Peak (again...)

I would have written up a blog post for last weekend, but other than managing my first 7a boulder problem at Churnet it was a bit of a let-down. The problem was the same one I almost managed the week before (fingers).It reassured me that I didn’t manage it the first time because I was getting physically tired, rather than technically incapable. This is something that I was worried about. I find it quite interesting that I prefer working boulder problems which my friend Toaf would describe as “just pulling on holds, with no technique required, only big guns”. I think this says something more about our different styles of climbing rather than the problems to be honest. As I was saying, I prefer working boulder problems with long powerful moves rather that short moves and intricate sequences. However when trad climbing, I’m much more likely to head for something slabby, with obvious rests and less chance of getting tired, pumping out and falling off. When it comes down to it I guess when you’re going for the onsight its just better to stack the odds in your favour. 

The Sunday was spent climbing at the Roaches. If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you’ll know how I feel about the Roaches, but for those who haven’t I’ll reiterate it. The Roaches is an excellent climbing area. There are amazing routes, multipitch and single. There are big overhangs, slabs, walls and a host of classic bouldering… and I’ve ruined it for myself! I’ve spent so many days bumbling along the Roaches through my uni life taking out groups, and then bumbling along with little or no desire to climb only to be outside that everytime I got there I’m just left wanting to be somewhere else.

I’ve tired making tick lists of climbs I want to do there. I’ve tried getting psyched for particular routes and I’ve been bouldering there loads, because well there is loads of awesome bouldering there. And I still can’t seem to get inspired. I’ll keep trying, I really will because it’s defiantly one of the best climbing areas Staffordshire has to offer. 

I did manage a one route on the day (that’s after failing to even get onto the slab of C3P0, backing off Eugene’s Axe and belaying Ronnie on Pincer) which was Valkyrie Direct. I seem to having a bit of a saga with this photogenic prow of rock. I’ve never actually completed Peter Harding’s original route (Valkyrie). On my first attempt I managed to do the crux and then it rained, torrentially, forcing my inexperienced climbing brain to back off, getting lowered through the damn holly bush. This wasn’t the last time I’ve been through that bush either. I’ve been back since and done the crux, only to reverse the whole thing and then quit climbing for the whole day (it was the day after my grandfather had died, and I shouldn’t have gone out climbing). I’ve been involved I a rescue when the flake was pulled off. I ended up arriving first on scene and then leaving last and stripping out the guys route once everyone else was off. And I’ve spent an evening sitting on the belay after the first pitch, after me and my climbing partner at the time decided that she wasn’t going to do the second pitch but the view as the sun went down was too good to waste. It was then I found out you could walk off from here, if you’re careful.

So when I headed up Valkyrie Direct (HVS 5b) I didn’t really know what I was expecting. I climbed slowly and carefully and managed to deal with the overhanging flakes quite easily (though I did stich it with gear). I then finished up Valkyrie doing the crux and climbing round the corner, only to sit on the top and decided that the route was badly over graded. It wasn’t until I checked the guidebook description later that I realised I’d missed out the stiff, wide crack and therefore the crux and point of the route. In future I’ll stick to taking my guidebook up with, or actually reading the route description properly before I set off.

In the mean time I’ve been tapping away on mine and Soames’s little guidebook and I’ve been teaching myself how to use GIMP, although slowly. It’s quite hard to learn how to use a new program, without a manual. Mostly I’ve been ploughing away learning my trial and error, but this can be a disheartening process. I’ve little or nothing to show for hours and hours spent practising with the software, but I’m full of ideas about what I’d like to do with it. 

On the note of the guidebook and therefore the cliffs development in general it’s all I seem to think about. I’ve been asking various friends down Redpoint [hyperlink] and further afield if I can borrow size 4 cams for the crack line of hydrophobia. This sticking corner crack, dubbed Hydrophobia by Soames based on my seemingly intense fear of the sea but enjoyment of awkward crack climbs, has been sat in my mind from the moment I saw it. It fills me with dread and fear, but I can’t wait the literally get stuck into it.

A forest of monkeys and some climbing...

With bad weather forcast Rachel and I decided that going to wales for the weekend would just result is us moping around and getting wet, rather than getting some climbing done. Instead we planned to do a few different things, including stuff that could be done regardless of the weather! This saw us getting up and heading towards Stoke with a plan... a plan that involved monkeys.

Instead of bouldering we visited the monkey forest. This is a large woodland area outside Tentham Gardens in Staffordshire where they've got a large population of Barbary Macaques. You'd think that they wouldn't be able to survive in our climate (well I did anyway) but the Macaques actually inhabit the Atlas mountains of Algeria and Morocco. The staff there are extremely knowledgable and actually really easy to talk to. Rach and I learnt loads about the different social structures that were going on within the 2 different groups of monkeys. The park is a little jurassic parky when you enter, with the duel gate system but once you're inside there the monkeys are just free range. Literally like they just wander around and cut you up when you're wailkng past. It is a pretty cool experience.


The monkey forest is still a short experience and this left us with an afternoon to kill. We decided to risk the weather and head to churnet. Rach took me to the Peakstone Inn and showed me the walk in to Wrights Rock from there. It's a much nicer walk than starting at Traveller's Rest, simply because it's reasonably flat rather than slogging it up uphill. The weather was really good all day and I managed a few problems. I actually only completed a 6a+ and 6b, down on the left hand side of the main wall. I then had a crack at Simple Simon. At 7b it's pretty hard, actually harder than I can climb which became apparent after I spent an hour working the problem and had only just managed to grasp the last hold.


I guess somethings are not meant to be, and me climbing 7b when I've had about 2 weeks off any indoor climbing are one of them. The sad thing was though is that I figure if I just train hard on the campus board then I'll get the necessary strenght up and I'll be able to do said problem. 


After what could have been considered failing on simple simon (I considered it a success, as making it to the third hold!), I jumped on Fingers instead. Finger's get 7a, which is a might easier and it's also not a solely power based problem. This is a problem I've tried before and was insipired by a really good picture of someone on it in the new PD bouldering guide. I've gained the decent hold a few times, but then getting my heel involved has always left me with a worried feeling. Although Rachel was there, she refuses to spot me because I'm quite big and there's little she feels she can really do if I fall off. Whether or not to spot someone is the spotters choice, and whether or not to climb a problem without a spotter lies solely with the climber. This is all a debate for another post really. 


I get pretty worried about my ankles, especially when I'm bouldering as they ended up getting a lot of impacts and twisted and turned in all kinds of positions. Regardless of my worry I still manged to actually get my heel on the good hold this time and have enough strenght to make the next move. Considering I didn't think I was going to even make it that far I had to yell to Rach to move my single pad (I was bouldering on a single, hopefully well placed pad) so I wouldn't miss it.


I'd say at the end of my attempts this was another success, but in the same way as the last problem. I'd come very very close to actually reaching the final hold, but with hindsight I should have shorted my hands out to get more reach. I'll do it next time, and I look forward to it!


I pottered around a bit more but that was really then end of my bouldering for that day. The weather had been very kind to us, as it had only really rained once and that was only a light shower. On our walk back to the Peakstone Inn we met "Shiny" Stu Brooks, who could probably be described as Mr Churnet. He seems to spend a lot of his life cleaning, photographing, putting up problems and generally documenting bits of churnet. There's always something new and exciting going on for him in the Valley. Rachel has mentioned him a lot to me before so it was nice to meet him. 


With a lot of rain falling over the weekend various other jobs were completed around the house (putting up shelves, staining things etc) and I had some chance to get to grips with GIMP. GIMP is image editing software, which is also free. Apparently it's very similar to photoshop, but I wouldn't know because I can't use photoshop and wouldn't know where to start. I've been playing around with this GIMP software to edit a few of the images from the weekend. It's getting easier and easier to use and I view it as a pretty much kick-ass version of MS Paint. I've included some of the worked images below for you to enjoy:

Rachel bouldering hard with a B&W background (First attempt)

The really cool stick we found, again with a B&W background

Simple simon (Left) and Fingers (right) and my single pad.

Peak District Climbing

25/02/12. Froggatt Edge

Instead of jetting off to far off places and grand inspiring locations (read: North Wales) I spent a day in the Peak District on Saturday, climbing at Froggatt Edge. It was a nice simple day.

Armed with a reasonably early start and all my Peak District guidebooks I picked up Ronnie and decided where we’d go climbing that day. I had no idea about the weather as I don’t have very much internet access (mainly only when I’m at work) but it was good in Birmingham when I got out of bed and did in fact say pretty mild for the rest of the day. There was a lot of wind blowing at Froggatt when we got there but once you dropped down to the base of the crag it was barely noticeable.

I still allowed myself to misjudge the weather however. On out first route, a HS 4b called Terrace crack, I made the noobie error of thinking that as it was pretty warm at the base of the crag, then I’d be fine in a long sleeved base layer and a t-shirt. Bearing in mind that I’d been yomping into the crag and the afore-mentioned lull in the wind at the base of the crag then I might not have found myself sitting belaying at the top freezing cold and cursing my own stupidity. You live and learn, but I should have known better.

Its little situations like this which keeps me on my toes. Doing the simple things in no desperate or life threatening situations almost trains your brain so that when it does really count, you won’t be making silly mistakes. I normally take this approach to when I’m abseiling. Even on a nice easy day I’ll make sure that I’ve got 2 anchors to abseil from and I’ve taken the time to back up my abseil with a prussic loop. I find that forcing myself to do it in the best of conditions and not cutting corners helps when I have to do it in the worse of conditions.

With Terrace Crack out the way and my softshell back it was Ronnie’s lead. He lead Heather Wall (HVD 3c). It has been a while since Ronnie has had his leading head on and he took his time and protected the route well. I guess I’ve forgotten how useful the old hexcentric is, since I’ve got a relatively full rack of cams but Ronnie doesn’t have that luxury. Thus he seems to manage to wiggle hex’s into some great placements. He’s got a set of the DMM torque nuts (the same as me) and like me, he has a first production set. Both of us have the same gripe about them and that the extendable sling is actually really hard to extend! Unless I’m getting conscious of how many runers I’m placing I just don’t both extending them.

Eager to try something a little harder the next route we did was Ratbag (E2 5b) which takes the middle of the slab just to the left of Tody’s Wall. Considering it was graded 5b and claimed to be runout I didn’t find any particular difficulties on it. Now this could have been down to me under estimating my own abilities, maybe the route was soft for the grade or I was just having a good day. I miss I’d done Motorcade (which gets E1 5a and lies to the right of Tody’s Wall) as a comparison. Regardless the route was good, with a series of nice moves with high steps and rock overs on good, yet slabby holds. A definite for lower grade slab addicts.

Ronnie then took on Tody’s Wall and well, let just say he spent a long time lying on the block in what looked like a very awkward position before he decided to bin his attempt. As a consolation me and Ronnie did the cave crawl route, which I still maintain is one of the best routes at Froggatt, sans head torches!

I finished the day with our final route with took the left hand arête of Tody’s wall, again E2 5b. This route (named Grip) claimed to be at the top end of the grade and very exposed. Again it was a lovely section of slab and arête climbing and well worth doing. As for runout, well the protection is in the same break as for Ratbag so it isn’t that runout. The climbing was definitely worth of the 5b this time and it was sustained all the way to the top. I took me a while to actually get established on the face (from the break) but once I was on it I flew up it. It was just one of those routes that flowed I guess.

Then for god only knows what reason I started having an awful headache and throwing up. I still don’t know what caused it but I had no painkillers with me. I wasn’t dehydrated so the current blames lies with a pork pie I’d brought to eat for the day. This meant that my day ended on a bit of a low note.

25/02/12. Hen Cloud

This was a less than fulling day out, only because the weather was so good but the motivation wasn’t there. I say the weather was good but in the morning it was bitterly cold and thus this affected the motivation somewhat. I should have manned up and just got on with climbing.

Still I got to Hen Cloud and managed to get one route in before the grand bailing. I’ve been slowly working my way through the HVS routes up there and today it was the turn of Bachelors Left Hand (HVS 5b). Previously I’ve attempted this route before, but I bailed because it was too cold and I was in no state of mind to run it out. Instead today I racked up leaving my 2 large cams behind and carrying only a few runners. I knew the start was hard and that I’d have to climb quickly to get through it.

The weather was pretty mild, though the sun I’d been promised was refusing to show itself. The only bit of worry I had about the route was the large area of rather luminous green looking lichen that the route crossed but I’d figured that it would probably be ok. The start was as hard as I remembered with though moves getting out of the top of the crack which flared outwards to gain the good horizontal break. The downside to getting the good break is that there are pretty much no positive footholds other, you’re just down to smearing on the face. By now my hands were getting pretty chilled what from jamming my hands into the crack. I’d felt the warmth being sucked out of them each time I did it. It was defiantly a day for some hardcore slab climbing!

With freezing fingers I groped for a little pocket in the face. Relying on feeling the handhold wasn’t a option as my finger were really that cold and I just banked on the fact that I’d managed to get three fingers over three knuckles deep into that pocket and I pulled up. They held, I didn’t fall off and I carried on pulling up till I got my feet on the good rest and I could rewarm my hands, a much needed luxury!

About 6 months ago I’d have been a right state about leading something like this. I generally stay away from steep or overhanging routes because you can simply pump out and fall off. Slab climbing that isn’t really an option. Recently it seems my attitude has changed for the better and I’ve developed a “meh” approach running it out. It figure that I’ll probably not fall off, but then if I do I’ll have protected the route anyway and I’m not exactly going to get hurt.

With what I was pretty sure was the crux done I got stuck into tackling the luminous green section of the wall which stood between me and the finish to Bachelors Climb original finish (which I’ve done before). After a quick check about which way I was supposed to be going across this small second of slab (the guidebook was very ambiguous and thoroughly unhelpful) and I tested standing on the green. I don’t know how but it held and didn’t seem of be slippy at all. Soon I was nipping over this section, cursing myself for leaving behind the large cams, but grateful that there was nut slot anyway and I lay backed by way up the finally section to the victory… well the top at least anyway.

Killian had an even tougher time than me seconding the route. He slipped off a couple of times which I know must have angered him and I had to watch on unable to do anything as he suffered with vicious hot aches. He still topped out in style but I could see in his eye that his heart wasn’t in it today. Maybe it was the cold rock, or the hard route to start with, or maybe Hen Cloud is just as imposing as it looks (and I just enjoy that feeling). We took a walk along the top to check out the left hand end of the cliff, which I know I’ve neglected over the years. A couple of routes caught my eye, both jamming cracks (Delstree and Reunion Crack) and I’ve had visions of doing either one as the last route of the day in the dying light of the golden evening sun.

With a single route done but several hours of the day left oddly we bailed from the crag, ending up at my old university climbing wall cruising their hardest routes before each heading our separate ways home.

More amazing filmography...

Temporal Distortion from Randy Halverson on Vimeo.

Putting together a guidebook...

I had a friend who used to read by blog and she would always complain that it was always about climbing. On several occasions I did point out that it was a climbing blog, and there for I was just doing the title justice but that didn’t matter. I’ve tried before to write about things on here that are not climbing related, and it always ends up coming back to climbing in some way or form.

However this week I’ve been off for half term. You’d think that I’d have been away. I’m normally away in Scotland but time, conditions, money and probably most importantly drive, have kept me away from the snow and ice. I’m not giving up ice climbing, but I definitely seem to be taking a sabbatical from it. This has left a rather large hole in my climbing life which has been filled by 2 things; gardening and sitting in front of my laptop. Added to this my partner has been very ill and I’ve been home every day with her. Some things are more important than climbing over rocks. Dealing with the latter first I’ve been typing up a crag that me and Soames have been working on. At the moment I think we’ve climbing 30% of the routes there and I am eager to get back, but I’m also very eager to get it written up properly. Hence the sitting at my computer and typing away like a man possessed. 

This has given me a very good insight into how much effort goes into producing a guidebook. I can tell you that it’s a lot of effort. It isn’t just all sitting behind a computer, but many hours actually out at the cliff, photographing, drawing and scribbling on various pieces of paper and route grade checking. Once this has been done (or at least started) then the sitting behind a computer and compiling, putting together starts. Topo’s have been drawn, maps doodled and words typed out. I’ve had to recall computer skills I thought I’d forgotten… and it’s times like this I’d wished I’d taken the time to become competent with photoshop. Never the less it’s been a fun journey getting down all the idea in my head, drafting and re-drafting, and hoping that it’ll all turn out alright. 

Gardening? Me? I’m not exactly green fingered but this doesn’t stop me. With my partner we’ve been potting, building and planting and we’re now waiting for chillies to germinate in the bathroom and mushrooms to establish themselves in the airing cupboard. As far as building goes there is now a small greenhouse on our balcony ready for when it warms up a little. I’ve even built a vermicomposter, but I now require some worms for it to start working properly. I’ve not yet found a place for it in the flat.  

So instead of actually going climbing this half term, I’ve been writing. Drafting, rewriting and working out where everything should go. Next time I buy another guidebook I’ll understand somewhat the lengths that someone went to, to put it together.

A veritable spree of new routing…

(A Rams & a Man, head to head?)

Well that statement isn’t entirely true as I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the routes have been done before, but we’ve actually taken the time to record and name the lines. We also found no evidence of previous gear placement or polished rock. Seeing as the majority of the spree was done on the high tide area, where the rock quality is grainy and brittle at best, you’d have thought there would have been something. 

I’m getting ahead of myself here and should probably start at the beginning, or at least not so close to the end. Soames and I have been away climbing in North Wales and new routing at a cliff on holy Island… and we’ve had a blast! We managed 25 lines in 2 days. We’ve stayed true to the Gogarth (and Rhoscolyn) ethic and tried everything ground up, if not onsight. All in all I can safety say we’ve had a whale of a time (no pun intended considering it’s a sea cliff). 

Our day started bright and early with the filling and refilling of many flasks and cups of tea at Soames house in the wee small house of the morning. As our journey continued we sampled our first bacon or sausage sandwich for the Rhug Estate which has now established a permanent set of buildings rather than a collection of converted caravans. There really is nowhere else to stop for breakfast on a trip to wale. Soon enough we found ourselves, having taken the wrong turn again off the A5, driving along the bumpy track which leads to Porth y Garan. We could have parked at Rhoscolyn Main area, but I think we both preferred the cliff top work. 

 

We parked up to watch a big sea smashing itself against the cliff. Soames had the glint in his eye of a young boy on Christmas. I probably had the worried look of someone who doubts his ability to swim with a rack on, in such conditions. Because the weather was as I’ve said, instead of sitting around in the car we headed out onto the cliffs to start doing some work. If I’m honest I don’t think Soames would have sat around all that long anyway, what with the sea like it was.

Start doing some work? It really has been a while since I’ve ventured out armed with a pen, pencil and bunch of papers in a trusty plastic wallet. As the sea raged along the base of the cliffs we literally set to work working out where the already recorded lines were on the cliff. I took this time to try and map the top of the cliff, not only for posterity (for the guidebook) but also to find the new routing opportunities. It really wasn’t long before scribbling on paper started to become tedious and I started itching to get on the rock.

And so we did. Back at the car I knew I needed to rehydrate, what with my early start and overly efficient insulated cup (it keeps the tea almost too hot to drink, see). Soames had found a pack of stubbies I’d thrown on the back seat and cracked us both a beer. It seems a bit early to be celebrating an hard days new routing but what the hell! It made for a good start to the day. 

As for the climbing, well, we just seemed to climb on and on. The sea cliff itself topped out to a low angled slab, which dropped back down behind it but leaving a 10metre high cliff behind it. We’d already nicked named this High Tide Walls, due to their ease of access regardless of the tidal conditions. I’m currently in the process of typing up all the route information for this (and the other areas) but we managed something like 14 routes on these rocks. The rock quality itself changes throughout the length of the cliff as the geology subtly differs. Some areas are a little crumbly and snappy, but they will clear up in time where as other are pocketed and compact. Some resemble the rock of Yellow Walls at Gogarth itself, while the white slab area is reminiscent or the Wen slab, with its compact white quartzite and multitude of small edges. The descents make it easy enough to tick off a host of routes in any given period and we stayed tied into the same ends of the rope for much of the day. 

As the day wore on the tide rose to its highest point and then started its gentle drop down the cliff. Over in Porth Saint Bay to the south the submarine started its slow rise out of the water. This curious feature (as short stack which has a long dyke of rock heading out to sea at its base, all coloured red) is mention in the old area guide and I didn’t believe it when I read it. Now throughout the day I kept an eye on it as once it has made harbour in the bay it means that the platform at the base of the sea cliffs are free from water.

Because of these tidal constraints and darkness we only managed a single route on the cliffs that plunge out of the water. It was my lead and I head to a clear line I’d spotted on our recce a few weeks before, a broken crack and flak line which took a feature, dubbed the central tower, right up its main face. 

Ever since nearly getting washed out of the triangular niche on Castel Helen when there was a high sea running I’ve been pretty afraid of sea cliff climbing. At the same time it isn’t cragging in the peak district or staring as the space beneath your feet on a high mountain crag and this little bit of fear is something that I cherish in sea cliff climbing. Plus it adds so much more to the day; the anticipation of low tide, the desperate need to actually top out on your route (as you can’t just abseil off) and the clean worry that you’ll not be able to complete your route, regardless of grade or style. I’ve had to prussic out of a sea cliff once before and I did it shaking from a recent ordeal on a route, while watching all my mates climbing up in the evening sun. It defiantly left an impression.

The route we climb I named Tide and time wait for no man, after a message Soames had sent me  a few days early when commenting on the early start and high sea. We’d gotten up early and been climbing a waiting all day for access to the base. It just so happened that the sea was running a nice high 6 metre tide and the high point of which occurred rather annoyingly in the middle of the day. We grade the route VS 4c originally, but after some considerable discussion and comparision to the many other routes we climb it’s been left at HVS 5a. The rock which resembles Sennen cove and is interspersed by breaks and dark crack lines, doesn’t have the nice deep crack of the southern granite. This quartzite has been rounded and sculpted by the sea leaving behind a great variety of holds and gear placement. The inventive climber here will be rewarded!

We must have topped out in the last rays of the suns light and while I was still youthfully fired up to go back down and carry on climbing, by headtorch should it come to it, Soames was the voice of reason. We were both knackered and the prospect of new routing in the dark on a cliff we hardly knew would have been folly. A retreat was ordered and it wasn’t until I’d filled my sack and started the plod back up the cliff top path that I realised how tired I really was. I good decision made by Soames.

 

(Just a horse)

And another good decision was the curry he had made for our evening meal. I’ve obvious not raved about his cooking on here before, lest people get wind and steal my climbing partner for his culinary expertise. We dined and drank stubbies in Erics barn before the walking to the pub later in the evening. I could hardly stay awake in the pub as we toiled away writing up the recorded routes and thinking up inventive names for them. By the end of the evening I must have nearly fallen asleep at the table. My sleeping bag was a welcome companion.

Morning wasn’t cold, which was a pleasant change. Soames didn’t actually emerge from his sack before me for once and this gave me a chance to return the favour of his cooking the night before by boiling the kettle over and over the multitude of cups and flasks and reheating some soup for the day. I think we technically skipped breakfast, though our single banana and the lumps of bread and cheese left over from the night before was distinctly continental. Before long we found ourselves following the cliff top path back to our little piece of rock history.

(Finally! A picture of us doing some climbing!)

With a high tide in again we carried on ticking off the many lines on the High Tide Walls waiting in anticipation for the sea cliff lines we wanted to put up. As the day went on we toiled away trying the harder lines of the cliff. They provided some good entertainment but some were worryingly close to the edge of my mental ability. Eventually the Submarine had made harbour in Porth Saint Bay and the real fun could begin near the ocean below.

For someone who’ll freely admit that sea cliff climbing scares the … well, it scares me I was very eager to get back to the base. This time both Soames and I got to put up a line. Mine carrying on what seems to be becoming an obsession with what we dubbed the central tower. It took a shallow crack line which joined a series of right facing flakes, this wound its way up the cliff to a very difficult finish over the final tapered summit. It has been a long time since I’ve genuinely thought that I was going to fall off climbing, but this climb did it for me. I felt like I’d climbed myself into a hole and one that I wouldn’t be able to climb out of. With frozen fingers I pushed on reaching for blind holds that shouldn’t have been there but were. I topped out with that small smile of a close call.

Soames line made recorded ascent of what has been dubbed Gambler’s Wall, named after his route “Queen of hearts”. This took a blunt arête and for a while as Soames was on the lead I thought he was going to take a clear traversing line which made its way across the face. Instead he stayed true to the line and tackled the arête head on, providing a hard and awkward crux. By the time we topped out the darkness was similar to that of the day before when we’d finished so a retreat was ordered, as today we still had a three hour drive home.