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James Mchaffie - Caffs (B)Log...

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DAVETHOMAS90:
Yep. Quality write-up. Great effort too.  :2thumbsup:

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A day in North Wales
28 July 2017, 4:51 pm

    Head to head on the finishes       I often tell people I think the climbing and ‘scene’ in North Wales is a contender for the best in the world.  A recent day which involved shuffling a few centimetres higher on a sport redpoint, soloing some easy mountain routes and watching friends going for it and succeeding in their endeavours encompassed much of why I give Wales a big seal of approval.

   Dream of White Horses, Cenotaph Corner, Hope, Flying Buttress, Great Wall, Main Wall, Christmas Curry, Positron, Comes the Dervish, Right Wall, Vector, Path to Rome, Statement of youth are all route names that will resonate with climbers, the list of classics is near endless.

I’d made plans on this particular day to climb at LPT with Dan Mcmanus. The forecast was due to be poor until 8.00am before becoming good. I’d predicted that Dan would look out of his window which overlooks the Orme towards the end of the bad weather and cancel. At 8.00am Dan messaged to cancel proving my guess correct. Whilst on a big wall trip Dan will happily live on his own dandruff and wait out bad weather sleeping in a waterfall for a week but back in blighty he might crumble at the first whiff of a cloud.  After an hour or 2 of calls and counselling I picked him up and we headed down. It was as good as summer conditions get, dry with a costant breeze.

  After putting the clips in his project, Youthanasia, Dan did it first attempt making it look very easy, shaking out on most moves and obviously in good shape for his trip to Ratikon. Nick Moulden did a climb on the left and it looked like it was a ‘low gravity’ day on LPT. Having strained my elbow on an undercling on Sea of Tranquility earlier in the year a high step had proved elusive. I arrived there feeling good and getting past the elusive move got very excited, taking time to set my feet in the final positions I began to get set up for the last move before everything caved in and I was spat out into my usual air haunt. I was still pretty happy though and reminded myself that once this one was completed I’d have to attach a mobile at the belay of the last one ready to message Oli Grounsel immediately upon success.

  Leaving LPT I headed back for a brew, the day was cloudless and with friends in the Pass I drove round to see what was going on. The conditions were incredible, that golden light with a soft breeze.

I headed up to Dinas Mot and did Diagonal and Superdirect rapidly, feeling I was moving as well as I ever had where you hardly need to stop before going into the next move(doing Gogarth in sub 9 minutes a few days later felt similar). I think Diagonal might even have been the 1st route I did in the Pass with Wez and Adam Wilde sometime in the 90s.      Aiming for the 3/4 ledge   Looking up at the Cromlech there was a climber in a white helmet setting off on Right Wall. Kate Keltie had been talking about it and as I made my way up it became apparent it was her.

On arrival at the base there was a bit of a party vibe; Gus, Duncan, Fatboy, Sophie, some Spanish climbers…..but as my eyes rose and I got a terrible surprise. Jesus.

  Howard Lawledge was 8 metres up Lord of the Flies!

I yelled to his partner:

“Sophie, tell him to get down, it gets serious above”

 I’d once watched Howard make a terrifying ascent of Minotaur in Huntsmans Leap involving all kinds of crazy disco legs,whole body quivers, gear dropping out, slapping. It hadn’t looked hopeful for him at all.

  At least there were 2 doctors on hand this time and Gus could probably catch him from 20 metres without straining.

 After shouting encouragement I went up Ivy Sepulchre and round to the top of Left Wall to get pics and become a voyeur.

  The Cromlech itself can seem quite intimidating, being exposed and high in the Pass. Right Wall and Lord of the Flies are both big leads giving runout climbing where a fall in certain sections would be highly unadvisable, courtesy of Pete Livesey and Ron Fawcett. Some of the biggest falls I’ve seen have been off Right Wall.

 My friend Adam Hocking had been a bit phased by it when younger but found it easy when he did it, which is no surprise as he was onsighting 8a/+ at the time. He helped talk a chap into trying it who had only led E3 previously. He put in a valiant fight. I was on True Grip opposite when he reached the good holds above the port hole. He was too pumped to hold on to them. As he parted company with the rock he let out a scream and I locked up on the holds I was on and gazed across terrified. The scream continued and he curled into the foetal position, some of his gear banged against the rock, unclipped from the rope and flew out towards the scree below. It looked like he wasn’t going to stop but thankfully he did. Lord of the Flies has also seen some big ones off the top. The footage of Big Ron on it is well worth a watch.

   Back on the routes Howard was looking very solid and it looked like the gear he placed was staying in. Kate was also looking well solid. I’d climbed with Kate recently and knew she was a great climber having a deliberate style well suited for trad but she’d mentioned she hadn’t onsighted E5 and I thought Right Wall a reasonably big lead for a first.

They both arrived at the ¾ ledge at the same time. Kate moved up towards the port hole which to reach and get passed many people find the crux. Reversing down a move or 2 but not bothering to step onto the ledge for a rest she committed above once more and reached the port hole. As an observer at this point and having witnessed the consequences of people ‘letting go’ made the tension feel palpable, staying focused for a few more moves the good holds leading rightwards were reached convincingly.      Almost finishing the runout on Right wall     Turning my attention back to Howard I was impressed how strong he looked on the moves as I’d generally identified him as a similar morph to the chap off the Mister Muscle adverts. Half a move below some jugs and bomber kit he locked off some crap holds and wasted time putting in some rubbish gear, much to my amusement, if he’d been struggling I would have said something…maybe. He was cruising though.

  It looked as if both Kate and Howard topped out at the exact same time, in sync. I went and offered some peppermint tea to go with the bilberries on top. North Wales and the Pass had given great times again. I had to shoot off to prep for work the following day but the others finished with a pint in the Vaynol before their journeys home. Reality kicked back in but the memory never fades...apart from Ry Pasquils, his is mush.



Source: James Mchaffie - Caffs (B)Log...

submaximal gains:
http://www.jamesmchaffie.com/caffs-blog/euphoria

Euphoria

12/24/2017

It did feel good, a very potent form of escapism, totally absorbing and for my younger self an addiction. Something which lots of people tell you is a bad idea but you do anyway. I remember the first day I started in 1996. Sat at lower falcon it had become evident my climbing partner Adam Hocking was unlikely to arrive. Feeling pretty  frustrated I set off up a VS called Spin Up, it felt wrong from ten metres height and my instincts told me not to carry on like people trying their first cigarette. I slowly made progress to the top and once there my 15 year old self felt quite elated at having stopped my instincts from backing off low down. I walked back to the base and looked at a HVS further right called Funeral Way, my memory of this is vague and I’m pretty sure I backed off that day and did it at a later date.
  From that day a totally different realm of rock climbing opened up, without the ropes, the need to stop and place pro or of belaying a partner you could do a ton of routes so fast. When I hit 17 it had become integral with most of my climbing done alone. I remember Prana and Bitter Oasis being a big deal the first time I soloed them which makes sense as I wasn’t leading that much harder, eventually they were just part of bigger days out. Many routes in the Lakes I’d look at and wonder how it would feel to do them without a rope and more often than not I would find out. It became a habit and I saw it as an extension of scrambling. I did a lot of routes in the Lakes, down Borrowdale, on Pavey, Dow, Scafell, Hodge Close and down in Wales in the Pass, at Gogarth, Slate, Tremadog, Ogwen, Carneddau, Pembroke and elsewhere. Never too hard generally but quite extensive, in the several 1000 route mark, often onsight or routes I'd not done for a few years unless they were on a regular circuit.  ​
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The Niche on Falcon
 I remember the feeling of euphoria of going near the edge soloing contrasting sharply with going to school a few years before when I dreaded going in. From wearing old clothes I’d acquired the name ‘Tramp’ which at various times (over many years) became a group chant; Tramp,tramp, tramp. Combined with being brought up a Jehovahs witness made Christmas time quite special and even a quarter of a century later when someone asks if I’m psyched for Christmas my eyes glaze over and I think about where I’d like Santa and Christ to go.
   On moving to Wales I remember a few times that first summer; spinning around on the top shelf of Lubyanka to look outwards, going for a swim beneath Main cliff after a few routes like Big Groove and Assassin in March, crawling through the hole on the top pitch of Ducking Stool and Ray Kay talking me out of Heart of Gold at a party. It had even helped me escape from an argument with an ex after a car chase.
   It’s a habit I got out of and in fact would more say lost for a good few years partly due to choking. This apparently can only happen to an expert and is where in extremely stressful situations the expert loses their head and becomes literally a complete beginner! Its one of those things you don't really believe in (like chronique fatigue/lazyitis) until it happens to you. I won’t linger on the details although it is worth a read in Matthew Syeds excellent book Bounce. Choking in a sport competitions is humiliating but think about choking when soloing. For a few years it felt like a piece of me was missing, imagine the strongest bit of your climbing just disappearing, almost completely. It led to some farcical and dangerous moments when I decided to rid myself of the block to regain access to this Elixir.
​
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When I set off to do the 100 in the Lakes it was still a big unknown wether it would end on the first route or thankfully as my friend Hazel would put it I’d get into the flow state which is what I was hoping for. The day after I was sat in the bath at mums flat having a bottle of wine, soaking in the fatigue and thinking about how much my poor mum had had to put up with over the years.
  Although kicked into touch as a regular habit the ability to cover a lot of moderate climbing fast is still there and once in a while there would be an urge to do so. Unless you are a very fortunate person life will have its periods of feeling rather flat and feckless and if you go out and do 30+ routes you know the feeling will evaporate with any worries just falling away.
    The last 2 years I had in mind a list of 100 Welsh routes to do but having left it too late in the season both years had settled on doing 60 of the best in September. This would still have given a very good day, giving homage to many Joe Brown with routes like Vector, Vember, Cenotaph, Cemetary Gates and I figured I could do it with plenty of energy still in the tank. I did the odd timing out of curiosity to give an idea of how long some sections might take. Gogarth was under 9 minutes, Pull my daisy, 2.45, Dervish 4 and thought I could rattle through a lot of it fairly quickly believing I was 17 again.
   The enchainment of routes in the mountains felt like my main forte and if you really want to do something you can find reasons to justify it. Taking something that you feel good at as far as you can, which you find tricky to envisage and pays homage to an area and some of its pioneers.  A channel of energy.
​
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   Nigel ‘Yorky’ Robinson was a friend of the family and a regular climbing partner of dads. One of those rare super nice guys on every level, driving goods he’d collected out to orphanages in Kosovo over many years. We had a day out one Friday in the summer going to Malham as the weather was duff but the original plan had been for him to join me in the Lakes as I got my head into gear for the welsh one, doing a 30 route day, when he said he was keen to come and hangout I was a bit incredulous. He met with the rest of my family for lunch at Shepherds café later that wknd.
   A few weeks later I’d just had 3 days climbing in Pembroke with Emma Twyford, a climbing partner of mine now for 20 years. In fact I first climbed with Emma when she was 12 and she said she was keen to try an E1, I pointed her at the Grasp she took 2 lobs totally unafraid then did it!
It had been a cracking weekend, Preposterous Tales and Stargate when piss wet on the 1st afternoon, Pleasure dome, mutiny on the bounty, big issue and a good piss up with friends on day 2 then Emma kindly took me up Barbarella and Headhunter before a good tide let us finish on Woeful on the last day. We finished with Fish and Chips in Aberaeron on the way back.
 I was starting an ML assessment the morning after when Eve Lancashire delivered the news that Yorky was dead. He’d been found in Donegal with boots and chalkbag on. He’d been so proud to go to his sons’ wedding 2 weeks before in Berlin.
The weather was appropriately shit on the ML to go with the news and it gave me some time to reflect on how nice a guy he was. When dad was on his last legs Yorky would travel up from Nottingham to the Lakes and take him out to crags and after dad passed away he would always email me and stay in touch with mum.
  At his funeral there was his wife Pat who is a stand up comedian and although we’d never met she took the time to grab me for a chat about Yorky. I also spoke with his son Tom who runs a Theory and Bio-Systems lab in Potsdam.
​
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Dad and Yorky at Shepherds cafe
  There is not much you can say when one of the really good and kind people of the world leaves it.  I’m glad it was quick, I’m glad it was doing something he loved but bloody hell I wish he was still around and can’t imagine the loss of such a character to the people who were really close to him.
   The best days I’ve had over the years haven’t been on my own, they’ve been the days doing a couple of routes with a good friend and having that shared experience. The wknd in Pembroke with Emma and having a brew on the top of Carn Gowla with my favourite doctor after climbing Guernica and going too direct on America were the best times climbing this year. It would be great to be climbing with Emma in another 20 years.
​
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Emma on preposterous Tales
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Kate on Guernica
    Back in the day they were taught never to fall off as the gear was awful and the consequences of failure often serious. Joe Brown once told me he never used to do a move he didn’t think he could down climb, worth thinking about that on some of his routes. In the 1970s and early 80s a lot more people soloed in the mountains quite possibly because it was still an era of routes being dangerous anyway and if your friends are doing something you are more likely to try it. Some people did get killed with Jimmy Jewel, Paul Williams and Derek Hersey being some of the first to spring to mind and with Cliff Phillips heinous falls off the Mot and tremadog leaving some doubt as to wether it’s just his ghost which is still amongst us. Ryan was close to death when he fell off whilst ‘tandem’ soloing Weaver, thankfully Pete was beneath him feeling like superman and managed to grab him, god knows how.
   Some of the biggest mountain solo days in the UK would have been Jimmy Jewels impressive outings on Cloggy and the film Total Control shows him floating up Left Wall, T-rex, Grasper and Silly Arete. He was obviously a great soloist but he still died doing it. The Big Jim is a huge meal you can order in Petes Eats and is named after him, apparently having a strong brummy accent he asked for a full welsh breakfast and they mistook it for four breakfasts which he polished off anyway.   
   I’m not going to tell you not to solo but would hate to think of some youths thinking it’s a cool thing to do when it’s the opposite. You might like to think you are the next A-hon or Catherine Destivelle and the odd easy solo like the odd fag is unlikely to kill you but the more you do the more the evidence starts to tally up against you. It might be a crimp or flake loosened from a winter, a bit of hidden dampness, rain, a palsy or lack of concentration at the wrong moment.     
 If you decide to give it a go then I’d tread fucking carefully as there are plenty of things to look forward to in life and it’s likely you’ll be missed even if you are a dickhead.
Choose life.
Go dancing

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