Ravensdale (02.11.14)

Limestone: A rock composed mostly of calcium carbonate, which is formed by biological processes (the remains of fossilised seashells and plankton which where alive many millions of years ago).

Something I rarely do is write up a days climbing on the same day as the climbing took place. It's getting closer and closer to winter and as such the days are getting shorter. The temperature is also dropping and as such I value the sunshine that little bit more. Maybe I just notice the warmth it provides as it is so infrequent on some days but today I've basked in it's lukewarm glow today, whilst sat on a ledge on ravens buttress overlooking a quiet dry limestone valley. Either way I'm home earlier than normal with more time on my hands.

My day has been spent enjoying the pleasures of peak district limestone, a somewhat neglected rock type in my opinion. I some ways though I'm glad it gets such little traffic in comparison to the gritstone. I went to stanage a couple of times last month and had a great time but there was still loads of people. Even on a quiet day I still see the worn footpaths leading to sandy eroded bays beneath each cliff. What is nice to note is that I don't see that much litter at Stanage, even at popular area. It isn't that I don't like people but I just prefer the relative solitude you can have at a quiet crag. Crags of the limestone variety don't seem to benefit from neglect but too much traffic has an equally, if not polar effect. Neglect equals overgrowth of vegetation and a reduction in the clearance of loose rock. Each winter more is generated in small amounts, it add to the problem of vegetation overgrowth. Too much traffic and we get the reverse. Over climbed and polished routes. There needs to be a sweet spot.

The solitude was part of the reason that we headed to Ravendale, the other being that I was reading up on the geology of the peak district (again) and just got inspired. In the 10ish years I've been climbing I have given precious little time to the lime. I don't know why this is. I also joke that limestones are for caving. If I'm heading to the peak district it'll be to climb gritstone. The reason is simple; I love gritstone. Each route, each line, can be an intimate experience. Feeling the change in grain size and sorting through your feet (even if you don't realise it) looking for that perfect smear. Crimping on the tiny sharp ripples in the rock, a remnant from the distance past linked to the formation of this feature. Remembering the jam that is causing the pain in your grazed and swollen hand; was it the cold dark crack of high moorland crag, sharp and untouched where you could feel each crystal biting in the skin of your hand or the straight sided crack, young and fresh in it's life after being rudely exposed before it's natural time, which is comfortable and inviting. The peak district itself tells one story, but each crag tells its own. This goes down to each climb and even a single problem. Man, I love grit.

So we went to limestone. I text Finney describing the crag and he confirmed. I drove up to his in awful weather. Huge bands of rain kept sweeping across the motorway. This wasn't forecast and I paniced (minor) but picked Finney up all the same. The plan was to try and film as much of the day as possible and as such our journey to the crag is well documented from van to parking and then to the base of the cliff, crossing a dry river (bedded with limestone) on a set of stepping stones. I didn't take a picture of the crag, despite all the cameras so I'll describe it instead. It stands out from the valley side as a series of cliffs, the middle of which is two tiered in the shape of a prow of rock heavily grooved in it's upper section This was Ravens Buttress. North, up valley the cliffs shorten and are separated by bands or broken rock and vegetation. Ravens Buttress right flank had blanker walls in the upper section and a series of shallow discontinuous grooves with small overhangs above a shallow break, and a small yew tree on the terrace, somewhat broken and thin this side. The left was more grooved, deeply in it's upper section with overhands and corners. The actual middle had a large v groove and a vegetated slab on it's one side, with steeper grooves to the left. You could say the crag was pretty groovy.

We plumbed for Mealystopheles, not because of the name (which I'm sure I pronounce wrong) but because of the line and the grade. We both liked the like and it looked like it's grade, if that in any way makes sense. I lead the first pitch. It was hard. The rock was a little suspect and I have a reasonable and understandable fear of loose rock. Still it was not a tottering jenga tower but something that meant I had to check: every. Single. Hold. As such the climbing was a really involved process as I was looking everywhere. My feet were a real issue. I just didn't know what I could get away with on this rock type. What would stick and where it was. I felt pushed out away from the rock but it's steepness while at the same time drawn in and surrounded in the groove. About half way up after a series of small grimps but quite gymnastic climbing with good holds spaced far apart. As I said, it was engaging which probably lead me to drop my medium wires half way up. This was no problem. I had a tonne of gear on me so carried on but my attidtude subtly changed and I was move careful and placed what ever gear I could fit.

The ledge was a fantastic belay. My first was an alcove preached slightly above the terrace and gave one quite a commanding position from which to view the valley (it's got and excellent echo as well). It was cold and gloomy in the morning shade but comfy. My second was in the sun, on the right wall. As such the terrace was short and my belay was compact. The real pleasure was when Andy shouted safe and I could lie out of the grass ledge just next to me, lacking my confinement to stay within the sensible distance of the anchor. I lay in the sun and shivered from the occasional cold breeze. Every experience is worth remembering.

Finney's lead took up up the slab and then into a short vegetated groove before traversing diagonally upwards to finish up the final deep groove. He couldn't get his head round the rope from some reason. Not that he clipped everything wrong but that he didn't accept he'd clipped them fine. It seemed to worry him on route. We also had a laugh when he topped out yelling down “Chink, where's the belay?”. He did find something in the end. When I seconded the route I was impressed not only by the climbing, which was much more exposed and on smaller hold than the first pitch but also by his route finding. He took the wrong line in the guide book. The vegetated groove was his own addition. It avoided 4 metre of very loose rock. The dangerous kind that stands up to a few blows but not a weighted tug. I didn't come off when I follow Finney. I should have gone route but at the time it just seemed part of the route. I did pull off a large rock which I had to throw off. I hit the first pitch in the process, something I felt bad about. I cleaned up the mess and then with a tight rope and some sturdy ivy I was out of danger. And into the exposed finish. Wow. What a pitch. It was Mealystopheles VS 5a, 4c.

Purple Haze was our next route. This looked more intimidating. Round on the right wall taking a line through an overhanging groove above the shallow break. My first lead took me into the right corner, not where I wanted to be and I scuttled back retrieving and replacing gear. My false start might have cost me some time but it was much harder than I was expecting so I now approached the groove with caution. The climbing was gymnastic with layaways in tiny cracks converting to stemming on then edge of the groove. Heels, jamming and eventually a great rock over to bridge the groove and get over the over hang. It wasn't over and I stripped dead ivy from slabbier grooves.

Finney loved it and waxed lyrical from ages at the belay. His lead took him up an wide crack, amusingly climbed as he stepped his scrawny leg inside it to climb up on jammed rocks. A short battle with a yew tree cost Finney some serious rope drag, despite his victory and then the headwall above. This pitch earned its abjective grade. The climbing was sustained on steep rock acrossing a broad headwall to... a short groove. He took his time and rightly so. It must have been great to have been on that pitch on the lead. My experience was similar. After my laze in sun I climbed the groove (without putting my leg in) acted as reinforcement battle with the tree and freed the ropes before stopping and looking up at Finney peaking over this flat steep wall. It was impressive. Little clusters of gear long sections of climbing. It was steep face climbing with the occasional rest. After I'd seconded enjoying the tether of safety guiding me Finney told me how he'd just climbed really slowly, in short moves with pauses while he decided on the next move and just psyched himself up that he could do it. It worked, clearly. It was Purple Haze E1 5b, 5a.

And that was it. The sun had gone in and we were cold. Sometimes you don't need to push it and get another climb in, coming down in darkness. We left happy. We'd taken so much away from the days climbing. It had been different, unusual and challenging. The rock itself was an unknown. I kept moving for holds only to find the crimp, that I knew would be there, was no where to be found. I lacked that intimate knowledge that'd driven my love of gritstone. I climbed carefully tortoise like but slowly I began to read the rock. Things started to make sense. Each groove and each line was presenting a story. And that is where it ended, because I don't know enough limestone to compare it too. I've not climbed on it. I've neglected it, Ignored and pushed it aside in pursuit of pot noodle climbing and alpine starts.

But it won't any more. I have climbed on limestone in the past and this day has brought back so many memories. Great days out with old friends, Esoteric experiences and avoiding the rain and climbing the tower of babel one sunday afternoon. I love gritstone but the peak is more than just one rock type.

Afterwork Climbing (in the peak)

I finished my first wave of NCS work for the summer the other day. As jobs go this has got to be one of the most interesting as I've been employed as a group leader for 4 of the 6 waves (2 I can't do due to DofE work commitments). Being a group leader means that I've got the same group for 3 days; 2 of which are spent walking and scrambling (not real scrambling, but more phootling about through the rocks) with an overnight camp and one day is spent canoeing and raft building. The job actually means I get to spend a few days this summer actually playing on the water. I basically get paid to play, responsibly of course, but essentially play.

My evenings off normally depend on the time I finish or whether I'm working an overnight job. I did managed to get in my first after work bouldering session the other day. On the whole I'd say it was less of a bouldering session and more of an excuse to go and see Andy as he'd come up to the peak to get out of stoke. I arrived late to the Roaches (he was already there) and walking in some mad little part of my brain decided that soloing Valkyrie would be a good idea.

I've had quite an on going relationship with this route over the years, having to bail off is on several occasions due to weather or my head not being in it, I've rescued a guy off it with a broken arm and eventually got round to leading it. The idea of soloing something so risky hasn't ever really been my thing. I like highball bouldering because of the risk, and will solo smaller routes where the likely hood is broke ankles or legs at the worst, but soloing something with terminal fall potential is somewhere I've not gone before.

I'm not sure which part of my mind was gunning for me to do it so much. Normally when you get ideas like this, or at least when I get ideas like this, there is a voice in my head that'll speak up and yell “hey man, this is serious, way too serious... what're you thinkin'?”. I can't explain why but there was none of this as I walked to the base of the route after making the decision to do it. I'll admit that it worried me a little. Why was I suddenly happy climbing something that could cost me everything?

It didn't really matter. I was focused on climbing the route and nothing was going to change that. I took my time doing all the little things before I started. I changed into my rock boots and cleaned them till they were sticky. I rolled up my trousers till they sat where I like them. I had a drink of water and a quiet couple of minutes to contemplate the route. I then stood at the base and chalked up before setting off.

The route itself was an amazingly intense experience. I couldn't get into the the flow straight away and it took a few slow careful moves before my mind was silent and all I could concentrate on was the climbing. I climbed slowly and carefully going back to basics and having three points of contact and thinking through every single move. As I made the easy moves to gain the first pitch belay ledge my mind started screaming at me. I sat there for what could only have been a couple of minutes but it seemed like forever while I argued with myself about continuing.

The option of retreat was dangling there in front of me. I could virtually walk off from this ledge and it would all be over. I'd be safe, but unfufilled. I'd be left asking myself the same question over and over:

“Why couldn't I just continue?”

So I carried on. I stood up and chalked my my hands, then chalked them up again for good measure before grasping the first holds on that massive flake and continuing on a path from which there would be no retreat. I've reversed all of the flake before, from the crux but this time would be different. As I started down climbing I was in a state of panic. My heart was racing and felt like it would burst out of my chest. I couldn't see the hidden foothold I would need to make the set across and again it felt like an eternity before I got my foot onto it. I stepped across and very carefully felt the next hold with my hand, adjusting where I placed it again and again to make the next move as easy as possible. Falling off here simply wasn't an option.

I made it. I didn't retreat and I carried on round to the front face. The climbing is easier and I had to slow myself down so that I wouldn't make a stupid mistake, but I still ran to the top. The view from the prow of valkyrie was that same view I'd seen countless times before, but this time it was different. I was looking through it was different eyes after an intense experience. My heart was still racing and I could almost feel the blood pumping round my body. I felt like I was dreaming.

I understood for the first time why people solo routes, especially ones where the consequences of a fall are so severe. It's not about the rock your climbing, but the places in your mind that you go. I finished thinking that what I'd just done was reckless and stupid and I'm sure there as those that would agree, but I don't. I went somewhere I've never been before and came away from it changed, if only slightly.

It was a fitting end to my affair with Valkyrie. For me it was almost the combination of 10 years of climbing and I loved every moment of it.

After work climbing

After an extremely stressful day at work (I'm no complaining as my job couldn't be better) I got a few hours climbing in at the Roaches after work. As we walking in everything felt right and I met Finney and Sammie at prow cracks area. I don't know why everything felt right on this day, but it did and so as soon as Finney had finished I'd geared up and set off up Hunky Dory (E3 6a). I've been looking at this line for the past 5 or 6 years (or as long as I've been going to the Roaches). It just looks so doable with everything in the right place. From the guidebook description and just looking at the route I could see that the crux (whether psychological or technical) would be at the top, after you've placed you're last pieces or gear in the crack. I hoped it would be like this anyway.

Setting off my head immediately started trying to talk me out of it. The first few moves to actually gain the crack were probably the hardest throughout the whole route. I think what made them hard was that they were just not obvious and the whole thing felt like a boulder problem stolen from the churnet valley. On actually gaining the crack it became a beautiful section of laying away with your feet smearing on the edges. I didn't climb it as quickly as my writing makes out, but the flow was still there and although I climbed up and down and re-arranged my gear everything still felt right.

By the time I'd placed my final pieces in the top of the crack and shuffled off to the left to balance precariously on the small ledge the little voices in the back of my head, which he been so quiet after their initial ranting decided to speak up. I was now looking at a possibly nasty fall, on a couple of cams. what I should have done at this point is just turned the volume down on the voices telling me I should back off, telling me the gear wouldn't hold, telling me I'd catch an ankle on the ledge during the inevitable fall... what I did instead was listen to them for just a minute.

I felt like I was on that ledge for hours having a silent arguement with myself inside my own head. In this time Tim kindly threw me a couple more cams (he owns a slightly smaller size) and now the "final pieces" had become a bomber series of placements. They calmed my thoughts enough to step off the ledge and try and make the most of the tiny crimps I was to rely on. I don't know how fast I climbed but everything felt slower, ordered and considered. I could feel every single grain of grit smeared and holding onto the rubber stretched over my toes. My finger tips screamed silent protests as the sharp crystals cut into them (too much climbing and not enough rest) but I pulled on them anyway. The small holds ran out and I slapped for what I hoped would be a good sloper... it wasn't the best but it didn't matter. My other hand joined the first on the sloper and I tucked my fingers into the shallow depression which was hidden from view. Gently I picked a point for my left toe on the small rail I was heading for. This was it, the big move, the 6a mantle... and it was fine. It honestly felt fine and for that single small moment as I rocked over nothing else in the world mattered.

Considering I was climbing in a pair of borrowed shoes as I'd forgotten my own it wasn't bad .

half way up the crack (photo courtesy of Sammy Dye) 

An interesting weekend...

As weekends go I'll be perfectly honest and say this wasn't my favorite. One this is that I've managed to get some good photographs from my day bouldering on Saturday. The weather was beautiful, and the rock good clean and dry. I've been given (more like entrusted with) a pre-release copy of the Churnet guide book. It's a odd little publication as it consists of only new blocks, crags and boulders scattered across the Churnet area. A good point to not is that it needs t be used in conjunction with an existing guidebook (like the Roaches guide or Peak District bouldering) because it literally only has the new stuff in. Considering the new guide is just over 60 pages long it looks like there is loads to explore!

Saturday was therefore spent blowing out my front tire as I pulled into the Rambler's retreat car park. This didn't dampen my spirits and the tire was quickly changed. What did dampen them however was landing badly on the bouldering mat and spraining my ankle. My ankles are a constant form of frustration as they get damaged so easily. I just slipped off the problem and caught the edge of the mat and rolled the ankle (again!). I guess the most annoying thing is that I wouldn't have damaged the ankle had the pad not been there to roll it over. My afternoon was spent adjusting some routes at the SUMC climbing wall for a friend who's based her dissertation around climbing. It's a really interesting line of inquiry and I'll get her to give me her results when she gets them!

Sunday should have been spent no at the crag, for many reasons (not just my ankles). However I found myself at the crag anyway and got to spend the day leading the occasional route but mainly sleeping on my ropes or acting as "tech support" for anyone who wanted anything checking (belays, abseils etc...). I guess it wasn't a total loss as I can log it as a supervising day in my SPA logbook. Realistically my day would have been better spent indoors. 

New routing in the Peak

(never work with children or animals, huh?)

With a day’s good weather and a host of jobs and commitments that would take up the rest of my weekend (one of which is actually writing this and the guidebook so it’s partly my own fault) I could only manage to get out Saturday. This was spent in the Peak District, with Ronnie, Sheep and Toaf, at Castle Naze. I not entirely sure why we ended up at Castle Naze. Maybe it was the fact I’d spent the night before eyeing up a possible line on a blank bit of rock or maybe it was because Ronnie kept going on about how he’d never trad climbed there.

The first route we actually did was an attempt on the blank section of rock I’d seen. For anyone with a copy of the Roaches guide present it ran between 2 classic VS’s, taking the slab between The Crack (once the hardest route in the Peak) and Nozag. I noticed that nothing took this clear slab line a while back, but I’ve been trying to stay away from Castle Naze as I feel like I’ve climbed everything I’ve wanted to climb there. I guess this day was different.

The line itself Toaf named “Reincarnation” (more on why later) and we graded it HVS 5a. Being perfectly honest the line is an eliminate and is escapable onto one of the VS routes either side. If it wasn’t for these possible escapes then I think it would probably get E1 as the gear is a little fiddly and run-out. The route runs straight up the blank face below the slab. This was pretty hard and I had to use the thin flake that runs along the right hand edge make some upward progress. From here gear can be arranged and then you can pull u and gain the slab, staying close to the left hand edge (as this is where most of the good holds are anyway). A few delicate moves on poor edges and smears will get up you up the face to the big ledge beneath the final short wall. I actually really enjoyed leading it. It is a line I’ve wondered about for a long while and it was nice to add a slabbier climb to the Cracks area of Caslte Naze.

The second of the routes be did was called Belladonna and grade E1 5c. This was again in the cracks area and again something that I’ve been looking at for a while. Belladonna makes follows the easiest line of weakest between a vicious E3 5c and imposing E3 6a. Because of this the line wanders around a little and really tests your gear placement and fore-thought when it comes to placing your runners. I had a great time of the route and didn’t really feel it pushed me that technically. It has an awesome finish, up a slightly overhanging arête which require a lovely rock-over/mantle-shelf move before pulling over the top.

And our third and final route provided us with probably the most excitement and is the reason for the name “Reincarnation” for the FA. The route was named because we put up a possible new route in the same day that I broke an old one, as Toaf so kindly put it. I’ve not done Birthday Climb (HVS 5b) but I’ve always looked up the wall that it takes, with its single pocket in the middle of the face, wondering how it only gets 5b. Well I decided to find out. I was going great until I couldn’t work out how to gain the actual wall. The guidebook was pretty vague and I wasn’t really pushing myself to work out how to get it. In the end I found the hidden flake round the corner that was the key to the route.

So I’m up not high up on the face. I’ve got a piece of gear in between the hidden flake and the wall and I’m grasping the pocket with my right hand. I smear my right foot on the wall beneath the pocket, ready to pop up to the final hold. Everything feels good and the move isn’t even that long. I got for it and it seems the second my right hand leave the pocket, my right foot loses all friction on the face. I fall off the arête and straight down, hearing a horrible grinding noise from the cam above me and as I settle I feel a load of loose rock fall on my head.

My first thought was “phew, that could’ve gone worse!” but then I look up at the cam, which had opened up like an umbrella and I see that I’m hanging from 2 lobes. I look at how far my next piece of gear is beneath me and yell for Toaf to lower me off as quick as he can… and as smoothly. On the deck I breathe a sigh of relief and laugh about it. I think I scared the two guys who were watching from a another route. Without pulling the ropes (very unethical I know) I just back on and climb up. I make the moves across the face again and get my hand in the pocket. I fight my left fist into a jam below where the cam in placed. It all feels wrong and my hand feels loose. I reset the cam with great difficulty and grab the flake. It moves, so being as gentle as I could I make some progress upwards, with the new found knowledge that if I do fall now my cam isn’t going to do squat and I’ll have a flake coming down the face soon after me. I slap the top hold and breathe another, even bigger, sigh of relief.

To cut a long story short the flake was kicked off the route after a lot of discussion between ourselves about the best course of action. As it happened the person gearing up underneath The Crack was Martin Kocsis, a BMC representative and after I realised who he was (something that I got the feeling annoyed him) he suggested that removing the flake was the right thing. The route was simply unsafe with it there.

It would be a great time of open up a discussion on “acceptable levels of risk within rock-climbing” here but I’m not going to, because as the end of the day the decision was simple. Nobody goes out rock climbing for the day with the intention of dying and this flake posed a real risk of that reality. Climbing is dangerous, but a massive part of it is levels of acceptable risk. I’d expect a horrendous large loose flake at Gogarth or even in the mountains, but in the Peak.

And thus Martin himself trundled it off down the face and we watched like happy school kids as it exploded into a multitude of fragments. Looking up that the face and with the flake gone there is another possible line or even a direct start to Birthday Climb now possible. Birthday Climb itself will probably get a higher grade because of the lack of hand jamming options, but I guess that’s up to general consensus to decide. As for me I’m just glad that I got to have a good day out climbing with my friends, and walk away from it uninjured. 

 

[Martin Kocsis is a BMC Officer, who claim to fame (or infamy depending on your stance) was an article in BMC magazine summit. The article (Pragmatism over Idealism) is about our approaches to climbing and attitudes towards fixed gear. It was NOT written from the point of view of a BMC officer, rather a normal climber. If you want to read the article it is here,  and it’s something that I recommend. I for one agree with his views on fixed gear]

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.

Gad Zooks! Bouldering for a whole weekend! (part 1)

It’s true, it’s true. I actually went bouldering for the entire weekend and do you know what? I really  enjoyed it. I’m now cursing bouldering because I’ve got very sore tips, pitted and craters hands and a nasty looking bloody blister where I just couldn’t stick a crucial pebble but it was all worth it. Normally when people ask me if I’d like to go bouldering they get a response along the lines of “bouldering? nah mate, brings me out in hives. I’m allergic to it”. Well seeing as I didn’t suffer from anaphylactic shock when I started climbing without a harness on and above a pad, I guess I’m not that allergic. I’ll put the success of these tow bouldering trips down to a few things. Going out with like minded people each day was definitely one of the reasons but I think the key was going out on the Saturday with no objectives or assumptions about how the day was going to go. 

I tend to do this a lot. Set myself aims and goals for the day which are unachievable, which inevitably leads to me being disappointed with my performance or what I manage to do. Instead Saturday was Toaf’s birthday climbing day and, as tradition states, we make the effort to go out and do what the birthday boy (or girl) wants. Toaf of course, wanted to go bouldering. Now I might come across as very anti-bouldering but that’s pretty unfair. I do enjoy solo climbing (I’d go as far as to say that I really really enjoy it) and that’s all bouldering is basically. Just soloing small problems or lines but taking the time to work out how to do them, almost regardless of the amount of attempts you have (especially on something that’s quite hard for you). Instead of getting hung up on onsighting things and the fact that I wasn’t out “trad” climbing I just decided to have a good day on Toaf’s behalf.

If Toaf wants to go bouldering and it looks like it’s going to rain then we’ll end up at churnet. This isn’t such a bad thing as the Churnet Valley is a very beautiful place. After almost crashing into a fallen tree in the car we made it alive and unscathed and sauntered first up towards Wright’s Rock, only to turn round when we got a phone call off Tom telling us he was hanging out at Gentlemans. I’ve not bouldered at gentlemans before really but I knew a few of the problems like “the 50p piece” and “high speed Imp-act” but I couldn’t for the life of me remember the grades. We sauntered on, avoiding the puddles to join Tom at Marcus at Gentlemans.

(Marcus reaching for the mono...)

The first problem looked heinous! (it followed the line up through the mono to the left of the 50p piece). It seems to go from a really bad hold to then stack one’s fingers into this mono pocket. From there it was a horrible tendon straining move to then almost cross through with your right hand to get a decent hold. I watched Tom, Marcus and Toaf try the problem while I shot photos. Being honest I was pretty nervous. I didn’t think I’d be able to actually even hold the tiny sharp holds of this problem, let only get off the ground. I think it was after Toaf cruised it to the finish that I really thought I would get my rock boots (goof friendly competition, see!). On my first go I stuck the pockets and nearly pulled through the second hold before I fell off. Next time round I stuck it straight away and then got my heel up to take the weight off my arms. I didn’t realise that the problem carried on for so long or would require such judicious use of the heels. I’d not done my laces up and evidently my rockshoe slipped off. It didn’t matter, I was hooked.

(Marcus reaching for the intermediate on High Speed Imp-act)

So, next up was High Speed Imp-Act which gets 7a. I was assured that it got a soft 7a but being perfectly honest, I work very much in British tech grades so I have to work everything (everything being font, French sport & V grades) back to this before I know how hard a problem actually is. I think another reason that I enjoyed myself so much was that I didn’t spend the day recalculating back to find out how hard I was actually climbing. I just climbing and enjoyed it. 

High Speed Imp-act was a pretty hard problem, especially since I managed to miss the last hold over and over. It took quite a few attempts to actually gain the decent “jugs” before committing to the long move to gain the large (and sharp pocket). When I’d finally gotten this move over and over I just could get my body into the right position to actually gain the final lip. It was quite frustrating but at the same time quite enjoyable as it’ll eat away at me and is something to go back to.

(You can see the 7a arete on the left, with a little chalk)

With our fun at Gentleman’s over we tramped across the bracken and mud to find a “secret crag”, which isn’t really that secret. Rachel and I actually stumbled across it before when we went on a little adventure trying to find new buttresses. We must have missed the crag by literally a few feet but it is there. I’ve no idea of the name of it but it was pretty cool. We spent the rest of the day either attempting a 7a arête which had seemingly endless possibilities for pulling on pebbles. Sadly the pebbles were all a bit small. The other problem was this awesome little rail that was on the edge of an overhang. The problem with this was that it was very green and very damp so we tried and tried and eventually settled on a plan to come back and abseil down the line and give it a good clean, after some good weather that is.

On leaving I was surprised to see Andy Turner and a few other turn up. It was getting pretty dark at this point but they seemed to want to push on anyway. It’s nice to see top level climbers bumbling around the forest visiting the same little craglets you are.

Peak District Alpine experience...really?

Britain has a host of fantastic climbing from sea cliffs to mountain routes, to gritstone in the Peak district to unique places like the Slate quarries in wales and the lakes. Scottish winter climbing is world renowned and hopefully the winter scene will pick up in wales and the lakes too. But sadly, as a few of my french friends seems to (always) want to point out, in the grand scheme of things we don't have proper mountains.

Well sod you, we have better ethics.

Having finished my small rant about why Britain is the best place for climbing in the world I'll proceed to further my point. My and Rach managed a route of alpine grander in the peak district, and there's another one to do just up the road!

Elbow Ridge probably isn't the most well known of Britains epic ridge routes, but then again the Peak district isn't exactly the home of alpine climbing. The route discription is hidden away inside "On Peak Rock" in the Esoterica section, something that I can only assume more normal people would by-pass. Sadly the Esoterica section contains many classic routes, that if they were say in North Wales, they just be part and parcel of the climbing there. Mam Tor gully is as loose as anything on the Lleyn Penisular, Elbow ridge and Matter Horn Ridge and as thin as Crib Goch (but with less of a walk in). The Raven Stones stomach traverse is probably about as much fun and trampling through the bushes mid summer to finds the base of a route at Tremadog and Chocolate Blamange gully is clearly as dangerous and as fun as climbing over the wet slate scree slopes of the lower oil drum glacier (though probably less life threatening). On Sunday Rachel and I roped up in the best alpine style we could and headed off to tackle Elbow Ridge...

The original plan was to do both ridges, but this would have required 2 things. More time is the first and better weather being the second. Actually I would rather have just has more time. The weather was pretty cool and turned what would have been a complete walk in dry summer conditions into a proper interesting and fun experience. The fog was so thick that after 30 metres of rope I couldn't actually see Rach, which was alright because I had not brought any think more than a 30 metre rope. The wind was also blowing across the ridge so it turned sections that could normally easily walked across into something that it was potentially easy to get blown off.

Our plan was to get up early to do the ridges then get to Northfield to get tattoos done in support of prostate cancer as part of Movember. We didn't exactly get up as early as we'd planned but when has that ever stopped someone from getting out and going climbing. It would just mean we'd have to be a little quicker instead, so we adopted an approach that any aspiring British student alpinist would be proud of and any french alpinist would probably sneer at and packed a small rack (read: medium sized rack) harnesses, helmets and a bottle of water and set off into the peak.

Now I don't really know how to describe the route other than it was awesome. There was a semi-hanging belay, some waist belaying, heavy use of tri-cams, moving together, slipping on wet grass, loose rock, cold hands and finally some epic topping out only to almost slip and fall off. The best part is probably that we filmed it all so I'll try and put a video up asap.

Roaches Saturday, Castle Naze Sunday

I think we all know how I feel about the Roaches. It isn't that I can't see their appeal (fantastic slab climbing, excellent overhangs, good face routes, bouldering, multipitching and good grade range) but you can have a little too much of that appeal. In this instance I got suckered in by a partners promise of getting a load of routes done in one day. This went from him being "psyched to climb" on the thursday, to "psyched to socialise" on the friday. Eventually I got 1 route done with him on the saturday. It can't hold him responsible for my lack of climbing as the weather was pretty damp anyway. All the rock seemed to be covered in a fantastic green slime that seems to absorb water like a sponge. Cool to look at but with the frictional properties of a wet fish.


I did get some climbing done though, which is more than some people might have managed so I shouldn't really complain. I picked a HVS 5a called Diamond Wednesday as it was the driest route on the upper tier, and one I've not done before. It started with a little obstacle to negotiate, namely a holly bush before breaking up a head wall with a series of high rockovers. All in all it was a good route, only let down by the really easy finish (which is a bit of a jug fest to be honest). Then came the bumbling around and socialising. This lasted long enough for it to get slightly warmer and allow me time to catch up with a few people I've not seen in a while. I saw Stu who managed to damage his back in a little bit (here). It was nice to catch up with him and see how he's recovering from injury. It looks like it'll be a few months before he's back out climbing again, but that hasn't stopped him being really psyched.


It took a while but I tracked down someone willing to belay me for another route and off me and Tim Nixon set to find something that was dry. The route we picked was Humdinger (E1 5b). It's been soemthing I've actually looked at every time I've been up the Roaches for the past few months. It tackle a pretty big overhang, pretty much head on, pulling straight through the a jug on the lip. I think that maybe the hardest actual move was getting off the deck and maintaining dry shoes. From here it was an odd little slab climb up to some good gear in a bad flake before a host of more good gear in loose/hollow sounding flakes. I got something in more decent below the actual roof which cheered me up. Then it started, the long and slow process of making head way up the wall (and conversly pushing the boundries of what could be considered an onsight attempt). I placed my gear and then made a few moves up the wall, took a good look around then retreated to my good rest spot (note: not weighting the gear, but down climbing the whole while). Then I was back up, placing some more gear & down climbing. Eventually I made it to the lip and had a crack at the crux move. It is literally a single really hard long reach from a bomber jug. I'd got good gear in below me (an DMM dragon cam Edd had kindly lent me) but I didn't make it first time. Instead I pulled back at the last moment and down climbed again. My ethical autism dictates that I can't weight the gear, lest I have to pull the ropes and try it ground up so instead I'll reverse the moves. This does make my climbing very stop start when I'm on hard routes as I don't have a "let go for it" attitude.


To cut a long story (of up climbing &down climbing) short, I made the move after about 4 attempts. I then found myself in a odd position, feeling like I was space walking while being pumped out. I pulled up onto the next ledge to be confronted with the bones and rotten meat smell of the old peregrin nest, I quickly moved off from here. The climbing above was probably still about 5a so I was trying pretty hard not to blow it. Of course I made it to the top and belayed up Edd and Tim as the sun was setting. It had been worth waiting till this time of day to do with route.


As this was the last route of the day I bugged out and met Rachel from work. We then decided to spend bonfire evening playing with sparklers and wathcing the fireworks over the city of B'ham from the hillside near Frankly Beeches. Here are some pictures we took:

Castle Naze sunday started off like a train wreck. I hightailed it up to Stoke in the morning to Tim's house to find not Tim but a living full of hungover bodies. I did the only thing I could... put the kettle on and made everyone some tea. This magically got Edd moving and within the hour the house and garden had been cleaned up from the wreckage of the party the night before. The weather today was much better to say the least, it was cold and dry with some weak winter sunshine to brighten the mood. Castle Naze looke awesome when we pulled up as the sun was just slowly moving round. Some of the rocks were still in darkness.

I kicked started the day with a VS 4c called Nozag, which is probably one of the longets routes at castle naze. It's a pretty cool route and I'm glad I did it with Tim. The start is like a traditional VS grit route, jamming but then it lend itself to some pretty cool face climbing. I bet if you where a VS leader then the final top section might put the willies up you. I then moved off with a route called Morroc'n'Roll (E1 5b) down in the quarred area to the far right of the crag. I like this area a little more than the more solid rock above. It's a little crumbly and loose and there is a whole "aire of collapse" about the place. Most of these routes start off with a hard move to avoid a large section of really chossy grit just ablve the base of the cliff. It make the routes feel a little more serious right from the word go. Either way I tottered up this route feeling off balance the whole time but manage to get it sorted without any problems. I then continued up a beautifel arete that sort of punches out of the rubble at the top of the crag to belay off a stake and a bad nut. I'll belay lower next time round I guess.

My final lead for the day (though not my final climb) was a route called Stoke the Engine (E1 5b). This is a route I did with Edd belaying me. It was right round on the far right of the quarried face. It was originally a choice between two different E1 5b routes but I settled on Stoke... because it had less gear but was slabby, and therefore would be a little easier (based on my preference for slab routes). So I started up the first bit and had a hard move before I managed to gain the hanging slab. Here I was already a little run out from my gear and it reminded me alot of Brown's Eliminate at Froggat. I managed tog et a tiny size 2 Peenut into a crack but it didn't really fill me with much confidence. Then after chalking up excessively I actually commited to the move and made it. It was literally a big of a single move wonder but the seriousness of the route made it worth while. Sadly belaying was a little awkward as there seems to be so much loose rock in the wall above.

At this point I sort of ran out of partners, or at least people willing belay me. Atfer about 30 minutes of sitting round enjoying the sunshine I realised I should make the most of my day out. With no real bouldering to play on I started soloing routes on the main face that looked pretty easy. I did't solo anything over 5a but I also stayed away from the really easy stuff. In the end I managed to solo about 6 routes on the cliff, quietly without causing a fuss and without getting in anyone way. It was a pretty liberating experience as I only had my chalkbag, my shoes and a rag to clean my feet off. My little route list consisited of:

Muscle Crack Vs 4c
The Fifth Horseman HVS 5a
Niche Arete VS 4c
Scoop Direct VS 4c
Zigzag Crack VS 4c
Flake Crack HS 4a