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.