[Will Hunt]

Awesome 

[fatneck]

He's good isn't he!?!

[comPiler]

Pex Problem of the Week #7.
20 April 2013, 7:40 am

This week's problem strips the climbing experience down to its bare bones-  its essence!  This problem is very much like a three chord Ramones tune: clean,  efficient, minimal, in your face, aggressive and purposeful. If climbing could be  boiled down, reduced to one move, this move is the one I would choose; it is  punchy and delicate in equal measure, fustrating when close, amazing when sent.  No other problem on Pisa wall demands dynamism of this quality. The Seven foot  dyno might be bigger, but this problem is definitly better; it requires the would-be ascentionist to float rather than fly!

The Pex Dyno V7.

I could be minimal in my description of this problem, it is a one move dyno  or deadpoint after all,  however this would rob you of the essential beta which  drags this problem into the realm of reality. Firstly locate hold 18 - it is a  long shallow crimp.  The surface of this hold is rather uniform save for a small  rough dimple found slightly left of centre, the pad of the index finger on you  left hand needs to nestle in this depression. Once orientated, both hands need to  crimp hold 18; don't expect to generate a lot of power from your hands on this  problem- body position is key.  Now that your hands are set, put your left foot in  a lowish dimple directly below your hands.  The right foot is placed square to  the wall on a prominent dimple up and right. Now it is time for flight; movement  will be initiated from the left foot, this will swing your centre of gravity up  and over your right foot, this allows you to spring off the right foot and float  up to the break. Match and enjoy.  This move is all about timing; it works like  a rock over, it looks like a dyno, but if you get it right, it feels like magic!

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Pex Problem of the Week #8
4 May 2013, 6:23 pm

All good things come to an end and this is the last Pex Problem of the Week.  The purpose of this series was to motivate people, get them out and on rock; particularly at a time of year when most people feel that the coffee and cosy confines of the indoor wall is the only option.  I was hoping to show the utility of eliminate bouldering in terms of training and to open eyes in terms of the quality that Pisa Wall has to offer.  Pisa is dry most of the time and the motivated can use it to get stong at any time of the year.  However there are limits: the sun is shining, the birds are singing, other venues are dry and realistically speaking, those skills and strengths built up on the slopey, scalloped holds of Pisa Wall need to be exploited elsewhere.  The key to progression as a boulderer is variety; go out try every rock type, visit every venue- come back to Pisa in the winter, try the problems again and see how far you have come.

Vitalite Lighter - V7.

This problem may have less holds than it parent but, believe me, it's not lacking in flavour.  This is a robust little number that needs all its ingredients sklillfully combined for its true essence to be savoured.  This really is a case of less is more, and we're not just talking about grades here. Remember you will need the Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone Guide- go to pages 178 and 179. Right start matched on hold three, place your right foot in a low pock mark, put your left foot high on hold 1.  Flick your left to hold 16, as you move up you will need to dip your right shoulder and this will help you transfer weight through the three finger stack that should now desperately cling to the grains on the surface of hold 16's slopeyness.- you will now need to flag left with the right foot, thus allowing 16 to be locked and the right hand moved to hold 21. So far so good, just like Vitalite, you've been here before, or have you?  At this point things change; you will need to lean back so far it almost feels like your sitting down, milk those stacks for all they are worth, when in balance swap feet on hold 1, get your left foot into hold 6, set it square to the wall. Rock over, and over and over, rock a long way, at the last moment pop to the break and match. Jump off and plan where next week's trip will be.  If you have been following "Pex Problem of the Week" you've trained effectivly for the greater ranges of Frodsham, Helsby and  Parbold! Go on, get out there and conquer them!

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

Lists and That.
13 May 2013, 7:54 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]There is some bouldering in those hills.[/td][/tr]

[/table]Lists and order seem to be an integral part of the western cultural cannon. We crave order. Categories are created and the intangible is indexed in an attempt to understand the fuzzy complexity of a reality that constantly evolves around us. This process of comparmentalising the unquantifiable seems to be a necesssary action, something we do to passify ourselves so that we may get on with our lives. Many groups round the world use different devices to do this: mysticism, myth and even magic, our obsession with 'measurement' to map reality robs us of the wonder of looking at the world in different ways. There is a large part of me that feels this is a shame, but then again befuddlement is my default state.

Lists play an important role in Bouldering: tick lists in guides, lists of personal projects, lists of grades and grading systems, lists of problems completed so far this season etc etc. Lists give climbing a faint wiff of competitive conformity; grades and the aroma of quantification open the door to the influence of Sports Science, training regimes, resistance, reps and rests. It's an intoxicating scent; one that promotes motivation, knuckling down and progress. Steps up the ladder of your grading system of choice can be hastened by applying a little logic. There's no magic here, the equation is simple:

                                 Perspiration = Gratification (if grade-based progress is what you seek)

                                                                           Time

Lists have played an important role in my efforts to scratch a path up steeper and steeper sweeps of rock over the years. Lists have informed my training. Wish lists have been written and re-written in an attempt to motivate; lists of desert island climbs or boulders I would like to have in my garden have been seriously discussed, at length, deep into the early hours, thus rendering the chance of climbing a problem that features on a list in the cold morning light next to impossible.  Lists have also been used to entertain.  My favourite climbing lists were the ones that Showtime Farley would create on the twilight drives back from The Peak in autumns past.  On these long drives the excitement of the day would fade to browns, oranges and yellows as our overworked adrenal glands stemmed their flow, the car's collective blood sugar bottomed out and strange shadows were cast by Tom "Fat-hand" Sugden lolling deep in slumber, held up by the tension of his seatbelt alone.  A hush would descend despite the million decibels of bass shaking  the fatigued bones of those incarcerated in the car. At this point Ben would banish the twilight chill of early winter by demanding the 'Best' from us all: best problem, best move, best hold.  Excitment, enthusiasm, and in Tom's case basic motor functions, would return.  In the pantheon of climbing lists, "Best" lists are definitely the best.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Why does climbing seem better when there's snow on the horizon[/td][/tr]

[/table]How can we quantify 'best'?  Well that's the beauty of the concept, you can't, it's just something you like the most at a fixed point we will call 'now'. As the sands of time inevitably shift it will change to something completely different.  Just like the grading systems we use to measure our progress in climbing, 'best' is subjectively constructed around the experience of the individual.  I can't really tell what 'best' is in the same way I can't definitively define what 7b+ is. What I can do though is tell you what my 'bests' have been so far this year: best problem, best move, best venue, best area.  Yes this is a futile exercise and yes these 'bests' will probably change as soon as I experience something else, however, as proved by Showtime Farley in the car on the way back from a kaleidoscope of venues, best lists are a good game. Best gets the adrenalin flowing, Best enlivens leaden limbs and injects colour into the climbing experience washed out by seemingly endless, wet winter.  So let's play Best, get your answers ready, and be ready to shout at mine.

Best Move - above Pwllglass near Ruthin sits Butterfly Buttress.  The steep front-face of this crag is adorned with a myriad of positive holds that make this an ideal link-up venue.  One link moves from left to right through the steepness, it's called "Lead Rain" and my best move sits halfway along its sinuous path.  The move involves kicking up a high heel onto a shelf in front of you allowing you to bump from a tiny hold to a thank-god sidepull.  This slight of heel gets you through the steepest part of the problem efficiently saving energy for the brutal moves ahead.

Best Problem - I had been to Rhiw Coch before and done a circuit of easy problems.  I had a look at Poppy's Move and the other problems in that particular cluster and discounted them as being too hard for my skinny arms. I went back this year with the test pages of the new North Wales Bouldering Guide, and I noticed the problem Moria. A 7b with two stars, I gave it a go and the rewards were exponentially greater than the grade given to the problem.  The line may not be the most asthetic but the moves are stellar- you just can't quantify this quality; go try this problem it really is magic.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Moria in all of its glory[/td][/tr]

[/table]Best Venue - seriously just go with this one.  My best venue so far this year is Pex Hill!!  Yes this hole in the ground, steeped in dog muck and decorated with broken glass is my favourite venue at the moment.  Climbing here this winter, doing eliminates on Pisa Wall, writing about them and spreading the love has saved my climbing from the monotony of training and the inevitable injuries that being serious and scientific brings.  I have visited Pex a lot this year and every time I have left with a smile on my face; if we could grade enjoyment Pex for me would be cutting-edge.

Best Area - without doubt it's North Wales. Words can not capture the feeling of moving across rough, dolerite slopers with a chill in the air and a dusting of snow on the mountains. It feels such a privilege to be climbing in this environment when the conditions are good and the sky is powder blue. When you're high up on the pass, away from the sound of the traffic, looking across at Dinas Cromlech, clouds casting shadows on the valley bottom as they drift lazily by, you feel like you're sitting in an alternate reality, a simpler one, one that makes sense, one that's almost - well mystical.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Moves like thses help to generate Bests for everyones lists.[/td][/tr]

[/table]Well there's my Bests, how did yours measure up?  We could negotiate our various Bests, and come  up with a consensus. We could make our Bests definitive, fix them in time and share them with others! To be honest what would be the point, we would simply kill fun.  Sometimes it is better to relax, sit back and enjoy the randomness of things.  I have no idea why I chose Moria as my favourite problem of the year, or why I think Bouldering is better when framed by snowy mountains.  I do know that in a culture obsessed with quantification, and a sport that is quickly being seduced by science, that the game of Bests doesn't really have a place.  For me though that's the point; we should stop trying to quantify fun- let the game of Bests take over, let excitement and enthusiasm flood into climbing. Have your best-ever training session, campus because it puts a smile on your face, give into the magic, get out there and experience more! I reckon that would probably be best for everyone.



Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

The Alchemist
29 May 2013, 10:15 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Fatneck on the hunt for quality at Parbold[/td][/tr]

[/table]We have been on a quest.  We have purged ourselves of the familiar, forsaken the bouldering fleshpots littered with test pieces that can build a reputation or crush an ego with one slip of a foot.  We have journeyed both west and east from our fair, maritime city on the Mersey, followed sedimentary seams through sand and grit in search of something, something so rare that even to speak its name would make it disappear.  Our merry band have forsaken the luxuries of guides, descriptions, cleaned lines and stars and replaced them with a twilight world. The realm we now move through was once created by the hand of man, but is no longer part of his ambition; instead it has been reclaimed by the elements, earth, air, fire and water. The chemistry of nature dominates these spaces. Holes cut deep in the ground by the desires of industry- now kingdoms of moss and mud.  Lichens keep watch over these rippled quarried walls, and keep us from what we seek.

?

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The Heath, Runcorn[/td][/tr]

[/table]We are not alone in these forgotten spaces, we share them with spectral beings, the youth that loom large in the twilight gloom.  Disenfranchised by daylight, diminished by darkness, their rituals and rights of initiation seek to harness the elements for their own fulfilment   They leap from the quarry walls during the summer months, draw power from the air and are reborn in the watery depths below- emboldened, indestructible heroes of a generation taught not to care.  Fire is the element prized above all else, it illuminates their lives, and destroys our desires with effortless ease!  The blackened, brittle walls demonstrate that we will never be alone - soot and sorrow will always blight our adventures through this twilight world. Our inquisitive eyes scan these walls in the hope we will find that rarefied thing that we seek, more often than not lamenting what could have been.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Andy Jones demonstrating Fatneck's finest creation [/td][/tr]

[/table]What do we seek?  What could be so precious that it leads grown men to the margins, to a dappled world filled with broken glass and beings decorated with three stripes.  Like Ancient alchemists we seek perfection amongst the elemental forces, our spiritual and physical journey is one of discovery, to unearth the impossible: new amongst the old, quality in crap, first ascents in the subtextural landscapes created by a guide just written. The Alchemists attempted to turn base metals into the perfect, precious metals of gold and silver; in the same way we have attempted to find the aesthetic amongst the ugly, sport amongst the solidified silts.  Our dialectical journey has had us tread a knife edge, teetering along the margins of good and evil.  Some say you cannot polish a turd, it will simply smear in your hands, others know that a carbon rich material subjected to the intense forces of heat and pressure can create diamonds.   The proto chemists of the past did not achieve their aim of a life everlasting, or the extraordinary transformation of mundane materials, could we, however, discover a diamond in the rough??

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Alec the Alchemist climbing the Arete that now bares his name (V7 sds V8)[/td][/tr]

[/table]Parbold and Runcorn both sport quarried hills that entertain the shady and the shy, shielding them  from the the glare of society.  Both quarries have built towns, neither have built reputations that might lure the boulderer to their muddied walls and yet, magnetised by their mystery, we have been drawn like moths by their shadowy light.  We have poured scorn on what they have offered, rock has turned to dust by the action of our eager limbs, our desires have been smeared by disappointment, and yet our quest continued, redoubled and intensified until out of the sand,lichen and slime gems began to crystallise and gleam in the gloom. One amongst us has taken on the the mantle of creator he has brought to life lines of movement that transcend what surrounds them.  He has turned the base elements of nature into something that will live on in the future pages of guides and the limitless landscapes of the information age.  For now he is the alchemist.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Jay Dog crimping hard on the Heath.[/td][/tr]

[/table]So our journey seemed to have come to an end.  Some have been bruised, battered by the experience. Blood has been shed and the twilight worlds through which we tiptoed have been tamed, claimed back for now from those who seek to destroy it through ignorance.  However it is naïve to think that we can ever stop travelling on this journey of discovery- the achievements of The Alchemist are just a way marker in the sandstone pointing to what can be created  through the intense scrutiny of our finite local resources.  A message from the man who looked like Marx and answers to the name 'Pop' has shown us the way to what comes next.  There is still sandstone in the suburbs, there are still gems to be found, we all have the ability to turn lead into gold, we can all be Alchemists if we journey long enough along the sedimentary seam of our desires.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Portrait of a punter!![/td][/tr]

[/table]

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[r-man]

Quarry magic!

There were some bits very near Parbold that I never got round to checking out. Likely rubbish, but you never know...

http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/131063
http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/2798827
http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/173740

[andy popp]

All is revelaed! This is another of the Cheshire developments this year, I'm sure details will be released at some point I'm sure.

Nice write up Owen.

[fatneck]

Not quite all Andy

I've got a topo done which I'll email you for a proof read then we can share (with caveats about top-outs and footholds...)

[comPiler]

Oh I do Like to be Beside the Seaside!
8 June 2013, 10:30 pm

New game! Best venue?

The Sun has appeared.  When I first spotted it emerging from its long slumber behind vast volumes of vapour fear enveloped me and I stood motionless, staring at the sky.  Was this strange burning ball of gas a sign of the oncoming apocalypse?  Could this really be the end of everything? No, it was stranger than that; winter, it appeared, was over and the warmth produced by this heavenly body precipitated a metamorphosis amongst the people: clothes were shed, smiles spread and faces were framed by dark glasses. This sudden change in fortunes has also lead to a change of heart in my answers in the game of Bests! (See my post - "Lists and That" if you're not sure what the game of Bests is)

Best venue? Anywhere coastal when the sun shines.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Ice Cream and Caravans at Clarach - my favourite![/td][/tr]

[/table]The seaside - a playground for the young: sandcastles, rockpools, 99's with strawberry sauce, paddling, proms and piers. Faded Victoriana rippled with amusement arcades, shops filled with 'Kiss Me Quick' hats and postcards that make grandad laugh like a donkey. Babies wear ice-cream beards of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry; seagulls swoop - stealing your chips, and the salty smell of the sea hangs heavy in the air.  I must admit, when the sun shines there's nowhere I would rather be.

From a Bouldering perspective the coast really makes sense when the temperature tip-toes above the magic twenty degrees celsius mark. Whilst ryolite, dolerite and grit sat in bogs sweat in the sun-shrouded by midges, sea breezes and evaporating tides conspire to cool things down on the coast.  Shady cliff lines and deep sea-caves mean that even on the hottest day there will be something worth working on. I ask you- what could be more statisfying than a cool ice cream when resting, or some post-climb fish and chips? Climbing on the coast in the summer is more than the sum of its problems, it's the whole holiday vibe that makes it the Best.

I revisited Borth and Clarach in Mid Wales during my half term holiday and immersed myself in the special deep-fried world that exists on the coast! I rewalked the sinuous path between land and sea and returned to the places where monster lines of the future live. Again, I didn't try to tame the beasts, just became more certain that someone more capable than myself will bring these Titans to life.  Instead, I wandered through shady places searching for cool rock and a special breed of hold, something that only the sea can conjure - the frictionless sloper.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Slippy slopers ahoy[/td][/tr]

[/table]Slopers have been the mainstay of Bouldering since the beginning of time! To many they are like a drug; once you've learnt how to lower your centre of gravity and hold one more are needed to fulfill the physical urge to hang off things with open hands.  Websites, now sadly extinct, used to devote their entire output to the science of slopers; they invited you into a seedy world of slope coefficients and reader's slopers. When initiated into the cult, sloperism drives you on to find the slopiest of slopes- the harder to hold the better. You learn to negotiate the margins of friction and discover how much can be held by simply dragging skin across rock.

The Mid Wales coastal cliffs are made up of soft shales and sandstone.  The incessant action of the waves on this plyable medium has produced slopers of such rare quality that they deserve a special slopey place in the world of Sloperdom.  These frictionless wonders are hard to hold and keep you begging for more.  In the shade of the Leviathan I found such slopers, ones so slopey that they look like mere ripples in the rock. The line they defined felt improbable and yet impossible to leave.  Working the moves involved the initiation of upward movement whilst slowly yet steadily slipping towards the cushioned embrace of my pads. Decisiveness, body tension and a stubborn streak were the key to success. The problem 'Raspberry Ripple' (7b ish) is a celebration of the tidal sloper; it may not have the grandure of the project lines that lie behind it, it may also be affected by shifting pebble levels, however none of that matters when you match that ripple with a high heel and and a heart full of hope.

The line of "Raspberry Ripple"

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The ripple - every problem should have one.[/td][/tr]

[/table]

So what of the summer? It's here at last but no one can predict its longevity; however to quote an old adage- we should make hay whilst the sun shines.  The coast is bursting with established cool, shady venues. However the more adventurous looking for pastures new will find plenty to go at between the tides- our coastal Bouldering resources have as yet barely been touched.  Learn about the tides, search out some slick slopers and join the cult of open-handedness; enjoy the fact that even in the hottest weather good conditions can be found! If that's not enough to feed your sloper needs,  I'm sure that a well-appointed ice cream, or a sugary doughnut fresh from the fryer, will go some way to calm the nerves until temperatures drop and the gritty slopers in the hills can be exploited again.

from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[JoseWard]

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.

Thanks for the information.. My own dog is bit skinny so I would to apply the information.. Thanks again

[comPiler]

The Very Tall and the Very Small.
2 October 2013, 8:03 pm

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Skinny Dog turning to run from a good argument[/td][/tr]

[/table]Debate has always been the lifeblood of climbing. Grades, sandbagging, ethics, mistrust and sheer pig-headedness have driven us on, motivated us to try harder, and led us onto the path of discovery and perceived achievements. It could be argued that this discord has had more influence on the increase in climbing standards than either the invention of the campus board or climbing's flirtations with the status of being a "sport" and the aroma of measurement and science that follow it!  Every bar brawl, every tall tale told on Malham's catwalk, every wall and edge claimed by a Master; the unstemable torrent of doubt pouring over the achievements of others have motivated us to "prove em wrong."

These dialogues and discourses were traditionally presented and explored in the vicinity of warm beer and salty snacks.  Fleshy fists would often support salient points mooted on the style of ascents made on the moors and mountains that fan out from the pub's front door. Today the rhythmical tapping of letter embossed plastic cubes, or the creation of codes which resemble language on illuminated screens, underscore the discordant melody that is contemporary climbing culture. Forums, posts, blogs and tweets now burn with the passion once stoked by fists, whisky and ale. We are now driven by what is written. We may not punctuate our points with blood and sweat, but the passion, drive and consequences are the same.

One debate that echoes around the Bouldering sphere is that of 'aesthetics' vs 'the move'.  Is the strength of the line more important than the feel of the moves that make it? This argument often morphs into one that can encompass locations, environments, rock types; even the use of holds. Whilst not particularly contentious, these debates fill the bellies of those involved with fire.  It leads to derisory comments about Parisella's Cave with its fragrant carpet  of goat shit and the primacy of granulated, sedimentary rock types on one hand, and the idea that gritstone is a "luck-based rock type for punters who can't be bothered training", (a moment of brilliance from Crouch 2010) on the other.  I have no desire to delve into this particular dialectic other than to be utterly entertained by the rhetoric it creates.  What it shows us though is that, where aesthetics are concerned, passion can lead us to irrational positions that stop us from experiencing things that could be really rather good.

This summer, in an attempt to keep myself ticking-over for my winter projects, I went 7b hunting on the moors and mountains of Wales and the Peak.  I was drawn to the Wavelength hillside by the problems I had not yet tried or overlooked in the past. One in particular had caught my eye, not because of its sweeping line or its towering reputation; its name attracted me, I mean who could resist doing battle with the "Beef Growler''?  Enquiries made about this problem did nothing to enhance its reputation. It's found on the diminutive roof of the Pie Shop boulder.  A low-slung affair with high dab potential and a grinding finish to boot. Conversations with the first ascentionist should have put me off but I was deaf to phrases like "close to the ground" and "utterly crap'': the name alone continued to pull me up the hillside.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The allure of the Wavelength hillside.[/td][/tr]

[/table]On inspection the problem looks poor- close to the ground with a huge pile of sheep shit underneath it to enliven the experience and sharpen the senses. This problem is an aesthetic black hole from which lovers of the line would never return but, my word, it climbed well! I'm a tall man, and I usually laugh at such short walls, but each arse scraping move drew me in.  From the heel- toe lock at the start, through the tenuous heel hook in the middle, this problem made me pay attention. I had to think of ways to keep my body high and hold swings. Right up to the final mantel I could not believe the quality of experience afforded me by this low- hulking piece of crap. As I reflected on climbing Beef Growler, bathed by views of one of Britain's most beautiful landscapes, I realised that although the problem I'd ascended was anything but aesthetic- the experience of climbing it certainly was.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The view from the Growler; doesn't get much better than this[/td][/tr]

[/table]So, although debate and strong opinion have driven climbing onward over the years, we should learn a lesson from the Growler experience. If we polarise ourselves into tribes that worship particular rock types, holds, or even climbers, we might miss something really good. The question 'is it the line or is it the move' should not even be asked - It's all climbing.  Others may say a move, problem, or venue is rubbish; don't believe them, find out for yourself. You may find your perfect problem. Remember the old adage, "one man's rag is another man's cape"; let's face it, we all want to wear a cape deep down!

from Pavelsky on Vimeo.

Thanks to Paul for the use of his video, you should watch his others, they are really rather good.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[fatneck]

Lovely stuff O-dog...

[comPiler]

Found and lost.
7 October 2013, 8:27 pm

Have you ever been to the bay of Angels? Have you ever stumbled along its shingled shores to sample the smooth, steep bounty held within? Time slides lazily here; cormorants skim across the still waters and lead your eye to a horizon stippled with windmills attempting to stem the inevitable rise of our warming seas. It's amazing to think that this tranquil little beach, looking out onto a calm sea of renewable rotations, is only a breath away from the bus tours and hotels of Llandudno and the now-faded ice cream parlours of Colwyn Bay. Calmness pervades, waves ripple rather than break, and the problems engage in such a way that hours pass without weariness, ache or need of rest. If you have never experienced the stillness beyond the bungalows in the bay, you need to, and soon.

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Crouchy on Dirt Box[/td][/tr]

[/table]Angel bay used be a regular haunt of the Merseyside Bouldering Scene, a real after-work treat when the tide was right. I did my first font 7a here, and I'm sure that Dolph's second ascent of Manchester Dogs was the beginning of his, now marathon, eighth-grade journey. Showtime, Fathanded Tom, Crouchy, Cassidy, Angry and the Silverback all visited in their time and danced on the wave-sculpted rock below the hill and between the tides.  

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Crouchy doing battle with the Locker[/td][/tr]

[/table]The bay was the sight of one of the most memorable nights of my climbing life. It involved an incident that entertained and horrified in equal measure. It was just a 'Tuesday night after work' session at the bay like any other! Showtime and Caryl were going and I'm sure Fatneck put in one of his influential cameos. Skinny dog was with me and everything was shaping up for a very pleasant evening of summer Bouldering.

I fed the dog and let him mooch around the bay as is his want, chasing the occasional pebble, his feet beating out a staccato rhythm as he searched for momentum and purchase amongst the rock and shingle. On one of these runs something grabbed his attention. A galaxy of  starfish had been washed up on the shore; they sat there desiccated by the late-afternoon summer rays. These salty, crunchy fruits of the sea proved too much for the Skinny one to resist! He devoured them in the same way a child eats sweets when they have been told to share.  We noticed his activities too late, but thought little of it!

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Fatneck showing his class on HP direct.[/td][/tr]

[/table]An hour passed, problems were sent and insults were exchanged as tokens of friendship. It was at this point the dog was sick.  It was dismissed as nothing to worry about, we gave him fresh water and returned to banter and Bouldering. What happened next will be etched in my mind until the rising tides engulf the bay indefinitely! My quiet little companion stopped running. He stopped moving. He simply opened up, morphed into a double-ended, biological Roman candle.  Fountains metres in length eruped from his orifices, providing a show that was truly multisensory! Showtime laughed. I cried,  hit by the sensation that this beautiful beach in its newly defiled state would be my home until the dog hit empty. Skinny  looked miserable and began to waddle around, dragging his posterior along the pebbles in search of something cool to ease his pain! The curious incident of a dog in the bay amused Showtime so much he named a problem after it! The dog never looked at seafood in quite the same way again.  

Angel bay has been the scene of so many chapters in the Mersyside Bouldering story.  Inspired by nostalgia I went back and visited after a break of some years this summer.  It was as calm and tranquil as ever, but something had changed.  It took me a while to isolate what variables had shifted, and then it hit me; this place, a former hot bed of Scouse climbing energy, activity and bile, had become a backwater- overlooked, ignored in favour of a famous cleft in the next headland. Have we all been blinded  by the allure of arm-busting link ups and the sinuous pathway to big grades mapped out for only those with the patience and dedication for the journey?

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Angry Jones on Bridey Arete[/td][/tr]

[/table]Angel bay, once a jewel in the coastal crown of North Wales Bouldering, is being lost as quickly as it was found. A lack of interest has allowed the quiet and constant creep of barnacles across  the bay to continue unabated. Proud, smooth, clean lines are slowly being re-colonized by the creatures of the shore. Sonic Boom, a boulder problem of some note, was once adorned with stars; now crustaceans decorate its slopers. Angel bay needs to be found again before it is lost to the sea: Jonesy's Locker, Dirt Box, Ren Arrete, Muscle Bound, Chaos Emerald Crack, The Holding Principal, Spectrum, The Limpet, Limp Wrist, The Letter Box and Sonic Boom are all good reasons to go! So people of Merseyside, Flintshire and Conway, let's not wait for a new guide to spark our interest, let us repopulate the bay with climbers. We can match those limpets and barnacles with our own efforts. Let us fight them on the beaches! So much can be achieved by so few! There is a battle to be fought and, by our will, we can return this tranquil spot to its former climbing glory and you too can experience the agony and ecstasy of climbing here.

Thanks to Crouchy and Fatneck for all of the photo's- there's more to see on bouldr.net.Here!

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[Will Hunt]

 

[SA Chris]

Superb

double-ended, biological Roman candle.

had me laughing so hard I choked on my oatcake.

[BenF]

Another great tale from Owen.  Sadly however, he forgot to regale the fact that his idiot of a dog actually dug up his own vomit and ate it. It was a particularly amusing evening at the Bay.

[Luke Owens]

Quality post!

I'd rather Angel Bay over Parisella's any day!

[masonwoods101]

Another brilliant post

[fatneck]

A legendary tale, well told... Deffo up there with the funniest things I've ever witnessed

[comPiler]

Game of Bests - Revistited
20 October 2013, 9:15 pm

New game, new game! Best problem you have ever climbed - think about it?

(If you are unsure of the game of bests I wrote a post about it some time ago, you can catch up by reading it here.)

When writing about Angel bay I happened across a photograph; a photograph I had long since forgotten, a photograph that encapsulates why I climb. This photograph was taken by Crouch and first appeared on his blog (see it here).  It was taken at a time when I was going well; in my head I was even keeping up with Crouchy! I've never actually kept up with Crouchy and that's why he's my hero. He sends 8a on any rock type, he has an ambition to herd cats in the future and he can eat caustic curries with a smile on his face. However I digress; being delusional about your ability is an old tradition in sport, it can really help with motivation and achievement.  In bouldering it can lead to problems being climbed that, on balance, you really shouldn't be able to touch. The problem in the photograph, my favourite problem ever, is a case in point.

?

?

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The brilliant Lizard King, Llanberis Pass. Picture Crouchy Collection.[/td][/tr]

[/table]The photo was taken by Crouch himself on a crisp winter's day when the pass was enveloped by powder blue skies and a soft, low light enlivened the shadows that lingered in the lea of the boulders. We met with the Dinas crew: Kev and Liam, dragons from the South, strong in the crimp and the lock. Kev chose to join us as we quested after this mythical reptile in the pass. I had spotted Fathanded Tom as he dispatched the problem in question with ease many years before. I had a go on two of the moves a week previously and knew that I could climb it, despite myself!

The description of Lizard King (simply the best problem out there for me) in the old North Wales Bouldering Guide is confusing. It states that it has a range of grades depending on the methods used to climb it.  This would normally put most off the scent and would lead them to quest up other hillsides, however the description also contains stars; a hint of quality that cannot be ignored. If the stars lead you over to Craig y Llwyfan you will see there is no real confusion; this problem is no eliminate, it just encapsulates quality of movement on rock.  The confusion comes from the fact that three problems share a similar start on this boulder but take different lines through its steepness. However it all makes sense when you get there.

You may ask what all the fuss is about. Why is this fool waxing lyrical about a single line flung far from the honey-pot problems of the Cromlech and Wavelength hillside?  How can this be 'best'? Well, it starts with the location, away from the hustle and bustle of trad climbers and tourists that inhabit the laybys of the pass. The boulder itself looks like a little bit of Switzerland dropped by the Bouldering Gods into the Land of Dragons. The lines of holds that festoon the front face of the block look like they have been laser cut: two near perfect rails that produce the strong visual line those obsessed with aesthetics covert. Finally the angle of climbing is steep, around 30 degrees overhanging - proper climbing if you ask me.

Lizard king, neither high nor low version,  is the problem that I would put in my back garden if I had to choose one! It's my 'best' because of its line, the company on the day and its location. Its my best because I sent it, even though I had no real right to do so (Crouchy got the send with minimum fuss about an hour before I did!). Its my 'best' because, as the discovery of this once forgotten photo demonstrates, it can still motivate me now years past both its ascent and the peak of my climbing powers. I look at this image, the only one I've seen that flatters my ego, and it makes me want to try hard, seek out the reason why I hang round small bits of rock rather than pubs at the weekend. 'Bests' motivate, that's why they are the best!

If you don't have a problem that motivates you like this one motivates me, leave the plasic and wood of the wall alone, go out, meet people, and find your best in the shadows cast by boulders on a crisp, powder blue day.

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[SA Chris]

More great writing.  "I am the Lizard King, I can do anything" - Jim Morrision (no doubt the line the line refers to, but seems apt)

[comPiler]

I’m rubbish because my mate is sometimes better than me.
23 October 2013, 3:58 pm

This weeks post comes from Ged Mac - gourmand, raconteur, and proprietor of Liverpool's Climbing Hangar.



The heavy bass massaged the dance floor of Chibuku as Nick played a DJ set supporting Disclosure in Liverpool last month.  This was his most high profile set ever.  I ‘danced’ away to his mix feeling a warm glow of pride.  That’s my mate Nick I thought, look at all these people dancing, enjoying themselves, I was happy for him.  A dark thought about my climbing life surfaced suddenly, how often am I envious instead of proud of my friends success?  How often does a friends’ success actually spoil my climbing session?  More often than I would like to admit actually.

I assume we all compare ourselves to other people, in all walks of life.  At the wall this means you have put yourself in an ability league relative to other people.  I am also assuming that, like me, you expect to outperform some and be outperformed by others.  But when this order is upset, unbidden thoughts, presumably made by demons, appear in my mind and interfere with my climbing session.  Here are three scenarios:

Scenario 1: I climb a boulder problem first time, I fight hard and get it first try (called a flash).  While basking in glory, Dan, who climbs V14 strolls up and attempts to climb it.  He struggles and falls!  Wow!  Dan fell off it?  Well ain’t that just the icing on the cake?  It must be harder than I thought!  I must be on form tonight!

Scenario 1.1: Dan cruises a problem I am working.  I am inspired and pay close attention to his movement, looking for tips.  I feel indifferent about his ascent as Dan’s is basically a machine anyway with hydraulics for fingers. I expect him to crush it easily.

Scenario 2: I’m climbing with Mark, our finance man, Mark climbs V9ish like me. I climb a boulder problem first time, I fight hard and get it first try.  While basking in glory, Mark glides effortlessly to the top.  I didn’t find that one too bad actually, he says, looking surprised after my horror show.  This triggers dark, envious thoughts.  I invent reasons why he found it easy and I didn’t.  I find reasons why I’m tired.  I mutter, ‘well you’ve always been good at slopers, I’m rubbish at them. I’m climbing terribly– maybe I’ll wrap up and go home early…. I need to train more/eat less/pull my finger out etc

Scenario 2.2: Mark saunters up a problem that I am working, yep I feel bad about that.  OMG, I am rubbish, I’m quitting climbing etc… self-esteem/cliff edge/dive dive dive…

Scenario 3: I climb a boulder problem first time, I fight hard and get it first try. N one’s around, I move on. Nice.  Next problem Ged….



Hypothetically, the above takes place in five parallel universes, I climb the same boulder problem in the same style in each universe, but each leads into one of the scenarios above and a very different feeling about my performance based on factors beyond my control.  Typically the suggested circuit grade is the classic session killer, normally that it’s harder than you think it should be.  Amazingly, very few people complain if they think something is too easy (go figure), but anyway.

It’s pretty embarrassing admitting the above.  It isn’t like I choose these thoughts.  But up they pop, like little bubbles in my mind, often with terrible effects on how much I enjoy my session.  What’s worse is the occasional mood swings and stupid comments that follow, yeah I didn’t sleep much last night or I’ve climbed too much or not enough.  Crazy.  Obviously the problem is internal, Mark and Dan are two climbers I respect and learn huge amounts from.  So what is the difference?  I don’t know to be sure, but I presume that the proximity of Mark to me in terms of ability/time climbing/training/build/height/age, occasionally triggers a very negative self-analysis that totally ignores logic and obvious objective analysis like style of climb, that Mark and I have different preferences/strengths weaknesses and so on.  

Obviously I’m going to climb with my friends so, if Mark continues to cruise stuff I can’t do, well, dry your eyes Ged and get on with it.  But the real question here is why and how do certain things get under our skin with enough force to inhibit performance?  Listen Mark, it’s not you, it’s me.  Maybe there are areas of my motivation and self-esteem that I don’t yet understand, invisible mental currents that wield influence over my climbing.  

I know I climb my best when I’m happy.  I also know that sometimes I get annoyed when I judge my climbing to be poor and struggle to reverse the feeling, my climbing always worsens when this happens, even if the judgement is wrong or unfair.   Yet I think I climb for pleasure, for the challenge, for how good it makes me feel, for time shared with others.  

The million dollar question is then, can I (we) improve the climbing experience by altering my emotional response to things beyond our control, to stay happy and motivated?  I’m working on the answer, but so far my top three for staying positive is:

Forget ‘I did it’ = / ‘I fell off’ =  try, be motivated by making progress no matter how tiny.

Never, ever make an excuse for falling off, analyse why it may have happened, but don’t excuse it.

Spend a session failing on hard stuff – I say in my head after every fall, ‘this one has something to teach you then, best pay attention…’ failing can be fun!

If you have any experiences of other factors influencing your climbing, positive or negative or you have any wisdom to share from climbing or from other disciplines, please do get in touch so I can explore the subject further with case studies other than me!



Ged@theclimbinghangar.com

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[comPiler]

All for the Love of Wood and Plastic.
2 November 2013, 1:57 pm

I have a confession to make. There is something dark lurking in the recesses of my mind. I don’t want to divulge any details. I don’t want to admit that I am capable of such sordid thoughts.

?

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]The October Monsson engulfs the Neath Valley[/td][/tr]

[/table]The rain is back;, temperatures are high and the Indian summer some had whispered about seems to have morphed into a sub-continental monsoon; puddles have depth. The rhythm of the rain on the rooves seems to sing songs of yet another season lost. There are problems in the Peak and the Pass that are just waiting to be finished. Final holds fumbled in the summer months have been waiting for the cool of autumn and the attention they so richly deserve. I should be out there; an outdoor weekend- warrior battling grit, dolerite and limestone; fighting the good fight, seeking adventure in wild places. However I'm not, I'm inside.

It's not that it’s evil (the thing plaguing my thoughts), I'm just not sure that it’s right. I really don’t want you to judge me, but I've got to tell someone; I need to share this burden.

I hate loose ends; unfinished outdoor problems nag away, eating my psyche, until they become members of the ever-increasing mental list of 'must go back to visit' problems. This list hangs around in the background haunting you. Should you train for them in case the weather takes a turn for the better, or would your time indoors be better spent toiling towards greater long term goals: trips abroad or harder problems? Your focus can become blurred, however any climbing is better than no climbing at all.

My eyes have started to wander. There’s something shapely, curvaceous and engaging invading my consciousness, turning my head (and not in a good way).

Indoor problems don’t have the same hold over me as their outdoor equivalents. I seem to be able to frame them as transient training apparatus. Failure does not consign these problems to a future must-do list that revolves on continuous play in my head; I simply don’t have any emotional attachment to those coloured plastic lines that decorate plywood at the wall. I know plenty of other climbers who can articulate with the indoor climbing experience fully. Each new set of problems precipitates a new campaign; problems are individually wrestled and vanquished. This leads to conversations of beta, moves, style and quality. I wish I could change my frames of reference and see indoor problems as ends in themselves. It would lead to less disappointment with the British weather; I would get stronger as well - I just don’t seem to be able to do it.

She's there every time I go to the wall. She does nothing special to grab my attention, but I simply can’t take my eyes off her. How do I broach this incendiary topic with my wife?

The indoor climbing wall for me is a social space. Somewhere I catch up with friends, drink coffee and seek asylum from my work space. It is the place where I generally unwind; rid myself of the daily baggage placed into my irresponsible hands by modern social and economic interactions. It’s also a training space for me where I work on the deficiencies in my climbing repertoire. Repetition, isolation of move, intensity and volume marshal my sessions at the wall, all to one end - to lessen the burden of failure in my mind. I train for outdoor excellence that I rarely attain.

I'm just going to admit it; life in a world of denial is no life at all. I have feelings, an emotional attachment to the cellar board at the Hangar. I know it’s wrong, but is it really?

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Mills working those holds baby![/td][/tr]

[/table]Ok, it’s out there. I should focus on problems made of minerals, sculpted by the elements that exist in a natural landscape, but I just can’t help it, the draw of the board is so strong. I can ignore those circuit problems, they do nothing for me, but the board.....? I'm no fool; I know this is an uneven relationship, unrequited if you will. The board has more time for the stronger climber; her attentions are lavished on Dan, Psyche or Crouch and their abilities to use holds that most of us can only dream of locking down. However I can kid myself, believe that one day I might reign supreme in the world of the board and monopolise the attention of this inanimate object. Yes its wrong, yes I should be obsessing around real boulder problems, of course I should be looking at the skies for a break in the rain; but I just can’t help it, that 50 degree angle is just too good.

I need help.

The first step to dealing with a problem like this is to acknowledge you have a problem. I told my wife - I admitted that I had strayed and looked at another! I told her how sorry I was. I was looking for forgiveness, redemption. She looked deep into my soul and said without fuss or irony “Hmm, that’s nice dear."

[tr][td][/td][/tr][tr][td]Oooh just look at the steepness[/td][/tr]

[/table]If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in this story, then please contact your local wall where fellow board-lovers may help you. Intensively attempting problems created by others, sitting on mats in the shadow cast by the board and endlessly waxing lyrical about the best hold on impressively steep angles will eventually allow you to kick this terrible affliction.

 

Source: Skinny Dog's Esoteric Bouldering Guide.

[andy_e]

I knew Mills would be photographed on a board. It's the only time he seems to get photographed.