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

x

Confessions Of A Small Time Gear Addict

I arrive at the crag pull my rope out of my ultra light alpine rucksack and throw it on the floor and stare at the ungodly mess it has got its self into. It was only cheap, 'I should get a new one' I think to myself. Sliding my legs into the lightest harness I could get for the price I rack up with a selection of high end sport draws, every click brings me satisfaction and the thought that it wasn’t a total waste of money. I lace up my downturned super technical climbing shoes and set off for the onsight. Failing to gain much ground I lower down and thumb through my collection of jackets. Do I go for the windproof, the thin primaloft, the thick primaloft or the high altitude down jacket. After a short break I start up again thanking myself for having such a great jacket collection as I’m still warm,  my fingers and muscle are supple and feeling every slight nuance to the sequence. My eyes only avert from the route to clip and stare at the beautiful quickdraws I spent so much money on. Fondling the chalk in preparation for the crux I convince myself that the higher magnesium content of this premium chalk will help me make it through. I slip and lower off and head off home to peruse climbing websites, so I can build a spreadsheet that will tell me which high end rope will help me send the 6c that's been giving me so much bother. I am an outdoor gear addict and a mediocre climber.

All the gear no idea

There was a time many transactions ago when I convinced myself I was going to be a scrappy gear climber buying only the essential gear, starting off by buying second hand quickdraws off a friend buying the cheapest rope go outdoors had to offer and hitting the crag in a half filled down jacket bought for nothing on ebay. Then I went to Scotland got soaked on a VDiff and bought a half price Arc'teryx Raincoat in Fort William. That's where it all began, I got a job upon returning to university and this only made things worse I have never really had that much disposable income and now I had enough to ignite the flames of my burgeoning addiction. My trad rack started to build up slowly over the year as did my jacket collection and by the time I left uni my collection had grown and my addiction had got worse. Luckily I was out of work for a while this did a good job of quelling my appetite but it only made it return with a greater vengeance once I started working again. Its now been 2 years since it all began and I know have more gear than a small outdoor shop.

                                              With This Many Jackets You Can't Help But Smile

It’s got to the stage where all my climbing gear out performs me by many many grades. But does that matter? You can be a great climber and not care about what you climb with as long as it does its job , or you can be a terrible climber who by racking up with all the high end toys climbs better because psychologically he feels it gives him an advantage. Wanting nice things is part of been a human its why we developed capitalism. Over winter I enjoyed falling onto my big comfy crash pad and having a massive down jacket to put on, did it make me climb better probably not but it made it more enjoyable. At the end of the day having Adam Ondras signature shoe will not make you climb like Adam Ondra but hey they are nice shoes and if you’ve worked hard to buy some why not buy some. You don’t need a 9.2mm rope to onsight 6c but if you get enjoyment out of buying it feeling it and climbing with it great you do you. Its all down to how you want to spend your hard earned money and I for one am grateful to be able to spend it on things I want.

Was this entire blog made to justify me buying a high end 9.2mm climbing rope? Maybe I’ll just check the spreadsheet.

Lads On Tour

The suns intensity is muffled by the breeze blowing in from the sea, I'm failing to stand on a limestone blob, it should be easy but I haven't sport climbed for almost a year. Its going to take some time to get used to this. It was the first day of a week long sport climbing holiday in Mallorca and I had failed to climb a 6a+.

My ryanair promo shot Photo by Me

It had been a spontaneously planned trip but we had everything just about in order, flying out a few days earlier than Oscar and Sam, before we knew it Myself, Freddie Cindy and Rob were landing in Palma. We were psyched to see sunshine for the first time, flying over the island you could see the mountains rising dramatically from impossibly blue waters of the Mediterranean. This was a stark contrast coming at a time where Britain had been in winter for about 8 months. Of course it wouldn't be a holiday without something going wrong straight away and that first something was a complete fnancial rinsing by the hire car company. But after Freddie was taken into the back room by the very hench car hire salesman guy something got worked out and we had a mode of transport.

Rob on the appropriatley named Juggy One Photo by Fredde

The next day we were stoked for our first crag and thinking we'd have a chill day we headed to Cala Magraner for some easy climbs by the beach. After a brief visit to the shop for all the baguettes, meat, cheese and chocolate I got in the car for my first experience driving on the wrong side of the road. After a mainly uneventful drive we pulled up, got out and started the short walk down to the beach. As we walked by the ramshackled fences made from pieces of dried wood and what ever else the farmer happened upon you could feel the warm breeze emanating from the sea, but it was still hidden only revealing itself at the last bend. Upon arriving at the beach we blitzed our way through the really easy stuff in the shade before me and Rob decided to head out of the shade to try one of the classic 6a+'s called Ses Tres Maries. In hindsight heading out of the shade into full sun to climb having not had hot weather for years was not a great plan. Setting off up Ses Tres Maries I was struggling to get back into the sport climbing way. The crux involves standing on this little limestone blob that also happened to be polished and a little seepy. Me and Rob ended up taking it in turns just trying to do this move. After we had already given to much effort I managed to get on the blob and through the next moves. I was stood under the final overhang that guarded the top I tried to move up but my body was exhausted. Having not climbed anything taller than 8mts in months this was a real wake up call. I needed to learn how to sport climb again. Also I had mild heatstroke, lowering off I ran to the bags and drank as much water as I could, returning to belay Rob who top roped to my high point then retrieved the draws. I saw Cindy swinging about on a ludicrously steep route that I thought must be at least in the high 6's, upon her return to the floor Freddie stated that it was only a 5+ so after seeing Rob crush it I went for my go. It was bonkers just really steep climbing with a massive stand up rest half way up, which I didn't fully utilise resulting in me screaming I'm so pumped all the way to the belay much to the amusement of everyone watching. It was a pretty brilliant first day and as we walked back to the car with the sun setting I was happy I had been shut down on something that should've been easy because it meant I had a goal for the week. Get back on the sport climbing horse.

Sunset Photo by Cindy

Struggling to overtake the swarms of cyclists on the small mountain road that heads up from Port de Pollenca we made our way towards La Crevata, upon cresting the hill we were greeted with a scene from avatar and a car park full of people, maybe good Friday wasn't the best day for this. Parking a little further down the road we admired the view with the tourists then walked along the trail cragward bound. Passing a sturdy group of goats we approached the edge of a cliff which according to the guidebook was the descent to the crag. It turned out to be easier than it looked but still down climbing with heavy packs, clipsticks and shopping bags really added to the adventure. The reason we had chosen this crag was due to its great selection of sub 5's with me now starting sport climbing from scratch it seemed like a good idea. As we waited for the crowds to dissipate we snacked and scrambled up a nearby chimney checking out bolts as we went. Looking at the selection of the lines on the cliff we could see only the main classics had non rusted bolts, I think the maritime location combined with a lack of bolt fund has contributed to this. However at many of the crags we visited there was always at least one route with questionable bolts maybe its the fact the climbing is plagued by access issue or maybe its the lack of established bolt fund but it something to be aware of. Anyway tangent aside the lines we were here for had good shiny bolts and the easier stuff flew by and climbed like a dream. Then as with the day before I went to try a classic 6a+ called Recode de Bunyola this one line of shiny bolts in a sea of rusted relics obviously stood out. The initial climbing was sustained and quite fingery, after a brief rest it continued in the same vein really cool thin climbing with no obvious holds and no place to rest. Then you reach a bulge this was perplexing and I had already pushed beyond what I thought I'd be able to do I shouted take and it was over. Giving the rope to Rob and Freddie I watched it get climbed and continued to question myself why had I fallen, should I have just pushed on?

I concluded that it was a mental barrier and that I find pushing beyond the bolt when tired quite scary, I think its a a little mental scarring from a bad sport fall I had early on in my climbing. But its mainly a  barrier I have placed within myself, because I know my endurance is not that good I already have that self imposed weakness and ingrained line on how far I think I can push it. I climb with the thought that as soon as I feel slightly pumped I should shout take at the nearest bolt because I am obviously going to get worked and fall off anyway. I had listened to a podcast a few weeks earlier with Hazel Findlay about mental training for climbing (Hazel Findlay Flow and Mental Mastery Podcast), I had thought it quite interesting at the time but with this new enlightenment that my mental training was as lacking as my physical training, I gave it another listen to see if it would help me with the weeks climbing.

On some easy climb Photo by Cindy

We awoke to a storm, rain hitting the unused swimming pool raising the question we could we get some climbing in. Santanyi is on the south coast of Mallorca and about an hour from Sa Pobla thinking it was worth a shot we loaded the bags with water and baguettes and headed south. Arriving on the wave washed platform we were taken aback by the ferocity of the waves, aided by the strong westerly winds they were lashing the rock closest to the sea. Warming up on a 5+ corner that provided pleasant corner climbing on slightly chossy rock we headed in search of Colesterol Party its a very visually attractive line a really undercut start gives way to a really nice looking corner and goes at 6a+. We had try it, after lunch obviously, finding a spot as far back from the sea as possible we stashed our stuff and sat eating entranced by the power of the sea. Rob had the first bash at the 6a+ whilst I continued to watch the sea, after a valiant effort Rob returned to the ground and started discussing beta. As we gathered round the tide built up and one extraordinary wave hit, throwing its watery arms to the back of the platform in a disconcerting effort to claim our bags, shoes and more worryingly lunch. It was over in a second and the sea retreated to its natural habitat. Checking the damage we found nothing to be missing but all of our gear was wet and the lunch was ruined. Laying our kit our in the sun and mourning slightly over the loss of a good loaf of bread Freddie got back on the climb and quickly crushed it. I tied in for my go, the initial steep section was a relatively easy but sick boulder problem and the rest afterwards was so substantial that the corner after it seemed like a different route. I have always enjoyed corners as they allow me to utilise my long legs to gain rests whenever you feel pumped. It climbed brilliantly and I was a little sad when it was over. Returning to the ground I handed the rope over and went in search of none salty food. After everyone had had their send of the route we got back in the car and headed for some adequate tapas.

Cool guys don't look at explosions Photo by Cindy

Having picked Sam and Oscar up from the airport we discussed what our transport options were. We couldn't hire another car as it would be to expensive, anyway we were still reeling from the rip off the first time around and there was only 5 seats in our car and 6 of us. Oscar suggested we hire a moped initially I think it was a joke but it was the best idea we had. So me Freddie and Oscar headed to Palma to hire a moped. It turns out its really easy to hire a moped but it also turns out they are very slow, designed mainly for citys so the top speed is around 50kph which for getting around the island means its slightly heinous and slightly longer. Our first hurdle though was getting it back from Palma seen as there was only 3 of us the car needed to give directions to the moped. Driving along these stunning country roads in a car doing 50kph was torture. The journey seemed to last forever but fortunately we learned from this mistake and whoever was driving the moped set off early each day. It added extra adventure. The journey took so long it was 3pm before we ready to go climbing so we did what everyone would do and headed to the closet crag. Les Perxes is in a stunning valley at the side of a windy mountain road. The climbs that we headed to were slabby and sharp, they were all really in my style of climbing and I found my confidence growing, it was a really great evenings climbing. Having had a relaxing day we decided the next day we should go big so we decided on heading to Sa Gubia for some multipitch action. Wanting to climb Albahida but neglecting to bring trad gear we opted for the fully bolted Supernova Spits and Giggles.

Beutful jugs Photo bu Cindy

Arriving into Sa Gubia Albahida looms in front of you our route was on the shady side the initial pitches were easy enough just a little loose in places and as you climb higher the exposure starts to kick in. The climbing was nice enough but it was pitch 4+5 where the interest lay. I was in the hanging stance at the belay before pitch 4 for quite some time whilst Freddie almost did his first 7a by going off route. But eventually Freddie and Cindy had made there way to the belay before pitch 5 and Rob had expertly dispatched pitch 4 so I set off to follow him. Wearing the rucksack that contained shoes, water and food I was made slightly off balance which was a mild hindered on a slab climb. But it was the fact I had been sat in my harness so long that my climbing was stiff and lacked fluidity. I had also made the rookie error of keeping my jacket on making me sweaty and also blocking access to my chalking bag. Eventually I fought my way to the belay 'ledge' where we ate and drank water after saying goodbye to Freddie and Cindy I set off on my lead up pitch 5. It starts up this really rough orange groove until the bolts and holds lead you back out over space to the bulge on your right making the step across feels awesome as you've got a mass of nothing below you. The rest of the climbing is straightforward only marred by the rope drag. Rob raced up the second to last patch and I scramble up the unprotected chimney that led the way to the upper ridge. Once on the ridge we could finally relax stretch our legs eat and drink before running up the ridge to the top of the mountain. This scramble was super enjoyable for me I love the feeling of moving swiftly and efficiently over rock and the location is stunning. After we had topped the summit we had the idyllic walk back down through olive groves with cowbell laden sheep as our soundtrack.

Exposure and poor rope work Photo by Me

Alaro was a crag we had been told was one of the best on the island a must visit with a must do 7a and must eat at restaurant. Obviously the 7a seemed a bit out of reach given my current performance but the restaurant sounded nice and the crag looked stunning. Freddie negotiated the ragged single track road to the car park and we hit the trail up to the crag. For such a big crag there is only a minute amount of climbing mainly due to access issues, the land owner does not allow climbing at Alaro. which is a bit mental how can someone own that much natural beauty and not allow it be utilised. But  climbing is not allowed so lets hope this part of the blog doesn't get translated into Spanish and read by a land owner who obviously has no interest in climbing. Warming up on a lovely slab route I started to read the guide to find out what else I should try. Unfortunately I succumbed to a baguette slump and needed a bit of a lie down. We ended up heading to a quieter section for some mid 6 climbing fresh out of my baguette slump I decided I needed more food. So whilst Rob was trying a dope looking 6b+ me and Freddie sat down and ate a large quantity of cheese, meat, tomato and bread. Rob put in a stellar fight on the 6b+ but didn't make it up due to heat making the small holds feel smaller and sweatier. Riding a pretty good carb high I decided to give it a bash and what happened next was totally unprecedented. I found flow state. Starting the climb I tentatively escaped the shade and climbed up the steep initial wall until I got to the crux bulge, I reached up through the bulge for what felt like a micro edge for my sweat laden finger and tried to hold on. I involuntarily let out a power scream as I dug deep to hold on, my mind was purely focused on the movement and not on anything else, I didn't even think about how far I was from the last bolt I just climbed. It was amazing pulling through the crux I reached the upper wall where the climbing was easy, but I had emerged from my flow cocoon and I could feel the lactic acid in my forearms. In my head I was thinking I am to pumped I am going to have to shout take. Then I remembered something from the Flow training podcast about how people often think they are more pumped than they are, its there mind getting a little scared and wanting to give up. You can usually climb through it, it just requires more mental training and more determination. I am paraphrasing but whatever the actual quote is popped up in my brain and I calmed down clipped the next bolt and just focused on getting to the anchor. A few easy moves remained and I clipped the chains. This was a special climb for me, it's not the best route I have done, its not especially hard, but its the first sport climb I have ever found flow on and its the best performance for me personally, because I entered that magic state of mind that I have only found before when I'm trad climbing or when I'm bouldering. Finish the day with some unbelievable slow cooked goat at the restaurant topped off an unforgettable day.

Alaro and all its potential Photo by Me

The final day we headed to S'estret for some lower grade classics, upon arrival we were greeted with a wall of bolts. It was as if someone had just drawn lines up with bolts and regard no regard for natural features making the polished loose routes seem unnatural and disjointed. It reminded me of Horseshoe. It was also in the shade and freezing, having decided this was not the crag for us we went back to the vehicles and made another plan. I was keen to head to Port d'soller to try Blobland an insane 6c that I was told was a must do for anyone visiting Mallorca, Oscar wanted to head to Sa Gubia to do a route that ended in some otherworldly runnels. So him and Cindy went to do that and myself Rob Freddie and Sam headed for Port d'Soller. Its a bizarre crag in an utterly idyllic location by the Mediterranean but it just so happens to be topped with a 5 star hotel. Blobland looks insane from the ground and in total contrast to the routes at S'estret it followed the natural line of weakness up the wall. Freddie started the day with a pretty casual onsight then it was my turn, the lower wall was well polished but really interesting then came the technical crux a step round this bulge on some super polished holds that I just couldn't trust getting frustrated I lowered off. A couple more goes and I just couldn't do it, I was back where I was at the start of the week scared to commit. I decided to give it one final go, the first moves didn't feel right and I got the crux thinking I had already messed it up. I reached over the glossy crimp and just held on harder moving my feet across I made it through. Now I was at a decent rest with the steep upper wall in front of me. I knew I had pushed myself through the lower section and my arms were waning. Pulling onto the first tufa I could feel my weak arms about give up straddling the blob I surveyed my options I could see holds I just couldn't use them I gave it a shot and I was off. I had failed, but I had pushed through I failed because I wasn't physically strong enough not because I wasn't mentally strong enough. This felt like progress to me. Annoyed I lowered to the ground and took a rest, we did a couple of 6a's both stunning routes in a beautiful place. Then Rob suggested we do the classic 6b that is there watching him do it I was sold it looked mega. As it came to my turn the sun was starting to dip into the sea I set off, the moves that I was confronted with didn't ever become hard it was just constant jug pulling, it felt cruiser I didn't feel pumped and as I clipped the chains with the sun setting over the med I couldn't imagine a better end to the week.

The end Photo by Me

Winter Tales

The days go by, grey turns into black then into grey again. The weather comes and the days go, winter seems eternal but the sunrise of summer is on the horizon. The days are starting to get longer, the enduring bleakness slowly giving away to invasive patches of blue. But in the past few weeks winter came back with a vengeance and is currently in its final throes of death.

It was the week the so called beast from the east hit, winter climbing became the hot thing on social media and I was stoked to join in. I was attempting to head Manchester anyway as I was attending the wideboyz crack school, so when Eric messaged asking if I wanted to be dragged up an ice filled gully I jumped at the chance. It was the Monday after the storm when we headed out, knowing the ice was receding we headed to Wales, hoping some altitude might maintain the freeze.

The solemn gaze of an ice climber watching his paradise crumble and recede into the reality of its surroundings
Photo by Me

As we were driving over it wasn't looking promising, the odd patch of snow offered the only reminder of the savagery of the weather the week before. Parking at Ogwen it started to rain but been British and optimistic we grabbed the bags and headed up to Clogwyn Du. The drudgery of the approach and the sodden weather got me thinking of all the times I've been overly optimistic about conditions, was this going to be another foolhardy endeavour?

As we got to about 500m we noticed a frozen waterfall at the base of the final climb up to Clogwyn Du so we headed over to inspect. As we got closer it was looking good, the ice looked thick. Although the sound of running water was slightly disconcerting, but apparently that's normal. Eric gave me a quick masterclass in how to go upwards on ice and then set off leading up the three tiered ice fall of Cneifon Stream. Walking up it he made it look pretty easy whilst I suffered the full brunt of the Welsh rain. Luckily for once my jacket addiction paid off and the layers of Alpkit Primaloft meant I stayed pretty toasty. Once Eric had gone through the classic British struggle of finding an anchor he called for me to start up. Stuffing my drenched jacket into my seeping rucksack I grabbed the axes and started up.

Before the hot aches kicked in. Photo by Eric

The ice started to crumble as I took a tentative swing of the axe, it took a couple of swings and it sunk, to my knowledge it was bomber. Kicking my feet the ice didn't seem so secure but hey my hands were on jugs.  Kicking and smearing I moved up, repeating this process I made progress until the final vertical section. The line Eric had taken was looking worse for wear and the waterfall was returning to its natural state. So I thought I'd use the corner to the right, unfortunately this required actual technique. Utilising the scraps of my ability and strength I created movement and scraped upwards, an unsuccessful use of the knees being the only shameful moment. After I had recovered from an inevitable bought of hot aches we left the belay and scrambled up the grade 1ish gully to Clogwyn Du, which was fun apart from me almost sketching off the only vertical section due to another ill fated attempt at utilising the knees.

Winter makes easy things look gnarly Eric on another boss lead. Photo by Me

As we ascended we witnessed the transition from rain to snow and the damp British spring was replaced the full on alpine scenery. For our next adventure Eric chose a grade 3 gully at the top of a 45 degree snow slope. Hanging from a sling and setting up the belay I had a moment I haven't experienced since I started climbing. The feeling where you have no gauge of what is hard and what is easy, where everything feels like an adventure, I was so psyched. As Eric progressed up the gully the spindrift came raining down leaving me soaked and stoked to follow him on another steady lead. Leaving the sanctuary of the spike I made progress upwards bridging and using my rudimentary technique I started to feel like the movement was becoming more natural. Finding my way through the crux section using Erics tool marks like brail I felt the veil of mystery as to why everyone goes ice climbing was been lifted. Loving every motion and moment I still found myself missing the feeling of cold rock on bare fingers and the fluidity of moving up a dry stone, content yet conflicted I joined Eric in an awesome rime lined cave. He raced on up the easy snow slope above and channelling my inner Steck I joined him at the top. Picking our way down the steep slopes the snow was damp and sticky, making the descent slower and more arduous. Grabbing the packs we carried on, the snow becoming heavier and visibility poorer. We descended from the clouds and our imaginary alpine world, rain replaced the snow and reality settled in. As we walked out of the valley we could see the final strands of winter slowly loosening their grip on the world.

The Inevitable Woes of a Perma Psyched Climber in a Perma Soaked Isle

Winter is truly here we are 37 day's into 2018 I have been out climbing a grand total of 5 days. Its getting a little depressing but luckily I've got a new job to take my mind off it. It feels like its been raining all year. I'm so fed up with the persistent bad weather I'm trying my hand at fell running. Well when I say trying I've been out once it was hard and I suck at running up hills. I'm tired of the rain, I just want to climb all the time, when I'm not working  the weather doesn't play ball and I don't have easy access to a wall to train in. I need climbing, I need to be out, I need it to be dry. Oh the woes of a perma psyched climber.

Hopelessly Optimistic 

My last trip to the moors seems like a lifetime ago, having moved away from the area to sit in the rain somewhere else. The last crag I visited before I moved was Ingelby Boulders the day was dry-ish, the humidity was impressive, the cold ever present and the clouds thick grey and uninviting. Theoretically finding them should be easy just use the map in the guidebook. Unfortunately the forestry commission has ruined the map by chopping and planting a lot of trees. Walking along the old railway path we almost reached the top of the path but still no boulders so we walked back along the top of the tree line hoping to find something. We found a boulder that was in the guide it was a little rubbish but it was something. Embarking up an easy arete I felt the wind increase with height buffeted I pulled over the top it was grim. We headed into the woods to find some shelter. We found some boulders these were also in the guide both were wet. Eventually after 2 hours of walking we found a dry wind free problem did it and moved on to the next boulder this was even better. Tramping up the hill through the thorn bushes its the perfect height and has a perfect view. Easy enough climbing lead to one move that required unusual threading of the legs. It was stunning a real sequence that falls at your feet as soon as you unlock it. That day we did 4 problems 1 terrible 2 okay and 1 stunning.  We had walked 6 miles through trees thorns and bracken. But that is Moors climbing and I'm sure I'll be missing it soon.

Slightly Damp Stanage

I'm back in the Peak and I utilised one of the dry days to head back up to Stanage and reacquaint myself with the boulders there. It was an okay day but I was surprisingly unmotivated and failed to climb anything worth mentioning. Its hard when you are at the mercy of the weather if you are not feeling strong and psyched on the only dry days you feel like you've wasted a weeks worth of climbing. On one of the few sunny days I decided to go scrambling up Winnats Pass this alpine like stretch of road feels out of place in the peak with towering piles of limestone choss flanking both sides of the road. A couple of the crumbling pillars form brilliant easy ridges and can be done as a horseshoe to fully utilise the time out. Almost running up the first ridge I was bathed in sun and embraced the warmth and released myself from the constraints of the fleece that's almost become a permanent fixture over winter. Scrambling down the easier ridge and utilising a special bum shuffling method for moving down wet grass I was asked by a passer by if I was stuck, I thought it was nice of them to think about me but I was fine even if I looked like a helpless tourist. Back on the ground I was swimming in endorphins and running down the pass. Easy climbing in the sun before work it was perfect. My best day so far was when I finally got to Mother Cap and got round to doing Conan The Librarian which has to be one of the best names on grit. Another boulder of perfect height and simple yet surprisingly tricky moves its proper old school like a crimp ladder. But the sun was shining the snow was intermittent and the psyche was high. Conditions were good but far from perfect as the air was laced with moisture. That slight dip in friction which definitely showed up as we flung ourselves onto the slopey horror show that is Pet Cemetery. Swinging through jugs to the dirty mantle top out, hopeless throwing a hand onto nothing and hoping it sticks. It never did so its one to come back for.

Winnats Pass

As its February its almost time for lent for most people it comes around the time when you have already failed to keep up a new years resolution, so its another arbitrary time to set an irrelevant goal. To set a goal is natural to fail to achieve it is all the more common. They say you need a specific goal in order to achieve it. But I'm not ready for specifics. I'm ready to explore some new areas and try really hard. I'm sure I'll meet some new people climb some new routes and visit some new places. But I'm more than sure I'll end up waiting for the rain to stop.

What a Year

I had my most successful day bouldering the other day, I don't know whether it was the conditions or I have improved but somehow I managed to busk my way up two 7a's. This got me thinking about my year in climbing and how many good days out I have had.

I only really started bouldering outside earlier this year, before that I spent most time trad climbing even up until the start of the summer trad climbing was my main thing. It was only really when I moved back to the Moors I started indulging in outdoor bouldering and this became my main focus. I had many good times trad climbing at the start of the year doing my boldest and hardest trad routes to date. Then I moved back from university to the Moors, having no partner at the start of the summer I just went out bouldering by myself. Then I met Rob and we continued to visit crags where routes were either too short or too hard to trad climb so we just ended up bouldering. Then winter came and it got really cold so we started heading to the grit for some super sticky bouldering. I have dabbled in trad climbing since I left university but its mainly been easy routes. As the winter went on I got really psyched for climbing hard and without the faff of trad climbing. I do feel like it has paid off and I look forward trying to transfer the bouldering strength into trad climbing over the next year.

Frozen Ground Photo by Me

With my new found love for bouldering Font 7a became my new goal. With this in mind I spent a lot of time traipsing up to the Wainstones to try The Prow as I was hoping this would be my first 7a. Then on one of the freezing Brimham days Rob climbed Whiskey Galore, I had given up at this point I was cold and couldn't get the sequence down. Ready to leave but motivated by Rob's ascent I put my shoes on and tried again. After a few goes the sequence was starting to work, but I was still struggling to get my left foot placement solid as it was blind and I couldn't feel my toes. On what must have been my 20th go the foot held, I matched the sloper moved my right hand to the thumb sprag, then I got my left leg high and started to rock up it was in the bag. Then I slipped. I caught my self on the sloper and thumb sprag but couldn't recover dropping it massively frustrated I took a rest. Thinking of giving up as my feet were numb Rob was really helpful and super keen for me to do it. Motivated I shoed up chalked up and went for another go. The moves flowed and before I knew it I had one hand on the top trying to keep cool I mantled over the top it was done. I had done 7a.

Making the moves on Whiskey Galore Photo by Robs Shoe

I was expecting that to be a fluke and it would be another year before I managed another 7a. But I had been trying Pair in a Cubicle also at Brimham. It is the essence of gritstone in one problem, one good hold and every move is harder and slopier than the last, until you get to the blank heartbreaking top out. I think I have had about 4 sessions on it including one demoralising and skin destroying session with Freddie where I got so close but ultimately ended up just ruining my hands. A couple of days after Christmas the conditions were looking amazing and me and Rob and both got new pads so once again we headed to Brimham to test them out. We spent a couple of hours failing to highball and made tracks towards Pair in a Cubicle. We got there and a couple of guys were already trying it after watching Rob fail to do the sit start to Murky Rib I decided to jump on Pair in a Cubicle. I got some helpful new beta from the guys trying it, it was only a change of hand position but it worked. I had a couple of failed goes then watched Rob and the guys trying it, feeling psyched but rested I jumped on. By now I had the start nailed the the moves after just flowed and I had both my hands on the top, slapping wildly but still kind of falling my hands moved slowly to the back. then I was in balance. I had groveled enough it was done, I don't know what I did different but I topped out in slight disbelief and relief that I didn't have to do it again anytime soon.

One of the failed attempts Photo by Rob

Rob kept trying getting guttingly close so many times, I had some lunch and chatted with a climbing legend for a bit. I kept spotting trying to return the favour to Rob for what he did for me on Whiskey. But after a few hours I wanted to give something else a go and having seen a few people do Murky Rib sit start I thought I'd give it a shot. Its a soft 7a being only one move but its really knacky and slightly painful. Surprisingly I was making progress and found myself on the moves you start from standing on, thinking I had it in the bag I got a hand on the top. Then the scrittle fought back and my left hand detached. Go after go the scrittle kept scuppering my ascent my skin was fading but not as badly as Robs, who was suffering with the same issue I had on Pair in a Cubicle when I was trying it with Freddie. The light was fading we had been in the same spot for 3 hours I decided to give Murky Rib SS one last go. Grimacing through the heinous first pull and doing the same sequence through the regular route I got my left hand on the top scrittle then matched, trying to sort my footwork out I swung. Clinging to the scrittle I was smearing with all the grace of a dying fly, until I eventually grabbed the jug at the back I pulled myself up. Jumping back down I was elated I had somehow blagged 2 7a's. What a day. What a year.

Rob in some skin related pain Photo by Me

I have had so many good days its hard to select my favourites but yesterday is definitely one, although I was a little gutted Rob didn't manage Pair in a Cubicle I met a legend and climbed 2 7a's, one of my best days on grit by far. I know climbing isn't about numbers so I shouldn't care but climbing is about the journey from impossible to possible and all 3 7a's have done that for me. They are also really cool problems. I enjoyed the times tradding at the start of the year doing some really cool routes but I never really physically pushed myself so each achievement was a mental one. But now I have managed a 3 7as, an achievement I didn't believe would happen last year, an achievement I didn't think I'd have the strength or skill for. So psyched to keep it going next year, I feel thankful for having good people to climb with, having an abundance of amazing things to climb in the UK and having the ability and time to go climb. Whether its wandering on the moors. loosing skin on the grit or getting scared on a multipich in Wales or the Lakes. I am stoked for another year of climbing.

Rescued

I have always thought of myself as quite a bold climber, I've never really minded runouts and occasionally enjoy soloing. But the other day I reached my limit. On a VS.

A few of the folk from the Uni club had organised a weekend winter walking trip to the Lakes. I was stoked to join and helped manipulate them into fully utilising the weather and location for some multi-pitch climbing. The hut was in Borrowdale, home to some of the most accessible rock in the Lakes. I had to work on the Saturday so drove over on the evening to join them. They had spent the day on Sharp Edge on Blencathra in classic Lakes conditions. It was great to see everyone and spent the evening catching up and organising the next days climbing. As it rained through the night I recommended Shepards Crag as I heard it was quick drying and knew it was roadside. So on the Sunday morning a few groups headed over to do Troutdale Pinnacle and Myself, Freddie, Cindy, Edwin and Andy headed to Shepards. Freddie, Cindy and Andy made tracks for Little Chamonix whilst me and Edwin went for a scramble up Jackdaw ridge. Upon return to the ground we headed to North Buttress to look for dryish rock unfortunately it was a little damp so we headed to Brown slabs. Arriving at the slabs the base was dryish so we set off scrambling up Brown Slabs Direct, a classically polished diff that became wetter the higher up we got adding for a spicy scramble indeed.

Majestic Borrowdale Photo by Me

We decided to leave the climbing for a bit hoping the rock might dry out. After lunch and another run up Jackdaw Ridge to take photos of the group on Little Cham we decided to give Eve a shot. Its VS (5.7ish in American) which according to the guidebook was quite serious. But knowing we can climb a couple grades above we felt confident and the first pitch was dry. Edwin flew up it placing no gear and quickly established the belay, joining him I set off on the second pitch.

I ambled up the groove taking time to place gear due to the rumours of a lack of it on the slab. After placing a solid nut I embarked on the moves onto the slab a really cool little sequence . Once round the arete and on the slab I noticed the holds had the same muddy greasy texture I had found on Brown Slabs. Placing a very dodgy cam I looked to the point at which the belay was supposedly located and set that as my target. Moving across the slab something felt wrong maybe I was too low or maybe the wet rock was knocking my confidence. Sequence after sequence of utterly harrowing greasy desperate moves got me ever closer to the arete with the gear getting further and further away. Standing on a good foothold beneath an overlap I cautiously stood up, I was now in soloing territory. I couldn't fall. Feeling around for a crack or a pocket for gear I was utterly demoralised when the search became fruitless. The rock felt a little drier above the overlap but the moves looked awkward and my shoes were soaked from the slab. I headed towards the arete still beneath the overlap searching in vain for some gear. I reached the precipice looking down into this gully and with no gear within 10 metres and no good gear since the groove I stood there. Balancing one foot on the arete and with the other on a flat but wet hold. I broke down. I was done. I couldn't climb on. I couldn't fall. I was stranded.

After the mental torture of the slab I couldn't face anymore wet runout climbing. I just stood there on the arete contemplating my choices. One idea was to use the rope drag to lower myself down into the gully hoping the rope doesn't flick round and swing me to the ground. I looked up at the belay it couldn't have been more than 3 metres of climbing to the end of the pitch but I just couldn't take it. I have done bolder climbs, I have done wetter climbs and I have done harder climbs. But this is the only time I have ever got myself into such a situation of helplessness. It was not hard climbing just wet, greasy and insecure. Standing on the arete my mind was racing, one minute I was thinking this is safe this is chill the other oh shit I'm going to die. I tried placing some gear in my vicinity nothing was good or inspiring. So I stood there on my island of balance, fear and insecurity.

Freddie Cindy and Erskine on Little Cham Photo By Me

Whilst I was having my mini epic Freddie was dispatching Adam the neighbouring well protected HVS. He had been watching me sketching my way through the wetness and by the time I was on the arete he was nearing the top. He offered to through me one of the ropes once he'd set up and anchor I quickly accepted. I don't know how long I stood there it could've been minutes it could've been hours it was tenuous just standing. Freddie pulled up one of his twin ropes attached a krab and started swinging it towards me. Try after try and it still wasn't within arms reach my position was so precarious I couldn't do anything to help. The pendulum of safety was swinging above my head, like a clock ticking, teasing me I couldn't reach maybe I wouldn't reach and my time was up. It swung left then right scraping the rock then it landed just above my head. I grabbed it. Clipped in. I was safe.

It was over. After a brief attempt at climbing the rest on top rope I asked Freddie to lower me down I was mentally exhausted. Standing on the ground my head was stirring I was feeling embarrassed that I had to be rescued on a VS, annoyed that I couldn't make it to the belay, relieved to be on the ground and thankful to everyone for helping me.

Like a crap version of the Avengers. The rescue team


Looking back on it a day later I am still unsure of what went on. I don't know whether its my recent lack of trad climbing, the wetness of the rock or I went off route. It may have been a combination of them all. It was a good life experience and I'm glad I made a good decision and didn't die. I'm still annoyed that I failed on a VS but it was a good reminder climbing is a dangerous activity and even easy routes can be sketchy.  I am thankful I had friends to rescue and help and I will return to try the route again on a drier day. It was a very successful day of not dying and we all returned laden with more life experience. Isn't that what climbing is about?