7a

Climbing, like life, is a journey of exploration, you evolve as the years go by and things change. My early climbing life was heavily entrenched in trad climbing where I could get away with increasing boldness in place of technique, talent or strength. So naturally I viewed bouldering as practice and sport climbing as a cop-out. However the truth was I was too weak to boulder and too scared to truly try hard sport climbing.

Then as I'm sure you all know I abandoned the notions of being bold and became a boulderer, which only left sport climbing as the last bastion of my preconceived notions. As I mentioned in my previous blog I managed to overcome my fear of sport climbing during a mind-blowing trip to Mallorca. So now I was relatively comfortable sport climbing it was time to push myself and seeing as my goal when I started bouldering had been 7a I thought I may as well translate this to sport climbing. So having failed to climb a 6a+ in Mallorca I aimed to climb 7a by the end of the year.

Lacking any natural talent my only hope was sheer determination, so with a newly graduated Freddie in tow we started scoping out potential routes. Our first call was Chee Dale. Due to the immense heat wave Britain had been subjected to, the shaded dale and babbling stream offered a cool refuge from the scorched plains of the real world. Thinking we may as well go big we jumped straight on Clarion Call, a classic warm up route for the big boy school that is the Cornice. As you approach, a rolling wave of crimps and kneebars lean over you, a haven for those of a powerful disposition and a nightmare for weaklings like me. So, feeling like it was the first year of secondary school we started projecting the warm up.

Lanking on Clarion Call. Photo by Cindy

Long story short it was nails, we failed and ran away. So next week we set our sights lower this time a 6c, it should’ve been a breeze but it was poorly bolted and also solid. A slippery body position reliant boulder problem leads to a poor rest by the first bolt then a mild crux takes you past the second bolt. Here you hope a rest or jugs would appear but nope the holds remain pretty poor for a good 3 metres to a rest below the third bolt. Then it starts again and you get pretty worked until you clip the chains. A 6c had become a 2 day project. It was looking good for 7a.

The day I climbed the 6c I was meant to be climbing with Freddie and Sam, unfortunately Freddie struggles with admin and had to renew his car insurance, MOT and driver's license, so in theory he’d meet us after doing all of that. Having climbed the 6c and brimming with stoke me and Sam climbed around the dale until about 8 then headed for the car. Upon arrival to the car park we saw Freddie's car come hurtling towards us. He had technically made it relatively on time so we made an about turn and returned to Max’s Wall in Chee Dale for the 6c+. The light was fading in the valley and the air was getting moister by the minute, perfect for pushing yourself. It may have been the less than ideal conditions or it may be because it's plain hard but it felt pretty impossible. Retiring to my flat we feasted in preparation for the rematch the next day.

Strong Sam warming up at Maxs Wall Photo by Me

The scoured surface of the rock provides little friction on which to plant your feet but I was pushing through.  I lunged for the mono, grappled the undercut then swiped for the upper jugs. Hauling myself up I felt weary, battle worn from the day trying to subdue the route. It was the day after I climbed the 6c and I was worked. Making small adjustments to beta and learning the route over the course of the day was new for me. But it worked, obviously Freddie had climbed it first and I only just managed to pull it out of the bag. But still these incremental steps were leading me to believe that using my natural determination, redpointing a 7a was possible. it was just a matter of time and trying hard.

Rubicon is a surreally steep roof that if it weren’t for a 7mt scramble to the base of the roof would be a really cool easy boulder problem. But alas you get some pre-pump from the mildly overhanging starting scramble, and when you eventually get to the roof the jugs are further away than you expected. Having apparently learned nothing from projecting the 6’s at Max’s Wall I attempted to go ground up. After a day working it and inevitably watching Freddie climb it twice I had done the bottom section around 20 times but the crux about 3. Redpointing was obviously the way forward.

The classic Water Cum shot Photo by Me

Returning the week after with Sam I knew that I needed to work on the crux as it's close to the end and really easy to cut loose and drop it one hand move from a jug. Utilising some sneaky guidebook beta I noticed a foothold that with a bit of lank and a modicum of body tension could hold you in. Having a few goes trying beta and placing draws I was very relaxed and having loads of fun swinging around on giant jugs. Sam even had a few goes because who doesn’t love swinging on massive buckets. The day progressed and I went for 'just' another go, doing the start moves to the roof that had become so routine I almost messed it up, clipping, resting, pulling onto the roof reaching the jug below the crux, clipping the final bolt sorting my feet out for the swing. Dynamically moving from the jug to a pinch the routine stopped and I found myself somehow catching the pinch and waiting for the inevitable cut loose and fall, somehow this didn’t happen and I sorted my feet out used all of my core and reached up really easily for the jug, it was over I had done it. Well, I still had 4 metres of unpractised juggy climbing with terrible feet to go. Burning the remains of my arms I hauled myself up. Clipping the chains elated, it sunk in, I had done it. A month or so after establishing the goal I had climbed a 7a, me and Sam celebrated with a cookie and a chossy slightly deathy 6a at Horseshoe Quarry.

Sam for scale Rubicon Roof Photo by Me

Now this is naturally where the story would end you’ve got the goal, the struggle and victory but this is my blog so it’s going to keep going. Stoked that I pushed the barrier I wanted more, so a couple of days after climbing Rubicon me and Freddie ventured to the post-apocalyptic wasteland of Harpur Hill. Not the prettiest of venues but one that we have discovered has some of the best low grade sport climbs in the Peak, most on natural bits of rock. The route we came to climb is the pride of the crag a 7a in some guides a 7a+ in others Cairn is about 15mts tall and takes a journey up an incredible flake the likes of which we don’t see often in the UK. Warming up on a 6a called Coral Seas which happens to be one of the nicest routes I’ve climbed we headed down to commence the beat down. Tying in and clipping the bolts with a clipstick we took it in turns try to get going. It felt impossible. I developed some ludicrous beta that involved a barn door dyno off a foot jam. It was obvious that it was not the best way. Utilising the power of the internet I scoured through videos of the route looking for a less ridiculous way. Naturally there was a way that didn’t even require you pull to hard on the holds you adjust your body position and it's actually pretty steady. Getting the moves to the kneebar rest wired we started working on the upper headwall. After many attempts I had figured a usable sequence but we were running out of time with me needing to get to work. So Freddie set off and naturally being a stronger, bolder, better climber than me he did it just before we left. Once again I would have to return.

Another Harpur Hill route Photo by Cindy

Returning the following week with Edwin and Cindy I was confident it would go quickly, even the slight drizzle on the approach didn’t deter me. Heading straight for Cairn I tied in with my new 9.2mm rope, handed Edwin my grigri and set off. Flowing up the initial moves and feeling strong I made it the kneebar in what felt like seconds, resting and eyeing up the next moves I felt pumped so I went to readjust the knee bar to make it a tad comfier. As I did so the slight drizzle on the rock caused my foot to slip, but this was no bother as I had the rope clipped above me. But instead of dropping a little I kept falling, still expecting the rope to catch after the stretch I didn’t panic. Then before I knew it I was stood on the rubble next to Edwin. Both looking at each other in a bemused and are you okay fashion I quickly worked out what had happened. The rope is super thin and kind of needs to jerk the grigri for it to lock, when I went to readjust the kneebar Edwin had payed out a miniscule amount of slack in preparation for me to start climbing. This was just enough that when I fell the rope didn’t jerk the grigri and just kept feeding through. I probably should of warned him about that. Luckily I stuck the landing and escaped with only slightly bruised heels, Edwin actually came off worse with some intense rope burn to his hand. I pulled the rope and Edwin jumped on it, having not climbed much due to finger injury and climbing on tenterhooks awaiting the tendon to go again he quickly swapped with Freddie so he could do some easier less tendon aggressive routes with Cindy.

I just kept going, failing in the same spot each time after the kneebar, I couldn’t work out what I was doing wrong, when I had worked out the beta this section felt easy but I just couldn’t get it to work. The day wore on, taking longer and longer rests under the ever grey sky and with ever weakened forearms. It started to get late I was done so I went up to retrieve the draws. This time the bottom section felt hard my arms heavy with the many attempts they had been subjected to, yarding up the flake I reached the kneebar. Like always I put my foot on the hold and slid my knee in. However this time something was different, I wasn’t pumped, my arms felt fresh so I withdrew my knee and carried on. Pulling hard and standing up my foot slipped but I managed to catch myself. Sparked on by the near success I stood up harder and caught the hold. In a slight panic I readjusted everything to get to the next hold, clipping the 4^th draw I knew it was game on. Having seen Freddie climb this section I wasn’t totally unprepared but I still didn’t fully know what I was doing. Climbing in a semi-flow state I was fighting falling off all the way to the chains through semi-good jugs and slightly poor feet, it was with relief I found myself hugging the jugs as I clipped the chains. The grey sky turned to blue and Harpur Hill turned from a hole to the best crag in the Peak.

Cairn Photo by Edwin

This had been my hardest climb to date and it was a wild ride, I know this whole blog and goal has been grade based, however its more about discovery and the journey from impossible to possible. I learnt I am a terrible onsight climber but my determination can help me pull through on a redpoint. I managed to transform sport climbing from my most feared climbing discipline into probably my favourite. I found gear doesn’t wholly matter as I climbed Cairn in a worn-out pair of Miuras. Most of all I tried really hard and climbed some wicked routes with friends and that really is what climbing is about.

The next level Photo by Cindy

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