[comPiler]

Lamp Light Bouldering
28 December 2012, 5:08 pm



Physical geography is a wonderfully complex and interesting phenomenon! Most males would wholeheartedly agree with this statement as it will be one of their guilty pleasures. Think about it; volcanoes, tsunamis, hurricanes! However, to admit ones interest in such earthly pleasures can act as a very powerful contraceptive. This is not the only downside of constantly changing landscapes- when you live in a temperate zone with a maritime climate it can seriously meddle with your climbing.

This could now turn into the usual rant about all things meteorological. The sky has produced a multitude of precipitation types recently from heavy, to cold, to my personal favourite - horizontal. However all this rain, hail, snow, wind and general misery is to be expected when a boulderer over-winters in the UK. Best be stoic and let it go. No, the particular geographical phenomenon I'm interested in at the moment is associated to the latitudinal position of this green and quite frankly damp land, and the way this affects our seasons.

Summer is a magnificent time of year in the UK, especially when viewed through grey, frost-tinted glasses supplied by a dark January morning.  The mind’s eye drifts to endless, balmy evenings of bouldering. The sun beating down, the scent of wild flowers and BBQ's in the air. Frisbees are thrown and dogs slumber untidily in the heat.  The problem with the mind’s eye is it’s a hopeless romantic which tends towards the bullshit end of the truth spectrum! Summer in the UK usually means humidity, greasy holds and frustration. The one similarity between the brain’s simulated summer and our actual one is long evenings of light that allow us to adventure out like excited children.

So what of the winter? For most this is the season of training, getting strong and going to the wall. My local wall is heavily laden with temptations: it’s warm, bright, social, it has some of the best espresso for 50 miles and I can even eat like the gourmand I pretend to be there.  It's easy to forget the millions of years of geological and erosional processes that sculpted our objects of desire. It's easy to be swayed by the injection- moulded plastic patterns that adorn the overhanging, smooth surfaces of the climbing wall with their perfect, soft landings. What other option is there- its dark by 4 pm in December? Most would not want to venture out on a British winter’s night as most humans are not addicted to good friction, something that is only abundant when it’s frigidly cold. And so we reach an impasse. How do you exploit good winter conditions if they only occur on a working weekday?  How can we overcome the power of physical geography?  How can we fight back the darkness?

Obviously people have been climbing with lamps since man first managed to compress and bottle gas.  However my first glimpse of this exciting world was in Ailefroide, South Western France around 11 years ago.  It was a rather glamorous activity practiced by sponsored American climbers seeking out “cool temps.”  These individuals saved themselves for evening sessions, skin intact, illuminated by massive Coleman lamps, gliding gracefully up cool rock.  The lumpen proletariat (i.e. us) sat around wide eyed, green with jealousy, nursing lacerated fingers from misguided mid-day sessions in the sun.  Obviously this was the way forward; however it took me quite a few years to consider the possibilities of after work climbing in the winter months.

I was asked to help a friend with a film project.  He had applied to be part of the Extreme Film School, an offshoot of the Kendal Film Festival, and the result was a short film about a big dyno called “Pex and the City”  (I played the Sarah Jessica Parker character in this interpretation of the series).  During the filming my mate thought it would be good to shoot some scenes at night.  A generator was hired with some lights and the scene was set.  As with all good plans- everything failed spectacularly.  The blame for this expensive misadventure was laid at the door of a fuel tank with water in it.  I suspect the real source of our failure was the fact that three incompetent males with no mechanical knowledge were trying to experience adventures beyond their technical means.  The lights worked for precisely five minutes and then physical geography won out and re-established the natural (dark) order of things.  However, during that brief spell of illumination, my mind drifted back to the glamour of Ailefroide as compared with the routinized indoor rituals of following colours as they twist sinuously up overhanging ply.  I went out and bought a two hundred watt gas lamp and spent a winter with my film director friend hanging off sandstone in Merseyside after dark.  A revolution had begun.

Lamplight climbing isn’t for everyone! In fact only a particular type of loon enjoys climbing under overhangs or in caves, after dark, in the depths of winter.  Luckily the Liverpool Bouldering scene is mostly populated by uber-loons, so there is a demand for post work illumination for those with a Scouse disposition.  So where does the merry band of Merseyside malingerers hang out after sundown in the midwinter? What mysterious method is used to push back the darkness and battle the usual certainties of the physical world?

Obviously the sandstone venues of Cheshire lend themselves well to illumination, particularly Pisa wall at Pex and some of the overhanging buttresses at Frodsham. One gas lamp and a lot of psyche was all it needed.  These early forays seemed to feed a need that Merseyside alone could not quench and soon our merry band of lamplighters ventured further afield to the greater ranges of North Wales.  Pant Y Mwyn became the next venue of choice. The merry band swelled in numbers, as did the number of gas lamps used. The tyranny of darkness was quite literally being banished through superior fire power. Our next move was to be our last; we found the home of lamp lighting, our perfect venue – Parisella’s!

To many, bouldering in Parisella’s cave sums up everything that is bad about Bouldering. A manufactured cave with manufactured holds, suspended above a thick carpet of goat shit, inhabited by media savvy, beany wearing types who indiscriminately wave video cameras at each other.  On the other hand you can see it for what it is, a matrix of world class boulder problems no more than a minute from the car, adorned with exquisite moves, virtually weatherproof  and perfect for lamplight climbing.  We take deck chairs with us when we go.  Instead of sitting facing the sea taking in the breathtaking vistas of the North Wales coastline, we always sit facing inwards, attempting to take in the majesty of what is in front of us; our very own nocturnal palace of bouldering.

Finding the spiritual home of lamplight bouldering has led to other changes particularly in terms of the means used to cast light on our cave-bound industry.  Man used to exist in caves illuminated by nothing but firelight as sabre-toothed mammals waited for opportunities in the darkness beyond. Evolution and revolution have allowed us to burn compressed gas to light up our playground, whilst souped up, body kitted Citroën Saxos prowl like predators up marine drive. Today, technological advances have led us to cast expensive and unnecessarily wasteful gas lamps aside, leading to a mini revolution in our activities.  Electricity and halogen bulbs have changed everything.  A fully charged twelve volt leisure battery, an inverter and two 120 watt halogen lamps running off domestic three pin plugs have turned a shady night session in the cave into a near daylight experience.  Two powerful lamps are all you need to banish annoying shadows from your problem of desire. Project climbing after the sun leaves our shores becomes a reality, and good conditions become the order of the day.

So I return to thoughts of the physical world and its many nuances and try to isolate what makes lamplight climbing so good. The answer isn’t that it’s better than going to the local climbing wall (even though it is).  It isn’t even that you get more time on your projects and are thus are more likely to do them (even though you do and you are).  The real allure of lamplight climbing is the feeling that you’ve got away with it; you are climbing outdoors as is right and proper whilst others toil with excess chalk, crowds and music you really would not choose to listen to. When you are lamp lighting you feel like you have beaten physical geography with the power of technology and determination.  You stand tall having reversed the natural order, master of your environment having bent the elemental forces that govern all things to your will.  With the simple flick of a switch you release a power that is almost intoxicating.  It’s a shame that most won’t appreciate the significance of what you are doing; in fact such activities will make you even more unattractive to the opposite sex than an admission that you think hurricanes are ‘kind of cool’!!  Anyway if you lust after friction after dark and women aren’t particularity interested in your obsession with slopers, get yourself a lamp, get out there and do battle with nature.

Cheers Owen

(All pictures - Simon Huthwaite)

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Escalade Charentaise – Bouldering in and around Angouleme.
28 December 2012, 5:11 pm

This is a very old article, written around ten years ago, the photos are from a trip that happened around four years ago.  I thought I would publish this now in attempt to keep phyche high in  one of the wettest winters I can remember.  Enjoy!!!!

Words - Owen (SkinnyDog), all photo's from the  Richie Crouch Collection.

Easter usually marks the changing of the seasons in Great Britain.  We move from the depths of the dark, wet, cold, rainy season to the wondrous mists and dull light of the warm, rainy season.  Obviously being a teacher and having two weeks of holiday at this time of year my thoughts drift to which part of Europe I am going to climb in this year.  Font usually jumps to mind, but I have been stranded there in 30 degree heat before.  Alpine bouldering is definitely an option but I’m holding that ace up my sleeve for summer when it really starts to belt down at home.  So where should I go?  As per usual I retreat to the computer screen, and the bible of French bouldering – ZeBloc.

ZeBloc is an amazing on-line resource.  If you pick the list de spot option on the home page an interactive map of France appears, listing all the bouldering in each department of our nearest neighbour, supplying links to specific websites.  You’ve got to hand it to the French; they know how to get the information out there.

I’d heard of bouldering around the French city of Angouleme. Dave Jones’ Rock Climbing Guide to Europe from the early 90’s said the area, west of Font, had the best bouldering in France.  In more recent times the climbing in this area has been made famous by Fred Rouhling and his exploits; particularly one F9b route called Akira.  It just so happens that my father owns a farm and a gite about an hour’s drive from Angouleme so I thought I would check the area out.  I clicked on department 16 (The Charent) on the ZeBloc map and was amazed by what I saw.

The Bouldering.

There are many areas of bouldering around Angouleme.  These include Les Eaux Claires and Cothiers which are in the city’s suburbs and Le Champingnon which is 10km south of the city.  Les Eaux Claires is the most famous area, as it is where Ebola - Fred Rouhling’s drilled 8a is found.  I didn’t visit this spot as friends of mine had been there and said that whilst extensive- it had been spoilt by the French chipping bug.  I checked out Cothires (although I didn’t get a chance to climb there) and it is made up of edges and detached pocketed boulders which can only be described as quality.  The area I climbed at and really investigated in detail was the Champignon area. With its four separate sectors there is plenty to go at.

Mushrooms and Limestone Waves.

Imagine bouldering on mushrooms. No not ON mushrooms- I would say that heights and psychedelic fungi are a bad mix.  I mean imagine bouldering on a perfect mushroom of limestone.  This particular boulder (or pinnacle if you want to be precise) gives this area its name, and it really does look like a Chanterelle mushroom.  The Mushroom boulder is covered in pockets and slopers without a chip in site.  If I had to nominate a boulder for my back garden, I think this would be the one.

The other four sectors at Le Champignon namely, Le Mur, La Fontain, and La Voute are best described as steep fossilised waves of limestone, each around 13 to 15 feet high, peppered with pockets, slopers and the occasional hueco.  These edges are so steep they make Raven Tor look like a slab.  The climbing is powerful and if you like monos, this is your nirvana.

I’m pleased to say that these crags do not suffer from polish as they don’t seem to be climbed on that much.  The area is generally peaceful, even though all sectors are near to the road.  One word of warning though, beware old men bearing maps.  While I was hanging on the mushroom a friendly, old, round local approached me, interested in what I was doing.  I explained that my French was poor, but he quickly forgot this as he explained lots of interesting, unknown and totally unintelligible things to me.  I’m not sure if he was real or a figment of my imagination, possibly the mushroom had affected me after all. Anyway he seemed pleased with my use of the area and then as if by magic he produced a map.  He showed me parts of France that I did not recognise and will never be able to find again. I was a little bemused by the interchange, but hey he was smiling!

Orientation and Tips.

I flew to Limoges, about an hour and a half from Angouleme.  Ryanair fly to this airport from Liverpool, Stansted and East Midlands. All the usual car hire companies serve it and it is it easy to get to the motorway from there.  Apparently there are plans for a cheap flight operator to fly direct to Angouleme soon.  If you keep up with the websites I’m sure that this new service will be easy to find. Topos to all the areas mentioned and a few more can be found on www.chez.com/charentescalade – click on the spots button on the left of the screen and each area can be viewed.  In terms of accommodation there is a Formule 1 in both Angouleme and Limoges.  As with all parts of rural France the Charent region is peppered with good quality campsites which are signposted as you drive down the road.  Spring and autumn seem to be the best times to climb here, as in the summer it would be far too hot to pull down.

One last word of warning, try and stick to the speed limits as you drive around.  I spotted many French Police with speed cameras on the roads.  The traffic Police on motorcycles can’t be missed as they look like a contract cleaning firm with attitude and helmets.  Their two- tone, blue lapelled uniforms are a poor choice for those in authority. In Britain you might point this out, however in France I think this would be a bad idea. They may take you for a severe scrub and shampoo down at the station.

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

A summer on the road.
28 December 2012, 5:14 pm



I started bouldering in the late 90s- in 1998 in fact.  My early forays were designed to distract me from some of the more enjoyable yet physically taxing aspects of my new life in the urban spaces of Merseyside.  As with many things in my life, brief visits to climbing walls and crags quickly led to complete immersion in all aspects of climbing and climbing culture.  Guide books, magazines, videos, topos and tall tales were digested greedily and in equal measure.  My need to experience climbing physically, mentally and culturally could not be sated. Thirteen years of injury and the shifting sands of life have done little to quench this thirst.

In the late 90s the ultimate expression of being a baggy, beany wearing boulderer was to be involved in a road trip.  Ben and Jerry had stepped out of their Pennine playgrounds underscored by the weird musical landscapes provided by Warp Records in “One Summer Bouldering in the Peak” and jumped into a world of beats, base and travel showcased in “The Real Thing.”  This video, propelled by the rocket fuel of Ninja Tunes’ various artists changed the lives of many and provided the template for all climbing films that followed.  Titles like “Rampage” and “Frequent Flyers” from the States stoked boulderers’ desire to go on the road.  Like a crazed furnace man I happily shovelled coal onto the fires of those around me, feeding their burning need to go to venues such as Font, Ailfrode and El Cougal.  Many a lad happily hopped onto my train of pure enthusiasm- many a girlfriend wished I could be derailed in some way.

On a road trip distance has no meaning- neither has time.  All spatial and temporal measurements are calculated by looking at the number of map pages traversed compared to those yet to come.  Towns, cities, countries fly past in a blur of smells, sounds and colour.  Blood thickened, senses sharpened by espresso.  White lines guide the way, keep you safe, tick, tick, tick by, setting the rhythm of the road.  Hypnotised by motion, reality is held within a metal bubble with a windscreen on the world.  All existence is fleeting, fluid as it flies by.  This intoxicating mix of movement and momentum means no venue or problem seems out of reach, beyond the glare of headlamps searching for experience.

This year, like those of the past, the road trip is king.  A thousand miles has disappeared in a day. This summer two thousand miles have evaporated in a couple of weeks.  The bays and coves that nestle along the Welsh coastline have been scoured and exploited from north to south in search of the wave-washed booty that may lie within.  Familiar haunts have been revisited and reworked; new venues have been found and hot foreign boulders have been plundered for all that they are worth, all to the tick, tick rhythm of the white lines as they stretch away into a myriad of possibilities.

It’s been a good summer to be on the road.  Liverpool’s terraces have always ebbed and flowed, swelled and crashed into rollers of discontent on the streets. Urban spaces across the nation suffered a similar fate, burning on the bonfires of inequality, flames fanned by cuts and carelessness.  It would be nice to think that the rhythm of the road could open minds and help quell the flames, however it is unlikely.  As one character met on a trip this summer said, “London has burned on and off for a thousand years, there is no reason it should stop now or in the future.”  So as we remove carrots and rule our urban spaces with sticks again, discontentment will build and we will ride these waves of fury out into the countryside and our playgrounds of possibility in summers to come.

Views from Dinas Pembrokeshire

Dinas is the Welsh word for city. It is strange that in a summer spent escaping city life this word in particular has resonated through the venues I have visited.  From Dinas rocks in Glyn Neath and the wonder that is Fat Cat Roof (the blue dolerite above Dinas in Pembrokeshire) to Dinas Dinlle, west of Caernarfon, the launch pad from which new problems were crafted at Porth Dinllaen. The tick, tick rhythm of the lines on the road has led me away from the Urban whilst place names have firmly anchored me to that labyrinth of lives – the city.

Road trips are about escapism- swapping a routine of commuting and working to one where only eating, sleeping and climbing counts.  Life becomes a simpler story on a road trip, the pages turn themselves day to day, crag to crag.  In this narrative I like to frame myself as the driver; part of the machinery that devours distance, separated from the engine by nothing more than a simple membrane of skin, sensing the surface of the road through the vibrations of the steering wheel.  My escape into the process that propels us along the road is secondary to the escape sought in the landscapes at the journey’s end. Carn Enoch and Garn Fawr sit high on a moor that overlooks Newport and the north coast of Pembrokeshire.  This boulder field’s position high above Dinas Cross, inhabited by nothing but mountain ponies and sheep, is possibly one of the best in the UK.  What the venue lacks in volume it makes up for in atmosphere.  There is something ancient and mystical about this place; if you tune in the impression it makes may just help you through those dark, damp urban nights to come.

Some Problems from Dinas Pembrokeshire

Porth Dinllaen is a different beast; separated from a tourist hotspot by the manicured grass of a golf course, escape should be hard to find.  However the crowds’ attentions are diverted by sand, beers, ice cream, sandwiches and putters leaving you with leagues of sea and boulders to climb.  Half a dozen freestanding boulders serve as a playground for a boulderer looking for sport whilst the family enjoy the foaming waves nearby.  The rock here can be sharp and even friable however the elements have sculpted it into shapes that succumb to a gentle mix of care, power and guile.  Numerous zawns litter this short stretch of coast, they contain beautiful, dangerous lines waiting for someone who is willing to risk all and engage with the escapism of first ascents above angry landings.  The climbing here feels adventurous despite the crowds and their sandcastles a stone’s throw away.  Road trips throw up a rich range of experiences, you can take what you like from them.  I’m sure someone out there would quite happily consume a post-send ice cream whilst contemplating how they would play the difficult par three, thirteenth hole that lies before them, their golf clubs and bouldering mat.

Sequencial shots of a possible new problem at Porth Dinllaen - Hoobies High Heels font 7a

Summers, like road trips, inevitably come to an end.  The time arrives to meld with the car and retrace the steps taken into these rich landscapes of experience, following them back into city structures of concrete, brick, glass, and angst.  Returning to the urban seems less melancholy when the journey is fuelled by beats and base, fingertips throbbing, the mind illuminated by the myriad of moves attempted along the way.  These mental scenes will light the dark months hiding under the same overhangs and caves that have sustained past winters.  Like ants we will swarm over our cities, retreating to the safety of buildings and the enterprise that lies within them. I will try to move mountains with teaspoons for yet another year, hoping that those young people I work with won’t light the urban touch paper again soon, whilst all the time the tick, tick of the road will always be there in my head, inviting me on trips yet to be conceived.  As young men waste their lives battling against knowledge, informing me how bored they are, my mind will find an even keel in the plans of the next road trip and the adventures that lie ahead.

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

On the Ropes.
28 December 2012, 5:16 pm



My climbing is in a bad place at the moment.  I’m floundering.  Like a prize fighter struggling to compete in a mismatched bout I’m stuck on the ropes; guard held high, weaving and ducking to dodge the blows as they rain around my head.  Each successive jab drains my resolve, my psyche.  Swollen knuckles, tendonitis, awful skin, muscle pulls and arthritic joints all leave me punch drunk, waiting for the sanctity of the bell; treatment and rest.  I scrape through each session, each round, doing enough to stay on my feet, but at what cost?  The physical price paid on overhangs, roofs and boulders has always seemed worth it, but now it feels like I’m in trouble; my luck is out, the knockout blow is closer than I ever anticipated.  I question my motivations, my drive, my future.  Could it be time to throw in the towel?

One thing you have to understand is that I have never had class.  I don’t want to be a contender, I don’t want to be somebody, and unlike Eddie in the film “On the Waterfront,” I’m quite happy being a bum.  I have always competed against myself in climbing, not my peers.  To win was to climb new problems, to go toe to toe with what seemed like an impossible sequence, using guile, persistence and training to knock it down, count it out and move on to the next problem.  With youthful elasticity I used to float like a butterfly around my chosen arenas, chest puffed out, buoyed by the arrogance of enthusiasm and devotion to the arts of powerful dynamic movement.

Like all fighters who hang on to their dream, I have made the transition from cocksure challenger to battling journeyman, training harder than ever to stay alive in the ring.  Roads are pounded; kilometres drift by in an oxygen-deficient haze.  Calories are counted as the need to make my fighting weight takes on an obsessive quality.  Hours are burnt on the Beastmaker and campus board, locking ever decreasing holds, throwing further and further to rungs that languish in the aspirational abyss, sparring on plastic indoors hoping to gain a bit of knowledge that might help me undo my next opponent.  Constantly driven on by the mantra “What would Jerry do?”  The answer to that question is simple; Moffat would train harder and get stronger.  He still stung like a bee in the arena of dreams into his forties despite debilitating injuries in his career.  Facts like these help when the psyche is beaten out of you, but more is needed to motivate.

Unlike Moffat and Mohammed Ali before him, I don’t have the belief or the drive of a champion.  I need something else to drive me onwards through testing and challenging times.  For me the thing that has driven me on is the line- that one climb that is on the edge of your current ability, too hard to be sent quickly and yet so tangibly close that it feels like it could go at any time.  A worthy adversary, who will give a good clean fight until the last round, an opponent that will draw out all of your physical resources stored from years of training, a nemesis that will grind you down until all that is left is the desire and hunger to succeed, no ambition, no pretence, just you, your fingers and hope.

So here I am again, sat receiving treatment in the corner waiting for the bell and the next round.  Split tips are moisturised, glued, and taped, the seconds tick by and the adrenaline begins to flow.  I gaze at the might of my opponent looking for a weakness.  I need to use my height, my reach- my only advantage in this pound for pound match up.  I assess the powerful moves on razor holds in the roof, and the bicep ripping swing to get out of it.  I visualise the quick dancing feet needed to get established on the headwall and the left, right, left combination that would lead me to the knockout I so sorely need.  The noise of the waterfall behind me and the climbers I share this venue with today disappears into the background as the ringside bays for blood would in the ears of the boxer.  Time slows, fingers crack and the tendons flex, the bell rings and it’s time for yet another punishing round.............

Knock out, or knocked down, who knows what will happen in the next round....

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Borth Bouldering – A Slice of Mid Wales Mystery
28 December 2012, 5:21 pm



Sometimes when looking for gold an individual needs to look past the obvious and mine seams of desperate disappointment before a glimpse of a prize may be sighted.  Prospecting for new Bouldering in the UK can often reflect the experience of mineral men, scratching for riches amongst thousands of tonnes of valueless rock.  The productive, obvious seams that produced some of our proudest problems in Yorkshire and the Peak were exhausted years ago.  North Wales’ boulder rush of the late 1990’s seems to have slowed from a torrent to a trickle.  At times the prospector feels marooned, stuck on the slag heap of history, wishing a new gold rush would begin.  

Obviously glittering nuggets of interest will be found in even the most overworked of boulder fields, particularly as new blood enters old arenas looking to accrue the riches and accolades of a hard first ascent.  However we all dream of something bigger, finding a rich vein of rock that can be mined day after day, yielding gem after glittering gem as the seam is worked, refining these minerals in terms of difficulty and quality.  Dreams are just that- dreams; electrical impulses of fantasy firing from our synapses. Energising, enthusing, but often for nought.  Following the dream of discovery can be frustrating, leading to long wet walks around crumbling boulders, slumbering under their mossy blankets without a glint of gold anywhere.  No gems, no return for all that time invested.  

Dreams may just be dreams, but disappointment fades over time whilst the lust for gold always remains.  New areas are out there!  New boulders with lines waiting to succumb to our tools of excavation: chalk, toothbrushes, fingers and boots.  People pan for gold because they think there is something to be found.  If we stop walking, panning and sifting through this constantly eroding British landscape we might just miss that glimmering glint of quality - the shimmer of potential that lies around the next corner.

I have prospected in many places and beaten a solitary path through miles of mud and scree, however my thirst for discovery still continues to motivate me.  This desire has taken me to seams of rock that few, if any, have worked.  Wales holds many of these seams. Some I’ve exhausted, others I’ve yet to exploit.  Mid Wales is a part of the Principality I’ve returned to time and time again.  This area is generally overlooked by the bouldering mainstream, far enough from the mines, quarries, and bouldering melting pots of North Wales to slip under that scenes’ collective radar.  Clarach Bay near Aberystwyth was the first place I unearthed potential, however I did not discover this venue - I simply sifted through what was left by others.  

I have written about my experiences at Clarach before, and you can find this here.  However I always felt that Clarach was the beginning.  The problems I climbed were not part of the major deposit of bouldering on this coastline.  Rather I suspected that this was merely the glimpse of glitter that pointed to riches hidden elsewhere, a waymarker on to which hope and enthusiasm would be built.  Somewhere on the headland that lies between Clarach and the huge expanse of sand that frames the Dovey estuary to the north (Borth,) there had to be something hiding, waiting for its potential to be unearthed.

Every Celtic nation has its own Atlantis story.  Tales of a land that lies to the west under the waves, submerged due to man’s careless nature.  An ancient land, the loss of which lamented through the ages in myth and song, warns of the destructive force of the sea.  The stretch of coast between Clarach, and Borth is the gateway to Wales’ own Atlantis “Cantref Gwailod.”  Evidence of an ancient land litters the local beaches.  At very low tide a now Petrified Forest lies mangled and buried by Borth’s shifting sands.  Stepping over these mighty tree stumps who have witnessed many millennia pass, you get a tangible sense of the age of this coastline.  Untouched and unfazed by the hand of recent human history, standing watch over a civilisation lost.  Walking from Borth, south towards Clarach sifting through the series of shales looking for climbable lines, the ancient echoes of this coast haunt you.  Borth quickly disappears from view and you feel alone, far from civilisation, transported back into a more elemental time populated by Gulls, water and rock.

At first this journey feels futile.  The rock is fractured and friable.  However lines do begin to appear, rock hardened by the destructive forces that engulfed Cantref Gwailod.  The constant attack of the waves and the metronomic motion of the tide have sculpted this malleable medium, hardening it into the occasional gem.  These stop you long enough to break out brushes and shoes to pan for the riches that these minerals can give.   These gems seem like rare, precious anomalies in the landscape; however they are enough to motivate, to drive you ever further from the bustle and safety of the beaches and closer to the now silent peal of Cantref Gwailod’s warning bells.  The journey continues around this shore line, the sound of the lapping waves sooth as the lack of major discovery jarres and disappoints.  However, another headland, another bay, the cliffs build, the rock bands thicken, the frequency of discovery increases, as does expectation and enthusiasm.

An hour into the journey, an hour from people, cafes and cars, I stand speechless.  I’ve never won anything in my life, however stood there looking at these boulders, some of which are as big as houses, I had a real sense of winning the jackpot, winning the bouldering lottery, gaining riches which would sustain my climbing life for a substantial period of time.  The gem- like problems here and there along the coast lead me to this place.   No need to sift and pan for gold now, rather an opportunity to exploit a rich seam, where problem after problem has succumbed to this industry between the tides.  Wave-washed shales, greywhack, overhangs, mantels, prows, campuses and technical walls climbed at a range of grades have been excavated from the rubble.  Others who want to join this gold rush must time their journey well.   The long trudge through these ancient stones will bring you to these boulders, however they can only be exploited for three or four hours before the merciless tide rolls in again, engulfing the boulders and everything that lingers there.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

I’m not going to tell you where these boulders are exactly.  Grid references, GPS, and satellite images that lead you like the Pied Piper to this destination would detract from the adventure, discovery and magic that permeate the climbing experience on this coastline.  I have included some videos, and photos that document some of the developments far, this should  whet the appetite.  This is enough to get you started.  Suffice to say, walk along the coast at low tide, follow the base of the cliff and search for the riches.  Pick off the problems and let them lead you south to the mother load, the rich seam of wave hardened rock that lies around the headlands out of sight of all save the lost souls of Cantref Gwailod.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

The bouldering on this neglected piece of Mid Wales coast line, populated by fishing boats and sea gulls will not be to everyone’s tastes.  The ambitious power athlete will find lines that suit here; however the effort that needs to be taken to enjoy these golden problems will put many off.  Those who enjoy bouldering within a landscape, not just using it but interacting with it will enjoy this venue.  Pulling down on slopey crimps with the smell of brine in your nostrils, the call of the sea birds in your ears and the warmth of the sun on your back is a hypnotic sensory mix that will leave you eager for more.  I believe there is more to be mined here.  I have only prospected part way round this stretch of coast.  If you too lust for the rich experience of hidden lines in Britain’s mineral mix then see what you can find between Clarach and Borth.  At low tide with the sun high in the sky the bells of Canterf Gwailod may sing to you from the depths, revealing the secrets held within the shales.

Me scoping the line that became "A Skinny Heel" V6

(Appologies for the rough video edits, but I just wanted to get this information out there, it has been a long time comming)

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Ogmore Bouldering.
28 December 2012, 5:23 pm



This article was written some years ago now.  Its main focus, the boulder problem ‘Work Hard Canoe Home,’ like many beach boulder problems is no more; consumed by the very elements that created it.  Wind, waves and water have turned this wall of limestone into pebbles and sand, dispersed now across the Bristol Channel.  The sentiment that prompted the writing of this piece still remains despite the demise of the problem; it points to the fundamental emotions involved in project climbing.  It turned out that “Work Hard” was not 7b, more like easy 7a+, but this does not detract from the experience of climbing it.  As for Bouldering down at Ogmore, like the rock on its beaches, it has evolved and developed over time and I will highlight some of the developments on this shoreline later.

Owen McShane on the end of Fatneck Special 7b

Obsession by the Sea.

Have you ever got locked into something?  A project near your limit, an aesthetic line, or something you’ve just got to do?  Boulder problems like these become a personal journey which can tax your mental and physical resources.  If you get really obsessed you can open your life to a myriad of potential torments: conditions, strength, skin, and motivation; if any of these are less than perfect you might fail.  However you’ll keep on going back because until you’ve done it you won’t really climb well on anything else.  It will be there in your subconscious nagging away until it’s done.  My climbing life has been littered with such projects, but one really stands out as a tribute to my manic obsessiveness.

Ogmore by Sea.

I’ve been climbing at Ogmore, on the South East coast of Wales, for a long time.  I’m actually a Welshman in exile on Merseyside but it won’t be long before I’m a naturalised Scouser, which is no bad thing (after all, I have married one!)  Most of my family live in Cardiff, which keeps me grounded Welshside, and leads to many visits to the greatest country on earth.  After a bit of research through back issues of old climbing magazines I found out about Hardy’s bay and the Trench at Ogmore.  That was six years ago.  I fell for the climbing there and have been visiting ever since.

The first time you visit Ogmore you’d think there was no real bouldering here, just a poor limestone conglomerate platform that slopes into the sea.  However a walk along the beach at low tide quickly dispels this misconception.  The platform has been eroded by our friend the sea to create narrow zawns of perfect bouldering height.  The climbing, like its northern cousin Angel Bay, is smooth, hold less and undercut with big frictionless slopers – just how we like it.

The Trench at Ogmore is well known and well documented.  An old article in “On the Edge” likened the Trench to “slippery grit by the sea.”  I must admit this is a good analogy.  There are features to be climbed at this venue, but no real holds until the top.  The climbing is technical and brilliant.  Grades begin in the fives, and stretch up to 7c (a word of warning though most things here feel hard for the grade).  Pebble levels can vary by up to a meter and a half- on one day your problem might be a sit down, the next it’s a jump start!!  There are still some unclimbed lines here.  Unclimbed lines, now that grabbed your attention didn’t it.  Some of these projects are fairly reasonable as most of the climbing in Hardy’s bay area 4 is in the font 5 to 6c grade range, with only the newer lines breaking into the mid 7’s. There is something for everyone here.

Torment.  

My fixation, the object I desired, is also found in Hardy’s Bay.  In general the climbing is steadier here and it is closer to the car park yielding a good ‘metres climbed to time spent away’ co-efficient.  This is a vital mathematical equation to master when you really should be with your long suffering relatives.

Hardy’s has a great circuit and I got to know it inside out.  It was at this point that I deviated from the topo and looked for potential – a dark twist on a beach of white limestone.  The point is that the potential is there, especially for those who like impossible mantels with no holds (however I don’t).

The line that got me is obvious; a left to right traverse following one line of weakness for fifteen feet, fully undercut so heel hooks and feet in the same weakness is all you’ve got.  All of this is followed by slappy moves on generous slopers up the wall just when you are boxed with fatigue.

In its original state this problem had a block jammed under the overhang near the end providing some respite for the feet and making the slappy moves easy.  I sent this original problem in one session- it felt good and in the region of 7a.  However, instead of feeling happy with my day out on the beach and celebrating with a few kilos of ice cream I felt cheated - the block needed to be eliminated.  I had taken my first step into a dark place.

Work Hard Canoe Home

Temptation.

I went back a few months later and my prayers had been answered!  Storms had pushed the block further underneath the overhang and it could no longer be used.  The line had become pure and I was about to be locked into climbing it.  Step two into the dark pit.  The new problem was going to be better but a good deal harder, it would have to be worked – from Liverpool!  However that was fine; there are only 200 miles, a family and a fulltime job separating these locations.

On another visit I linked the moves and only had the final slaps left.  Step three into the pit. The point of no return on a project – nearly doing it and being sooo close.  This is also the point at which excuses for failure can be made; I would talk about damp rock, illness, and stress amongst other things but the problem needed to be sent and I lived so far away.  I found myself watching the weather for Cardiff, working out the tide times for Ogmore, looking for reasons to return and try the moves. I don’t remember exactly how many times I went back to try the problem, I just remember the looks of pity on my friend’s faces.

The End is Nigh.

My mother was going backpacking somewhere exotic and mentioned that she needed a coat.  So I bought her one and of course time waits for no man- she needed it so I would have to drive it down to her!  On the four hour drive to Cardiff on a busy, wintery Friday night I started musing on the pointlessness of it all.  What if it did not go this time?  What if it rained?  I convinced myself that beach bouldering dries quickly because of the salt in the atmosphere!  I know I was clutching at straws; all that sea water may have had something to say about my salt theory.

I get to Cardiff at 10, bed by 1, up at 7.30, at the crag by 10, warm up, have a first go, fail and try again.  Then suddenly it’s done!  All that time invested, working the moves, paying for petrol, making excuses... and it’s done.  Do all projects end with an anticlimax?  As these thoughts swirl around my brain busily occupied fighting endorphins, doubts, and fatigue, the adrenalin begins to fade.  The dark cloud that has enveloped my climbing world begins to dissipate, a grin manically stretches across my face and the name comes to me- Work Hard, Canoe Home.  The only problem is that I am alone.  I want to tell someone- now!!  The old women walking their dogs on the beach just won’t understand.  

Now is the time to use my phone (this is the real reason why mobiles were invented) - time to text my mates.  I tell them about sending the line, how it felt easy and how life is now very good.  The only problem with such instant means of communication across vast distances is that your mates’ suspicions about your sanity are confirmed. In one silly moment of elation people know that you have committed to a seven hour 400 mile round trip to climb a boulder problem no one will ever be interested in, that may even have been climbed before.

“That’s nice” or, “Well done” they text back.

I reckon that deep down they’re just as excited as I am – they just don’t have the words or time to fully express their feelings.

Sequential shots of Hip Hop Paper Boi Scandal 7a+

Recent Developments.

I mentioned earlier that “Work Hard Canoe Home” has gone, in fact a whole wall of problems in that area has disappeared, however Hardy’s Bay at Ogmore remains one of my favourite places to climb.  There is something about the quality of the slopers here, steep sit-starts coupled with elements of endurance that draw me back visit after visit.  Extensive topos for all of Ogmore’s areas can be found by copy and pasting the following link into the task bar of your browser:

http://www.swbg.co.uk/bouldering/ogmore_by_sea/ogmore_by_sea.shtml

The South Wales bouldering website has lots of good information on Ogmore.  The sections of this online guide worth visiting are areas 3, 4, 5, and 6.  One problem is that it’s Hardy’s bay section (particularly area 4) is now massively out of date, as it has not kept pace with the erosive forces of the Bristol Channel.  To save you time, copy and paste this next link into your browser and it will take you to the relevant page for the remaining, recently and fully developed “Daylight robbery” area of Hardy’s bay:

http://www.swbg.co.uk/bouldering/ogmore_by_sea/daylight_robbery_area.shtml

If you need any more encouragement to visit Ogmore, here are some videos from Kev Hughes’s collection.  Kev is probably South Wales most active boulderer- his video topo to Dinas in Glyn Neath is proof of this (there will be more about this later in the year)  The videos show problems from the Daylight Robbery section (area 4), and the Pebble Dash area (area 5).  Enjoy! – Skinny and Hoobs

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Goldsborough  – Esoteric Bouldering: Obsession and the move.
28 December 2012, 5:25 pm



In quiet moments I quite often consider the nature and expression of sanity, and look at myself to see if these conditions really apply to me.  I usually come to the conclusion that I am sane, just a little too enthusiastic about life (others would disagree).  However when I explain to my work colleagues that I spend one of my weekend days in temperatures of minus three clawing my way up boulders with numb, injured fingers- they usually pronounce me utterly mad. Consequently I don’t dare tell them about climbing in Welsh caves through winter nights, in a state of sensory deprivation save for the flicker and splutter of a gas lamp.  I’m sure questions would be asked, concerned phone calls made, and the relevant authorities would come and pick me up for an extended holiday on full board in a nice, white room.

When taken at face value, climbing in a freezing cave, or under a random overhang in the depths of a wet, British winter is insanity.  We now have purpose-built bouldering walls with training aids and cafe’s.  Why would anyone choose to freeze? The answer is obsession.  It has been said that all males are slightly autistic, unable to deal with their emotions, but able to display an insatiable interest in something.  I know people who can tell you the results of football games that precede their birth, or recite the entire back catalogue of a Jungalist record label from the early 1990’s.  I can tell you about bouldering venues and problems from across the world that I will never visit.  It is this obsession that drives a normally sane, sentient male outdoors in mid-winter.  This madness can manifest itself in many ways, either by leading the unsuspecting boulderer to a distant, esoteric yet exotic venue, or by leading them miles from home to attain that perfect moment of achieving “the move.”

Goldsborough.

Pete on Beth's Traverse 7b+

Liverpool is both a fantastic and frustrating place for a boulderer to call home.  Our local urban sandstone crags are an acquired taste.  Some hate its eliminate or uber-technical nature whilst others revel in its’ graffiti clad, litter-strewn majesty.  I know of one very notable local beast who claimed he would not take the opportunity to move to the ecstasy of a lifetime of world class sports climbs in Catalonia until he had floated up Monobloc at Pex Hill; testament indeed to the draw of the lines and the history that surrounds the climbing in Merseyside.  Liverpool is perfectly situated for bouldering in Northern Britain; an equal distance from the Pass, Peak Grit, the Lakes and Yorkshire Grit.  Everything is an hour and a half away, and herein lies the frustration.  Three hours round trip with only a hunch about conditions!!  Even with the advent of super-fast mobile means of communication, the picture of potential friction and moisture is never particularly clear.  Being surrounded by a ring fence of Britain’s best bouldering there is often little incentive to discover the new and exciting.  It is easier to languish in the established, the familiar and the classic.  However life needs to be exciting and the path of the lazy boulderer, climbing the same old crumbling eroded problems is a negative one that ultimately leads to disillusionment and retirement.

I have always been drawn to esoteria!  Out of the way venues, with quality lines talked about in hushed tones; illuminating the climbing experience with bright flashes of personal discovery.  All of this done in a natural arena with no crowds, no fanfare- just friends.  I often muse on what makes a venue esoteric? Is it its popularity, its location, or climbing style?  I just can’t put my finger on it.  If I could I would bottle these elements and sprinkle them over all of our bouldering venues, thus improving everyone’s climbing experience.

Goldsborough Carr is definitely one of these magic, esoteric venues.  It sits high on rolling moorland, on the last gasp of the North Eastern Pennines, overlooking Barnard Castle and its surrounding hamlets.  The drive from the A66 to the car parking seems to take you further and further from civilisation to a remoteness barely tangible in other parts of England.  The crag inhabits a hill and sits solid and squat in a landscape that is reminiscent of Mediterranean table land, but with a lush greenness that only British precipitation can bring.  These flat topped vistas permeated by curvaceous valleys are characterised by one overriding sense, and that is of silence, deep brooding silence that is strangely comforting when compared to the hustle and bustle of urban living.

Views from Goldsborough

The fact that Goldsborough has earned its esoteric status mystifies me, this place should be popular.  A quick search on climbonline.com (the font of North Eastern climbing knowledge) reveals the fact the Goldsborough has 158 routes and boulder problems.  A more detailed search uncovers a PDF topo written by Steve Dunning (one of the main protagonists in this area), the topo is not comprehensive yet it still lists 12 problems of 7a and above, 9 of which are above 7c.  Such a high concentration of difficulty is usually associated to the mainstream, not the margins.  However as the lichen on the upper walls of these huge roofs stands testament, Goldsborough is very rarely crowded.  You are more likely to be entertained by the sing song of a local accent saying “Hello,” as it meanders its way along the coast to coast walk (which traces the valley bottom) than be accosted by the aggressive grunts of someone trying to send!   Goldsborough’s esoteric qualities can be attributed to its relative geographical position.  County Durham, the region within which Goldsborough is found, is sandwiched between the sculpted lines of Northumberland, and the rough brooding slopers of Yorkshire grit.  Goldsborough is reminiscent of both of these neighbouring regions in line and texture, but loses out to both of them. This ‘poor cousin’ status that Co Durham climbing has taken on may be its salvation in time.

The lines at Goldsborough seem to fit into two categories; firstly good old fashioned highballs, problems that actually get route grades (a mixed economy promoted by the invention of the crash pad). The second category is that of the steep roof- these generally finish up the highballs and thus require some stamina.  These roofs are characterised by big moves, small holds and an exercise in ‘horizontalism’ that some may consider an art form in its own right.  To my mind three lines are worthy of particular attention.  First is Jumping Jack Flash, a 6a+ that apes its way along and up the arête of Fiddlers Buttress.  Next is Beth’s Traverse a 7b+ that scratches along crimps that trace a line through the steepness, joining Jumping Jack Flash at possibly its best move.  The third line brings my thoughts full circle back to the subject of obsession.

Me on Hole Shot 7c

Hole Shot at Goldsborough is a 7c found just right of Beth’s traverse.  It shares the same finish as Beth’s, an airy romp up Jumping Jack Flash.  I have not climbed this problem.  I have not even sent all of its tenuous powerful moves.  Some would say it has shut me down, chewed me up, and spat me out!  However I can do most of the moves, I can string quite a few of them together; that’s enough to spark an almost autistic interest.  The problem has drawn me in.  The nuances of the configuration of fingers on holds, the subtle application of body tension, and the flow of dynamic movement all act like a symphony on the senses, leaving an indelible dent on muscle memory, creating a thirst for success.  Synapses fire and mental acrobatics are performed instantaneously, turning the negativity of failure into the positivity of “not bad for a first session- psyched to come back.”  

The die is cast, a project mentality is initiated and the commitment to days of travelling and failure is made.  However this is not a negative occurrence.  Giving in to this obsessive behaviour is what project based climbing is all about. In some ways having a project boiling away under the surface of my general climbing life makes me happy.  Where better to display such obsession than in the serene silence of the North Eastern Pennines.  Goldsborough is great, its esoteric status makes it much better.  No one else will be there; they will be in Yorkshire and Northumberland, leaving me to my rather guilty, manic, mad yet satisfying project.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

All of the photos used in this post are from the Smooth Pete collection

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Van Deimans and Devils – Tasmania Bouldering.
28 December 2012, 5:28 pm

Many of you who daydreamed your way through secondary school geography classes thinking about the boy/girl next door, or those who did not have access to Loony Tunes cartoons (and therefore lead a culturally impoverished existence) may not be aware of the island state of Tasmania. Most of those who have heard of Taz of Tasmania, the arch enemy of Bugs Bunny, best described as a whirlwind of spit and anger that is not too dissimilar to most teenage boys, will still have no idea of where Tasmania is. The percentage of the British climbing population who would firstly find Tasmania on a map, and secondly imagine that there is bouldering potential there would be close to zero; and therein lies the appeal of the place. For someone like me who has a great love for esoteric venues, bouldering in landscapes not in crowds and with a healthy sense of adventure- it’s definitely worth a look.

Tasmania is the island state found south and east of the Australian mainland. Its European history is short- around three hundred years (its indigenous history would stretch back millennia). The islands story is one of convicts, whalers, farmers and mining, littered with cruelty, graft and gritty characters. Life in Tasmania was hard. However it was also the birthplace of the global Green Movement. In the early 1970s it gave birth to the world’s first Green Party; a political party that held the balance of power in Australia’s coalition government at the end of the 1990s. Tasmania has reinvented itself in recent years. It now promotes itself as the natural state; ecologically minded, organic, with almost a third of the island given over to national park. At least two of Tassie’s beaches are considered to be in the top ten in the world, and Tasmania lays claim to the cleanest air on the planet. If you needed a reason to visit, it was right there! Is there any bouldering I hear you ask? The answer is most emphatically, YES.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Tasmania has a small climbing community, not really surprising as there are only five to six hundred thousand people on the entire island! However those who do boulder are very active indeed. Tasmania is a boulderer’s playground; it is an island full of rock (sandstone, dolerite, and granite being the main types), add to this a dry temperate climate which allows ten months of outdoor climbing a year, and you then have a very interesting package indeed. These factors when added together have conspired to produce an almost bizarre number of strong boulderers per head of climbing population. Of Tasmania’s five hundred thousand inhabitants, around fifty boulder. Of those fifty at least five climb V13, and one climbs as hard as any in the world- the spread of grades across the island reflects this. However, don’t be fooled- there is plenty for everyone as a great number of the best problems on the island rate between V3 and V7 with plenty of bouldering of all grades still to be developed.

The Venues.

Tasmania’s bouldering community is almost unique in its desire to get news of the island’s development out there. A constantly updated website exists with an online guide:

http://www.thesarvo.com/confluence/display/thesarvo/The+Tasmanian+Bouldering+Guide (cut and paste this into your browser to view the site).

“The Tasmanian Bouldering Guide” is a community authored resource which has resulted in the production of a high quality guide. The Guide can be bought as a black and white paperback (cheap), a full colour paperback (expensive) or downloaded as a PDF (free), all from:

http://stores.lulu.com/thesarvo (again cut and paste into your browser to see).

I feel we could all learn from this Tasmanian model of community- generated bouldering resources. Information is generated by the community for the community without the need for financial gain, individual bias, or elitism. A V4 first ascent which is done at someone’s limit is as significant to them as a V13 sent by a media savvy beast- so why not give both achievements the same column inches? So, boulderers of the UK unite! Don’t wait to be sold a new guide to your area, find a consensus and create your own.

The Tasmanian Bouldering Guide lists around 25 separate bouldering locations, with around 1500 documented boulder problems. Many of the venues have a lot to offer, however the best are Oatlands, Handsome Crag, and the granite venues off the East coast- namely Bicheno, and Coles Bay.

Oatlands.

Oatlands is a town just off the Midlands Highway in the centre of Tasmania. It was obviously once a prosperous market town, however it seems to have receded to one horse status with the decline of the local wool trade. Now that the town has been bypassed by the main highway, the one horse seems to have been lead away to the glue factory. On a crisp winter day when conditions are good, you can walk down Oatland’s main street and see no one at all.

What Oatlands does have is sandstone; steep, solid, quality sandstone that will keep you up at night thinking about it. The climbing is on the edge of the old town reservoir. The lake level fluctuates with the seasons and droughts, however the presence of water means that all bouldering sessions are accompanied by a chorus of croaking and the flapping of wings. The grades here go all the way from V0 up to astronomical. This is the hunting ground of local legend Sam Edwards; the guy has sent The Island in Font and did the first ascent of Gold Fish Trombone in Bishop- widely held as one of the hardest problems in the USA. Just looking at a Sam Edwards’ line at Oatlands will simply drain the strength out of you. The bouldering takes place on free standing boulders and edges. There are slabs and other features, however the best problems here are on roofs- big roofs, with big moves. If you like Parasellas’ cave- this is your Nirvana.

Handsome Crag.

This is another sandstone venue, however it contrasts with Oatlands in every possible way. The bouldering is found in the Mountains above the town of New Norfolk, a town with some dubiously narrow genetic codes, surrounded by beautiful, rolling countryside. To get to Handsome Crag you follow a sinuous dirt track populated by some malevolent hairpins. The track deposits you high on a hillside and deep into a world of Tea Tree and Eucalyptus. Climbing here is a multisensory experience; the sounds of Kookaburras laughing and the smells of the undergrowth would reduce most fee paying hippies to tears. However, as boulderers aren’t that sentimental, the free standing boulders here are more than enough to grab your attention.

The bouldering at Handsome Crag sits mostly below the crag itself in three separate sectors. The crag above is crammed with good looking trad lines if you like that sort of thing. I don’t, so you’d have to find out about that for yourself. Each sector is filled to the most part with free standing boulders teeming with slopers and requiring technique. Don’t worry though- roofs, highballs, slabs, walls, and prows can all be found in this extensive boulder field. This venue has something for everyone, and is Tasmania’s version of Font, with lines of all grades and styles and projects to go at. The only question that remains is …. do you have the balls to take on the track to get to it?

Coles Bay and Bisheno.

These east coast venues are something special. Bouldering on granite eggs on a shore line populated by penguins and pounded by some of the best cold water surf in the world. Coles bay is found in the Freycinet National Park, home of Wine Glass Bay, whilst the boulders at Bicheno sit on the shoreline that wraps around this sleepy seaside town. The grades at both venues may not threaten the higher end of the V scale, however the experience of climbing here is very hard to beat.

Coles Bay is the embarking point for three or four different bouldering spots, the best of which is Blue Stone Bay. Before going there check out the Coles bay bakery- I challenge you to find better baked goods accompanied by fantastic coffee and a genuine smile anywhere in the world. If you want to explore the bouldering delights of Freycinet you must pay a national park entry fee, worth every cent to experience the adventure that lies beyond the park gate. Yet another terrifying track takes you to Blue Stone bay. It’s pitted, pot holed surface eventually leads your now adrenaline saturated body to a rudimentary campsite, parking and the odd Kangaroo. Once out of the car, a journey down some hidden steps and a death defying shimmy along a narrow ledge 100 foot above the pounding surf, leads you to a perfect boulder of blue close crystal granite.

To describe these boulders as remote, on their promontory half way down a cliff looking out to sea, is an understatement. You are far from civilisation here. If you hurt yourself, the first humanity will know about it is when Skippy the talking Kangaroo brings your bleached bones back to the nearest town. Having said this don’t miss the opportunity to climb here, the danger, the remoteness, the quality of the lines, the position of the boulders and their outlook make this a unique place to climb; almost magical. Just remember to take friends and pads. I didn’t and my god, I was terrified.

In comparison to Coles and Blue Stone Bay, Bicheno is a rather civilised, almost tame affair. The twenty mile shift north along the coast from Coles sees a real softening in the landscape and lifestyle. You can grab a quick coffee from one of the surfshops/ café’s whilst resting. The sea laps the edge of the granite platforms as you circuit your way around the boulders accompanied by fishing boats and penguins. The granite here is white and rough, good to climb on even when a little damp. There is even an island covered in boulders, which is connected to the shore at low tide by a spit of sand. The views here are breathtaking and the lines are striking. There is even a white sandy beach to lounge on. I’ve glimpsed heaven- it’s called Bicheno.

So what can I say about Tasmania? Should you visit? Is it worth it.....? No it’s not, don’t go, you won’t enjoy it. The pleasant climate, clean air, fantastic food and brilliant bouldering won’t be your cup of tea. The islands friendly population and welcoming climbers will only put you off. The breathtaking scenery will bore you. In conclusion then, stay in Blighty. I’ll go back for you and make sure Tasmania doesn’t feel left out. I’ll easily navigate my way around world class venues with my comprehensive free guide on your behalf. I mean easy access, fantastic lines, and psyched climbers wouldn’t interest boulderers wanting an adventure far from the crowds. You wouldn’t want the perfect bouldering experience at the other end of the world, ....................... or would you?

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Are You Ready for the Breck???
28 December 2012, 5:30 pm

The Breck is an urban quarry in the middle of Wallasey on Merseyside, the other side of the river to Liverpool. It has a rich history and used to be the training ground of past heroes such as Phil Davison, the man who first soloed Right Wall in Llanberis. In recent times the Breck has fallen out of favour. No one really climbs there anymore, and it has become a refuge for those who feel the National Curriculum for Science and Geography is best replaced by a GCSE in litter, broken glass and scrounged cigarettes.

Imagine an old man, overlooked in favour of his more interesting neighbours. After a while someone will break into his home to find him stinking of piss and at death's door. This is the best way to describe the Breck. Some of us in Liverpool, like some form of Help the Aged or Meals on Wheels, are trying to assist this ailing quarry back to health.

The Breck encapsulates all that is good and bad about urban climbing. The floor of the quarry resembles some kind of art installation. If you could remove the dog poo, there’s an arts council grant to be won by anyone who can claim to have arranged the rubbish themselves. The quarry holds a lot of eliminates, out of fashion now, but good moves none the less. Apparently some of these problems were used back in the day to train for Gogarth! Being a boulderer I have no idea what that means, but it sounds good. The Breck also holds many good true or pure lines, as good as anything else on Merseyside and possibly beyond.

The Climbing.

The bouldering can be found on four separate walls of bullet hard sandstone, which at times resembles the grit found in the Lancashire quarries. The climbing generally involves pockets and crimps up walls of increasing steepness.

Granny’s Rock.

This is an isolated pinnacle of rock in the middle of the quarry. It is the first piece of rock to dry in Merseyside and is great to warm up on. Granny’s is the home of the Breck eliminate, with problems going up to V9. The only problem with this pinnacle is its colourful decoration, and in- situ carpet of glass.

Bluebell Wall.

A steep undercut wall / slab with slightly highball technical climbing. Problems range from British 5b to 6b (old money grading I know, but they do work). The climbing here is similar to, and as good as, Pex Hill and for many this is the main action in the quarry.

The Who Wall, and the Back Wall.

Si "Fatneck" Huthwaite bouldering out of the fireplace on the Back wall of the Breck.

The Who wall is limited but it is worth a mention, as it has a meaty high 6a up the middle of its front face. Just down the hill from the Who wall is the Back or Overhanging wall. Put simply this is one of the most impressive sweeps of sandstone on Merseyside. Originally developed as a top roping venue with in situ belay bolts and a route of French 8a, this sector has recently been exploited once again as a bouldering spot. An ascent of the Haston dyno (very highball V10) and Britain’s’ first confirmed British tech 7a move has turned tongues and heads Breckwards. The back wall at the Breck is steep and powerful. Problems follow the lines of the top rope routes and can finish at two thirds height in breaks or large pockets, but this could be seen as a cop out as the lines were originally soloed to the top. When you climb lines on this back wall they don’t seem high, however the amount of air time clocked when jumping off tells you a different story, even from the breaks. Opportunities may still exist for new lines on this wall if you take a boulderer’s perspective, but believe me the problems will be mingingly hard.

Why Bother.

Many people who read this post may wonder what the point is. The Breck on the face of it is a scabby urban quarry with eliminates, it doesn’t sound worth visiting. The point is this; we need to get in there before the old man goes terminal, before he is lost to dog shit, rubbish, kids, fire, and vegetation. Instead of flying off to EASYBOULDER every time there is a cheap flight advertised, let's try and keep our venues going. The Breck, like many other quarry venues across Yorkshire and Lancashire, has a rich history and lots of good climbing. It is worth the small amount of effort visiting these venues to give them a viable future. It only takes a regular show of visitors picking up the odd bit of rubbish, deterring vandalism by just being there, to turn these places around. If we don’t do this we will lose “The Knowledge” held in these places for ever.

Here's a Video of Mike sending the Haston Dyno, ground up with a crux high off the deck, bouldering as nature intended.

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Precipitation, Problems and Pembrokeshire – Newgale Revisited.
28 December 2012, 5:31 pm



Driving around Pembrokeshire can be a surreal experience. Black stretches of unmarked tarmac snake through the landscape like serpents of infinite length. The few signs tell you that there is a mile to the next town, however in this part of West Wales a mile is not an actual measurable distance, rather a dreamy period of contemplation, bounded by the high green walls of natural hedgerows teaming with life. I was travelling along one of these lanes on a recent visit and as I rounded a corner I was greeted by a sign that stated “Budgie Babies £7.50 each.” How this sign could possibly be effective on a road driven on by, at most, tens of people a week, I have no idea.

I grew up in Pembrokeshire and when I visit now I am overcome by memories of past good (sometimes wild) times had in the perfect rural idyll. This usually lasts until the rain arrives. It can rain a lot in Pembs which is why it is so green and beautiful; however this is no consolation when well-made climbing plans are disrupted. The upside is that this inevitably leads to Cream Tea Cheer-Up Therapy, something that should be made available on the NHS as an effective cure for depression.

During my last foray into Pembrokeshire I managed an hour of bouldering in two days. Rain stopped play. However that one hour literally left me begging for more. At least the rain encouraged me to explore more of the possible bouldering areas in this quiet county. Some potential was seen, old problems rediscovered, and I came face to face with one of the best coastal boulders I have ever seen.

Trefgarn is a town found between Fishguard and Haverfordwest in the north of Pembrokeshire. There are two crags with bouldering here, Wolf Rock and Maiden’s Castle. As venues they were given a thorough going over in “Anorak – The Pembrokeshire Bouldering Guide” from 1997 (see previous post on how to get hold of this), however much potential remains. I could still recognise

this even through the sheets of rain that were slowly but surely dampening my enthusiasm. The potential lies in the semi highball bracket, however I could not touch it as these lines were wet. The reason I include Trefagarn is this: you can climb there when it is raining as some parts always remain dry.

The rock at Wolf Rock and Maiden’s castle is volcanic and dries very quickly. The scooped wall behind the main pinnacle at Maiden’s never gets wet. This is where my single hour of bouldering was had; and what an hour it was. I rediscovered problems and eliminates I put up ten years ago, yarding between holds on a twenty five to thirty degree overhang whilst everything around me disappeared in the enveloping mist. If you go to Pembrokeshire and its damp this is where you should go.

There are two types of rain in Pembs: type 1– soul destroying damp drizzle and type 2 – oh god there might be a mudslide! For most of the rest of my trip I experienced rain type two. On day two of my fact-finding mission I had cream tea for breakfast, that’s how bad it was. Spirits lifted, and happy in the knowledge that the tide was out, I thought I would investigate Newgale South. Dolph had developed a boulder there in 2001 and being slightly obsessive about Pembrokeshire bouldering I had to go and see it. Within a minute of walking along the beach I was wet. Within three I was soaked and the mission to find Dolph’s Boulder became an exercise in resistance training as my clothes were so weighed down with the contents of the sky.

The bouldering on the northern end of Newgale is well documented and the topo for the caves there can be found in my previous post on Pembrokeshire. The southern end has been a bit of a mystery to me. The Pembs bouldering guide hinted at potential and Dolph said it was good. I had looked before but had come away with nothing. I must confess I did have a “man look” last time; the kind of look a man has in the fridge when looking for something- the kind of look which is followed by a yell to his partner or wife who will then find the item in question. Despite the rain I was determined to find the potential at Newgale South and yelling would not help as my wife was 200 miles away in Liverpool.

To find the bouldering at Newgale South you need to walk south along the beach past the prominent headland and into the maze of small zawns that point out to sea from that point on. All the documented and potential bouldering on this part of the beach is hidden away amongst this jumble. You may walk around and think there is nothing there, however persistence reaps rewards!! If you take the time, this is the potential you will find:

If you are really diligent in your search of this sandstone jungle, you will also find this:

Dolph’s Boulder

It still has project lines on it!! A photo topo of what has been done and what remains can be found by following this link.

http://www.keepandshare.com/doc/2206476/newgale-south-topo-pdf-september-2-2010-2-58-pm-3-6-meg?da=y

When I say this boulder is good- I mean it is really good! Bullet hard sandstone, wave washed and rounded in its lower reaches like a bowling ball. If you needed a reason to motivate yourself to get down to Pembrokeshire to boulder, here it is. Believe me, if you get there and it’s not raining (and you manage to get onto the beach without consuming too many cream teas) you will have a very good session indeed! Even though it was wet gaining the knowledge, Dolph’s Boulder made the absorption of every drop from the sky worth it. Go to Newgale, you won’t regret it.

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

More Welsh Esoteric Venues - Pembrokeshire
28 December 2012, 5:34 pm

Pembrokeshire’s Potential

Most climbers think that there is no bouldering in Pembrokeshire, and why would you think otherwise? The standard trip to Pembrokeshire is a blend of the following ingredients:

• A bank holiday weekend

• Camping at Bosherston

• A traffic jam

• Classic trad routes in Mowing Word and Mother Carey’s Kitchen

• (and most importantly) Cream Tea.

With so much to think about and no established bouldering guide or circuit, the visiting climber seems to have no appetite for unlocking Pembrokeshire’s bouldering potential- or is it the cream teas that stop the hungry from exploring?

Well to those who have made the effort it is clear that Pembrokeshire has a lot of potential and is one of the last unexplored corners of the UK in terms of bouldering. It stands to reason that 180 miles of rocky coastline must yield some problems. When consider the rock types on the peninsula; limestone, sandstone, rhyolite and dolerite, the potential here begins to slip into focus.

There have been a few attempts to buck the trend and develop Pembrokeshire’s bouldering resources. My project here is to bring all the information that exists, past and present, together. This might provide the spark needed to get a scene going- leading to a systematic review of what’s available down there, way out west. You never know, people might travel for the bouldering rather than the trad on those bank holiday weekends. (However, it will take a little more than a bit of bouldering to reduce cream tea consumption.)

The first real bouldering development culminated in the production of “Anorak – Pembrokeshire Bouldering” a fanzine type bouldering guide published in 1997. There was an article in “On the Edge” magazine that people talked about for a while, a few people checked the venues out, sent some significant lines, and then the scene seemed to evaporate. A second attempt to create a buzz around Pembrokeshire’s coast line resulted in a PDF topo for Newgale North. This was written and distributed by Mark Hedge and he did a pretty good job. Mark’s input resulted in some interest and conversations on Ukbouldering. However no real momentum was created, the topo disappeared, and the pace of development in Pembrokeshire raced towards stop once again.

One of the many problems at Maidens Castle, Trefgarn.

So how can we light the touch paper, create a scene and get Pembrokeshire’s many potential locations developed? Well, to start with, here are those original topos- copy and paste these addresses into your web browser and use the information wisely!!

Firstly, here is the original Pembrokeshire bouldering guide – this is an interim version which has dropped a few of the venues from the original and has tried to incorporate photo topo’s and V grades. Use it with caution- it is not comprehensive and it originally only tried to point the way to potential so use it in this way:

www.alunrichardson.co.uk/uploads/pdf/rock%20climbing/pembroke_bouldering_2.04.pdf

Next we have Mark Hedge’s Newgale Guide, this is more comprehensive and useable:

www.keepandshare.com/doc/2007254/newgale-bouldering-guide-pdf-june-24-2010-12-12-pm-12-2-meg?da=y

Below is a picture of the slabs at Newgale North, these slabs create the caves referred to in Mark's guide.

Watch this space over the summer as I intend checking out more of Pembrokeshire’s bouldering spots with development in mind. In the meantime here is a video of a newish problem put up by Dan Warren in Newgale North (also some esoteria on Holyhead Mountain).

Remember the potential is there, it just needs to be unlocked. Use these resources to guide you and see what you can find. However if you do go and find nothing, don’t worry, you can have a cream tea, they are always easy to find.

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Clarach Bay Bouldering
28 December 2012, 5:35 pm

Clarach Bay Bouldering – Mid Wales.

Sometimes in climbing you need something to pull you out of the doldrums. Plateaus can be hard to deal with - you feel heavy, uncoordinated and despondent. At these times you just need to get out there and climb, leave the projects behind and get enthusiastic about something. For me enthusiasm is nearly always rekindled by the development of ‘esoteria’, venues which have been discounted by others as being to scrappy, obscure, or to distant to be worth any effort. However to a boulderer disenchanted with projects and the general climbing rat-race present in Britain’s premier bouldering venues, it is these esoteric areas that will yield real excitement, adventure and at times problems of true quality. I was stuck in a deep rut earlier this year until my climbing focus turned to Mid Wales. I was going to visit friends there, and as I was aware, you never know what might be found to cure the climbing funk if you don’t look.

Mid Wales is sparsely populated. Its patchwork landscape of mountains and sea is so beautiful it almost hurts to be there when the sun shines. There is some already well documented bouldering in this region of the principality. Cae Du near Towyn, is well known and well visited by boulderers looking to take their family on a holiday that might, if they are lucky, involve some climbing.

I knew I would be staying in Aberystwyth. Aber is close to Cae Du as the crow flies, but a good hour and a half drive around the Dovey estuary is not an option for quick-fix climbing sessions. Internet searches revealed little in the Aberystwyth area. There were vague possibilities of bouldering on the top of a wet mountain with an hour walk in but nothing practical. Could there really be no bouldering in this area? Would the deep funk of a plateau be magnified by a forced, restless rest period? Well ........ no!

When looking for the magic of esoteric bouldering, persistence is the key. The mountains and bays around Aberystwyth had to yield something! I sent out e–mails, dug a bit deeper, contacted Terry Taylor at midwalesclimbing.com and eventually got a result. A lot of work I know but sometimes the thrill of the chase can be as exciting as the results you uncover, leading to a building of momentum and a return to psyche.

My digging, searching and hard work eventually allowed me to home in on a target- a venue five minutes from Aberystwyth and ten minutes from where I would be staying. Clarach Bay has some sports routes and there were some rumours of bouldering, however most of the leads that reported this place were pretty negative. I’ve never really listened to others so I thought I would find out for myself. Clarach has one other major feature which made it easy for me to ignore the opinions of others- it’s coastal. Many people hate bouldering on the beach, having to judge tides, weather windows and conditions, but I love it. The unique elements of shady caves and the cooling effect of evaporating salt water make coastal locations the only place to climb in a sweaty British summer.

My first visit to Clarach confirmed that my inquisitive and optimistic outlook can be advantageous (ok- it’s can also be annoying). Local climbers had forsaken Clarach in favour of the more popular bouldering of North Wales and the Peak. What they had left for me was by no means world class or even nationally significant- however, it is good. Cool, wave-washed graywhack sandstone overhanging with slopers and crimps, a little friable yes, but nothing serious. I climbed a range of problems from V1 – V7, some of which genuinely hold their own against problems in the Pass – honest!

It’s now summer. I’ve been to Clarach several times and climbed my projects. Psyche is restored by the regenerative qualities of the Mid Wales coastline. If you need to step off the treadmill and find some solitude, try some esoteria – you won’t regret it. There is a video and topo showing my exploits at Clarach below, use them to help you access the bay or as inspiration to find your own little boulderfield to breathe life into and pass on to others who are lacking psyche.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Here's the link for the topo.

http://www.keepandshare.com/doc/1975141/clarach-topo-pdf-june-15-2010-9-16-am-11-7-meg?da=y

Cheers Owen

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

The Seven Foot Dyno Pex Hill
4 January 2013, 12:33 pm



 Wow it's been a depressing winter so far.  No powder blue sky, no friction, and virtually no outdoor action.

The new Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone guide came out Mid October, creating a maelstrom of phyche in my mind, focusing my efforts on all things local.  I have visited all the crags in the guide in the last few weeks, called in on some familiar friends, and sought out crags I have never seen before; all done under a thick blanket of gloom covering every inch of rock with a sheen of moisture frustrating all my efforts to put the guide out of date.  Yes believe it or not even a crag like Helsby, climbed on since before the beginning of time, history and memory has bouldering potential as yet unrealised.  In fact Cheshire and Merseyside still has unclimbed crags which are very good, however there will be more to come on that subject when the deluge abates and the water table allows us to walk rather than wade to crags.

Climbing has been an indoor activity of late, and training for the greater ranges (Font) has been the order of the day.  Whilst working hard at the Climbing Hanger Liverpool on inflaming old injuries and creating new ones to share with family and friends, I struck up a conversation with someone regarding the the Seven Foot Dyno at Pex Hill.  This is a problem I put up many moons ago when my tendons were elastic and I climbed like a coiled spring full of snap and potential energy.  The Seven Footer did not make the Pex eliminate topo in the new guide, and it seems that there still a little confusion on where this baby goes from, so I though I would clear things up once and for all.  

The Seven Foot dyno is essentially a harder version of the break to break dyno or "Red Flash" (an affectionate name given to an old car of mine) as it now known on Pisa Wall at Pex Hill.  Red flash is a V5 and is clearly and correctly marked on the eliminate topo in the new guide, it goes from holds 6 and 7 to the break.  The Seven Foot Dyno is a V8 (font 7B), and it goes from two side pull holds around seven or eight inches below the break where Red Flash starts, on the eliminate topo this would be holds 4 and 5.  Obviously this means you need to buy the guide to get your definitive description, however that's a good as the guide is a thing of beauty.  

If you don't want to buy the guide here is the now infamous video of the Seven Foot Dyno created by the legendary Oz Fry the man who put the bag into baggy!  Enjoy



Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Technology, Training, and Porth Ysgo.
12 January 2013, 11:13 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Winter Sunshine on the Llyn[/td][/tr]

[/table]We live in a constantly evolving world, where the pace of societal change is  dictated by technology's metronome. As this pendulum swings its return time  shortens leading to an ever more frenzied rhythm that most look awkward dancing  to at best.  Some will always get it, look cool and ride the crest of  technology's wave whilst the rest of us dad-dance on the fringes of the disco,  embarrassed, waiting for an opportunity to sit out.

Social media, communication devices and the amorphous landscapes of the  Internet dictate the ebb and flow of change in the present era.  I am only to  aware of this as I type on my smart phone ready to e-mail to my computer  and upload to a blog, a process I obviously struggle with being a dad dance  hero who prefers to hover diffidently at the edge of the metaphorical disco.  However  as I look in to the flashing lights and frenzied movements of the leaders on the  dance floor I can't help feel that things are starting to move so fast that no  one can keep up. The sources of information about climbing and Bouldering have  become so numerous that marshalling all of this news is very much like  transporting soup in a colander; most escapes and only the important lumps  remain.  As an obsessive boulderer it becomes clear that there is too much out  there to do and you will never be able to do it all, so it is time to pair things  back, take stock and return to the familiar. I can't visit America, South  Africa, or Australia in the foreseeable future, but I can go to Font! Now there  is a place worth training for in the midst of a typical British winter.

So training is the order of the day, month, or even season.  Conscious  moments are filled with plywood, plastic, and chalk. The cellar board at the  Hanger becomes a second home, a cave of pain whose steep angle shades the eyes  from the hyper-reality and luminosity of the indoor experience. Time is marked  by reps and sets; minutes are no longer temporal way markers- rather they are  disciplined intervals of rest before the next frenzy of activity. Numbers take  on a  near mystical significance, 1 - 3 - 5, 1 - 4 - 7, 1 - 5 - anything become  phrases of communication and aspiration.  Things can become very minimal indeed.  

There are inherent dangers when indulging the training urge. Flat wooden  edges, constant repetition, pre-determined movement and an unhealthy interest  in stop watches can have a hypnotic affect.  Enthusiasm begins to leech away lost to the ether, the world contracts around you and the whole point of the  exercise (to get stronger for a trip or problem) seems to inch further away.  Relationships with non climbers become strained, they simply can't comprehend  the true meaning of encore and repeater and laugh when they overhear conversations  involving woodies.  In light of this how can you stay psyched, continue to  train and reach the finish line?

One option is to turn to the tidal wave of digital media available, to get  your psych on by watching others climb your 'must do' problems. However will this  really lead to a resolution of your issues, or is it the path to madness?  You Tube and Vimeo hold so many visual Bouldering resources hours of your life  can be lost mining these seams; and what lies at the end of them? Nothing  substantial, just that same monotony born out of repetition! Click, watch, consume,  click, watch, consume; time for another set?  The only way out of such a morass is  to immerse yourself in a Bouldering experience that can remind you in one hit  what its all about. A venue that distills and concentrates everything you want  from bouldering- aesthetic lines, lovely holds, breathtaking landscapes and the  potential to stretch you to your limits. Bouldering videos can't do these things  - Porth Ysgo can.

Ysgo is a strange mistress, moody and unreasonable in the summer, empathetic  and forgiving in the winter. My annual yuletide visit was timed to lift me from  the deep pit that disciplined training had created. My comrades 'with' arms Hip  Hop Ben and Fatneck were optimistic as we tumbled across North Wales in the  van, however the journey was anything but dry! We pulled up at the parking and the  rain intensified. The walk to the beach left everything drenched besides my undecrackers! It  seemed that all was lost; another piss-wet day on a piss-wet weekend punctuating  the worst piss-wet year in climbing.  My psych was draining, dripping from my  coat. We reached the beach and it rained some more. I could almost hear the  echoes of "I told you so" resonating from those climbing the steep boards of  Merseyside. Then it happened! Ysgo took one look at our plight and she  understood. The rain stopped and without the aid of sun or wind, the rock  dried!

Dry rock this year has been scarce- almost as hard to find as an honest  banker.  However if you mix this valuable commodity with the rich, comedic patter  which normally emanates from Messrs Hop and Neck then we are beginning to  describe a very good day indeed!  These comedians deliver their lines like a  well practised double act, my own post modern version of the two Ronnies. As  they strut along Ysgo's rocky stage I'm reminded of the importance of the social  side of climbing for keeping motivation flowing; I don't ever remember a time  when a campus rung has made me laugh. We climbed for four hours and the  sun even made a cameo appearance in our multi-sensory variety show! Knees bleeding,  hands burning, senses sated we headed to Llanberis and Pete's to indulge our need for warm  grease and a perfect day was complete.

So now Christmas is over, work has started and the rain continues to fall.  I've moved back into my 50 degree hovel at the Climbing Hanger, with its  colourful lumpy decor! Life has returned to a routine of crimp pull and rest,  minutes pass and a new rep starts.  However things are different.  Training does  not seem pointless, it's worthwhile and focused. Ysgo does that to you.  Messing  around with mates on the boulder beach, finding dead cows, trying new lines; it  helps you focus, it tells you to get stronger so you can get those prized lines  done next time. Psych is high and the status of my relationship with the campus  board has returned to positive with long term benefits. So let the training  continue! In six weeks time I'll be in Font!

Here's a video from our last big trip - don't watch it, go climbing instead!

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Words and video - Skinny Dog

All Photo's Simon "Fatneck" Huthwaite

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Hunting Bears in the Forest.
23 January 2013, 10:19 pm



?

 

Every climbing region has a lynch pin, a pivot around which the local scene  flexes, articulates, and creates its identity. These individuals are the social  glue that keep us climbing together. They stay in contact with  disparate groups, working behind the scenes to keep things evolving, fresh, alive.   Often the influence and efforts of such individuals are not noticed, lost in the  intensity of movement and depravity of comment that so often marks a day out at  the crag. However if Bouldering is a culture, they are its architects, creating  and recreating the scene in their regional homes.

?

?

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Fatneck (left) and Hip Hop Ben - Doing their Two Ronnies  Routine[/td][/tr]

[/table]In Liverpool, or the Scouse scene, we have  Fatneck!  Its not that his neck is fat, rather his head is  small; its a question of scale apparently.  He makes the effort to marshal the  ever-growing, morphing threads of social media that weave through modern  life. He knows everyone and everyone knows him. He does not involve himself with  the tittle tattle of grades and ethics- his energy is channelled elsewhere, into a  deeper magic. One flex of his text and an unnatural power is released through the  ether, leading to eddies of abbreviated words washing through Liverpool's  streets on a Friday night. Often on Saturday mornings Scouse climbers  find  themselves at the same venue chatting away unaware of why they are there or who  is responsible.  Fatneck is good, really good but that's because he gained his  skills from the master- he learned everything he knows from the Bear.

Sometimes individuals transcend a scene, they break through the barriers that  geography and topography present. They unite disparate groups and become a  powerful node in a network that can motivate individuals separated by whole  countries, even continents. The simple beep of a text from one of these people  can conjure a stack of pads and a spotting party under almost any boulder  in Europe.  The Bear is one of these powerful shamen. He's a shape shifter,  inventing and reinventing himself in different locations, increasing his  influence and powers wherever he goes.

Traditionally in their natural state Bears are solitary animals shunning the  company of others.  Not this one. His phone book has created its own dimensions of  space and time - it hums as the near infinite number of  contacts it stores threaten to burst free causing havoc in the world. His original stomping ground was the  flat wastes of the East.  He lived in a city on the Humber hunting far and wide, particularly on Pennine Grit and the soft sculpted sandstone of Northumberland, searching for his favoured form of sustenance, the sloper.  It was around this time I first met the Bear.  A tall man with big hands and his own mystical reputation introduced us.  I was instantly taken by the Bear's generosity of spirit and enthusiasm for everything bouldering related; his knowledge, advice and experiences are unparallelled, shared freely and in my own case foolishly and regularly ignored.

The Bear migrated from his lair in the East to the rich feeding grounds of the Derbyshire Peak in order to gorge himself on the rich slopers that are found in abundance there.  His new residence more often than not would be The Plantation.  He would be found siting astride an avalanche of pads in the cave under the Grand Hotel waiting for rain, mist and snow to clear so he could have careless attempts on the arete of his desire.  It was around this time I truly recognised the power the Bear possesses; his ability to motivate men from around Europe to join and partake in fearless deeds. I also glimpsed the ritual from which the Bear's power flows- this filled me with awe and dread in equal measure.  

On a lonely hillside in West Yorkshire the Bear was celebrating the day of his birth in a hut owned by a junior paramilitary organisation who swear allegiance to Tigers and Wolves. I presented him with a porcelain smoking baby and a fire breathing nun, gifts that both entertained and horrified those who witnessed them. The Bear initiated his ceremony, drinks flowed and one by one the intoxicated disciples present  began to beat out a raucous rhythm on any item they could find: drums, pots, pans, pipes, even the walls. The rhythm rolled on faster and faster until, fearful for my soul, I took myself outside to my tent and the relative safety of sleep.  In the morning I slowly and tentatively crept back into the hut, apprehensive, terrified of what I might see.  I opened the door to the kitchen and was met by a wall of sound, all signs of human existence had been extinguished from the room save for the Bear stripped to the waist, eyes closed, arms raised, declaring in unison with the Stone Roses that he was 'the resurrection and the light'. The air crackled with energy- the ritual had reached its crescendo and the Bear's powers were renewed for another year.  He looked at me spent and senseless, he slurred some words in my direction and took his leave.  I went to the boulders at Widdop to try to make sense of what I'd witnessed knowing that only a few humans are capable of such feats.  I have seen this ritual performed a few times, particularly by Fatneck as he initiates his annual connection to the ether and thus those around him on the Llyn Peninsula.  However at no time since have I seen anything to equal the Bear.

I have seen less of the Bear in recent years.  As he continued to roam the hills of Derbyshire in search of the aesthetic I was lured to the dark side, blinded by the allure of crimp and pull, chasing numbers that never end.  I have found myself in caves and under overhangs where the darker elements of bouldering live; competitive arenas where debates begin and controversy simmers, ready to boil over into forums and bile.  These areas diminish the Bear's power, the limestone burns his skin and the lack of slopers makes him yearn for open spaces and a soaring line.  My path on the never ending treadmill of training and projects has left me broken; only halfway along the scale, unable to go any further, diminished in some way.  The Bear has experienced change as well; he had taken to the rooves of the nation to earn a crust and so has cast his dwelling in the east adrift on a summer storm. As habitats, seasons and climates change so has his feeding ground.  The Bear has always loved the forests of Northern France, a place where his preferred diet can be easily sustained.  His feeding there has become more permanent of late and he is more likely to be glimpsed wandering in the dappled Gallic light rather than against the steel-grey skys of the moors.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The sloper, the main dietary requirement of the Bear.[/td][/tr]

[/table]

My journey along the limestone road has taught me to appreciate the Bears wisdom once again.  I always ignored his advice about aesthetics, and jumping rather than climbing. Now that I'm broken I realise he was right all along.  I now search for a soaring line even if the limestone habit is hard to kick.  I have begun to reconnect, respond to Fatnecks texts, remove myself from weekly cave-bound pilgrimage. I have reconnected to the nodes controlled by the social shamen of the bouldering scene.  The forests of Northern France are now in my sights, sandstone slopers await.  In three weeks time Fatneck will guide me on an adventure through the ether and around the Forest; we will hunt for king lines in the playgrounds of princes.  If I'm really lucky we might hear the beep of a text or glimpse a Bear somewhere in the woods.

 

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Ruthin Escarpment - Pwllglas Bouldering
13 February 2013, 9:36 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Butterfly buttress in all of its glory.[/td][/tr]

[/table]

My pilgrimages north from Pembrokeshire to Liverpool began at the age of 14.  My sister had, without the guidance of a magician, performed a complex vanishing trick which led to her reappearance on Merseyside.  I would regularly visit her, hitching lifts with family, friends or even strangers, traversing Wales by a myriad of different paths, with all roads leading me to Bala, funnelling me to Ruthin, Mold and the industrial wastes of Ellesmere Port. One of my regular travelling companions loved the chemical complexes of Cheshire with their cancerous chimneys.  As a former urbanite, exiled to a rural existence, he said that the scenes from "Blade runner" that flowed out in front of us polluting eyes, ears, and lungs in equal measure helped to construct his concept of home and sense of belonging.  Suffice to say we don't speak anymore.

It is around this time I became aware of the escarpment of limestone that crowns the valley above Pwllglas.  As a fourteen year old it was simply a curiosity that interested the eye as we meandered past. However as Liverpool drew me in, firstly as a student and then as a climber, this scarp morphed into a place that needed investigation, somewhere where some sport may lie. However as I settled down in the North West my journeys through the Cambrian Mountains, up and down the Welsh backbone, dwindled and the limestone edge up at Pwllglas melted away as my attention was drawn by grit, rhyolite and sandstone.  Over the next fourteen years I would occasionally pass through Pwllglas and rediscover a need to explore its potential only to ignore this impulse again and again.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Linking one of the sit starts into Flatillary flake.[/td][/tr]

[/table]A rumour pulled me back.  Loose words and tall tales got me fired up, potential lines in Clwyd! How could I resist?  I hadn't made the connection between the crag spotted in my youth with these stories of unclimbed lines; whispers wafted like seeds on a breeze, passed imprudently from person to person until they took root in the ever-fertile depths of my psyche. All things being equal I wouldn’t have trudged up that Cambrian brow and laid siege to Pwllglas' potential had it not been for Angry Jones.  Angry is a complex character misjudged by others. He's not actually angry; he just likes to paint his pictures of the world with a mallet rather than a soft delicate brush! His verbal pallet is wide but he likes the brashness of primary colours, short words with harsh syllables and big meanings. You know where you are with Angry, and if you don't he’ll make you aware of where you've ended up with the minimum of fuss.  

We set out for Pwllglas on a wet day with little hope and a scrap of worn paper to guide us. I had the briney goat-punctuated scent of the cave in my nostrils and dreams of projects in Llandudno's upside-down world in my mind's eye. I felt that Clwyd's undulations were no place for a sane climber on a grotty day, Angry had other ideas.  He explained in four letters or less why we should commit to the walk in, and I had nothing to counter his rather eloquent explanation. His motivational speech got us there and for this I am eternally grateful.  As we trudged through the damp undergrowth and walked along the crags the rumours of potential seemed to morph into wet empty promises; but the overwhelming feeling of a walk wasted disappeared when Butterfly Buttress opened up in front of us.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Tuffa pulling on the start tothe best of the linkups[/td][/tr]

[/table]

Butterfly Buttress is the reason to visit Pwllglas; it sits high above the valley like a Welsh Woodwell with vistas.  The buttress is made of a compact, steep, sweeping limestone wall with an  undercut base.  Sit down starts and link up lines are the beasts you’ll discover here, lurking amongst Lee Proctors sport routes.  Just like Woodwell roof climbs inhabit the same space as highballs, however the super-hard lines that set Woodwell apart are hard to find here.  What you will find is quality on holds that will keep you coming back for more.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Mark streched out on Andy's start to Flatilary flake[/td][/tr]

[/table]

We went back! We went back several times and we took Manchessie Si with us. He’s a man-mountain made of biceps and beta, with the uncanny knack of unlocking the sequences that would eventually coax this crag out of its obscurity. Two lines existed before we got there, Flatillary Flake and the Butterfly Collector- by the time our activities had waned ten new sit-downs and link-ups had appeared. The best of the bunch would be Si's start to the Butterfly Collector, Andy's start to Flatilary Flake, and the not so eliminate Cassius Clay.  All three of these problems weigh in around the 7a or 7a+ mark and are worth the journey up the hill. Details of our exploits can be found here:

http://www.northwalesbouldering.com/newsitem.asp?nsid=550

Topos can be found here:

http://www.northwalesbouldering.com/upload/members/Ruthin%20topo%20V6.jpg  

One word of warning- ignore the grades we gave to these problems, they were ball park figures that, with subsequent ascents proved to be slightly inflated. Others visited Butterfly buttress, left their mark, lifting the crag from its once esoteric status to a venue worth visiting in its own right.  Even the legendary Ben Showtime Farley graced the crag with a visitation, displaying his silky skills and flawless technique on more than one occasion; this fact alone must conclusively confirm Pwllglas to be a limestone crag of some merit.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Alec pulling shapes on the Butterfly collector.[/td][/tr]

[/table]

Many things of little significance to most have occurred on that hill on the edge of the Clwyidian range. Angry fell in love, a love that could not transcend the duel barriers of species and gender! Fletcher the Lurcher, all legs and affection, was rescued by Andy and introduced to the outside world on that limestone hill. Manchessie became a hero, rescuing me from certain breaks and embarrassment as I plummeted from the top of the crag whilst topping out on a jug that just wouldn't stay put.  I had enough air time to plan which limb I would sacrifice, I also yelped like a little puppy as the ground approached (why be manly about it?).  I think if you’re going to hospital its best to display your vulnerability before anything major happens, it helps the professionals know what they are dealing with. There is no point being brave, your frailties will only be exposed later on. I escaped unscathed, Manchessie however was bruised, battered, and out of climbing for a week after his instinctive intervention.  The scouse crowd also adopted a new member under the shadow of the Butterfly Collector, however I’m sure Alec would sprint for his VW camper if he knew he was now considered one of us.  Smooth Pete almost lost his thumb when he decided that this extremity would be the most elastic, forgiving thing to land on from height. Manchessie, in the quest for new lines, regularly removed rocks from the buttress like the quarrymen of old looking for building materials and again injuring himself in the process.  It has to be said that days at Pwllglas are never boring. It's worth the effort to walk up to that last gasp of the Cambrian Hills and sample the climbing; believe me it will draw you in.



Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Pex Hill - problem of the week!
23 February 2013, 6:06 pm

This post will be the first of many written for Merseysiders, and those  interested in Pisa Wall eliminates specifically. The purpose of this series is  to show how the eliminates on Pisa are climbed, and to help to sustain people's  interest in Merseyside Bouldering; the more people get to our venues and make  their presence felt the thinner the carpets of glass at the base of the crags  will become. The recent publication of the Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone  guide has introduced many to a local resource and has revealed the  potential that still remains to others. For me a lot of the quality problems on  Merseyside are eliminates, hated by many but cherished by the devotee.  These  short snippets of prescribed rule-based movement may not stand up to the  equivalent problem in Font, but my word they will get you strong, they will make  you think, and they'll keep you coming back for more!

To truly understand the information given here you will need the new Cheshire guide; you can purchase it from here:

http://www.thebmc.co.uk/kop-a-load-of-the-new-bmc-cheshire--merseyside-sandstone-guide.

You will need to refer to the  Pisa Wall Eliminate Bouldering section written by Ben Farley, page 174 to 179  (more specifically pages 178 and 179) where Ben has produced an excellent photo  topo with all the holds on Pisa wall numbered.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The bible of Pisa Wall eliminates.[/td][/tr]

[/table]

Week 1 - This week's problem is probably the most popular on the wall and, by my reckoning, soft at the grade; so get on it.

Silly Boy - V4.

Start matched on hold 7, reach up with the right hand to hold 21, move your  left foot up to stabilise yourself, bring your left to hold 20, move your feet  to bring your body weight over to the right, lock up to the small crimp/pocket  with the right hand, get a left foot up and pop to the break with either  hand.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Top Tip

Using a three finger stack in the rounded dishes (holds 20 and 21),  will make things a lot easier.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Ruthin Reloaded - Pwllglas Project Finally Falls.
24 February 2013, 8:34 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Skinny Dogs always look miserable when humans are trying to link problems.

?[/td][/tr]

[/table]Projecting power endurance lines is always a soul destroying activity: You train, you get strong, you travel to the crag, you warm up, you fail on the crux and realise that you will need to make another twenty hand movements before you have even a chance of a send that day; a few more attempts and you have made a hundred moves and yet come away with nothing.  This has the been the cycle of things for me at Pwllglass for the last year or so, continually trying my object of desire, and always returning home with my tail between my legs.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Angry Jones showing the way on one of the easier problems at Pwllglas.

[/td][/tr]

[/table]Today was different, I can't put my finger on what changed: Angry Jones was with me and possibly his unique brand of life coaching had a positive effect, alternatively four days of failure in Font may have forced me to finally get things sorted.  One fact that I am certain of is that the weather did not help. It was baltic, and my fingers burned with the cold as I hit the final jug, but hit the jug I did and thus my pilgrimages of failure to Ruthin can finally stop.

The problem starts sitting on a prominent chalky jug down and left of the big flatty that marks the start of the problem Another Million.  Moves on slots and small holds allow you to trace the lip of the overhang rightwards until you reach a rest on the flatty.  From here long moves on small crimps and a choice of flatties lead to Fritillary Flake and the finish. The back wall is in for feet, obviously the big detached block under the flatty of Another Million is not.   I've called the problem Lead Rain after an autumnal incident at this very same crag which involved some men with guns, a cross wind and some very worried boulderers.  I think its comes in around the 7b mark and is well worth the walk up the hill.  If that description is too vague a video of the first ascent can be seen below.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Pex Problem of the week # 2
1 March 2013, 5:34 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The pathway to eliminate heaven.[/td][/tr]

[/table]

Remember you will need to refer to pages 178 and 179 of the new Cheshire and  Merseyside Sandstone guide for this adventure into the world of elimination to  make sense!

Week 2 - Stretch V4.

I must admit I had not done this problem before starting the filming of this  series. I had done all the individual moves in other eliminates, but not  strung them together in this choreographed way. This problem is a Farley guidebook  special, a shining example of what brilliance and balance can produce! Needless  to say this feels hard for its grade and is a definite step up from Silly  Boy.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]A playground of possibilities?[/td][/tr]

[/table]Three elements will lead an aspiring ascentionist along the pathway to  success on this problem:

1. Use the power of the three finger stack.   Excluding the start hold, all holds on this problem were made for stacking, this problem embodies all that is good in a world defined by this strange  art.

2. Clean the holds. It's amazing what a soft bristled brush can do to  the frictional properties of these dish like holds! Removing the layer of chalk  and grime that inevitably builds up on them over time can turn a marginal,  frictionless mess into a skin rasping lockable hold.

3. Use those feet to gain  height; your biceps won't help you here.  Pisa wall is all about foot work.   Dance your feet along its pockets and ledges and victory will be yours- pull too  hard on those dishes and all that will be left on the wall will be your hard  earned skin.

The problem starts sitting matched on hold 2.  Move your weight to the left  and reach up with your left hand to the first three finger stack in hold 11.   Kick your right leg through to the left to create a funky flag and reach up over the top with the  right to stack number two in hold 20.  Now the magic starts; move your bodyweight way over to the left by dancing across the dimples lurking at the bottom  of the wall.  With your left foot high and right hand securely locked onto  hold 20, reach up with the left to hold 27, keep reaching, reach some more and  when you think you've extended to your limit reach that little bit extra into  the hold.  At this point you will wish that you had spent some time cleaning:  the dish (27) which forces the third successive stack on this problem is good  but feels terrible if overly chalky. Once latched use your feet to gain the  necessary height and go for the break like you mean it!

Stretch embodies all of the subtle elements that make Pisa Bouldering such  an addictive activity; its balancey, technical, reachy and involves stacks! This  is a must do problem for the aspiring Pex hill Warrior!

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Pex Problem of the week #3
8 March 2013, 7:35 pm

Remember the Pex eliminate topo which nestles inside the New Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone guide is needed to make sense of this post

                                   Red Flash - V5.

For me this is one of the quintessential problems of Pisa wall; it is what slightly overhanging walls with big holds were invented for - flight (dynos to you and me!).  Red Flash is used as a staging post for many on their journey along the sinuous path that leads to the Seven Foot Dyno which also inhabits this section of wall, however it can stand on its own as a dyno of merit and quality.

                             

This week's problem gained its name from a legendary vehicle that taxied Liverpool's bouldering scene around the motorways of the UK in the mid naughties.  Red was a feisty 1.4 Astra that  could accommodate five willing (or at times unwilling) passengers, their pads, their kit and their psyche! This vehicle was a veritable tardis whose mystical qualities extended to its acoustic abilities; if you wound the front windows down an inch and cranked the Jungle up, it metamorphosised into a living, breathing bass cannon; an organic speaker unit of which you were an integral component.  Flash would often be spotted undertaking in the slow lane at breakneck speeds, those interred on the back seat holding up handwritten notes for other motorists. "Help me I've been Kidnapped" would regularly be read by those who actually adhere to the highway code.  Flash blew up twice whilst out on duty serving the climbing needs of Merseyside's bouldering lieutenants.  He is missed by many- brave in the face of adversity, decorated for deeds beyond the means of his motorised peers.  I will apologise now if this eulogy has opened old wounds for some- Flash is gone, but not forgotten!

Right, back to the problem. This one is obviously hard to describe but I will try my utmost to get you through its complex technical moves as efficiently as I can. Take hold 6 with the left hand and hold 7 with the right, put your left foot in a pock mark and put you right foot high on hold 1.  From this position sway down once and leap to the next break with the right, on the way up stay close to the wall, then it's a matter of latch, match, and dispatch.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Pex problem of the week #4.
15 March 2013, 8:59 pm

This week's adventures through the numbered holds on pages 178 and 179 of the Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone guide illustrates that different approaches can lead to the same result when ordering from the eliminate menu.

Silly Boy Direct V5 (Done two ways).

This problem is essentially a harder version of Silly Boy V4, however it is amazing how removing one key ingredient can change the flavour and overall feel of a problem: in this case removing hold 38 (a small crimpy mono) turns Silly Boy into a far more robust dish.

Two main methods can be used on this problem; these methods will appeal to very different palates.  The first is the way I originally climbed Silly Boy- it is a brash, flash-fried affair, fleeting, fresh and bursting with big flavours. The second is a slower, more controlled dish that allows flavour to mingle, develop and yet still allows a bit a spice to come through at the end. This second method is my preferred preparation for this problem; it is subtle, delivering a more rounded, fuller experience of the Pex eliminate!

Method 1 - The Dyno.

Start matched on hold 7 with feet in low pock marks, move the right hand up to a three finger stack in hold 21, put the left foot up on hold 1 for balance and move the left hand to a stack in hold 20. Now place the right food high on the ledge next to hold 3, lean your body weight to the right so it almost feels like you're laybacking the hand holds, dip down once and dyno to the break.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Method 2 - The Rock Over.

As for method 1 however, once you've gained the stacks in holds 20 and 21, swap feet on hold 1, lean to the right and place your left foot deep into hold 6 making sure it is square to the wall.  Now slowly move your weight over to the left until you have gained as much height as you can. You'll end up short but a small pop to the jug in the break will release the complex flavours you've been seeking.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

So there you have it, slow cooked and complex, or flash fried and fresh! When it comes to Pex eliminates you really can indulge yourself with the dishes that suit your particular tastes.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Never Forget Frodsham.
22 March 2013, 6:58 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Views to the Mersey from Woodhouse Hill.[/td][/tr]

[/table]The southern side of the Mersey Estuary is dominated by a series of high  bluffs that bound the river from Runcorn to Helsby.  These steep banks have in  previous epochs repelled the spread of the river, hemmed it in, corralled its  waters and  directed them to their destination. In recent times they have stood  watch over the march of human progress.  On the plain below, mans industrial  ambitions have ebbed and flowed with the estuarys' tides.  Salt, chemicals and  fuel have  shaped the shadows cast by these hills and towns; trade and transport  have also played their part in this evolution.  As the landscape shifted and  shaped, the hills looked on impassively, crowned by sandstone crags that  burnt red, orange and umber in the fading light  of a future that was to be built  in smoke, sweat and progress.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Alec climbing through the steepness.[/td][/tr]

[/table]Cheshire's estuarine hills have served as an antidote to its industrial ills  for centuries.  The crags that populate this ridge have fascinated and frustrated  many generations of Merseysiders, providing a welcome distraction from the man-made and mundane.  Helsby's crag towers above the valley; its ramparts and  flutings mimic those found in the land of castles to the west.  This was once a  forcing ground for climbing standards, however things are quiet now.  Frogsmouth Quarry  on Runcorn Heath is the place for Merseysiders to be seen now that  its walls have been decorated with shiny bolts and pigtails but, despite being in  vogue with its new look, Frogsmouth still doesn't pull in climbing's top models.  One other venue far more suited to the tastes of the  boulderer sits on the ridge;  yet, overshadowed by the reputation and accessibility of its neighbours, it  has become a quiet place.  However if you live near the heartlands of North West  Sandstone Bouldering you would be crazy to forget Frodsham.

Frodsham's crags sit on the crest of Woodhouse Hill to the west of town.  A  steep, wooded path leads you up to a series of buttresses that stretch the length  of the bluff.  In terms of height these red and ochre sandstone outcrops range  from three to eight metres, or in other terms, from bouldering to highballing  to suicidal stupidity.  The common thread that binds all of Frodshams' buttresses  is that they are steep- they overhang, majestically shading  those who play here  from the worst of the Mersey's weather.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Ochre rock and hard eliminates up on the hill.[/td][/tr]

[/table] Frodsham is a peaceful place, a tapestry of trees,  rock and traditions, developed by Banner, Boysen, and Crew. Frodsham sits proud in both its natural  and historical landscapes. Climbing a pure line here is like breathing life back  into greatness, playing on lines that heroes forged back in the sixties. Each  line has a character of its own, super steep and juggy, technical and thin; all  personality types are represented.  Super hard, pure lines may be hard to find (the majority of the climbs found here are in the sub V5 category) however  you'll be glad that the holds are big when you're stretched out, fully horizontal,  ten feet above the ground with a heel toe engaged.  Those who want their grades  big and their fingers tested to destruction should not turn away from the rock  on Woodhouse hill; there are plenty of hard eliminates up there on the brow- however I'll talk about them another time.



Frodsham's heyday is far behind it now and, like shipping on the Mersey, the  volume of human traffic on the hill has wained.  The watery tributary that  washes the hills feet once attracted the heavyweights of the shipping world: Blue Funnel, White Star, and Cunard - but these great vessels are long gone,  forgotten.  The present titans of climbing no longer follow that wooded path up  to the buttresses on Woodhouse Hill; however the heroes who developed it can still  be seen on a summer's evening swinging through the steepness. Tom Leppert and  Martin Boyson are rarely wrong! Frodsham has been good enough for these legends  for fifty years now, believe me its good enough for you.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Pex Problem of the Week #5
28 March 2013, 4:31 pm

This week we will deviate from the norm into a world where aspirant ascentionists prowl along the base of Pisa Wall  lobster-like, fingers frozen into three finger stacks ready to claw at the wall. The problem described in this post involves a different species of hold which is also commonly found in this habitat; the small crimp.

Small Snick Sit down V5.

This particular problem does not feature in the Pex eliminate section of the Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone guide (remember you will need the topo on pages 178 and 179) however, whilst off page, this problem is one of the best! Balance, strong fingers and a bit of technique are needed to breathe life into this (at first glance anyway) unlikely creation.

Start sitting with both hands on hold.number 2. The left foot should be in a pock mark down and left, the right on a clean ripple out to the right.  Pull up off the floor and move your weight over your left foot. Flick the left hand to hold 13 and take it as a gaston and pull the hold into your shoulder. Next put the right foot into a good high pock mark just down and left of hold 2.  Now you're set! Shoulder press off the left hand, rock over onto the right foot, finger press with the right hand to gain height and keep in balance. The right hand needs to get to the mono / small crimp which is hold 38; the only way to get there is to stretch and get over that right foot, the left hand and shoulder need to be strong and they need to press it out.  Once you get your right to hold 38 get the left foot up and left onto a good hold and reach up left to the break. Match and jump off with burning fingertips and well worked lats.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Pex Problem of the Week #6
5 April 2013, 9:31 am

Last week we went off-page and explored one of the pisa problems dredged up  from the murky mires of my mind.  This week our normal service resumes. There  are individuals who have been waiting for this week's problem for some time; I  make no apologies if I gush slightly in my description as it is one of the  best problems I have done anywhere at any time.  So turn to pages 178 and 179 of  the Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone guide and we will begin:

Vitalite - V6

Vitalite is the jewel in Pisa's crown; yes there are harder problems and yes  it is an eliminate, however climbing with three finger stacks does not get  better than this.  The quality of movement on this problem means that as an  entity it transcends its location, environment, and the circumstances of its  creation.  If it were pure this problem would have stars- lots of them (and I  would still want to give it more)!  Subtle and frustrating, delicate and powerful,  Vitalite has it all. This problem deserves special attention; it should stand  proud, pure, the only problem on a huge boulder sitting majestically in an  unspoilt landscape.  Unfortunately Vitalite calls Pex its home but remains undiminished by that fact.

First you will want to go and fetch a brush from your bag, one with very soft  bristles that will clean rather than scrape chalk from the surface of this  sandstone.  Next find holds 16, 21, and 22 (there is no point committing to this  endeavour if it is sullied by excess stale chalk- you won't appreciate the true  feel of the rock and upward progress will be hard to achieve). Finally, before  you begin to climb, step back, breathe in and know that you are about to try one  of the best.

Start by matching hold 3, your right foot should be buried in a low pock  mark, your left should be high on hold 1 firmly set square to the wall.  Now  reach up high with the left to hold 16 (to do this you will need to drop your  right shoulder to such an extent that it feels like you're looking at the floor).  Hold 16 is a very marginal three finger stack, to lock it you will need to take  your right foot out of its low resting place, kick it to a deep flag out to the  left, find the point of balance and reach with your right to hold 21.  Breathe!  You should be holding 21 with a stack and it should feel like a gaston (your  right elbow should be high), rock up onto your left foot and hit hold 22 as an  opposition stack.  Squeeze! Swap feet on hold 1, bury your left foot deep into  hold six, again with your heel sitting square to the wall start to rock over.   At this point you'll appreciate all the cleaning you have done- you've been  holding hold 21 for a long time and now you have to shoulder press off it.  Press off the right hand, rock onto the left foot until you reach the break.  Match, stop, think...  Take some time to savour the moment. Jump down, pack up  your things and go home, you won't climb anything better this session!

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Feel the lick of the Leviathan.
10 April 2013, 4:54 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]There be sea monsters down there at Borth[/td][/tr]

[/table]In Ellsemere Port over Easter bank holiday weekend they have an international  sea shanty festival. I found out about it immediately after the event this year.  The sense  of disappointment I felt at missing this jamboree was crushing. Unbeknownst to the  festival organisers I had grown a fisherman's beard and would have walked tall in  this world of facial hair and cable-knit jumpers; a wasted opportunity for which a  warm chin in cold weather was no real comfort or consolation.  The briny,  barnacled world of sea shanties fascinates me: old men in canvas coats and flat  caps smoking porcelain pipes, creating close harmonies of times under the sail,  stars and moon.  This subculture still has a faint whiff of piracy about it, not  the type that infringes copyright, rather the dastardly variety that reeks of daring  deeds and rum.  It's odd that Ellsmere holds this festival. Even with its  estuarine position and industrial jetties the town seems divorced from the sea,  held hostage by the motorway that now bisects it and provides its life  blood.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Now that's what I call a sea shanty beard.[/td][/tr]

[/table]Shanties and songs of the sea were used to motivate and coordinate repetitive  tasks undertaken by those who lived under the sail. The Chantyman would lead: he  would call the line and the crew would echo his words as they heaved the sail  or raised the anchor. In this way tales would be told, and the histories of those  who existed in the space suspended between sea and soil would take on their own  forms.  Stories developed their own energy and life, twisting and evolving into  fantastical shapes as they voyaged around the globe and through time, propelled  by the winds of adventure. The Chantyman called the line with promises of  beasts, battles and booty; the young and strong followed his call to the shore  and beyond!

Stories of monsters have always drifted across the seas: The Cracken, The  Leviathan, sea serpents and giant whales have fuelled the rhythms of the  Chantyman.  These beasts have poured fear into the hearts of those on  both land and sea, their reputations as fierce as the stories that created them.  Legends like these draw out the brave, stupid and strong; young men who set out  to sea to make a name for themselves, to fight and become immortalised in the  words of the Chantyman.

Whilst my stupidity is well known I am neither brave nor strong, if I chant  you a line, will you follow my song?

I spend a lot of my time walking the line between sea and soil finding wave-washed gems to ascend.  Ogmore, Ysgo and Dinellain have all been plundered  producing tales to motivate others.  Songs of slopers and overhangs, barnacles  and biceps drift along these shores.  Mid Wales has been one of my main muses  for some time: Clarach and Borth have both had me echoing their call, hauling me  back again and again to see what new tales lie around the corner.  

A recent trip across the ancient sands and shales of mid wales revealed a  terrifying secret to me, one I will share; what you do with this information is  beyond my control. I was trawling the rich coastline at Borth looking for fine,  slick slopers of such quality they would drive a boulderer mad. As I assessed the  coastline my eyes were drawn to a darkness in the cliff line, something was   brooding there in the shadows, something that did not sit well with my  conscience. I went to investigate. I did not know what lay there beyond the  depths of my perception. What I found filled me with both awe and dread.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The line between sea and soil[/td][/tr]

[/table]On that tranquil shore sits a beast, a leviathan of a line- monstrously steep  and fantastically frictionless. Washed up by ancient storms it sits there  fossilised by time. I approached this slumbering creature with caution, not  wanting to wake it.  I gazed upon it smooth yet scaly, barrelled belly scarred  by single-pad, directional undercuts leading along its length to a change of  angle and some actual holds on its head wall. Tension, strength, patience and  persistence would all need to be used in equal measure to tame this animal born  in the depths; if we add a less than perfect landing into this equation we are  looking at an endeavour that legends are made of! Overcome by fear I turned and  ran, knowing that I'm too weak of heart, mind and muscle to go even one round  with this beast.  I ran knowing that I was lucky to live to tell this tale; this  line could consume you, devour your climbing career by placing you in a  world of pain with years of fruitless sessions that would strip a man like me of  strength, psyche and sanity.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The belly of the beast.[/td][/tr]

[/table]





 

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Skinny Dog gives you a sense of the scale, the beast is big!![/td][/tr]

[/table]You may ask why I chant these lines- who would answer this call? Like an ancient  mariner or a tainted trawler man I could just be deluded, lured into fanciful,  tall tales by the romance and rhythm of the sea and the ruination of rum.  However I have stood beneath many of the titans of Europe: Big Paw, From the Dirt  Grows the Flowers, Ill Thrill, Dream Time and the Dagger. Borth's Leviathan could  fight them all, go toe to toe, look these other monsters in the eye and know  that it belongs in the same storybook. An ascent of the Beast of Borth  would be legendary; a hero would be born, a killer line would be tamed and a new  story would set sail across the seas creating a life of its own amongst those  who toil rhythmically with brush, pad, and chalk.

I plan to go to Ellsmere Port next year at Easter.  I want to sit amongst  bearded men singing tales of  adventure whilst sipping ales and wearing arran.   I will listen to Chantymen from around the world painting pictures of a way of  life now lost, a life dominated by sail, storms and seas. I would like to chant  a song at the festival - tell a tale. My story would reveal a world where sand  meets sea, where cliffs and storms collide in a titanic battle that never ends. A  battle that creates and destroys in equal measure, a battle from which monsters  are born! My story will be filled with a fight between the tides, struggles with  slopers, battles with beasts, and the taming of the wild. I will be the  Chantyman, will you be the hero?

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.