and climbing some of the easier boulder problems then I head to the 40 degree wall and work out a ten move problem that’s near the limit of my ability. It’s strange to be climbing in a busy climbing wall instead of at a quiet crag, people and their conversations distract me; I climb the problem for the first time, feet skating everywhere. At the last hold I jump off, a 30 second rest and a quick chalk up and I’m back on the board. This time the concentration comes more easily, my footwork is more precise, each move is carried out more efficiently.

Jump off, rest, chalk, climb.

The third go and I start to feel tired, the pump in my arms won’t shift and I feel like Popeye just without the spinach habit. Fourth and fifth goes are a trial, the last move nearly gets me each time but I stick it,just. Five bolts stand in a row by the entrance to the boulder room, each one symbolising a go on the board and an inability to count whilst tired.

I take a rest then head to the other boulder room and repeat the process on the roof section then back to the 40 degree wall for round 3 on a new 10 move problem. Time for a break and some food and renewed psyche froman old edition of climb magazine.

Back on the floor I warm up again and head on to the auto-belay for laps on some longer routes. A slopey 7a is perfect for the challenge, only one positive hold on the route and hard moves requiring locking off and reaching. Five goes later and I don’t want to stop, my arms are tired but the moves are so absorbing that I don’t seem to mind. In the break between goes my mind wanders, in the lull between focusing hard on the route it explores the reasons why; why I’m training, why I enjoy this, why I keep comingback.

Sanctuary Wall - it's time to get strong!

I think I’m addicted to the feeling of moment, of freedom, ofpain and resistance, of power and strength, of muscles working to their limit and my mind fully focused on each hold, each move. The beauty of it is thatwhile my mind is full of climbing it is empty of everything else. The absolute commitment to each move requires rules out thoughts of anything more, of life and people,of the ever-changing future or the unchangeable past.  My life, and all of existence with it, shrinks to a heart-beat, a burst of power from my muscles, a single focused thought.

At the end of the session when the outside world returns to crowd out my mind I miss the feeling of being lost inside a move but the memory of it is as powerful as a drug, calling me back time and time again.

Source: Climb Stuff

[Fiend]

Good stuff, Sanctuary Wall is definitely something to train for.

Although some people just like training cos it's climbing and therefore fun.

[Oldmanmatt]

Like I said, brilliant writing.
But I'm still miffed with you, for burning me off on that 7a...
(one positive hold, one move short of the chain and the first opportunity to shake out and I'm old, and I wasn't feeling well and (insert standard excuse here)).
You're right about the training, it keeps the dream alive, even on the dark days.
Some of them,
Anyway...

[comPiler]

Pigs and Pixies
23 February 2012, 11:09 am



It’s 7.45am and I prise myself out of bed; my body aches and my mind protests against movement after the 13 hours of work yesterday and the four days of climbing before that. I stop making excuses and get up.

I step outside and the warm air feels strange and unnatural, the ground is wet and condensation could well be a problem but I’m only headingto Pixies’ and it’s worth the 10min drive to find out. The world-famous Pixies’Hole is a squalid cave at Chudleigh which epitomises all that I need to improve at. The angle, somewhere between vertical and Ferocity Wall steepness won’t succumb to my usual technique of turning sideways and throwing in a drop-knee instead you need to climb square-on using strength, power and accuracy, three of my major weaknesses.

I park up and walk in, the crag is silent and deserted which is unsurprising as it’s 8.30am and the whole crag is dripping with condensation. Pixies’ is normally festooned with bright white chalk marks but today it’s dark and damp and slimy.

Climbing is clearly out of the question but I can’t bring myself to turn around and head back home. I dump my bags and wander on down the crag, past Pixies’ where many a happy hour has been spent in the company of good friends, past Combat where I scared myself silly 1^st time round and Tendonitis where I felt calm and collected despite dropping some crucial gear. I pick out lines I’ve led, lines I plan to lead and lines I haven’t noticed before. I look up at Hot Ice and remember top-roping it many years ago and hoping one day I’d be brave enough to solo it... then remind myself to get on and do it. Past Cow Cave, past some of my first climbs nearly ten years ago, Wogs and Barn Owl Crack, exciting outings that I loved and that got me hooked on climbing. I look up at Black Death and White Life and mentally bump the latter up my to-do list of climbs for this year. I wander on past Scar and The Spider and Great Western, so many climbs and so many memories of great days out.

Turning away from the crag I meander back through the trees breathing in the warm air and the scent of spring, I see snowdrops pushing their way through the mossy soil and watch ravens soaring and cackling overhead. The smell of the woodland and the sight of the old twisted oaks remind me of walking through the wood on my parents’ farm, following deer tracks and disturbing magnificent stags. I remember being sent with a bucket of pig food to find an adventurous pair of pigs that we brought for the autumn; the pigs where free-range throughout the whole farm but had a penchant for exploring and finding gaps in the boundary fence.

As happy as a pig in...

I walked through the wood calling and rattling the bucket until eventually there was a rustling in the undergrowth and the two pigs trotted over for some food and a good scratch. On the way back I disturbed a pair of stags fighting in a pond in the centre of the wood, the image of them is framed in my mind with sunlight streaming through the trees and catching on the droplets of water thrown up in the air.

Back in Chudleigh I see no deer or pigs but the wood is beautiful nevertheless and the morning spent wandering around a damp crag doesn’t feel wasted at all.

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Before the Bird-Ban
8 March 2012, 5:52 pm



The last couple of weeks have been spent, beside the regulartrips to Ansteys’, climbing on cliffs shortly to be bird-banned. Last week, onthe 29^th of February, we sneaked in one final trip to GuillemotLedge, the highlights of the trip were falling off the awesome line of FlyCrazy But Free, not falling off the no-less-awesome line of Spook and watching forpirate ships lurking in the mist out of sea.

Yesterday, however, we headed north instead of east as thebird-ban at Baggy Point doesn’t start until the 15^th of March (Ihope someone has told the birds). A short visit to check out the new-bornlivestock on my parents’ farm allowed the slabs time to dry out after themorning’s rain. By the time we reached Baggy Point the sun was nearly out but unfortunatelystrong winds were battering the coast; great for drying out the slabs, not sogreat for any feeling of psyche or motivation. A good friend once told me thatyou can estimate the speed of the wind by comparing your ability to walk in thewind with your ability to walk after a few pints; 1 pint equals about 10 mph. Ireckon we were at least 3 pints down and well on our way to another pint and akebab.

Anyway we unpacked by the top of the slab trying to stop ourstuff blowing away and noticed the conspicuous absence of one of the half ropes(my incompetence). Luckily we had a single rope with us and figuring that lineson slabs were straight-ish we abbed in. The wind was calmer near the bottom ofthe slab but still strong enough to whip up the waves and occasionally send thefoam circling into the sky in crazy maelstroms.

The angle of the rock at Baggy Point is always surprising,from a distance it’s hard to imagine a truly hard move, and in most places, ifyou just believe, you can move up on nearly nothing. However the gear, or absence of it, the state of the pegs and the friable nature of the rock balanceout the fact that you can get a hands-off rest at any point.

I tried, without real intent, to find the line of an E3 which was described differently in both guidebooks, neither of which seemed to bear much relation to the cliff. Instead I ran away up the beautifully obvious line of Undercracker, a route which follows the edge of one of the sheets of rock that make up the slab. Having only one rope, limited extenders and climbing a slightlywandering line concentrated my mind to place only bomber bits of gear and arestrained number of those (as opposed to my usual tactic of shoving in gear atrandom in the hope that some of it would hold).The moves were wonderfulrequiring poise and balance in equal measure along with a strong belief in the capacityof rubber to stick on lichen-covered ripples of rock. I restrained myself fromplacing cams behind dodgy flakes and avoided using a massive balanced blockwhich looked like it had the capability to kill both me and my belayer andarrived at the top laughing and singing to myself like a mad-woman. I composeda belay out of dodgy bits of gear and a general belief in the structural stabilityof the cliff and then sat and watched the gulls soaring as Alexis skipped hisway up the slab.

We abbed back down for round two as the tide worked its wayup the belay ledge, Alexis debated briefly between Soft Touch and Urizen and chose,due to the rising tide, the latter. I sat below the towering, tottering cliffsto the right of the slab and watched the waves crashing in, the sun highlightingthe plumes of spray. By my feet the water kept creeping up the ledge but Alexiscrept higher faster; soon the call to climb came but not before I had moved therope out of the sea’s determined reach. I set off up the long clean corner ofUrizen and remembered the last time I climbed this route five years ago, when Iwas learning to lead climb and Baggy was my nearest crag.

At the top we gathered our things and set off up the slopeand into the still raging gale spurred on by the thought of home-made Eccles cakesand the squalls bearing in on us from the Atlantic.

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Days That Dreams Are Made Of
22 March 2012, 9:49 pm



I’m sitting on agrassy slope, a cliff-top at my feet and the sea far below, ropes trail backfrom me to a stake and a fence post and down in front of me to my partnerclimbing up. The sun is shining brightly in a clear blue sky and a gentlebreeze is blowing along the cliff carrying with it the smell of gorse flowers andthe sea. At my waist my battered and bleeding hands, aided by protesting arms,control the rope though the belay plate. Out to sea four sea-kayakers fade to minusculedots in the vast ocean and the occasional hum of a passing motorboat replicatesthe lazy drone of a bee on a hot summer’s afternoon. I feel alive, content, sated.Earlier today I stood at the foot of the cliff and staredup, the line of Ocean Boulevard looked awesome from the ground, an obviouscrack line slicing through the wall liberally strewn with massive holds andperfect tapering cracks for gear. I bounded over to the start eager to get myteeth into the route, eager to get absorbed into the climbing and to let thenoise in my mind fade to silence. The climbing was as good as it looked; bigholds all the way, steep enough to remind me to keep concentrating whilst stillallowing time to relax and enjoy the exposure, the view, the uniformly haphazardcliffs stretching away on each side. All too soon it was over and I wasstanding on a ledge at the top with only the typical Swanage top-out still toclimb wishing the route was longer.

I belayed Justin up and we grabbed some food and abbed backin, it was Justin’s lead and what a route to choose – Wall of the Worlds – a namewhich, like the route itself, both inspires and intimidates. I sat and belayedin the sun dodging the falling chips of rocks which seem to find me wherever I placedmyself. After an impressively calm and smooth lead Justin reached the top and Iset off after him fighting a rising pump and the few hard moves thrown in alongthe way.

Such a route called for a celebratory picnic which gave myarms time to recover before ‘Round 3’. The route I had scoped out for my nextlead was Barracuda, a beast of a line up a steep section of rock which theguidebook says “never lets up” (they weren’t wrong). At the bottom I ditched asmuch unnecessary clothing as possible, partly because I didn’t need to carrythe extra weight and partly because the last few days of climbing had wornthrough much of my skin leaving only the layer that constantly seeps moistureand glistens in the sunlight, the cooler the skin the better.

After a cursory look at the first bulge I set off and foundsteep rock, poor holds and equally poor gear. A hard-looking move not far offthe deck made me feel the need for a decent bit of protection that was onlyachieved one downclimb and two painful knee bars later. Excuses gone I had nochoice but to get on and commit to the move and the route, I just managed to reachthe good hold above when my foothold crumbled quietly beneath me injecting ashot of adrenaline into my lactic acid infused circulatory system. On thebetter holds above I tried to regain some sense of poise and control howeverthe clock was ticking and my arms were tiring fast. A few more moves and gearplacements later and I was properly pumped, so much so that I could only watchas my fingers tried over and over to clip a quickdraw onto the cam and clip inthe rope.

The cost of learning to jam mid-route.

Pumped I reached a vague corner that I wedged my body in anddesperately tried to teach myself to jam, being from the south I am hopeless atjamming but I knew that you can get a good rest on jams and I really needed agood rest. Even more pumped I grabbed at the break above which didn’t providethe sinker jugs I was after but instead provided a selection of rounded holdscovered in sand. By now the pressure was off, I had given everything I had andat some point I would reach the top or fall off, I didn’t really care which aslong as it happened soon.

I found some sort of a rest in the break which involved aheel-hook and a lot of hope, the angle of the wall above looked like it eased alittle and I convinced myself that there would be a perfect rest above 5 movesfurther up. This gave me just enough encouragement to leave the break and carryon, needless to say the rest didn’t turn out to be restful but I told myselfthere were good holds just about 5 moves further up and so it went on. I wasnow just climbing on auto-pilot (the pilot had given up some time ago) and,with enough hand swaps, I could place the odd bit of gear.

The angle slowly eased as the pump in my arms continued torise, the sinker jugs never appeared but eventually I found myself standing ona ledge at the top that I had stood on four hours earlier, this time I didn’t wishthat the route was longer but I have never felt more alive.At my back the sun shonein a cloudless sky and the smell of gorse wafted gently down from the cliff-topabove.

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Penfro
9 April 2012, 4:57 pm



The long Easter weekend dawned bright and early as we made our way up the M5. Being, as I am, a full-time climbing bum, who is only employed in the vaguest sense of the word, the concepts of Bank Holidays or even weekends are alien to me – marked only by the crags being busier that mid-week. Justin, however, is constrained by a full time job and as a result it's Easter and we're heading to Pembroke.

Day 1: Stennis Head A few hours later and we were peering into Huntsman’s Leap, a terrifying looking crag filled with routes ranging from hard to HARD! I fancied a gentler warm up to Pembroke trad and headed down to Stennis Head to get on a truly awesome looking route – Pleasure Dome.

Pleasure Dome has everything you need from a route: a perfect line on a pristine section of rock, guaranteed exposure with a drop to the sea beneath your feet and holds and gear galore. It was a perfect wake up after hours in a van and the route didn't disappoint. I topped-out revelling in the un-Swanage-like nature of the rock – it’s not even loose!

Enjoying Pleasure Dome Justin’s lead and he picked the mean-looking line of Flash. One smooth lead later with only one, very controlled shout of ‘watch me’ and he reached at the top. I climbed it and got the fear, seconding is a scary business. It was my lead again and true to the rules of ‘Add a Grade’ I had to climb something harder than Justin’s last lead. I flicked through the guide looking for a low in the grade E5 that I could check out from the bottom before committing to, that doesn’t have words like  ‘outrageously strenuous’ or  ‘finger-shredding’ in the description and that isn’t accompanied by any of the following symbols in the Rockfax guide:Unsurprisingly this narrowed the field somewhat.TrevallenYellow Pearls at Trevallen fitted the description – apart, possibly,from the low in the grade bit but the guide says it’s French 7a+ and I can climb 7a+ right? Wrong! The route started well; I performed the verticalbellyflopping move that is required when the route, and the cliff, start over a metre off the ground, I mantled with surprising ease, I even climbed some moves and placed some gear. Soon, however, I reached a point where I needed to place a wire in the slot that I was eye-balling but couldn’t take a hand off to do so due to the irritating lack of footholds. I considered ignoring the gear and carrying on, citing the old motto ‘if in doubt: run it out’ but I felt too close to the ground to justify it. I settled on the only option left open to me and fell off. A few more attempts later and I surrendered the lead to Justin who found the same difficulties but reach the top via a few quick-drawshaped holds. I seconded it with some rests and much fighting with firmly wedged-in gear. I was annoyed at falling off but pleased that I had got on the route to start with and psyched for some serious endurance training. The day ended with a typical camper’s diet of beer, pastasurprise and mini eggs but I felt lost without my trusty van that, at present, isin the garage having the engine re-attached.Day 2: St Govan’sWe woke to drizzle and the sounds of an entire campsitecomplaining that 'this wasn’t on the forecast' but after a brief trip to stock upon supplies of cake and tea it cleared up enough to risk an abseil. Strongoffshore winds hassled us as we sorted our kit at the top of St Govan’s Head; atthe cliff bottom it was another world, in the lee of the wind with the sunsneaking out from behind the clouds to warm our backs and dry the rock it feltlike paradise. Justin led first, climbing The Butcher (E2.5) a lovely climbwhich made me feel that I was about to barn-door off around the arête on nearlyevery move. Back down, out of the wind, I eyed up Charisma; the guidebookdescription suggested that it was a bit of a one-move wonder with the moveprotected by an aging peg and had upped the grade accordingly. The route went well until The Move; from a good rest Iplaced some gear, ignored the rusty peg and tried to figure out The Move. Imust have spent 30mins climbing up and down, trying to ignore the increasingly apparentfact that The Move was a big, committing slap to a flat hold. I don’t like bigcommitting slaps, I don’t like them above a bouldering mat, I don’t like themabove a bolt and I especially don’t like them above (admittedly bomber) gear.Eventually I had faffed enough and had nothing left to do apart from commit toThe Move, which I did. I hit the hold and didn’t fall off, a bit of ananti-climax really. The rest of the route passed in an over-gripped and pumpedblur. Justin’s lead and sticking true to the game of Add a Grade, hefound a classic E5, Get Some In, and set off. The route looked pumpy andgreasy, rests were taken. My experience of the route was made far more pleasantby chalked holds and the absence of a lead-fall potential but I still fell off. We abbed in one last time to retrieve the bag and escaped upArmy Dreamers, a classic HVS, which had both holds and gear and was delightful.More beer, pasta surprise and mini eggs followed.Day 3: Stennis HeadEaster Sunday dawned grey and cold, we started the day by a recceof a couple of committing routes that Justin and I had our eyes on: Out of my Mind at Stennis Head and Star Wars at Bosherston respectively. We managed to talkourselves out of both routes due to the lingering sea grease experienced on ourfirst climb of the day, Stuntsman. TrevallenA wee while later and I was staring at the bottom section ofTrevallen Pillar eyeing up the grease and psyching myself up. The grease didn’tprove to be problematic and the first half of the route (originally the firstpitch) went well; technical climbing, enough gear and a pleasantly committingcrux. Then a ledge offered a welcome rest and a slab above offered a far lesswelcome series of unprotectable, unreversable moves on spaced crimps. I tried,I failed, I got scared and ran off, sideways, to belay around the cornerleaving a 5b pitch for Justin. Contemplating Barbarella Justin’s lead and after a brief contemplation of the horrorsof Barbarella he led the neighbouring Sunlover and we skipped away over Pembrokeshiremoorland to the promise of tea, warm showers and a real bed. Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Learning to Headpoint
18 April 2012, 6:22 pm

At a rarely visited crag tucked away on the Penwith coast quality 3 star lines lie between sections of unclimbed Greenstone. We approach the top of the cliff while a raging sea jostles for attention down below but foronce the rock reflects a matt dryness back to the eye. For reasons known only to the fickle conditions gods neither condensation nor spray will affect the crag today. We set up an anchor through which I thread the half ropes and watch them unfurl down the length of the crag, their ends slithering inevitably into apristine rock pool to lie patiently alongside the limpets.

I abseil down, spinning slowly in the cool air as gravity drags me away from the face and deposits me a few metres out from the base of the cliff. Alexis slithers down the rope after me placing gear on his way to keep his rope close to the route. He reaches the bottom, assembles the necessary gear and sets off again, acting out the performance of removing gear, replacing it and removing it again, re-practising pre-practised moves and chuckling at the run-out from the comfort of thetop-rope.

Soon he returns to the increasingly wave-washed platform and we swap roles. A different route but the same routine: I place gear, test it, remove it, memorise footholds, refresh my memory of the sequence and try to stay calm.

Back on the ground an air of nervousness prevails, analmost audible crackle of excitement, of fear, enhanced by the sound of the wavespounding the shoreline. The ropes are pulled, Alexis ties in and organises his gear into the correct sequence on his harness. He sets off and I belay standing in close to the cliff, one wary eye on the raging sea sending waves crashing over the platform ever closer to me. He climbs, executing the moves precisely, placing gear and leaving it below his feet to face the 5 or 6 metre run-out seemingly unconcerned. He reaches the top without so much as a power scream and between waves I edge out tentatively across the rock platform to take a photo; confirmation and a memento of his new route.  After a moment he lowers down, cleans the gear and takes the swing into space, floating for a moment above the foamy sea before gravity swings him back onto dry land.

Now it’s my turn. For a short while I can lose myself in the comfort of the pre-climb routine – ropes, gear, helmet, shoes, chalk – and forget about the pressure of the ‘tick’, stop worrying about how it’ll feel to be on lead with the safety of the top-rope notable only by its absence. Then I step off the ground and automatically relax, it’s just climbing after all. The first section passes easily and at the rest under the roof I realise I’m grinning, I feel comfortable leading, in control, alive. I take a deep breath and swing out across the lip of the roof and up the moves above it, I refrain from worrying about the potentially unpleasant fall onto the gear placed below the roof –the decision to take the risk had been made on the ground, a lifetime ago.

I place a small wire, seat it, clip it to my left rope andcarry on, a few moves and then two cams, yellow one first, then red. Now for the crux, one hard move with the cams at my feet, a blind cam slot then anotherhard move but my body works on autopilot, it has done this before. The meat of the route is now over just a few more well practised moves, a wire and an unpractised top-out; I tell myself not to relax, not to panic, just to climb...

High as a kite I sit on the top and watch the waves.

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Sharpnose
7 May 2012, 11:25 am



The unlikely (and unstable) looking fins of rock that make up Lower Sharpnose Point jut out into a wonderfully calm Atlantic Ocean. A light breeze blows along the faces drying out the last of the sea grease and the sun pokes his head out from behind the clouds creating a tranquil atmosphere at a normally intimidating crag. When we arrive there are already a few other parties climbing and, though I enjoy the solitude of a quiet crag, the crowd of regular Devon climbers only add to the convivial atmosphere.

Crispin on Last Laugh

Pete and his band of ‘seasoned’ rock athletes heckle and sandbag each other whilst ticking off hard routes with ease whilst Crispin, Dave, Justin, Nick and I get on routes that have long been on our respective tick lists and for once we all succeed. Between the five of us we tally up 17 E points and 20 stars and not a single fall leading or seconding which means either we all had an awesome day or we really weren't trying hard enough.

While Dave and Crispin finish warming up on The Smile Nick sets off up Lunakhod, a bridging masterpiece on the North side of the central fin which offers the climber a surprising view through the metre wide fin. Although it is slightly disturbing to be able to see daylight through the cliff you are climbing; the rock (and the abseil tat) held so I really can’t complain. My lead next and we head round to the South side stopping on our way to congratulate Crispin on his first E2 onsight of the testing Last Laugh.

I decide to get on Pacemaker after falling off seconding it a year ago and, as is expected of one of the best climbs in the West Country, it is amazing. The route wanders up the sheer face giving 25m of technical climbing on a gently steepening wall with enough gear to keep me happy and a rising pump to keep me moving.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Me on Pacemaker[/td][/tr]

[/table]Back on the ground it was Justin's turn to lead and my turn to skip around the boulder-strewn beach staring excitedly at the rock like an over-eager Spaniel with a rock fetish. I mentally added to my tick list Break on Through and Fay (occupied by Justin and Dave respectively), Sunscape, Dry Stone Wall and Finesse. I giggled at Coronary Country and tried to imagine leading it, I picked out the line of Culm to Mother on the North side and shuddered at the look of the rusty pegs then turned and watched the tide as it quietly snuck towards me.

Nick smiling on The Smile

When Justin and Nick had finished on Break on Through we hurried back to the North fin with minutes to spare before the tide came in and guaranteed wet feet for anyone left behind. Justin, Crispin and Dave walked out with the bags and I belayed Nick on The Smile as the busy crag quickly emptied. The last of Pete’s merry band followed up Misery Goat and Out of the Blue and the ab rope snaked silently up the cliff pulled up by unseen hands to leave me on my own at the base crag gazing out at the soul-searchingly beautiful view. Without a sound it began to rain giving the boulders around me an increasingly bad case of measles and turning the light grey pebbles a matt black. The call to climb came and I set off across the face leaving Sharpnose in peace for another day.



Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

"The only real failure in life is the failure to try." Anon
17 May 2012, 6:04 pm



Like every aspiring hard climber I am constantly trying to evaluate my performance to try to work out how to climb better and where best to concentrate my training. I am, however, coming to the conclusion that the main reason why I don’t get up a climb is because I don’t get on it in the first place. That’s not to say I would get up any climb I choose to get on just that I tend to pre-empt failure by avoiding the route altogether. Why I don’t get on a route seems to be due to a combination of reasons: fear of falling, fear of failing, a reluctance to put myself in a position where I’ll have to try hard (otherwise known as laziness) but mainly because I forget that I really like climbing.

Recent outings have been prime examples of this. Last week we headed down to Swanage, to the mega-steep Lean Machine Area. Alexis lead Surge Control first whilst I belayed cowering from the huge waves funnelling in to the base of the crag. I set off to second it with cold hands and without a warm up, unsurprisingly it wasn’t long before the flash-pump-of-doom and numb fingers saw me sitting on the rope feeling generally sorry for myself. The rational view of this would be that I fell off because my fingers and muscles were cold and I was trying to climb the 6b crux of a pumpy E5. The view that I took, however, was that climbing was hard, painful and unpleasant and that there was no point in me getting on Lean Machine as I would just fail and hate myself forever. As you can tell I wasn’t in a happy place!

Luckily I had time for my arms to recover, I managed to encourage myself to get on the route and from there it was alright. Compared to seconding Surge Control it was a walk in the park: lots of holds and gear and an entirely bearable level of pump. The crux as always was the decision-making part before getting on the route, moral of the story: I really enjoy climbing and if in doubt should get on and lead something.

Yesterday, with the memory of Lean Machine in the front of my mind, we went to Cheddar to get on Kephalonia. As three star, three pitch E5s go it was amazing, cold and shady but amazing. Alexis led the first pitch – it was his birthday after all – and I seconded it cold, without a warm up and fell off with numb fingers and toes and flash pump in my arms (déjà vu anyone?). Despite the lessons learned from last week’s adventure when I got to the belay and looked at the intimidating second pitch I handed the lead back to Alexis citing flash pump, cold fingers and the fact that the first pitch felt really hard.

The other Kephalonia

As I sat on the belay listening to the plaintive cries of goat kids and the unnecessary noise of boy-racers echoing around the gorge I berated myself for not leading ‘my’ pitch. By the time I got to the second belay I was annoyed enough with myself to make the decision to lead the last pitch without thinking twice. We sorted out the gear and I set off, as usual as soon as I stepped off the belay I felt relaxed, happy and unhassled by a rope above me. The pitch started easily and then culminated in a wonderful series of layback moves above 60 or 70 metres of exposure. It was a delight and leading a pitch made the whole route a far more enjoyable experience.

From now on I solemnly vow to ignore the pessimistic voice of failure and get on lead on stuff that I find hard whether I believe I can climb it or not.

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Insanity
7 June 2012, 10:09 am



In a bizarre twist of fate the extended bank holiday weekend wasn’t a complete wash-out but in an even more bizarre twist I was working for all of it. Now however I’m not working and it’s raining and windy and horrible. The last few days have been spent traipsing around wet crags watching runoff paint black lines on the orange walls of Anstey’s cove and rain turn Chudleigh into a sparkling jungle of foliage. I have also indulged in my favourite pastime of flicking through guidebooks and picking out lines to add to my ‘to climb list’ – a list that is expanding at a faster rate that the Universe shortly after the Big Bang.

In the Swanage guide there is one route that sticks out more than all the others, a route that I contemplate every time I climb at Swanage. An impressive natural line that cries out to be climbed, that offers excitement and adventure and really wild things...

The Boulder Ruckle Girdle Traverse!

As the name suggests the BRGT is a traverse of the Boulder Ruckle that follows the 2 foot deep mid-height sandy, chossy break in much the same way a lemming follows its friends to almost certain death. This is of course the break that you reach on any given Ruckle route with a mixture of irritation, despondency and fear. The sandy floor of the break offers no good handholds whilst covering your arms in a frictionless layer of muddy powder as you desperately scrabble for purchase. The back wall of the break presents precisely zero gear placements increasing your fear and the speed at which you try to scrape your way upwards to more pleasant ground.

Whilst on most routes this section of the climb is over soon, too soon some would say, on the BRGT the experience will stay with you for days and days as you traverse the 52 pitches that comprise the route and will remain with you forever in your nightmares.

The traverse hasn’t been repeated since those brave fools Richard Crewe and Kenny Winkworth did the first ascent in 1969 and many pitches have fallen down since then. If you’re lucky more pitches may fall down while you are on the route!

Despite the fact that this climb is rarely more than 10m off the deck to get the full tick it would have to be climbed in one push without lowering to the ground which does offer a few minor problems. Ruling out the concept of being able to stomach all 3500m in a day you would need to sleep, eat, etc. on the route which means that you’ll have more stuff than you can carry. On your standard big wall this would result in a lot of hauling but on the BRGT to be able to haul anything you’d first have to kick your haul bags out of the break where they would pendulum into the rocks below to become irretrievably tangled whilst probably ripping your meagre belay out in the process.

I have, however, come up with a solution...

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The sense of urgency caused by a continually approaching train will serve to increase the climber's speed.[/td][/tr]

[/table]

The train, as well as providing an invaluable way of transporting your belongings along the traverse, will also serve as a testament to the courage of the climbers who have gone before and will give something back to the climbing community in the form of 3½ km of model railway.

Equipment: The route may also provide some opportunities for alternative protection, for example: several cams the size of those miniature ponies, acrow props and those pull up bars you can put in doorframes without using screws as well as your usual rack of ice screws, bongs and deadmans/deadmen (which is the correct pluralisation?).

Training: Consider practising crawling, ignoring the smell of guano, and sleeping without rolling over or you’ll be out of the break and dangling on one dodgy ice screw before you know it.

Conditions: Don’t worry about conditions as rain, snow, bright sunshine or 40 foot waves could hardly make the traverse less pleasant.

All you need to know about the great Boulder Ruckle Girdle Traverse... who's in?!



Source: Climb Stuff

[Fiend]

Nice diagram, should be put in the next guidebook.

[comPiler]

June: A Month of Contrasts
15 June 2012, 7:21 pm

The wind buffets me incessantly, a constant assault on my mind and body, stealing the heat out of my fingers and the joy out of climbing. I'm back at Anstey’s Cove, back on Tuppence and although I have been making progress, slowly, over the last few months today it feels harder than ever. Each move feels at my limit, hampered by numb fingers, poor coordination and the unrelenting easterly that tears along the coast and hassles me as I try to climb or try to rest.

Only a day or two ago but a world away it was too hot for shoes, the dark rock underfoot scalded my toes and the sun warmed my back as I sorted the gear and the ropes. Stepping into the shade I glanced up once more at the climb, scoped out the route and set off, insecurely at first, on rock still wet from the retreating tide. Two hundred yards away tourists licked ice creams, bought tat and paid an extortionate price for parking but here at the Land’s End only the sea and the seals kept us company.

I sit on the rope eyeballing Tuppence’s top crux, I can do the move but only about 20% of the time – today is the other 80%. I pull on, slap the right hand up to a hold that looks and feels like half a marble and try to persuade my left foot to step up. One pitiful attempt at the move and I’m back on the rope. Figuring out this move is like trying to work out a lateral thinking puzzle with too much going on at once, maybe I should stand up more on the right foot or possibly I haven’t got the right hand correctly, would the left foot benefit from being a bit further right or do I just need to man up... Usually I have the patience to try and work out what I'm doing wrong but today all I can think about is the wind and how much I wish it would stop.Above the slippery start of Antenna the rock was dry and cool, I squinted left into the sun to work out where to traverse and then set off on crimps and fragile looking ledges. I tested each hold with the diligence of the truly paranoid; bigger holds I treated with more distrust and jugs with downright suspicion but nothing wobbled or snapped when I hit it. Halfway across the traverse I fiddled in a small wire to encourage me to continue and ignore the potential safe but swinging fall. Soon I reached the main crack line that led the way straight up the slab to the top; gear and holds appeared in each set of horizontal breaks prompting big balance-y moves between them.

After a couple more goes I give up trying to climb and instead belay wrapped up in as many layers as I can find; with my back to the wind I’m almost warm... that is until the rain starts. Big droplets of water strafe the cliff; the roof of rock over our heads offers no protection today as the wind carries the stinging raindrops right in to the base of the cliff.

A few metres below the top the horizontal breaks ran out leaving an absence of the big holds that I was getting used to. I climbed up a bit, saw some hard moves, scuttled back down to place more gear and then headed up again – I then repeated this process a few more times before I ran out of possible gear placements and had to get on with the route. A couple of thin moves led to a pop to the top and the relief and disappointment that comes when a wonderful climbing experience is over. On the top the sun shone and the bright pink thrift flowers waved in the gentle breeze.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Purple Sea Thrift Flowers - By Mike Coates[/td][/tr]

[/table]Alexis finishes climbing, strips the draws and I lower him to the ground. Inanimate objects and the wind conspire to make packing away a challenge and lost in my own world I pull the rope, shout below and give the rope one last tug... nothing happens. I look up to see a knot in the rope stuck in the bolt, it seems a fitting end to the day.

It was too nice an evening to stop climbing so we abbed back in for another dose; Alexis led up New Editions and I belayed and waited for my turn to climb whilst watching the light from the sinking sun play on the spray thrown up by the sea.

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Sunshine on a Rainy Day
13 July 2012, 12:13 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Gnarly mountain man Steve and I[/td][/tr]

[/table]To climb during the Great British Summer you need, more than strength, power or endurance, an optimism unhampered by reality. Yesterday in the company of two suitably optimistic climbers I walked to Blackchurch Rock to find the tide in, the cliff seeping and the sky bestowing us with rain. We turned and walked back to the car, drove down the coast and began the whole process again; this time, however, we found dry rock, scary slabs and a beautiful sunset.

Vicarage Cliff

The guys had a lead each on a pair of cracking culm slab routes as the sun shone and the tide turned and slowly began to head towards the beach, there was however enough time and sunlight left for one more route. The route in question was Harpoon and, while Vicarage Cliff may not have any routes harder than E2 and only one of those, Harpoon packs a bold and committing punch. My tendency to steer clear of any routes that get a fluttery symbol in the guide or that are described as bold, scary or exciting has lead me to identify a weakness in my climbing which can, in part, be corrected by getting on E2s and E3s of this nature. And there’s no time like the present.

The climbing on Harpoon never stretches much past F6a in difficulty but the gear, or absence of it, in the first few metres easily makes up for this. A steady head, careful tapping of the footholds and remembering to forget about the back-breaking boulder below all helped to reach the first good gear. From there the climb bimbled on with enough gear placements and holds to keep me happy before depositing me at the crux with good gear but no holds (not unless you count the array of hollow-sounding footholds that flexed when hit). After much time spent attempting to move and even more time spent convincing myself that I didn’t need handholds to stand up on a slab I stood up.  

Soon I had reached some holds, fiddled in some poor gear and carried on when a stern internal voice told me to climb back down to my gear and make it better. Sheepishly I did just that and set off again reminding myself that gear isn’t just there for decoration but is actually supposed to stop me in the event of a fall – a simple but significant mistake.

I arrived at the top and the 360 degree views of wild culm coast that it afforded as the sun slowly sank towards the horizon casting a soft glow over everything. Our optimism about finding dry rock had paid off leaving us three happy climbers to pack our bags and head off to the nearest fish and chip shop.

Photos by Mark Bullock

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Anstey's Cove
18 July 2012, 10:43 am



Above me quickdraws swing in the gentle breeze and some distance to my right gentle summer rain patters down on the verdant foliage. While my brain searches for internal peace and calm I tie in to the rope hanging down from the first clip and wipe the red dust off my shoes and onto my leggings. Seconds later I stand at the base of the climb, chalk up and set off. I try to climb smoothly and efficiently, I try to climb fast, I try to remember to breathe and I try to stop thinking. My hands follow a precisely prescribed pattern; my feet perform a continual dance of tiny subtle foot-moves that are vital yet entirely subconscious; my body twists and turns, core muscles contracting for each move and relaxing allowing a gasp of air into my lungs.

I sense my fingers slipping slightly on each hold and bite down harder, my left foot steps up and my body automatically turns – a sort of half drop-knee move – allowing my left hand to reach up to a crimp. I squeeze all four fingers on and grip the edge with my thumb pulling hard enough to dig the nail of my thumb into the side of my index finger.

The next move, however, is one that can’t be overcome by subtle changes in body position or by climbing quickly or slowly or smoothly. The key to the move is simple  - keep pulling on the crimp, don’t allow your fingers to open even when it feels like it they will rip from your hand. If I manage that then a quick snatch will see me to a good hold and further series of moves that seem both powerful and delicate will set me up for the crux. From there if my right hand pinches hard enough and my legs power me up and left enough and my left hand reaches out fast enough, with enough strength left to latch the hold... then the route could be over.

My thoughts drift on ahead of my body, removed from the stubborn battle between hand and hold. I press down harder with the fingers of my left hand, will them not to open as I reach my right hand across. The fingers on my right just manage to curl around the tiny tufa ear when the crimp under my left spits my still-crimping fingers off into space and a split second later my body follows, falling backwards until the rope comes tight.

Anger and frustration bubble up inside me threatening to explode; months of wet holds, of 100% humidity, of stalled progress steal my composure leaving me swinging on the rope seething.

That I will return is a given, that I will keep bashing my head against this particular brick wall is a certainty. Maybe if I could forget about this route, if I could no longer see the moves in my mind’s eye, no longer know the feel of each hold under my fingers... maybe I would give up but I know that I can’t.

Source: Climb Stuff

[Wood FT]

Great post

[Oldmanmatt]

Excellent, made my palms sweat.

I think I jinxed you when I said you'd get it in the end...

[comPiler]

Passing through Ruby Country
17 August 2012, 8:31 am

My trusty van chugs through the heart of Devon countryside passing lush green verges, fields of ripening corn and hedgerows where the trees are showing the first hint of autumn’s arrival. We travel onwards through the heart of Ruby Country passing Bradsworthy, Grimscott and Stibb to arrive at Duckpool where our progress is temporarily halted by a farmer moving his ruby-red North Devons up the road to pastures new. As we wait for his cows to arrive the farmer and I converse about cattle and cliffs before he starts again up the road shaking a bag of feed and calling over his shoulder to his herd.

The tides have necessitated an early start so we arrive at the magnificent fins of Sharpnose and abseil in before 10am as the sun slowly begins to dry the grease off the base of the cliffs. Alexis starts up Finesseand I belay watching limpets track their way impressively fast towards the safety of the cracks in the rock. These molluscs are pretty cool citters with reliable internal clocks to track the times of high tide; a good sense of direction, or memory, to find their way back to their home fissure and a suction power of up to 80psi.

But back to the climbing... Dispatching the route with no real difficulties Alexis lowers to the ground and I pull the ropes and lead it on his gear creating a sport-like mental and physical warm up. For my lead I choose Sunscape, a good looking line left of Pacemaker, that doesn’t disappoint. The route zigzags steadily upwards in typical Sharpnose style as the pump in my arms slowly increases until I reach the first crux where I stall. The moves look hard and when I try them they feel hard, I faff around trying to rest on footholds that are all in the wrong places and look for more gear as a way of delaying the inevitable. I don’t find anymore gear and run out of reasons to hang around and so force myself back into the crux.

Pulling with all my might on two small handholds I try to step my feet up, one foot skates of the smooth rock and I convince myself that I’m going to fall off but my fingers squeeze the holds with a strength I didn’t think I had and I reach up. My left hand sinks into a pocket-like hold that offers relief until I reach the layer of sand and shale at the bottom, I grab something with my right and try to relax as I brush the detritus out of the hold. I know I should place some gear at this point but there’s nothing for my feet and my hands are threatening to open out so I scuttle on up until holds and gear placements are more obviously available. I join Pacemaker briefly and leave it again heading left up the break until a line of small holds point the way to the top.

Mercifully I find some jugs, place some gear and relax my body. Above the climbing looks hard and doesn’t relent until the top of the crag is reached but it’s only a few metres away, I hang off the jugs, shake out and weigh up my situation. I know that I don’t have much power left for hard moves but my arms feel rested from the shake-out; the gear here is good and I can’t see any obvious placements before the top even if I had the energy to place them; I'm running out of chalk and with the sun beaming down on my back I can’t afford to waste any at the rest, forcing me to fight the engrained pattern of chalking up each time I shake out. I decide to leave the rest, chalk up and climb to the top in one go, I don’t need any more gear and if I climb up and down again to the rest I’ll run out of chalk.

For someone who struggles with anything approaching a bold start I happily leave the gear below my feet and embark, unfazed, on a series of powerful moves off small holds until the lip is within reach and I can sit on one of the best spots in the world – the top of the ridiculously narrow middle fin at Sharpnose.

Back on the ground we just make it around the fin before the tide cuts us off, Alexis climbs Spoils of War while I edge further and further away from the base of the route, helmet firmly on my head and a wary eye trained on the loose looking ground above. Seconding it, barring the loose rock in the middle, it’s an absorbing and sustained climb. With the tide still lapping its way up the beach we hurry over to Out of the Blue and I lead up it revelling in the size of the holds and the delightful nature of the climbing. At the top I haul the bags up the ab rope and belay watching Alexis perform exaggerated dyno moves between massive holds.

The tide may be in but it’s not yet 3pm so we eat a leisurely lunch before heading for home passing our new friend The Farmer at work in the fields on the way.

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Avon Day
1 October 2012, 9:55 am



Last Sunday was ‘Avon Day’ arguably the best day in the year to climb in the Gorge because though the routes are always absorbing, whether technical and balancy or steep and pumpy, for me they are let down by the continual roar of the traffic from the Portway down below. For one day a year, however, the growling rumble of the cars and lorries is replaced by the patter of thousands of be-trainered feet and the gasping pants of 20,000 pairs of lungs as Bristol Half Marathon closes the Portway for a few precious hours.

Early on Sunday we parked on the downs and walked down to the road just as the leading runners passed by, we wandered on as the foot traffic increased from the first few athletes to the many body of the race, a colourful mass of humanity stretching back as far as we could see along the Portway. We wandered up the Ramp to the short steep climbs that waited there, the Ramp as always twisted the mind turning from a steep walk into a terrifying slope and then back again in the blink of an eye.

I warmed up on New Horizons II which was as delightful as ever and then turned my attentions to Arms Race a route which, on the last attempt, had seen me dangling from the metal spike runner as I lacked the strength of mind to resist its tempting call. This time however I was determined to ignore it no matter how pumped my arms would get (which, judging from my last encounter with the route, would be a lot). It’s always hard getting on a route after a spoiled on-sight; I had no useful information about the route, no idea about the best sequence or where to rest or the which wires to place but I had no illusions about how much my arms were going to hurt from the constant effort of staying on the route.

Maybe my mind had made the memory of the route more pumpy than it was, maybe I had warmed up more thoroughly, maybe in the intervening 6 months I had got stronger or fitter or maybe I felt better knowing that the thousands of people running below me were in more pain than I was. Whatever the reason the route felt ok, I felt relaxed enough to rest properly, to only place gear where I needed it off good handholds (not every 10cm off poor crimps as before) and to take in the world around me, the sea of runners interrupted by the occasional jogging banana or hotdog, the efficient volunteers at the water station and the slowly growing sea of blue bottles in the gutter. When I passed the spike I felt no desire to reach up and hang onto it, I didn’t even clip it, smiling smugly at my past self I climbed on, placed a cam and carried on up to the ab station. Job done.

There’s nothing like the smug glow of self-satisfaction to remove all desire to climb hard routes so as a result I spend the remainder of the day belaying and observing the last few runners jog past and the clean-up operation begin. I did persuade myself to climb Mirage, another brilliant Ramp route which is pumpy but short-lived, before relaxing and watching the road sweepers sweep up a few thousand bottle caps. All too soon the road was clear and the cars began to filter noisily past once more.

Source: Climb Stuff

[Three Nine]

Cherry the only way there's going to be an 'i did Tuppence' post, is if there are a ton of 'I went to pixies/Alexis' board' posts first, and rather fewer 'I went trad bimbling' posts. Just my 2p ( ) worth.

[Teaboy]

I was only thinking today that she hasn't blogged for a while. I enjoyed her blogs because her unhinged obsession validated my life a little, in an "I'm not the only one" kind of way

[comPiler]

Pet Cemetery
5 June 2013, 7:25 am



Life’s about good days and bad days, good weeks and bad weeks. If I’m lucky the bad days and weeks will slowly fade from my memory but I hope some of the best days and weeks – those filled with climbing, exploring and learning; with bright sunshine; with perfect climbs and good mates – will stay with me for life.

I came back from the BMC International Meet in Cornwall keen to get back on some unfinished business at Anstey’s Cove – my home away from home. After a week of long walk-ins with a rucksack, long sunny days at the crag and long evenings drinking mead and making friends I was feeling fit and well rested.

First session back at the Cove and Pet Cemetery was feeling good; the fitness that I had built up on the starting section meant that I could arrive at the crux feeling relatively fresh and I had got my head around the intricacies of the crux section – which for me involves hissing “crimp, crimp, crimp” at my right hand for the duration of the move. All that was left was getting though the crux with enough beans left for the top 7 moves.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The crux. Photo: Justin Timms[/td][/tr]

[/table]Soon I found myself eyeballing my right hand mid crux and slapping with my left, I hit the hold and swung onto the jugs for a ‘rest’. This was a new high point for me and I was trying, and failing, not to get too excited; the route was by no means in the bag and I had failed on this the top section of Cider Soak back when I was trying that route. A few moves later and I was slapping, with rapidly fading strength, for the finishing jug. My fingers hit the back of the hold but flatly refused to close and my body transcribed a perfect arc through the air with the marks of scraped off chalk on my right hand the only memento of my redpoint attempt. The rest of the day was a lesson in diminishing returns and my next session at the Cove nearly a week later was a lesson in how badly I can climb first day on. Rest days are the devil’s work I tell you.

Then I had some good days – a two day coaching for coaches course with Neil Gresham and his Masterclass Coaching Academy. The course I was on, courtesy of The Quay, was Module 1 of MCA’s coaching scheme focusing on technique and learning structures of teaching technique to intermediate and experienced climbers. Learning more about climbing, the science behind it and better ways to teach it is always a fascinating experience and when you combine that with learning alongside some of the best climbers and coaches in the South West and being taught by a top climbing professional who exudes psyche it makes for a very good day indeed. Day two of the course was even better than day one with a focus on routes as opposed to bouldering and we spent the latter part of the day filming ourselves on onsight attempts at our limit and reviewing the footage as a valuable coaching tool.

I left The Quay to make my way to back to Anstey’s buzzing with psyche and vowing to follow Gresham’s advice that I needed to train power. It had been a great day and there was one thing that could make it a perfect day but I was too psyched to worry about success or failure, I just wanted to climb stuff. With a brief warm up and the luxury of someone else putting my clips in I was soon chalking up at the bottom of the climb. A small eternity of climbing later and my hand fell into the top jug, with the grip of someone trying to strangle a lion I clipped the final draw and relaxed.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The Jugs! Photo: Justin Timms[/td][/tr]

[/table]A great day but that’s enough of this sport nonsense, sea-cliffs are calling.

Source: Climb Stuff

[comPiler]

Rock Snobbery
19 November 2013, 7:42 pm

I'm a rock snob, I admit it. I look at gritstone and say to myself “why are all these crags so short? What is the point of climbing here compared to somewhere like Pentire?” Conveniently I forget that Pentire puts the fear of God in me and perhaps if I felt more comfortable highballing on slopers I might actually get on Darkinbad instead of just staring at it. The truth is that when I say to myself that climbing on gritstone is pointless what I mean is climbing on gritstone is hard.

‘They’ say that grit is God’s own rock if this is true God really hates me, you see climbing wise I only have one strength – I can hang on to small holds – a hold type that is recognisable by its absence on the grit. My climbing weaknesses are many and varied and occur on just about every route in the Peak: slopers, smears, arêtes, slabs, heel hooks, rock-overs, dynamic moves, powerful moves and of course the dreaded mantle.

Also a lot of grit boulder problems and routes seem to fall into that awkward middle ground of too high for me to boulder above pads without the (probably over-exaggerated) fear that I might break my legs and too short to ever climb out of the ‘danger zone’. The danger zone is that section of a climb that no matter how well you protect it if you fall off, chances are, you’ll hit the ground. Whilst on a 40m route the odds of the hard move being in this danger zone are low, on a 10m route the odds are shifted considerable towards the breaking your legs end of the scale. This combined with the conviction that I'm going to fall off every move means that the concept of venturing any distance from the ground is an alien one.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Rob Greenwood on End of the Affair, Curbar[/td][/tr]

[/table]

To me this rock type with its subtle balance of hard and scary has never really appealed which is fair enough considering that the Peak District is a 4 hour drive away, enough time to get to Pembroke or be well on the way to North Wales. However with the draw of a certain fluffy-haired rascal leading to me spending considerable amounts of time in Sheffield the argument that I can’t be bothered with grit is falling flat.

So today I climbed a handful of problems at Curbar and though in terms of grade the problems I climbed didn't do much to soothe the ego and though I didn't attempt anything even remotely high I did a load of different moves on gritstone. I climbed an arête and I stood on smears and I held slopers and I topped out via something that could be described as a mantle. You know this grit stuff isn't as bad as it looks, it might just catch on...

Source: Climb Stuff

[fatneck]

Excellent!