New Mills Torrs

With a ambiguous metoffice weather forcast (and yes this does mean I've finally worked out how to use the new metoffice website format) I took this opportunity to get out somewhere in the Peak that I've always wanted to go, but have been saving for a rainy day, New Mills Torr. I have to say that I wasn't unimpressed. This is a great crag in what I can only describe as a romantic setting (however that could have just been the light!) and to think, I only picked it because it has a roof!


New Mills Torrs is just over 20 metres in height and extend along the valley floor. It is also quarried grit, in the finest sense of the world and therefore it's steep, crimpy and has varying degrees of looseness. The rock quality extends from excellent grit to slightly crumbly and loose. There is some very exciting trad there (which I sampled) and some excellent reachy & powerful bouldering (of which there was much sampling) and several sport routes (of which there was no sampling). Sport routes I might hear you cry? on a gritstone crag? Well the sport routes themselves actually run up the bridge legs (?) and have been well bolted. They also have names that hint that the bolting of a gritstone man-made bridge is the small end of the wedge etc, which I thought was fantastic! 

The river is also home to Britain's first Local Hydroelectric scheme, which has been built into the side of the river near the ruins of the old mill that was once there. It has been tastefully built out of the similar materials to the old ruins, runs almost silently and seems to pump out 54 Kilowatts of energy (which Toaf, being a sparky, tells me will power about 10 houses) most of the time. It just got me thinking that why aren't more schemes like this set up? I know in the area around where I work a lot of the council houses are being retrofitted with solar panels, but should it stop here? It wouldn't cost much to start small scale community projects that bring down the local cost of energy production. Sometimes I wonder about things.


Back to the climbing. We'd (Toaf, Ronnie and I) come armed with a couple of pads and some trad gear knowing what the climbing would be like. In retrospect taking a single rope for the sport climbing would have been a better idea, but I think I left it behind so I would have the "lack of single rope" as an excuse to avoid the sport. As it happened we climbed no sport at all and instead spent the day working several traverses and boulder problems, a few highball problems/short solos and a single trad route. 


We started off with the Grim Reaper traverse, which although only got font 6a+ completely shut us down for ages. Looking back we should have probably avoided a traverse under a heavily dripping wall but that actual problem was dry at least. From here we just worked our way right along the wall and gradually upping the grade, a little. We ticked off Viaduct Wall and Viaduct Wall variations before spending ages trying Honcho (Font 6b+?) This is basically the start to the trad route by the same name, which gets E4 6b. 


I'm not being funny but it took us ages. We'd managed both the left and right hand versions of the problem, but the start up direct just seemed to have us completely stumped. It wasn't until I accidentally move my bottom foot (you'd understand if you did the problem) and unlocked the key to the start of the route. From now a second pad was added to our little pile and we could have  real look at the rest of the route. I'll admit that by trying the route ground up made a real difference. In my head it wasn't a trad route anymore, but a highball boulder problem, with a crux at the start. In the end I got well established at the final moves but didn't have the minerals to actually make the final move. It was a little off balance and looking down the pads, which normally seem so big and awkward to carry, seems minuscule and unhelpful.


It's an interesting thing when you think about how you approach different routes. For me a trad route and a boulder problem are two different things, within the world of climbing. I would never spend ages working a trad route, either on top-rope or pre-practising different sections till I'd got it nailed. This could stem from a number of things; like it juts being more awkward to work a route (either on top-rope with a partner or shunting it on your own, and I don't own a shunt), or that for me it crosses a line and then takes away from the experience of onsighting. The interesting thing is, is that if I've failed on a route I'll then go through the effort of pulling the ropes and doing it ground up if I can. Why I do this, rather than just dogging on the lead and then carrying on (and in some situations I would do this, Gogarth, multipitching, if time didn't allow etc) is a bit of a mystery to me. 


Then again if it's a boulder problem it suddenly all seems fair game. I don't mind working it over and over if it's hard. I'll take a good look at all the hold and plan the moves out in my head, refining it after each attempt till I can actually do the problem. Suddenly the whole thing is less serious, idea's are thrown around between all the people there which makes paying attention when it's someone else's go (obviously you'll be wide awake spotting) all the more important, should they suddenly unlock the key to a route. There is less competition between each other. 


Treating Honcho as an extended boulder problem, rather than an E4 6b trad route was really fun. As wasn't much chance of me onsighting the route anyway and therefore applying a ground-up ethic to it and treating it as a problem to be solved worked. With the pads we could fall off and I could keep getting to my high point, and bottling out without the added pressure of "the onsight". I intend to go back and do this problem/route (whatever...). There is a peg onroute that's been cemented in, but someone has, and I'm in no doubt that they were being helpful, left a thin maillion attached to it. You can't get a 'biner through it but the maillion is rusty and old. I figure that it would be much better to do it with several pad beneath me anyway, it'll just be more fun that way. At the end fo the day that what it's about, having fun,  isn't it?


I did manage to scare myself on a couple of occasions though. One of soloing Viaduct Wall variation (E1 5c) which has an easy mantle that I very nearly completely messed up and The Arete (E3 5b), the only trad route I did that day. It was defiantly type 2 fun.

The Arete was pretty much the first clear line that I looked at the crag. It's one of the few routes that's actually been included in On Peak Rock, for this crag. I'd purposefully left it to the end of the end to have a go at a trad route here, simply because I wanted to get used to the rock. I'm glad I did because as I've already stated the rock differs and changes subtly along the cliff. I started off pretty well, considering it was also pretty easy to being with. This ease suddenly stopped with a short section of hard climbing to gain the good ledge to rest on at 9 metres. With no gear in I placed a small nut blind and then carried on up... before a rapid retreat. The nut looked fine, but I'd let it get to me and had my doubts. It was a good few minutes and more attempts later before I actually made the move and gained the ledge. I spent along time, hangin' around on the arete, backing up my single piece of gear with a cam (and inadvertently taking up my hand hold should I have needed to retreat). I think I've got to stop doing this and have more faith in my ability, rather than planning ahead for when I fall off.


Mantling onto the ledge was not done in style but it did lighten the mood between me and Toaf which had come pretty tense. I sat on the ledge and noticed for the first time that it overhung by about a metre, so I stayed there for a while to relax. Before long I'd clipped the old pegs and had to carry on. At least on this route I didn't have to worry about hanging around to place gear as there really wasn't that much of it. The gear that was there was spaced, to say the least. I just had to make sure that I go to it before I pumped out.


The ledge that had provided a nice rest showed it's true colours as soon as I left it. It stuck out enough from the face that I'd have probably hit it on the way down, if I slipped off. With this is mind it took me a good few attempts to actually get off the ledge and commit to the next set of moves. I'm not going to lie but it took a while to get moving again, and I felt physically sick with fear (this included retching) which is was a completely new experience for me. I found myself clipping the two pegs (also the last gear on route) before struggling to find a rest and fighting the pump that was building in my arms. In a slightly detached part of my mind a idea sparked up that I should probably train on more pumpy routes, so I can deal with it better out on the lead. 


My screaming arms and sweating with fear I grabbed the loose looking blocks at the top of the route. As I clambered over the top, my "trees don't count as handholds" rule went straight out the window and I grabbed for the routes and clipped the piece of tat above me. I was ok, I was safe and I'd not fallen off. Toaf joined me on the lead with the small amount of gear for the route. I watched him fighting with the same pump as I had while he stubbornly hung around trying to remove my gear. I told him to leave it as we have to abseil the line anyway, but he wasn't having any of it. Being the best second in the world in a sense of pride for him.


And thus ended our journey up and along the walls of New Mills Torrs. I've not doubt I'll be back, and having seen the state of the weather over the coming weekend I can virtually guarantee it. Exploring new crags really is worth it.


[I'll be adding some more photos, when I can get them of my friends camera]

just some more amazing fimography

Yosemite Range of Light from Shawn Reeder on Vimeo.

and here is a link to his flickr account, for some incredible photography to go with it.

Wales and new routing again!

I know I should have updated this earlier but I've not. I've been having tourble actually getting things written down recently and on top of this my laptop has decided that the fan wanted to stop working and therefore it's been overheating an dying on me. As you can imagine I've not been too pleased.

But there is good news. I've finally managed a draft of the miniguide I've been toiling away at. At the moment it's full of spelling errors and formatting problems but that doesn't matter because at least the information in down on paper and in a reasonably concise format! All that needs to be done now on the guide is some tarting up and moving of things around... and completing the routes we've got left to climb!

On the mention of new routing I've been away again to Wales, on a couple of occasions actually. Working in a school means that I get long breaks which I take advantage of to go climbing in. This was no different. The first weekend saw me bouldering at Churnet with Rachel and exploring some of the buttresses that we've not visited before. I can now say I have a project (the 7a and 6b for that matter traverses) at Ousal Dale. It's nice to think I've got something to go back and complete, or at least try to complete. It is starting to worry me how much I'm into my bouldering at the moment.

Then Rachel went away for a weeks residential, with my car. The plan was as she was already half way to wales she would then meet me there at the weekend. The weekend was the annual easter trip to tremadog, which is something I enjoy because I get to see a lot of my friends. However my lift was in stoke, so all my kit went into my 120 litre haul sack and I plodded across B'ham town centre in the rain to the train station. I got more than a few funny looks along the way, but in thier defence I did look like a big walling himalayan climber... who was lost in a big city. One person did stop to ask if I was carrying an inflatable dingy though. Thankfully my time as a scumbag climbing bum (sat in the vestibule of the train, trying not to get in anyones way and failing) was reasonably short lived and I soon found myself at the house of my friend Edd, enjoying a brew.

The plan was to bivi out (because it's cheap) under the Cromlech boulders. This is always a good laugh because whenever I've done it I've been with someone who hasn't bivied before. This time it was Scotts turn to be a bivi virgin. Considering that we're virtually car camping and are only using the rock because we're too lazy to put up tents I don't think that it should be too bad an experience. Nature it seemed had decided to make life a little more interesting for us though... it dropped the temperature. The picture on the left is of Dinas Cromlech, taken on a 15 exposure (I can't take it for any longer sadly). It wasn't exaclty artic conditions in the pass that night but there was snow down to Dinas Mot and the wing was blowing up. We even too the time to rebuild and repair the wall. In the end it was a pretty magical night, not sleeping under a rock with four guys but the moon was full so from my sleeping bag I could see the mountains and snow all night. 

A cold clear night can only mean one thing, a cold morning! The early start we had planned wasn't exactly early, but then again it never is but several cups of coffee later and a short car journey later we were setting up the tents at Eric's Cafe and enjoying the sunshine. Seeing as I was currently living in a bivi bag I had little to do other than piled my kit where my tent would be when it arrived and gear up for a days climbing. Me and Tim teamed up together and started off with Merlin Direct. Tim led pitch 1 and I took pitch 2. There not much to say other than it really is an excellent route. On the descent (down Belshazzar Gully) I noticed oxover buttress for the first time. This is where returned and managed to do Bloodsucker (E2 5c), Oakover (VS 4c) In one pitch and Heartlines (E2 5c). Considering I must have bypassed this buttress so often I can't believe how go it was. It just goes to show that Tremadog is full of surprises. Then Colin and Toaf arrived and I managed to get another route in with the two of them and we ticked off One Step in the Clouds (VS 4c). So not a bad day at all.

My second day saw a trip into Tremadog to get some wool with Rachel before me and Toaf did Legslip (E1 5b) in one pitch and narrowly managing to avoid the rain. Before the day was up but this time getting caught out in the rain I did Valerie's Rib (HS 4b) with Matt Snell before spending the evening hiding under a tarp rigged between 3 cars and several large sticks. 

The final day was spent travelling home as lack of sleep and cold nights had taken their toll on me. This did however give Rachel & I chance to drop in at the Osprey thing, thats near tremadog. Apparently the same mating pair have been coming back for nine years and thier siblings have been found returning to the area as well. They hunt all up and down the coast too so I'll be keeping a look out when I'm climbing on the Lleyn in future!

Then it was back home for a day to dry off, clean all the kit and head back out to wales with Soames for another bout of new routing. After seeing the weather report I was a little sceptical that we'd get any climbing done but Soames has learnt how to use a computer and more importantly apply 10 years worth of local weather knowledge (for living in wales) to the met office's marine weather website. I was assured that we'd get good weather, at least for some of the trip which was good enough for me!

The drive over was reasonably relaxed. We spent a lot of it exploring unclimbed rock across england and wales on the journey there. We spent along while trampling through the woods outside Betws-y-Coed finding the tubes, so I'd know where they were for some summer fun later in the year (and with the way things are going drought wise, it looks like the tubes'll make for good sport), before descending on Anglesey. With the tent's erected before we set off for the crag and my new found love of all things tarp like we nipped down to the cliff.

I say nipped and what I mean is is that we sat in the car while it blew a small gale and rained for 25 minutes. A break in the weather meant that would could make it to the crag, if only to get some more pictures and scout out more opportunities. What we found when we got there was a low tide and dry rock so we geared up and put up a couple of routes before it got too dark. I took some parallel cracklines in the main wall that we've been looking at since we got there and it produced a HVS 5a called For the girl who makes hats. Soames then put up Rhino (VS 4c) before we went back for some food. 

The next day was really productive. We didn't have an early start but that didn't matter. We got loads of routes on Submarine Walls done and I managed a few good photos for the topos. It's quite hard to explain what we did and where without giving away where an flippin' crag is so instead I'll leave you with some pictures:

(Me seconding Seraphim)

(believe it or not but it's only HVD, treasure island)

(Me leading the cormorant)

(A rare abseil inspection confirms my suspicions of bad rock)

(possibly the most exciting lead all weekend and a great line by Soames)

(This probably doesn't do justice to the position I'm in)

 

And thats all for now. I'll find somewhat to display the guidebook pages, once someone has corrected my spelling!

Some kind words on sea cliff climbing

"You're no nelson"

This was the comment Stuart muttered as he watched me scream like a little girl before running and scrambling back along the cliff base to higher ground. All because a wave was crashing in. It wasn't a particularly big wave, it wasn't a particularly small wave, just a wave. Still it made me run and thus also opened my climbing partners eyes to my fear of the sea.

I grew up in the most landlocked city in Britain, which isn't a bad thing. I had a good childhood and spent a lot of time near the sea and contrary to belief, I do actually go swimming in the sea. I just have real problems with deep water, and why shouldn't I? The only time's I really encounter deep water (and by deep I mean I can't see the bottom and therefore it just descends into blackness) is when I'm on a boat or sea cliff climbing. Taking the little ferry to the Isles of Scilly last year for a holiday was an interesting experience to say the least. As far as boats go though they don't bother me (or didn't at least). 

But sea cliffs are different. I mean you start at the top for one and then abseil in. If something goes wrong then it's generally not just a simple abseil back to the floor and then walking out. You have to actually climb out and that little bit of extra commitment can really weigh on the mind. Have you ever looked at the sea beneath the sea cliffs? How many end in just that sucking deep black as the cliff plunges into nothingness? Well too many for my liking. Swimming in clothes in hard enough, let only without the weight of 5kg of rack dragging you down. I keep meaning to go to the swimming baths with 5kg of something, just to see if I can swim with it all on (though I think the thing that's stopping me is that I'll find out that I can't). 

My point is, is that after spending the last few weekends away (and the majority of my climbing this year) very close to the sea (and a raging sea at times) it's starting to bother me less and less. I don't know if I'm becoming accustomed to it or I'm getting less scared that everything will fail and I'll end up in the drink. 

This is something that I can't only consider to be a good thing. If you've ever climbed on a sea cliff, and especially a westward facing only, and you've had the opportunity to experience the sun setting over the ocean as you sit on the rim savouring the glow of just finishing a route then you'll know what I'm talking about. Being less scared of the sea will hopefully mean that this'll happen more often. 

And if you've not experienced this, then you need to get you're ass to Gogarth asap!

(The view, sitting on the rim and the end of the day)

guidebook writing and pre-recorded ascents

I remember when I was back in school and they taught us the basics of programs like microsoft word, publisher etc and I remember thinking that I either knew it all already or that there wasn't any point in teaching it to us because I wouldn't need it in life. It's generally times I remember this when I'm trying to work out how to do something simple on microsoft word that I have been taught before, but wasn't listening to and therefore couldn't remember. Being that I work in a school and spend a large majority of the time fielding questions from year 10 and 11 groups about "how will algebra be useful in later life? etc etc" I wish I could actually explain and make them see that education is important, and sometimes I wish I'd listened more.

Anyway writing a guidebook, however small seems to be quite hard. I don't think it helps that I've gone at it wrong. Instead of taking a sensible approach and recording everything we did down as and when we did it, stuff has been done days (and sometimes weeks) later. It was only this last trip that I started making concise and legible notes... while at the crag! The up shot is that I've had to almost start over and start gathering piece of paper after piece of paper with little lines, drawings and notes scribbled over them. On top of this I decided (and god only knows why?) to change the format of the little guide from portrait to landscape. This seemingly insignificant bring me back to my first paragraph, where I'm struggling to use the most basic features that word has to offer, like columns. 

Actually writing the guidebook takes time, most of which is spent deciphering my own scawl (known as handwriting) or reading through the already recorded routes off the Gogarth.wiki or the old guidebook. Considering that in the old guide the cliff has about a page worth of description it makes for pretty good reading. Sadly I can still only make where 8 out of 10 routes actually are, based on thier description. The wiki is another matter entirely. Because it's been set up like all wiki sites (and there for all the content is added by users and not extensively monitered) the content is a little jumbled, to say the least. There are not many pictures or decent descriptions to follow and this has given me real problem identifying some of the routes, and one in particular "the vipper". 

(The Viper, or Hydrophobia, depending on your views)

After the last trip we'd managed to explore pretty much the whole crag, which is no mean feat as although its small, its also complicated with several little areas with various points of access. I was sat in my lounge on the sunday night reading and re-reading the descriptions that I'd printed off the wiki in another vain attempt to work out where the routes lay when suddenly it all started to make sense. 

And what sense it all made. Suddenly I could see the shape of the crag that I was reading in the description, I could see which way round everything was and I could identify this clear line on the crag. My elation at finally working out where the route went was short lived as the realisation of what it meant dawned on me. The Vipper (or Viper as I'm reasonably sure it's a typo) takes a clear crackline finishing up a corner. This is the line that I've claimed as hydrophobia and being perfectly honest, I was gutted when I worked it all out. 

But as with all things, after thinking about it for sometime I came to the conclusion that it doesn't matter. I was getting a little obsessed with over a period of weeks. Being perfectly honest the first thing I should have done was make sure I knew where all the lines were at the crag, before setting myself up for a dissappointment like this. The thing is though is that I don't see it as a dissappointment. I never started new routing thing in an attempt to "make my mark" or anything similar, its just another part of the whole climbing game. 

I know most fo these lines have probably been climbed before, but no-one took the time to actaully name or grade them. Some of the lines at this cliff are excellent, some ok and so far there have only been two that have failed to meet expectations (one was a lead of Soames's which he thought was going to be harder than it was, one was a lead of mine where I decked as the quartzite snapped off), but thats not to say they are bad routes. 

I guess I just enjoy the climbing and new routing gives me a chance to let my imagination roll. I let my mind wander when I'me staring at the cliff looking for lines and try and find the biggest challenges. These might not be the most technical but that doesn't mean they won't be a mental challenge. I guess all I can say is watch this space, as there are a couple of lines I've got in mind that look really wild!

A good day at the Roaches

Well well well. I actually managed to have a good day at the Roaches. In fact as I'd go as far as to say it was excellent. I went up with a group of friends (all brought together by Redpoint Climbing Centre) for a day of bouldering and trad climbing. I managed Commander Energy and Elegy, both E2 5c, before finally setting off on an adventure I'd started with Toaf about 8/9 years ago. We've finally climbing Valkyrie (VS 4c) and it was as good as I thought it would be. 

A quick recap is probably necessary about Valkyrie. It's been a bit of thorn in the side of my climbing. I started the route about 8/9 years ago with Toaf and got rained off, after the crux. Since then I've failed to complete the route a few times, rescued a guy off it, ended up abseiling through that bloody holly bush countless times. All in all it's been a route thats caused a few problems. I toyed for a while with never doing it, and juts leaving it as a route that I just couldn't beat. However Toaf and I finally teamed up again to get it finished and we managed it!

I'll get some photos up when I can find a decent internet connection!

A change in perspective?

It's not Wednesday and in the spare time I've had since Sunday night I've tried and tried to write this blog post but I just can't seem to settle and get it right. I don't really know whats up as the weekend away was a real blast. I had such a good time and managed to get some awesome routes done. Actually as a weekend away both working (sort of) and climbing it was a real success I think. The thing is is that it was a weekend away working which is probably why I'm finding it so hard to write everything up.

By working I mean I actually mean Soames and I were working on the cliff we've come to call our own. There is still some serious potential, especially for some really out there and inspiring (and dangerous) lines. It find it a little frustrating at times that I've been looking at lines on the wall and realising that there is almost no way I'll get up them... with out resorting to the tried and tested technique of aiders. There are still lines within thew realms of my ability (although they might be at the edge of it) that are still up for grabs. And here in lies the problem. I've got some lovely photos and excellent information to put up, but I don't really want to plaster it all over the tinterwebs for the world to see... at least not yet I don't. I've estimated that I've got about 8 hours work on the guidebook to do this week, but that'll depend on how much time I can find to do it, and I've already got another trip planned to get back there and tidy up. I don't really want my (or at least I consider them mine) lines stolen by someone else. And I'm stuck here in B'ham.

As I've mentioned above the weekend really was a blast. We actually stayed on Anglesey for once instead of driving backwards and forward across Wales in an effort to stay at Eric's. I did feel bad for not staying in the barn, but the fact that I went to sleep listening to the sea crashing against the shore more than made up for it. I woke up early enough on the Saturday morning to get some nice pictures of the dew and grass in the morning light, before it warmed up. 

New routing is a heavy experience, and I mean that in the broadest of ways. It is literally quite heavy as I'd thrown in all the gear I thought I'd need (I only really left pitons and tri-cams behind) and then added an extra 40metres of abseil rope just so we could abseil in during high tide and check out possibilities. It felt like I was carrying a pig rather than a crag sack. As I walked the short path along the coast though in the sunshine I realised that one it didn't matter and two, even with all this kit I'd forgotten the sunscreen. It then becomes mentally heavy because the whole time I'm trying to make sure I've got decent photographs for the topo that'll be made later, recorded everything we've done for the day and actually picked decent lines. This all seems to weigh down on my shoulders and all this is before even starting the route. That’s when the fun really begins...

Imagine climbing at any crag that you've got a guidebook too. You find a line and check it out in the guidebook and you get a description and a grade. You then compare the description & grade to the visible line in question and you can make some assumptions. I’m a strong believer that the British Adjective/Technical grading system is not fundamentally flawed but is actually probably the best system out there… for trad that is. My point is, is that from the moment you leave the ground you’ll already know a great deal about the climb that you are about to undertake. For some that might be the point of it, reading the grade and finding an adventure of a known value. When we’ve been new routing we can guess what’s there, but we don’t know. In fact we don’t know if the route will even go (at our ability level). The weight of all this doubt can lay heavy on the mind and this is what this post is all about really. That massive weight of doubt on my shoulders when I started up the first real line I saw at the cliff.

Imagine you’re about the climb a route at the crag. It doesn’t matter what route or what crag, all that really matters for this is that you’ve found the line you want to climb then you checked it out in the guidebook. You’ve read the description and compared the grade to what you can see. You think you’ve got a pretty good idea about what’s coming and if the grade is correct, you know how hard everything is going to be. All these things add up to lift that mental weight from your shoulders. When I was standing at the base of hydrophobia, after a real shock (we’d miscalculated the line somewhat, or at least the position it was in), there was a pretty big weight on my shoulders and this wasn’t helped by the tide changing to come back in at it being the end of the day. 

The start of the day the usual things happened; I woke up aching with various bit of me being cold as the filling in my sleeping has made a big for freedom and I swore I’d never drink again. Besides the fact that I probably only tucked away 4 or 5 beers, hangovers always seem worse when they start in a tent. Soon we were driving past Porthdafach (and a host of little bays and inlets), stopping in at the shop and then walking the familiar path along the coast that would bring us to our little playground. There was work to be done before any climbing, which generally sees me disappearing off and around little caves and inlets trying in vain to take decent photos (no matter how much I blame the light or my camera I just think I’m not very good at it) for the topos. It wasn’t long before we set to work climbing out the high tide walls. 

The wall dubbed “Weeping and Seeping Wall” due to its more than likely to be wet nature (at least from our visits) was actually dry. We took this opportunity to put up 4 new lines on here. I did Giant Killer Woodlouse (VS 4c) and Two Face (E1 5b) whilst Soames put up Scorpion (HVS 5a) and Barbed Wire (VS 4b). Weeping wall is situated at the back of a little zawn but it does funnel the water up to the base of the cliff… and up through the rock quite effectively. We only managed to escape with one pair of dry feet.

Continuing to work our way round to the right saw me putting up Cake Walk (Severe) and Perfectly Pointless (HS 4a) by Soames. I then soloed 2 lines one of which took the right hand line of the little white slab and has no gear to speak of. It went at about HVS 5a but I’m still pondering as to whether it is actually a proper line or not. It’s probably one of the many eliminates that can be found on this little slab. I then down climbed Difference in Perspective (Severe) which I’m climbing a la Joe Brown on Right Unconquerable! I think then we stopped for a spot of lunch.

Not thinking about the climbing for the next 20 minutes meant that my mind was free to wander. I worried that I’d not brought sun cream and that the backs of my ankles and neck would burn. I worried that Rachel was ok at work and I hoped it wasn’t too busy. I worried that we’d not brought enough water, as it really was scorching. Slowly my mind drifted back to the worry about doing the big corner, dubbed Hydrophobia. It wasn’t long before lunch was over and I was scrambling back down to the base of the cliff, heading for a new area this time. 

On our first visit there were a couple of lines that really stuck out. Hydrophobia was the big one for me. Its massive corner with a wide looking crack at the back just screamed out to be climbed but there were others. The corner crack of Coffee black and Egg White was one of them. When I finally got on it, it wasn’t exactly like I’d pictured it. The belay at the bottom wasn’t exactly the greatest and this lack of really bomber gear continued throughout the rest of the pitch. We graded it HVS 5a in end because although the climbing was relatively easy you really wouldn’t want to fall off it. Round the corner Soames lead a nice route breaking up from a semi-hanging belay via an awkward crack before an easier corner. In keeping with the hot drinks theme he called it Darjeeling. 

By now the tide was getting very low and this opened up the base of the central tower and black wall area. I think we allowed ourselves another short break before heading down and getting the two gullies either side of the mentioned area done. I lead Claustrophobia (Diff) and Soames lead Watership down (Severe 4b), the latter of which had the three best nut placements we’d seen on the cliff. With a few hours of daylight left and the nagging sensation that we better get as much climbing done at low tide I lead the wide hand jamming crack of Letters Through the Mail (VS 4b). This we both thought wwas going to be an awful fist fight with gravity but it turned out to be a really easy and satisfying route. Soames then carried on his development of Gambler’s Wall with Going Blind (HVS 5a) a route breaking across a large overhang, before a bling reach round the arête… all above not the most ideal of gear.

And so it was time. Route 15 for me, but lead 13 between me and Soames. The tide wasn’t going to get any lower and I always love climbing as the sun sets and spreads that golden glow across all the rocks. After an abortive attempt to walk to the bottom of Hydrophobia, we decided to abseil in. Soames set off down the abseil rope first while I was left with my thoughts sitting on the rim, thinking to myself that the abseil rope was hanging pretty far away from the cliff.

Touching down after abseiling, heavy with the extra big I’d brought down with me to deal with the wide corner crack I was struck by two things, well three actually. The first was the entire crack seemed to overhang by about 2 metres, not something I’de been expecting. The second thing was that it wasn’t really a corner crack, but more of an overhanging crack with another wall near it, so much for my bridging plan. The third and probably most unnerving was the look on Soames’s face. It wasn’t the normal slightly manic smile he has when we’re at a sea cliff. This was a more reserved expression as he gazed up at Hydrophobia, the expression of someone with enough experience to know what’s probably coming but doesn’t want to say anything. 

After the procrastinating, worrying and then realisation that if I didn’t actually climb this now, or at least attempt it then I’d spend the rest of my life finding excuses to avoid doing it we flaked the ropes, Soames tied himself to the abseil rope (just in case) and I chalked up hands and set off. Did I mention that the tide had turned and was coming in. I guess the race was on. 

And then I was sat on the rim, the dull pain of a pulled muscle in my shoulder, half the rack gone from round my waist, sore hands with a network of scratches and rips on their backs. That strange smell of fear induced adrenaline lingering in the air. I smiled broadly with the memory of the last few minutes still in my head. Struggling to find good rests, placing as much gear as I could, fighting with this crack but at the same time everything being where it should have been. Finally, Hydrophobia had been climbing and it couldn’t have been more aptly named.

Needless to say we had a few beers that night, and then got up to do it all again the next day. The weather was just as good, but the swell was about 3-4 metres high which meant that the sea was breaking over the height of the cliff. We managed one route (Soames lead it and I’ve forgotten what it’s called!) and I fell off something, the first fall of the cliff for us.

I thought when I’d climb Hydrophobia then my drive for new routing at this cliff would fade and die away. I was actually pretty worried about it but that hasn’t happened. I do want to get out and grade-check some of our stuff against existing routes but I’m still psyched to get back there. Especially since I’ve found another wild and crazy line.