Alpine Dreams of a Desk Monkey

Diggory, Diggory Delvet

2010-07-26T22:27:00.000+01:00

Look who we saw by the River Esk on the outskirts of Musselburgh! Out for a stroll on a fine Sunday evening, and this little fella had his nose in a hole next to the path. He was snuffling about and wiggling his tail, clearly looking for something interesting. He came out of one little hole and went snuffling into the next. As he did so, out of the first hole at breakneck speed came an enormous worm. No kidding, it was 7 inches long and of commensurate girth. And it was legging it.......as much as a legless creature can.

Diggory Delvet then snuffled out of the second hole and right onto the tarmac in front of us. He wasn't moving very fast and of course his tiny eyes meant he couldn't see much, but his little pink nose was twitching nineteen to the dozen. He didn't seem in the slightest bit scared by two giant omnivores standing over him, but sensibly he turned round and snuffled right back towards the exploratory digging he'd done on the side of the path.

Diggory, Diggory Delvet,
Little old man in black velvet.
He digs and he delves,
You can see for yourselves
The holes dug by Diggory Delvet.

from Appley Dapply's Nursery Rhymes, Beatrix Potter

One special climbing trip - Part 1

2010-07-21T19:02:00.003+01:00

Diff and I recently had a two week tour of the north west, doing a bit of climbing and a lot of eating. We had a fabulous time and some fabulous weather (as well as some not so fabulous weather - we didn't get that lucky!). It was a trip we can never repeat, but we would love to explore further the places we found and certainly to do some more climbing. It's too much to write up in one post so this is just the beginning....

We hired a vintage VW campervan, a bright yellow splitty called Hannah, from Classic Campers in Carlisle and after the party in the Lakes, set off on our 30mph adventure. Aiming for Glen Coe, we got as far as Gretna on the first night. Well, we were tired, not in a hurry and it had been an exciting two days. Having realised that 35mph on the hilly M6 wasn't going to get us to Glen Coe that night, we relaxed into a slower pace of life on the road.

Everyone thinks they know what needs fixing, even if nothing needs fixing.

From Gretna we aimed for Glen Coe, deciding that the safest route (with our maximum speed) was right through the centre of Glasgow. We had a lovely (if hot) drive past Loch Lomond, stopping for tea in Inveruglas, with lots of other drivers waving and tooting at our trusty mechanical steed. A van with 1967 hydraulic brakes certainly brought a new meaning to the phrase "exciting to drive". I had to leave my seat to make her stop. I definitely need to eat more pies. Accidentally over-filling at Dumbarton, meant that we drove to Glen Coe with a strong smell of petrol in the cab. A concern that she was over-revving had us calling the AA man to the Red Squirrel campsite the following morning. I don't remember what he twiddled with but it worked and we did the next 900 miles without any trouble.

The weather was holding for us, so we headed across the Corran ferry for Ardgour and Garbh Beinn. Our objective was Butterknife, a 4-pitch VS topping out at the summit of the hill. The guidebook gave us two approach options: the 2-hour scenic stroll or the 1 hour brutal slog. We opted for the scenic stroll.....but it was more like 3 1/2 hours than 2! Finding the bottom of the route was pretty hairy. The guidebook instructions didn't make much sense to us once we were there and looking up at the massive wall of Garbh Beinn. We ended up scrambling up some steep slippy grass slopes above sheer drops in order to reach the bottom of the right terrace. We felt more secure once we started climbing.

Diff did pitches 1 and 3 an I did 2 and 4. This means I got the crux corner pitch and the last one. The corner was pretty good climbing, but things moved in it! Having not done much trad (ever, let alone recently) I was probably concentrating too hard to really enjoy it properly, but it was good. The top pitch was a bit random. It started with a big pull over a little roof - an unusual move for me at about 200 feet up the route! After that, the gear and the holds got very thin and I continually wondered whether I was going the right way or not. Eventually the rope drag was so bad I had to find somewhere to belay. What I didn't know was that instead of going 15m I'd gone 50m and there was no rope left anyway! I'm sure I set out in the right direction, but where I lost my way, I'm not sure.

Cooling off on the hot walk in to Butterknife

When we reached the top, the whole of Scotland was laid out before us. 360 degrees of clear skies and sunshine. By this time it was about 8pm. We thought we'd go down the quick way, rather than the way we'd come up the hill. Mistake. It wasn't quick. No path, craggy, steep....it was 10.30 by the time we got back to the van. And then we had to fight the midges over dinner!

Starting Again

2010-07-21T18:15:00.001+01:00

It seems like a long time since I've been out bouldering. In fact, I know how long it is. My bouldering mat was still in it's shrink-wrapping from my last trip to Font in September last year. So much has happened since then....

Having had a busy couple of months I found myself on Friday looking at the weather maps for the weekend and wondering whether my intended trip north to Achnasheen was really worth it or not. When the levels of predicted precipitation run not just to blue but through yellow and well into the red zones on the map, one does wonder whether putting a giant umbrella over the house wouldn't be a good idea. A 5pm phone call at work on Friday made the decision for me. I wasn't going.

Motivating myself to go climbing without company is always hard. With Diff away working for most of the weekend and other buddies, sick, injured or out of the country, I needed some pretty good weather to coax me out. It was my lucky day! Bored with driving I opted for Berry Hill and found that lots of people had had the same idea. It's a lovely spot, south facing with a good view of the hills. Asking permission to climb is (according to the guidebook) imperative, but a knock at the door received no response. As an aside, what is the protocol in this case? Is the default position to climb without permission and deal with it if a problem arises, or is one supposed to not climb because one has not obtained permission? Anyway, I opted for the former.

I was the only one bouldering among several parties of traddies. A very nice chap with lots of tattoos and gold teeth came over to chat and offered that I could climb with them if I wanted. I hope I didn't offend him by declining his offer. I was quite keen to just potter on some boulders and get moving again rather than worry about gear and ropes and being too high up!

There's nothing particularly difficult at Berryhill (although some things were a bit tricky!) but it was a good day for cruising through 16 problems, reminding my skin that it needs to grow and reminding myself how to climb. Some warm sunshine and a strong wind made for a pink face, but I went home very content.

One special climbing trip - Part 2

2010-07-05T14:54:00.018+01:00

The next stop on our wee tour was Achmelvich and one of the most exciting routes in Scotland (I reckon). The weather was rotten first thing in the morning and we sat around thinking we'd just go have a look. The more we sat around, the better the weather got. "Shall we just go do it?" "Yeah, might as well. If it's wet when we get there we can always come back tomorrow." So we went.

The Old Man of Stoer looked pretty manageable from the cliff-top approach. How hard can it be? Famous last words! The trek down the cliff was pretty hairy. There was already a rope across the channel but Diff went first and came perilously close to getting soaked, even at low tide. So he rigged another rope for us, especially having seen the state of the in situ rope at the other end!

Diff set off on the traverse pitch with me watching, feeling a bit anxious. When it was my turn I flipped. The rock was greasy and salty and green, my feet were tucked somewhere underneath me where I couldn't see them. I wasn't happy. But we couldn't go back. Not now we were here. Diff willingly agreed to lead every pitch so that we could carry on. I was clearly having a bad head day.

Adventure was definitely the theme for the day and I'm very glad we did it. It wasn't windy, but the swell was pretty big and the noise of the waves crashing around below us was intimidating to say the least. The climbing was harder than I expected, with some pretty airy moves. Although they weren't as hard as they seemed at the time, the exposure made a significant difference. Ironically, the supposed crux was just a matter (for me) of working out how to get my leg up that high!

We watched the gulls riding the wind level with us, peering at us with beady eyes and suspicion. We were lucky that there seemed to be only two nests along our route and both only hosting eggs rather than chicks, so we avoided any nasty encounters with the contents of seabirds' stomachs.

Abseiling off wasn't so bad (after we convinced ourselves that the million layers of salty tat at the top would be ok!) but we did end up in the water...high tide! I had a near miss abbing down between the two nests. Since I am not heavy enough for the tope to slide freely through my belay plate, I have to feed the rope through. This doesn't make for a smooth abseil. Aside from the potential safety issues there, the other downside is that I can't move down very quickly. Just as my feet ceased to reach the rock, the wind was blowing me sideways, straight into the sharp beak of a sitting fulmar. How I managed to avoid swinging straight into it in a Milk Tray style rescue effort, I have no idea, but I was mighty relieved to be well below the nest and hanging in space.

Hannah by the Stoer Lighthouse

It was a bizarre experience standing in the water and coiling a sodden abseil rope. We managed to keep all but the end of one rope out of the water, with some crazy-fast coiling. The other rope was soaked. Despite a shaky start to the day I felt fine and confident sorting everything out and making sure we were not standing in the water any longer than necessary. I was super impressed by my Mountain Equipment Combin trousers. Although the water went up from the bottom, it didn't go through them and they were dry within minutes of being out of the water. Superb.

Poor Diff struggled to do the last, and sixth, tyrolean traverse. Clearly, he was exhausted, and he was carrying all the gear, so was hanging much closer to the water than I was. I felt quite ashamed of myself for not pulling my weight more. Going back up the cliff was infinitely easier than going down it, and at the top we looked back at what we'd done. Definitely a Type 2 experience for me.

9 Lives

2010-06-25T17:52:00.003+01:00

I couldn't leave this little BBC news item unshared. It gave me an especially nice Friday feeling. If you were a cat, how bad would it be to have no back feet? Lucky black cat Oscar could tell you; I'm sure he'd tell you how great it is to have them back too.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/science_and_environment/10404251.stm

Sun-seeking in Spain

2010-05-05T22:50:00.000+01:00

The start of this year seems to have been dominated by all things which stop me climbing. Work, mostly. When an organisation loses a key member of staff it is bound to have an impact on those left behind. But I hadn't anticipated it would involve such an escalation in workload. Never mind. It has and longer term maybe it will be good for my career. I hope so!

Amidst the piles of paper and frantic phone calls I found time to say yes to Bong's suggestion of a trip to the Costa Blanca in March. I looked forward to it all year, every week promising myself that this week I would start training for the trip. I blinked and we were on our way to the airport. So much for training. Feeling ill prepared for anything hard I resolved that this would be a sun-seeking, mileage trip, a chance to chill before another busy 4 months.

There is a lot to be said for adjusting one's expectations. Despite my early resolve I spent the first couple of days feeling inadequate, despondent and almost ashamed that I was struggling on so many things I had found so easy in the past. We did two days at Sella, where I've spent a fair amount of time and done all the easy routes and most of the semi-easy ones. On this trip, the harder routes felt out of my league. Eventually I picked myself up (metaphorically speaking) and top roped A golpe de pecho (7a+). I'd looked at it previously but have no idea why I hadn't tried it. The bottom section looks blank and thin, but in fact it was pretty straightforward. The crux, reaching over the bulge on some small and far-away holds was less straightforward and I'm not sure I cracked it in any kind of repeatable or sustainable fashion! I seem to remember bringing my feet up ridiculously high (to the point where my hamstring was pinching painfully) and only just being able to reach the right hand side pull. It would have been good to go back and do a bit more work on it, but as luck would have it, we didn't return to Sella this trip.

After 2 days at Sella, we headed for Gandia. Nice move. Already tired, we opted for brutal, overhanging, tufa-pinching in direct sun! Sweet. We certainly got our years' supply of vitamin D. We also go bitten by some sneaky things with sharp and grubby teeth. My arm swelled to at least a third bigger than it's usual size. I didn't feel a thing until it was too late but it was scary enough to warrant a trip to the pharmacist who sold me a tube of steroid cream that was 500 times stronger than the same stuff available in the UK!

Anyway, we finally got to go through the Tube! So easy and yet so exciting! After 2 days of chilly semi-greyness it was nice to see some bright blue sky.

I'd not climbed with Amanda before this trip, but I think we made a very good team. While I maybe have more experience of sport climbing in Spain, Amanda is infinitely fitter and stronger than me. A wonderful cool-headed climber.

Pepestroika 6b - hanging on to the hanging dong.

Having done the tube route we opted for a long-looking 6b+ called Asquerosa coincidencia. Amanda went up first, looking very smooth. Some of the reaches were enormous. Amanda has a longer reach than I do, so I watched carefully wondering how I was going to grow the extra 3 inches I would need to make some of those moves. About 3/4 the way up Amanda (after a good fight) decided one move was going to defeat her. So I went up next, bolt to bolt (ish). I too struggled on the same move but being slightly fresher from having the clips in already (thanks Amanda!) I got through it. Thereafter the rest of the route turned into a desperate epic! I suspect it was a mind over matter problem and having crossed a line in my head that this was hard and I wanted it to be finished, it seemed to be an eternal battle just to stay on the rock and work out which way to go. I am not ashamed to say that having crossed that line I pulled on gear and stood on bolts, anything just to get to a point where I could lower off safely. It got harder and more run out, and there seemed to be a bit of bushwhacking necessary at the top (which makes me think I went the wrong way). I haven't been so glad to come off a route in quite a long time! So, no pictures of that route, unsurprisingly!

Day three was a rest day and day 4 we went to Olta. This was a new crag for me and I'd heard much about this route:

Amanda on Tai Chi - possibly the most photogenic route I've ever been on. Although the crux was pretty sketchy and I was pumped as anything by the time I got to the jugs at the top, this was a fantastic route!

This is the kind of route that freaks your mum out! Penon de Ifach and Calpe in the background.

For some reason I don't seem to have any pictures of the following two days in Echo Valley. I'd only been to Echo Playa once, in October 2008, when we did many of the easier routes there. This time Bong and Jonni were keen for Monsters of Rock and Bands of the 80s. Lots of jokes abounded about doing George Michael and Led Zepplin in the same day as Judas Priest and Motorhead. While Bong and Jonni moved on to Monsters of Rock, Amanda and I did the easiest 6b in the world: Swing Out Sister. A lovely route but very soft at the grade, particularly in comparison with New Order to it's left which had us shredding tips and flailing around for quite a while.

We'd left the others doing easier routes at Echo Playa, so Amanda and I had the crag to ourselves. I noted with interest my reaction to the boys not being there. Suddenly things were calmer and I felt more at home and more able to concentrate on what I was doing. While it's lots of fun to climb next to people who are really psyched, I find it hard to climb as well as I can. The banter between those two is hilarious and I really enjoy their company, they are two of the best people ever to have on climbing holidays. But it proved to me that there is time and place for everything: sometimes it's good to spend some time on a route, enjoy figuring it out and gaining the satisfaction of completing it in one go; sometimes it's good to just throw yourself at any and every route, not caring whether you've "ticked" it, not caring whether you cheated or not, just enjoying climbing with your mates.

On the morning of our last climbing day I heard something I thought I would never hear. Bong said he was too knackered to climb. I was stunned. Actually, what happened was that I cricked my neck yawning and stretching in bed that morning and it was really painful, so much so that I suggested to Bong I might not be able to climb. His instant reaction was that he didn't think I should and that I might do myself more damage if I did. That was odd in itself. The later admission that he was too knackered explained it in full!

Rather than sack it off totally, we headed to the Altea Hills. What an epic to get there - the guidebook says go past the security guards without attracting their attention. Er... not easy when there are barriers across the road! Having felt a bit like jailbreakers skirting past and sizing them up as opponents, we discovered that they were very approachable, very helpful and directed us straight to the crag! It was a nice looking bit of rock too. Shame that it was 6 feet from a new building site with bolts that had certainly seen better days!

Would you climb on these? Thought not.... The routes looked like good fun but I wasn't so keen on tackling anything with bolts that looked like they might just slide out. With the housing developments encroaching ever more on the climbing space, I can see that this nice wee crag might just get blasted out of existence one day and end up as the floor of a swimming pool.....which would be a great shame.

So instead, we went to Toix and did multipitch!! Wow, what excitement. We paired up and picked our routes. Gary and I took the adventurous option of 4 pitches of 5, 5+, 3(!) and 4+. The climbing was pretty straightforward for both of us, but I must admit to feeling grateful for it when I realised I was about 20m up and had only just reached the second clip! Airy is one word for it! We ploughed on and inevitably found we'd left the route-finding brain cells in a sealed jar at the bottom of a rucksack back in the car. So what should have been a pretty straightforward 4 pitch route turned into 5 pitches, a ridge scramble, 3 abseils and a walk off!! It was probably a bit hairy but actually I really enjoyed the adventure. It wasn't hard, it wasn't beyond our means, but it was definitely exciting! This little red word next to one abseil point just summed it up really:

Just as we got back to our bags, removed tight shoes from hot, sweaty and sore feet the rain began to fall. Pitter patter. Perfect timing. And a pretty cracking end to a great holiday.

Encroaching development...where will it stop?

More Snow!

2010-01-17T20:25:00.000Z

I didn't think we could be so lucky as to have two decent-weather-days on consecutive weekends, but then it seems it is possible to get lucky after all! On Sunday we opted for a 12 mile trek through the snow which wouldn't (we hoped!) require the use of ironmongery. The hills on the south side of Loch Tay don't seem particularly appealing for most of the year, but in the low wintry sunshine and lots of snow they looked ethereal. The wind was biting (something we hadn't missed the previous weekend!) and hands were frozen solid within seconds of removing gloves. As a result, I felt better about not trying to go climbing. I would have been just too cold. Even the sheep looked cold here!

Cruach Ardrain

2010-01-04T19:30:00.000Z

These pictures are for Caroline. While she's been shooting things in California, we were crashing through deep powder near Crianlarich. We didn't get to the top, running out of time and daylight (never mind energy) but we had a fabulous day. It's rare that we get to enjoy days like this in the hills when we're at work Monday to Friday. Yesterday was a delight, absolutely delicious. Wading back through the corrie was exhausting; every three steps one leg would disappear entirely into the snowy depths, usually to be eaten by the hidden but unfrozen bog beneath. Today I feel like I have been swimming in treacle. Everything hurts.

We found some potential bouldering spots just above the col between Cruach Ardrain and Stob Garbh. I'm not sure I'd want to haul my big mat all the way up there (except that it would be good training....er, for what?) but if I had my shoes and a wee brush it would definitely be worth a potter.

Team 2010

Tyndrum and Bridge of Orchy hills in the sunset

Cruach Ardrain in the background

Big Brothers: Ben More and Stob Binnein

Good bouldering in the summer? High enough to be cool and windy so maybe midge-free? Needs cleaning....

Guy in his element

Icicles. Amazing how much colder it was out of the sunshine

I don't usually make New Year resolutions, but this year I might make an exception and make a few (to make up for those years I haven't made any, maybe). One of these is to climb more. It's started well with a couple of trips to the wall already. I need to lose half an inch around my waist (which is more difficult for me than for many) and regain some self-respect with my climbing. There has been too much work and not enough play recently. That has to change. Might as well start now! Happy New Year.....

Christmas Snow

2010-01-04T18:35:00.001Z

Here is my excuse for not getting out nearly as much as I should have done over the Christmas hols.

First day of hols and what happens? I wake up early to THIS and my lie-in is well and truly busted. Way too excited.

Solar hats...?

Safety-conscious Frosty

Keep Calm and Carry On

2009-11-10T21:35:00.001Z

This website came to me, in relation to work, from a friend:
Keep Calm and Carry On: http://www.keepcalmandcarryon.com

After the last week or so of office life, it seems like an appropriate thing to remember, but I also wondered whether the phrase applies quite nicely to climbing...

But also on that website I found this:

‘There is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a cup of tea. ’
Bernard-Paul Heroux

I need to remember that.

Kirriemuir Sports Day

2009-11-01T19:52:00.001Z

As the promise of Saturday dawned bright and clear, we headed for the wide open skies of Angus and Kirrie Hill. Many people have talked about Kirrie. I wouldn't say it was quite acquiring legendary status, but certainly there has been enough mention to make me curious. Bong said it was a suntrap like North Berwick (which I always find encouraging) and that it had plenty of 6b/6c/7a type routes.

What I didn't know until we were sliding down the steps towards it, was that it's sandstone. Fine, I thought. Northumberland is sandstone. But there was a wee niggle in the back of my head reminding me that the only bolted sandstone I'd climbed on was the Arbroath sea cliffs, and that isn't on my list of climbing highlights. But it was a beautiful day, and it felt as though I hadn't seen one of those from outside an office in quite a while.

For those who haven't been, I think this is a former quarry, judging by the drill hole lines visible on the rock face. It's much bigger than I expected, but a reasonably decent height, and plenty of it. According to the wee guide produced by Awesome Walls in Dundee there are between 50 and 60 routes there (with new ones being cleaned and opened while we were there). The bolts seem to be in all the right places and all look pretty good. And yes, it's a lovely little suntrap.

Demonstrating the lack of reach

True to form we started on a 5+. This was the first time Diff and I had been climbing (rather than bouldering) since our washout trip to Siurana in March. I must say I didn't have any hopes for anything harder than this, thinking that my leading head would be well underground by now. But apparently a degree of nonchalance about leading seems to help. We nailed The Hill Has Eyes at 5+ good and proper. Nice. On to Never Never Land at 6a+, but not so nonchalant now. The first half was dead easy, but it nailed me good and proper at the first crux. First off, the slopers were damp. In fact, everything was slightly damp. "Spoogie" I think is the word Sonnie and Cory used about Dumbie in May 2008.

Second, I couldn't reach either the intermediate crimp let alone the good edge of the flake in order to pull up over. It was one of those annoying situations where strength wasn't lacking, and technique seemed of little help to me with short arms and short legs. Having tried everything, this way, that way, left and right, I came down, thwarted and despondent. Diff and Bong both scooshed up it, but then they are both considerably taller than me. I'm sure there is a way to get around it, but I couldn't fathom it, not even on a rope. Eventually I went up and just pulled on the draw to get past that section. Ah well. Another time.

“Autumn is a second spring when every leaf’s a flower” Albert Camus

Another one of my dubious explanations of why I can't do something

Next up was Bong on What Every Woman Wants (6c). This looked good, and much more my thing. There's a proper hands off rest in the middle before the real fun begins. When I say real fun, I didn't anticipate it would take so many forms. The first 3 bolts are great, but sandy as you like, which is a bit frightening. The ledges were big enough, but I realised that on anything small I wasn't going to trust my feet.

Having watched the lanky two get past the crux moves I was dubious about how I might re-work that section. I opted for the cruise sideways followed by a long stretch upwards with the right, before latching the good pocket over the lip with my left hand. However, on my exploratory cruise left I pulled on something gently which promptly came away in my hand. I didn't pull hard, so I didn't ping off, but what was left behind was a lovely little ledge just the right size for 3 of my fingers. From this, with a high foot and a mega-growing-stretch, I could reach the bad scoop (one could hardly call it a pocket) and pull up to the good pocket. to clip the next clip. Hurrah!

I couldn't work the very top section out, so I left it for another time. On short winter days I am conscious that other people want to climb too and that taking my time redpointing isn't always a friendly thing to do.

Our fourth route was, I think, a 6c+ called Dig Deep. It looked fine, but the amount of rock raining down on us while Bong was climbing was alarming. At one point a huge chunk exploded in his hand and showered crumbs of sandstone upon us. Feelings of guilt and alarm featured equally prominantly as I too started up this route. Diff wisely left it well alone. For the first time I started to question the integrity of the rock into which the bolts were sunk, although they looked fine from the outside.

Diff belaying in the winter sun

Our final route was a 6a+, which I didn't identify a name for. By this time I really wasn't trusting my feet; my arms were tired and my head was somewhere else. I just couldn't work out how to climb the overhanging start. Frustration got the better of me and toys were on their way out of the pram. Diff and Bong cruised it, of course, and the sourpuss in me put my failure down to lack of concentration rather than lack of ability! I am the master of excuses when I want to be.

Diff being inventive on the 6a+

Bong last up in the evening light

As we were leaving, I reflected on how good the climbing actually was. I really enjoyed it; a combination of getting out after so long, being able to (mostly) climb something, not being cold (even on 31st October!). The routes are good routes. The rock was questionable. I realised how much I rely on my feet being solid and how much it unsettles me when they're not. I was less worried about handholds breaking and more worried about my feet sliding off, although clearly both were equally likely. Maybe it was a little too damp, maybe we shouldn't have been climbing because of that (although plenty others had made the same call as us and the crag was almost busy!). Maybe the crag is just "new" (as much as Early Devonian sandstone can be new) and the routes just need more traffic to stabilise them.

Most of all, though, I realised that I missed Caroline.

Sweaty September

2009-10-28T23:49:00.001Z

I have foregone a holiday all summer on the basis that work has been very busy and the conditions in Font are better towards autumn. I was desperate for some time off, time away from the office and some long stints of fresh air. I was also looking forward (with some trepidation, I must admit) to showing Tamsyn and Dina the joys of la foret domeniale de Fontainebleau and introducing them to real outdoor bouldering.

Tamsyn and Dina headed out on Saturday and I joined them on Monday, having had prior engagements on the Sunday. My journey was fine until I reached the French border, whereupon three plane-loads of passengers discovered that French Immigration Control were apparently "working to rule". It took me just under 2 hours to have my passport checked, during which time there was a vague threat of a stampede, with Gallic tempers demonstrating their frayed edges very clearly. Just a little intimidating.....

Having hung on for better conditions but also been just desperate for a holiday, I had a twinge of mixed feelings on arrival in 30 degree heat. Lovely as it was, I knew it wouldn't be great for climbing anything hard!

With only really 4 days climbing to be had, we started at Isatis. Being a little over excited about the whole Font experience (the last time I was here it snowed!) I just climbed anything and everything I laid eyes on that looked vaguely do-able. I was a little freaked by the highball things, and even by the height of some things that are not considered highball, but then all the bouldering I've done elsewhere this summer has been pretty low. I figured I'd get used to it pretty quickly.

Isatis was warm. Oh how warm. Blissful in some senses, but frustrating and lethargy-inducing in others. While I revelled in being able to wander around without wearing a million layers, I quickly realised that the heat was going to put paid to any really hard problems. It's taken me a while to realise that the proverbial "bad conditions" does mean something. Even at my level, the warmth and humidity means my skin doesn't last long, my fingers slide off things, my feet slide around inside my shoes and sweating with effort becomes gradually more unpleasant!

Dina and Tamsyn were new to the outdoor bouldering experience so I was glad the weather was good. I remembered that when I first started bouldering I didn't give two hoots about the whole "good conditions" thing. It didn't make any difference to my climbing, except that I hated being cold; it made me miserable and I couldn't climb anything for frozen fingers. Ah yes, pre-duvet days!

The warmth was good in some ways, and not in others. Dina wore through her fingers pretty quickly, and I think she was a bit shocked that these things do happen:

I think I just wasn't trying hard enough to wear through my skin as badly as this. Without wishing to share too much, I wasn't particularly well for the last 4 days of our trip. Praise be for NHS24 and ERI's outpatient department who kindly issued me with some antibiotics at midnight on the Saturday I got home.

In spite of the heat, we mustered enough energy for a bit of dyno practice. From a sit start on this little arete, there was nothing else but a big jump for the top edge. Above is Dina, mid-fling. The hardest bit was sticking the top edge, especially with sweaty mits!

We spent one day at Diplodocus on the yellow circuit. Caroline and I did this 2 years ago, and I think it was the only circuit we completed properly: 39 easy problems and we were still knackered. This time was different, since my buddies had never done such things as circuits. It was good fun showing them the wee tricks I'd learned previously, and watching them work stuff out for themselves too. It was cooler at Diplodocus, and even started to spit a little, but we carried on regardless.

Dina's face is a real picture on this problem (number 8 yellow at Diplodocus I think). The prospect of slipping off this means hitting the big ledge on the way down; clearly this was a difficult thing for Dina to forget!

We had another day at 91.1, which was very warm too. In spite of this I found the red 6b in Stone Country's new Fontainebleau guide relatively straightforward. I think it's known as The Pince. First pop was desperate. Slippy, crimpy, reachy...didn't really seem possible, but with a bit of perseverence (something I was distinctly lacking this week) it went. Stone Country's book is beautiful, by the way. Definitely worth a tenner. Small, light, good pics, nice honest commentary!

Our last day was spent at Rocher Guichot. I'd not been there before and was pleasantly surprised to find it close to the carpark but not crazily polished. We stopped at the first big boulder (which was pretty big!!!) and walked around it several times. Dina definitely didn't like the height; Tamsyn was pretty sanguine about it, but not overcome with eagerness; I was busy inventing reasons to myself why I should only climb half way up! So we tootled around on some of the lower boulders to start with.

I thought the lower problems would be easier. Ha ha. There were a couple of very sketchy slabs, tiny crimps, and one giant rockover from the ground - standing start, heel up high, rock over and push hard, turn the hand round an balance precariously against a slab! Magic :-) With a great deal of egging on from Tamsyn, I was persuaded to try a very sketchy blunt arete. Highball? Really? Oh I never noticed! I'm still not quite sure how I got up it, but I did. Tenuous, balancy, sweaty? All of the above, a definite adrenaline rush. Tamsyn - send me the pics!! Did you find your camera lead yet??

If there are Font lovers out there who haven't been to Rocher Guichot, I would definitely say it's worth a look. Plenty to keep you busy at least!

We found lots of big beetles here too. I couldn't resist taking pictures of them. I think they're fantastic wee beasties:

Four days was great - we climbed every day, but it's still not enough for me. When the weather is dry, it's fantastic. I feel like I've had my fix to last me a wee while, but never for long enough. So when can we go again??

Sheep Sh* Shoes

2009-08-03T22:20:00.001+01:00

Determined to get out last Saturday, somehow, someway and with someone, Penny and I left Edinburgh at 13.00 hours and scooted south to Hepburn. Penny had never been before, so I felt like the relative expert (ha ha). In short, I knew where the boulders were, how to get there and that the grades can be a bit random.

Predictably, there was nobody else climbing there. The bracken had shot up since I was last at Hepburn in June. The midges were out, but bearable, and most importantly the rock was dry in spite of a week of monsoon conditions. Yet again I forgot to take my big brush for cleaning things that haven't been cleaned in a while, but since we ended up doing the rounds of several problems I've done before, I don't suppose it mattered very much.

My disappointment in writing this is that the problems at Hepburn don't seem to have any cool names. Or am I missing something? I thought half the fun of climbing and bouldering was that what you did had a name. I can't wait for the day when I can say "yeah, I did Monty Pythons last week" (well, I can dream....!) but saying "yeah I did that roof problem on the roof boulder at Hepburn on Saturday" doesn't quite have the same ring to it. OK, so the right hand roof problem on the roof boulder isn't 7a+, but even so, you get my drift.

Penny on the "warm up" (!) 6b slab

Anyway, I was pretty chuffed with the RH roof problem at 6b. Quite a contrast to the slabby 6b on the warm up wall that I have tried and failed on every previous visit. For some reason, today was the day. A few precarious wobbles up the slab, furiously gripping the slightly sweaty crimpy sidepull, and the next thing I knew my heavy posterior felt quite comfortably balanced over my left foot, while I managed to squeeze one and a half fingertips into the mono above my head. A short step through with my right and a very quick pop, and the top was in my hands! What a surprise!! It was probably a good thing that nobod but Penny and the sheep were there to hear my squeals of delight. I should probably have been locked up for breach of the peace.

The final pop on the 6b slab

So, further surprise to do the roof problem too. The two problems could not be more different. Penny worked out how to start the problem and found the magic little foothold tucked way under the edge of the roof. The problem for us was that slapping for the nose meant that both feet were coming off. One is then left hanging with the prospect of campusing the next 2 moves at least. Some girls are good at campusing. I'm not one of them. So then we found a heel hook. It wasn't very good, and looked pretty worn, so we tried to be careful not to scrape any more off it. It worked though, so we were able to keep at least one foot on while effectively at full stretch horizontally. Another big slap to bring the right hand in and the left hand to join it, left only the reach back to a good lip, a crazy high foot and a hefty rock over to top out. Magic. It took a bit of piecing together, but it was worth the effort for the satisfaction. I hadn't even bothered to try this one previously, thinking it was far too hard. Mind over matter has never seemed quite so pertinent.

Psyching up to slap for the nose... RH roof problem

Having lost a lot of skin from all that slapping, we cruised home. I got to work on Monday and realised that the funny smell was coming from the Hepburn sheep poo on my shoes. So these weren't my work shoes after all....

Sunshine on Scotland

2009-07-21T23:00:00.002+01:00

The weekend before last we had a fabulous day in Glen Coe. Diff was filming and I tagged along to carry bags, with the promise of a day's climbing in Glen Nevis on the Sunday.

We were in Glen Coe by 08.30 on Saturday, and had the most perfect weather imaginable. Enough breeze to keep the midges away most of the time, as well as glorious sunshine all day. It was hot and sweaty work carrying film kit up Buachaille Etive Mor, but the views from the top were undoubtedly rewarding.

How often do you see the whole of Scotland spread out before you, tops as far as the eye can see, the sea in one direction and Rannoch Moor in the other. Even the Ben was cloud free. Incredible.

We were exhausted by the time we headed to our digs in Fort William. We had chips to keep us going, sat on the harbour wall, wondering who the hell thought it was a good idea to concrete over Fort William's greatest asset - it's sea loch frontage. Sometimes I despair at the shortsightedness of urban planners and developers. And while I'm having a whinge, why is there nowhere decent to eat in Fort William?? Curry, Chinese, a chippy and everything else looked as though it had come from a Brake Bros. refrigerated van. If we missed something, recommendations on a postcard please.

And on Sunday it rained. No climbing :-( We were so disappointed and frustrated, but it just wasn't going to happen. We went to the Oban Sealife Sanctuary instead, and tried to learn 11 things for the £11 each it cost us. Did you know, for example, that there is a 1 in 10 million chance of a baby cod making it to adulthood? And did you know that 150,000 sea turtles are killed accidentally by fishing nets and the like, each year.

It's a beautiful spot and they do some good work there rescuing seals and returning them to the wild. By the time we headed down the road to Glen Ogle to check out some of the crags there it was bright sunshine, but all the crags were running with water. We strolled along the disused railway and ate wild strawberries. Not quite the day we had hoped for, but we felt better for being out and about.

Slip Slap Slop

2009-07-21T22:11:00.001+01:00

It seems like an age since Caroline and I hopped it down to Kyloe Out for some bouldering amidst all the busy-ness that was the end of June. Having got used to the fact that it would probably rain on us, we were a bit gobsmacked to find ourselves slapping and slipping around madly on greasy County sandstone. Were we nuts?? Touch of the sun maybe.

Having recently bought the new Northumberland bouldering guide, we realised there was a whole lot of bouldering to be had at Kyloe Out. Previously we'd always been to Kyloe In. Granted, In The Woods is better than Out but this year we seem to be using "try new stuff" rather than "try hard stuff" as our motto. Kyloe Out was a pleasant surprise. We picked the Quarry as our first (and as it transpired, only) stop. We had the place to ourselves, with only a wee yellow bird for company. He sang his little heart out delightfully from the very top of the crag, although we were too far away to be able to identify him with any certainty.

Caroline sitting next to the bird perch, having soloed her way there. I went up in bare feet which was both liberating and terrifying at the same time!

We spent a lot of time trying to remember how to mantle onto this slopey shelf. It isn't particularly high, and therefore one would think not particularly scary, but the angle of the slope one has to mantle onto is much more tricky than it looks. I don't suppose it helps that we're not well versed in the art of mantling, and given the heat maybe this wasn't the best day to try it!! Still we had a lot of fun - and nobody can say we don't challenge ourselves! I think we managed one mantle at the near end of this picture and one slightly further along. The problem seemed to be getting feet sufficiently high to be able to jump high enough to push one's centre of gravity over the lip. Neither of us are particularly tall, so it did seem that a little bit more height would have been advantageous balance-wise. A bit more gumption would have been good too!

After enough slapping around, we moved on to a 7a crimp-fest on the quarry wall. Again, not a good thing to try in the heat, but we gave it a good bash until the sun moved onto it. We managed about a half of it, failing every time to make the next move to cross a left foot through, and reaching for the next cubby hole in the very thin crack. The horizontal break was fine, but the diagonal crack (used for both hands and feet at various heights) proved pretty tiny even for our pixie fingers. More fingerboard training required. And maybe some cool dry autumn weather.

While Caroline is infinitely stronger than me, on this particular problem my balance appeared to give me one more move. No pics I'm afraid. It's a beautiful move though, one of those flowing movements that reminds me of the years of dancing, one that reminds me why I climb. Fantastic.

...until that inevitable gravity-laden moment of groundward motion!

Once the sun moved round it was about time to move on; no skin, hot sweaty and tired. We wandered along to the left to have a look at the other bits of crag, feeling inspired to come back again. In a moment of untold self-assurance, Caroline suddenly announced she was going to solo a route. Given the way she'd been eyeing up Birdlime Crack and asking questions about it, I wasn't surprised. She scooshed up it, no problem. So I went too.

High step on Birdlime Crack (MS)

For those who are interested in such things, we also saw some little bats squeaking away in a thin but deep crack above the left hand side of the roof on Overhanging Buttress. They sounded like baby birds, so we were looking for a nest, but eventually saw the wee things scrabbling around in the crack. I don't think it's part of a formal route or problem, but I guess it's worth noting that the crack seems to be a handy hiding place for them because it looks eminently climbable to me.

How to eat cheesecake

2009-07-21T21:21:00.002+01:00

Have you really not harnessed the power of the cheesecake yet? You must. Here's how you do it.

Buy raspberry cheesecake and sit in the garden with it, and a nice glass of wine, on a pleasant summer evening.

Open the box, and slice said cheesecake into appropriately sized pieces. We found that starting small was pointless. You might as well just chop it in two and have half each.

Conveniently, friendly pussy cats have a penchant for raspberry cheesecake. Make sure you have one close at hand to assist. Frankie here plays the innocent very well, although he probably knows you're about to blame the disappearance of the cheesecake on him.

Unfortunately, he got caught red-pawed with the box right under his nose. Now if that isn't incriminating, I don't know what is!

Yes, it's as easy as that. Open box. Eat. Delicious. And who knows how hard you can climb using the power of the cheesecake? ;-)

High Peak? Wet Peak!

2009-07-21T21:15:00.008+01:00

I forgot to post this at the time, but now I've time to write, I might as well post it now....sorry for the delay!

Do you remember that weekend a few months back, when everyone said "ah, the weather's going to be rubbish this weekend, let's go drinking" (or somesuch)? (Er.. which one? I hear you say) Well, we decided to go to the Peak District instead. To be fair, Tamsyn had booked a train ticket from London (some nonsense about it being £256 on the day or £60 booked in advance) so we couldn't leave her stranded at the station just because the forecast looked a bit rubbish.

It didn't start well, and continued in that vein for a full 48 hours, right up until we drove home in scorching sunshine. It took us 6 1/2 hours to drive down, through horrific rainstorms, flooded motorways and squeaky windscreen wipers. We were down to 20 mph on the M6 at one stage, from the rain, and then to 10mph because of the large number of vehicles inconsiderately taking up space in every lane. At one point we crossed a spaghetti junction, and every road we could see from the upper bridge was nose to tail traffic. Ah yes, this was the weekend the English school holidays started. Why oh why oh why.......

Having awoken to standard northern grey drizzle we opted for some tourism. We headed down into Blue John Cavern with our friendly guide, Brian. I don't know how long he'd been giving that tour, but I really hope he has a very high boredom threshold!

So we took lots of pictures inside the cave and marvelled and oohed and aahed at the water-worn rocks. It was pretty big, and for us climber-types the standard tour wasn't enough. We wanted to see more. But they don't let you, and I must admit to being a little claustrophobic so maybe it was fine (for once) just to stay on the tourist trail. Other tourists are funny sometimes though...

By the time we emerged above ground again the rain had (almost) stopped. So we cruised over to Stanage Plantation.....the long way, because I got muddled over which road to take. Ah well. By the time we got there the rain had stopped and the sun had come out and it was dry enough to climb! Probably a worthwhile diversion.

This was Tamsyn's very first foray into outdoor bouldering, and with hindsight, maybe the Plantation wasn't the best place to start. Some of the boulders with the easier problems on them are pretty high, and if you've been used to big squishy mats to land on indoors, the prospect of even a flat but hard landing isn't enormously encouraging.

This picture was taken on the south face of the Pebble Boulder. Tamsyn's face says it all!

Having pottered around here for a bit, we decided to try Burbage South. Caroline and I had been there in March and really enjoyed messing about on stuff when we didn't have a guidebook. After another small detour on foot (my fault again), we reached some good easy-looking boulders with lots of shot holes in them.

We pottered around here for ages, Caroline and I trying to teach Tamsyn to trust her feet and realising it isn't really something one can teach. It has to be learned. Trying to do things "hands free" seemed a good way of starting that learning process!

Needless to say, we wore our skin out pretty quickly and were mindful that maybe the weather would be better tomorrow...

It was and it wasn't better tomorrow. We took our time packing up, had a leisurely breakfast and headed for Cratcliffe and Robin Hood's Stride, on another promise of some good low-grade bouldering. We were hopeful. It was a bit showery, but the sun was strong when it appeared. We trekked up the hill with fingers crossed that the heat would dry the boulders fairly quickly, while we had some lunch and figured out the guidebook. Alas, it was not to be. No sooner had we reached the top of the hill, reminisced a bit about Font and bouldering in forests, than the hot sun was blotted out by the most torrential rain. We sheltered in a cave hoping it would pass and the hot sun would reappear. To start with it was funny - one of those downpours that doesn't quite seem real it's so heavy. We watched the rivulets washing acorns down the slope and waited. Then the rain penetrated our cave and we realised we were sitting in puddles. So we had a cherry stone spitting competition (in which Caroline and Tamsyn were neck and neck, and I was lagging way behind).

Our cave got wetter, so we moved (mistake - we'd have got less wet sitting still) to the hermit's cave lower down the hill. It continued to pour. Eventually we got bored. If it stopped raining, it wasn't going to dry in time for us to climb. Tamsyn had a train to catch and we had a 5 hour drive north.

With a degree of reluctance we opted for coffee and cake in Bakewell. It continued to rain, and we felt a bit better about bailing. We've always said that no trip is a wasted trip and now we know that Cratcliffe and Robin Hood's Stride are worth visiting.....when they're dry!

Memories

2009-06-07T02:44:00.000+01:00

Home alone Saturday night so was flicking through photographs of various climbing trips. I couldn't resist publishing these ones. They will only be funny for those who were there (and maybe even then only after a couple of glasses of wine!), but there you go. I write this blog as much to amuse myself as anyone else!

Rehabilitation

2009-06-05T00:53:00.003+01:00

No matter how many additional hours I do at work, it always feels like a treat to leave early, especially when the weather turns in my favour just at the right moment.

Martin agreed to pick me up at 4pm so I was anxiously watching the clouds all day. Between the time I left my desk and the time I reached the front of the building, the sun came out and there was blue sky! We headed out to North Berwick Law, where I still had my project, Law of Gravity, to go at. Martin has said on many occasions that he used to do reps on this route by way of training, so I reckoned that I might learn a thing or two from him.

Although it was still sunny when we got there, it chilled off pretty quickly by the time we'd warmed up. Martin went up and put the clips in, seemingly cruising the long reaches and waltzing past the finishing moves which I find so precarious. Even the crimpy start to the 7a+ version is considerably easier than the top 3 moves.

When he had reached the top, he lowered down to the highest big ledge (the one on the left that you stand on in order to reach the two undercuts for the top move). Then I said, can you see the tiny hole in the wall by your left knee? The response to this was "yes, but I don't fancy it for my foot". That's what I have to use for my left foot, because I can't reach the right hand sidepull/undercut.

I went up bolt to bolt next, and showed Martin my non-lank version at the top. I'm not sure whether I felt a sense of trepidation or vindication at his proclamation that clearly these moves are much harder for me than they are for him.

The next bit is for those of you who know this route well. If you don't, apologies, this bit is geeky and boring!

Here is a bit of a fuzzy image showing where my hands and feet go in order to reach the top. It's a bit too zoomed in to be clear. This is definitely the crux for me. I put my right foot on the big ledge(RF1) and lay back (as much as I can, given the hold is level with my face) off the big hole with my left hand (LH). With my right hand on the low ledge (RH) I have to out on my left toe in that tiny hole (LF) and pull my right foot up onto a tiny smeary chip (RF2)and then slap with painful precision for the top hold which everyone else uses as an undercut (RH2). If I catch it wrong, I'm off. After that, it's a simple step up and through with the left foot and reach for the top edge.

Pulling faces at the prospect of the crux on another previous redpoint (September 08)

So first time, all the moves felt very reachy, unusually so, so I shook out for ages at every opportunity (while Martin chilled off below! What a saint! Thanks Martin). I was surprised to find myself facing the top crux, never mind finding the energy to do it! I faffed around, started the move, backed off, started again, backed off again, feeling that my left foot and left hand were both very precarious. When I did go for it, I didn't catch the right hand properly, and gravity took over. I have to say, that would have been a good day if I'd left it there. It was a new high point.

A previous redpoint in September last year

But having a long rest, some magic dried fruit stuff that Martin offered me, a bit of a run around and I found myself in the same place on the second redpoint. Cool! I was in danger of repeating the faffing, but all the previous moves had felt easier this time: less reachy, less effort generally. Having tried to rush the crux moves to start with, I composed myself and tried again only to slip and scrabble to a recovery, hanging on only by fingertips and willpower! Phew. That was close!! A bit more composure and I just went for it, remembering that I didn't want to have to do the whole lot yet again!

Whoops of glee echoed round the small quarry, and fortunately only Martin to hear them. With hindsight probably a bit embarrassing to have made so much noise about a route that people used to lap, but it was something of an achievment for me, and after all, we climb for nobody but ourselves. A lovely evening, and some success to boot. It's nice to feel good on a route given my recent bout of apathy, nonchalence and gloom. Maybe this is the start of my climbing rehabilitation? Here's hoping....

Time to back off?

2009-05-16T13:40:00.001+01:00

I love Siurana. There isn't much to do there but climb, but that doesn't matter. It feels comfortable and familiar now. I hope to go back, sooner rather than later, too, but for now I'm left wondering whether it's time to give climbing a break for a while. I've been to the wall only a couple of times since we came back, but haven't felt inspired to even try. I'm wondering what's wrong with me, wondering why something I have had such boundless enthusiasm for is now almost doing nothing for me. In the same millisecond, I think about how not climbing will leave me with no strength, back on the bottom rung of the ladder, out of the gang. I remember the frustration that causes, and how soul-destroying it is to be relegated to the second XI when all your mates are still in the first XI. Climbing at North Berwick a couple of weeks ago was fun, despite the post-wedding fatigue. Our trip to Helpburn last weekend was also fun, despite the coffee-shakes I had. I realised then that already I am out of practice. Tenacity seemed to take over, replacing all traces of technique and strength with lots of wild flailing and slapping. Training indoors just isn't happening. At all.

I keep thinking of those sunny days we had in Font on September 2007, and the routes we cruised in Orpierre and Siurana, even the warmth of Northumberland the other weekend, and I wonder whether it's about the weather. Maybe I'm just not into sports climbing for now? Maybe I just want to climb outside and the incentive to train indoors has gone? Maybe a trip to Font would sort me out? Then I wonder whether there's something else wrong that I haven't managed to identify yet? Do I need to change jobs? (yes) Do I need to move house? (no) Would retail therapy help?(no) Should I get my hair cut?(ummm) Do I need a holiday?(always, but who doesn't). Other Things seem to be taking over so much time at the moment, maybe I just don't have the energy to climb right now? So many ridiculous possibilities. I never ever thought I would be bored with climbing, never. Could I be? I don't want to be....

Is this normal?

Soggy Siurana

2009-05-05T23:00:00.000+01:00

Having just returned early from a wet and disappointing trip to Siurana, I am struggling to maintain any enthusiasm for rock, plastic or pulling hard.

Our first day in Siurana was beautiful and we were pretty excited to be back in such an inspiring place. I had my eye on Mandragora at Sector Espero Primavera, a long striking orange streak visible from the road. I'd had a bolt-to-bolt effort on it in November and managed all the moves at least, albeit feeling a little lacking in strength. But for our first day back on the limestone we stuck with easier stuff.

Lucy Creamer on Kalea Borokka (8b+), El Pati

The following day required a trip to the supermarket (we were pretty hungry, having arrived late Saturday night and everything in Spain being closed on Sundays), so we only managed a couple of routes later in the afternoon. Then the heavens opened. Tuesday was torrential rain; Scottish rain. We'd inadvertently brought the damned stuff with us. We walked around the reservoir, got soaking wet, skimmed stones, took pictures of various bits of vegetation. Siurana has never looked so green, or so soggy. Over the next few days the reservoir filled up; rivers appeared where no rivers have been before; amorphous piles of rocks and earth slid onto the road; routes were put through the car wash.

Can Melafots in the damp mist. This quickly turned into Can Megaflops for us.

We entertained ourselves bouldering under the very narrow overhang at Can Melafots, inventing eliminates for feet, and eventually taking up Dave's idea of ledge crawling, also known as the Belly Traverse. Yes, we were frustrated, not to mention cold and damp.

Dave doing the horizontal version of the traverse

Diff bouldering under the mini-roof

We had a beautiful sunny day at Margalef, confined to the road-side of the river, because the river had suddenly appeared with a vengeance, asserting it's right to roam in no uncertain terms. The 7a tufa route over the road I tried in November was running with water; driving the car underneath it was like driving through a car wash. I held out little hope for it drying within the week.

Then it started to rain again. To cut a long story short, between rain showers, we searched for dry routes between the wet patches, and ate a lot of pancakes. Brief trips to Mussara TV, El Falco, Arboli and Margalef gained us about 20 routes over the 10 days.

Roof-tastic at Mussara TV

Wet pebbles on the riverbank

As the weekend neared, Kev decided he was heading home a week early along with Diff and Andrea. On Friday, Dave and Mike decided they too would head back, both happy to sit out the rain, and Dave even working 8c in a downpour (reason no.1 to climb hard - steep overhangs are more likely to stay dry!), but both also having other things to pull them homewards. With half our party disappearing, my psyche to climb plummeted. I resigned myself to just trying to keep my leading head together, aiming for mileage rather than meeting goals and hoping to spend some dry time outside. Eventually, Caroline and I also decided to bail early and switched our flights to the following Tuesday, leaving 4 days earlier than planned.

Mussara TV... with wet streaks

Hiding from the rain at Sector L'Olla

One last thing. What on earth persuaded anyone that it was a good idea to have "Pure Dead Brilliant" written everywhere at and about Prestwick Airport?? There's nothing pure about an airport; dead certainly isn't a word I would want to associate with an airport; and Prestwick sure is not brilliant. It's a phrase which doesn't translate south of the Border, let alone into Spanish, German, American, Swedish, Hungarian, Swahili or any other language! It means nothing to the people who pass through the place, and even those who do "get it" are wondering why the hell it was used as a slogan for an airport. Maybe there is something to be said for a BAA monopoly after all......

Time to change

2009-04-23T22:00:00.001+01:00

I had no idea that changing the clocks could change the weather in quite the way it did this year. It was as though somene flicked a switch, quite literally.

Having decided that it was asking a bit much of myself to fit in two days climbing and all the other things I needed to do, we took a decision to climb one day and do other stuff the other day. Dithering, as usual, I opted for Saturday at home and Sunday out on the rock......until Guy phoned. Our lazy morning in bed was interrupted by the dingly ding of text messages and phone calls. Guy said he was going to Kyloe, so I said, could I go too, Guy said yes, then Diff said he might come too. Suddenly we had a little party going!

We scooshed down the A1 and got a bit of a shock getting out of the car. How cold?? Bracing? More than..... it was baltic. Hard to believe that it was nearly April and we had travelled south. What a day to choose trad.....

Climbing in duvets. I was very glad of my down sweater.

I am ashamed to say that the last time I attempted any trad was a couple of weeks ago at Bowden I fell off. First lead fall, and I'm so ashamed of it, I'm refusing to divulge the grade. This time, I think the only reason I didn't bail this time was Guy and Diff egging me on. First up was Tacitation, a classic of the crag. Diff talked me through the gear placements just by looking at the route from below (I have very little trad experience, unlike him). Despite being pretty gymnastic, the first move wasn't that hard. A little tricky for someone my height, maybe, but nothing to complain about. Guy put on some fantastic faces when he came up second. Chin out and, trying hard, he complained loudly - lots of hot air as far as I could see. He had no trouble at all.

Guy hopping up the first move of Tacitation VS 4c

We did have trouble staying warm, so next up was some soloing of Severes. We couldn't (or wouldn't or just didn't) make sense of the guidebook other than to establish we were on on of Eeny, Meeny, Miny or Mo. It was nice to trot up something very easy. It's very satisfying, and probably pretty good for your head. I opted to go up with the rope so I at least had a backup plan if I freaked. I didn't freak and, after chucking a couple of cams in, even went adventuring up an overhanging crack. I had no idea what grade it was, and no idea what I was letting myself in for, but went for it anyway. There was good gear and the holds were all decent. Even more satisfying! I think it was the top half of Christmas Tree Arete Direct. Who knows. Who cares. It was fun.

Finally deciding it was too cold for much more, Diff hopped up Gagarin's Groove. Guy picked out an MVS somewhere close to the holly tree, which looked pretty straightforward from the ground, but was green and slimy and off balance when we got on it. Nasty.

Eventually we gave it up for being too cold when it started to snow, and headed home via the Bluebell Hotel in Belford.

That night, the clocks changed...... and so did the weather.

Amidst car troubles, and a lot of rearranging, six of us paid a visit to the Dovehole boulders on the Sunday. It could not have been more different from Saturday. Balmy sunshine and a warm spring breeze made it warm enough to climb in t-shirts. It was blissful.

Dan, Sarah and I had a good crack at an undercut problem on the Monkey Face boulder. Dan and Sarah made short shrift of it, but it took me a little more effort than that. I put it down to my advanced years, although that's possibly the lamest excuse I could have ever come up with.

Dan then came rushing over saying he'd found a really good problem for us. Unfortunately, it was a little bit heightest, but with some growing, I managed it.

Roz, who has a significant height advanage on me, had a bit of an issue with this problem. Her chin had a close encounter of the scraping kind whilst getting to grips with the top out.......

So much so that she needed a lie-down afterwards.

Collectively I think we wore through a lot of skin, but we had a great day. Spring finally seemed to have arrived, a real turning point in the year. I can look forward to not worrying about being freezing cold the moment I spend more than an hour outside.

Team Sunshine at Dovehole

Mad March

2009-03-25T23:01:00.000Z

It's hard to know where March has gone. The weather seems to have been all over the place, as have we, and there has been little time to sit still and take stock.

I've had another few trips around the country for various things (avoiding those dreadful train journeys, thank goodness), and have therefore encountered another hiatus in the training schedule (what training schedule?!).

My weekend started on Thursday. Hurrah! A good thing, surely. Well, not necessarily. It started with an impromptu post-work drink (or four), which blurred Friday quite considerably. Having scraped through the day, I managed a few routes at Alien 1 and finished (just about) in time to jet off to Tom's party. Everyone who's anyone in the world of normal strong climbers was there. This was the place to be and the place to be seen. Having escaped the party with only fizzy pop damage, I crashed into bed and had a night of weird and restless dreams. Serves me right for having pasta and goats cheese as my post-midnight dinner.

On little sleep, and an early start to make cake, we headed to Raven Crag, scooting past all the crowds at Bowden, slipping just over the hill to peace and tranquility and a better view of the Cheviots. Granted the climbing isn't quite world-class, being a bit on the sandy side, but it faces the sun, dries quickly in the breeze and best of all, nobody else seems to go there! Given our approach to Saturday, this was ideal.

The (pretend) hard core boulderer in me acknowledged that those elusive good conditions were definitely not going to appear today. Temperatures went beyond warm and well into the sweaty zone. Nice. The more realistic part of me realised I was just up for some time outside, soaking up some sunshine after what seems an interminably long winter. We did, of course, agree (tongues firmly in cheeks) that since we were only going to be messing about it would be bad form to do so on quality problems found elsewhere in the County. No sense in wearing out problems we hadn't a hope in hell of ticking today. Northumberland sandstone is soft, after all....ask Sam.

Caroline pulled the biggest flapper I've ever seen off her little finger on the very first move of the very first problem. She's too strong for her own good!! It was nasty. Blood welling up under the torn skin. Lots of chat about superglue ended with an elastoplast and several rounds of tape - a professional job.

Caroline's flapper - bad pic, but now she has her own blog I can't nick her good pictures any more ;-)

We started on the Meadow Wall, working along the problems right to left. Stuart was enjoing his first day out on real rock and with his long reach he managed a number of moves we birdies struggled with. Like this one, which was a definite dyno-for-small-pocket-off-non-existent-smears for us:

The move above the dyno....

It took a while for us to remember how to do each of the problems, but since we had taken the pressure off, it was fun rather than frustrating. We went back to the scary slab too - I was impressed that I managed to do it first time in spite of very sweaty hands. I even managed to chalk up half way. Didn't manage that before!

This picture looks pretty vertical; the only down side is that because you can't see my right hand, I could be holding a massive jug. You'll have to take my word for it that there are no crimps on this problem, let alone jugs! All just little tentative smears for both hands and feet.

Scary biscuits! And a welcome bigger hold at the top....not that much bigger though!

The sunshine was wonderful, but just as we reluctantly decided it was time to head back to the city for our evening engagements, the clouds gathered and it started to rain. We didn't feel so bad about leaving after all. When you have to, it's nice to be given another excuse to leave.

Twittering Nonsense

2009-03-23T12:15:00.001Z

This seems a funny thing to post, maybe a bit hypocritical even, given the broadcast nature of blogs, but I think it's funny. I work in an environment where "twitter" seems to be the latest fad. Rather than post a long rant about it, I think this video from Current TV will tell you nicely a) what twitter is (if you don't already know) and b) what I think of twitter (which you don't yet know).

Winter Wonderland

2009-03-09T22:22:00.004Z

Way back in late January we headed for the Peak District. It seems so long ago now, I forget why we went. With hope springing eternal, my chalk and shoes were in my bag as we wandered along the path at Burbage South.

I'm not quite sure where the hope to climb came from, since it was so cold that even through my super-mits the ends of my fingers were frozen and through many layers of SmartWool socks, so were the ends of my toes.

So I resorted to taking photographs by way of a distraction. The trees, covered in frost, were really beautiful in the stillness. We couldn't see very far, but we could hear voices through the mist. Very eery. I am always surprised at how busy the Peak District is, having been used to the remoteness of Scotland. It definitely has the feel of "National Park" to it, unfortunately.

Not much hope of climbing these boulders....

Setting up to film some atmospheric shots of Parthian Shot, Balance It Is and Dynamics of Change.

I know that grit is a dish best served cold, but this was a little extreme.....not that it stopped some people! The South Quarry held some hard core boulderers, braving the frostnip. We headed for Hathersage and the warmth of hot tea in the Outside cafe.

Reviving Yoga

2009-02-18T23:00:00.000Z

Following a lengthy but unintended break from yoga practice, I went back a week ago, this time to power yoga. What a shock.....

Power yoga is a corruption of ashtanga yoga, a high-energy, fast moving, hot and sweaty routine, concentrating on strength, balance and breathing. Since my climbing has been picking up a bit I thought I would probably be fit enough to cope, although I knew the class itself would be hard work and the recovery would probably take a full week.

Caroline took these pics at North Berwick last summer. I don't know what this position is called, but once you understand the balance required, it isn't as hard as it looks.

After the first class, I felt as though I had been pummelled and beaten, stretched and twisted. I was left physically destroyed but mentally alert, a very strange feeling, where sleep ought to come easily but doesn't. My class was on Tuesday. On Wednesday I didn't feel as achey as I expected, but then I spent most of the day straight-jacketed in a formal meeting. By Thursday I felt about 90 years old, almost hobbling as my hips and those big ligaments that hold your legs onto your body (adductors??) seized up. By Friday I could climb again, and by Sunday I could touch my toes without too much pain, something which is usually fairly uneventful for me.

Warrior A

This week's class seemed harder, although I felt more capable in some respects. Recovery is so far going well. Debbie, who took the class this week, is now retired from climbing owing to a shoulder problem. One of the hardest aspects of the class was holding a low press-up for 10 breaths. I really struggled with it, despite the fact that I can do plenty of chin ups (note to self, I don't know how many I can do now! Must count....). Debbie pointed out that climbers are used to hanging from things rather than pushing up from things. That seemed like a very plausible explanation for apparently having no problem in pulling my bodyweight up from a hanging position, but struggling to push my bodyweight up. Clearly I need to do some more press-ups and improve my core strength.

I had forgotten how invigorating yoga can be. The oxygen intake does wonders, although it doesn't help me sleep! I'm sure that with perseverence and more practice, I will regain the ability to walk home after my class, and will be able to touch my toes without pain the morning after.

Wasting Time

2009-01-13T23:24:00.006Z

Rooting through various boxes of collected junk (of which I still have plenty), I am sometimes lucky to find a little forgotten gem. It's usually something fairly insignificant which I kept because it meant something to me at the time. Just occasionally I find these things and realise they still mean something....so I continue to keep them. I suppose this is how I have managed to accumulate so many boxes of "junk".

Maybe it isn't really junk after all, it is a collection which reminds me that I haven't spent my life doing nothing and going nowhere. Today was one of those days when I needed to find some of my junk, and I found this: a birthday card.

It's only 3 years, not 20, since I was given it by some very good friends, but it reminded me to pull myself together and get on with doing all those things I really want to do rather than make feeble excuses for not doing them and otherwise procrastinate.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T11:24:00.005Z

Not much climbing today, I think....

Happy New Year!

The Arch

2008-12-15T23:15:00.001Z

Maybe I'll buy a season ticket to London.

After Tuesday's train journey to London I flew down on Friday instead. I flew because the train times weren't going to get me to where I needed to be in time, even if I started out at 05.50 again. British Airways worked a treat. It was an easy journey, with not a muppet in sight. My conscience did prick me, though, as I suffocated on the CO2 emissions. My return flight on Sunday, by easyJet made me think that catching the train was infinitely preferable (for my blood pressure, at least) until I remembered Tuesday's 17.00 service from King's Cross.......

Anyway, I didn't sit down to write about planes, trains and automobiles. I sat down to write about The Arch, London's newest (?) climbing centre at London Bridge.

Since it was apparently leaking water out of the sky all day and everywhere on Saturday I didn't feel so bad about climbing indoors. The Arch was easy to find, easy to get to and definitely to be recommended at weekends. I met Tamsyn there, who has regularly found it a friendly place to climb. She tells me it is rammed solid after work during the week, but pleasantly empty at weekends. On Saturday we were the only two there for a while. Fantastic!

On the positive side, the problems were good (if sometimes seeming a bit height dependent), the staff were very friendly and we had the place to ourselves. And they have a nice shower.

On the less positive side, all the bolt on holds were filthy, so filthy it was nigh on impossible to tell the difference between yellow and black. I kid not, it was bad. To counter this, though, I understand that the whole place is closing over Christmas and New Year for a complete clean, re-set and re-paint. I'm sure if I'm wrong on that, someone will correct me.

Given that my regular haunt is Alien 2, I still come back to comparing everything with it, and to date, I still think I have the best deal on it. The Arch is similar in size ( or maybe a wee bit bigger) than Alien 2, but it has fewer problems. There are vast expanses of shiny emulsioned hardboard with very few holds and no features! It's frustrating to think that there could be so many more things to go at - why do they leave so much space? Am I missing something? The Leeds Wall was like that too. I like Alien 2's featured walls, and the sticky surfaces. They make for more interesting problems, with a variety of solutions. So why don't other walls have these things?

Interestingly, The Arch uses V grades. I have very little experience of these, so it was quite fun to not know where to start, whether to throw myself at V6 or start at V0. Tamsyn was a good guide. She set me on all the things she couldn't do. Some were ok, some spat me off first shot, but it was enough to allow me to find my feet and I reckoned after a few problems that my limit was probably around V6. I don't really know how that relates to anything else, but next time I go to The Arch I'll know where to start!

All in all, definitely worth a visit, and highly preferable to roaming London's busy shopping streets in search of Christmas presents. One last comment, their campus board might be signed by the great and the good of the climbing world, but it isn't a patch on Alien 2's new one ;-)

Siurana Sunshine

2008-12-10T21:54:00.000Z

Although I knew I wasn't feeling quite right about my climbing, I hadn't realised exactly how low my psyche had got until I spent 3 days in Spain with the two Daves, Mike and Alicia. What I can't work out is whether it was the place, the company or a combination of both which restored my psyche.

The crew had set up base camp in Cornudella and were dividing their time, it seems, between Margalef and Siurana. While I'd missed much of the excitement, there were still projects on the go, yet to be sent and plenty more to be found. I went out on a flying visit with no expectations of myself which was quite liberating. Usually on trips I find myself building up the pressure to climb something harder than I've ever climbed before, or at least as hard as I've ever climbed before. But since most of this year has been full of things which are a distraction from climbing, I figured that such an attitude was only going to end in tears and disappointment.

Mike on 8a+ at Cova Boix (I think?)

While I was very much looking forward to returning to Siurana, I was also very conscious that the last time I was there Caroline and I had already spent 10 weeks climbing constantly. I was certainly at the top of my game then, and I worried a little that Siurana was really going to kick me into touch. Only a few weeks earlier I'd been very close (oh so painfully close!) to redpointing Law of Gravity (the 7a+ version - I can't reach the 7a version) at North Berwick. But since last year I reckon I had lost touch with what 7a and 7b felt like in general, let alone on Spanish limestone and mores the point, in Siurana. It strikes me now, writing this, that this proved to me how much I (and quite probably others) rely on grades to keep us steady in measuring both our progress and our current ability.

There are so many debates on grades; just check the forums on UKClimbing. It gets boring reading other people's nitpicking and petty quibbling about the grade of some new route, whether it's E8 or E9, E10 or E12, 8b or just 8a+. But, unless climbers bother to grade things justifiably, it is very hard to maintain some idea of how well one is climbing. In fact, there might as well be no grading system at all, since the point of a system is to provide a means of measurement and why measure how hard something is, unless the intention is to also measure an individual's progress or achievement by it? As an aside, I would rather the grading be done by concensus in a public forum, and I don't mean an internet chat forum.

Team Margalef

Anyway, I digress. I had no idea whether I'd be able to climb 7a in Siurana, so the most sensible option seemed to be to abandon all expectations, and go for the bolt-to-bolt, climb-in-the-sunshine options.

Happy days. It worked! Siurana is a beautiful place, and I had forgotten how pretty that part of the world is. I really enjoyed being back there. It was just as cold, just as sunny, and just as inspiring as it was a year ago. With only 3 days to climb, I was happy to tag along with the others and climb whatever was available. We started off in Margalef.

The trees in Margalef itself were a beautiful colour in the late afternoon winter sunshine

We had only spent one day in Margalef last year and it was hot. So hot, Dave refused to climb until it was almost dark! OK, not quite, but you get my drift. This time, not so. It was very chilly in the shade, but pleasantly warm in the sun. While Mike and Dave R headed to Dave's project at Laboratori, Alicia and I went to the dark side and pretended to warm up....on 6c. I say pretended to warm up, because it was baltic! I had brand new shoes on, hadn't climbed for a week, hadn't climbed outside for 6 weeks, and we picked 6c as a starter for 10. And I went first. With all those excuses I think I did very well. I even fell off and didn't scream, which is quite an achievement for me. I can only assume that my lack of expectations for the trip extended to completing routes and falling off! Anyway, the 6c went first redpoint, having decided that I was simply too cold to to anything other than bolt-to-bolt on the first try. Next up was (for me) an onsight of a 6b+ route that Alicia had done earlier in her trip. See, my expectations were so low, I can't even tell you the names of the routes!

Alicia ticking her project

Next up was Alicia's project - the 7a+ tufas overhanging the valley road. It was a lovely looking route, which she cruised easily first time, although I am told she'd had a bit of time working it before I arrived. Her ascent looked pretty effortless to me, particularly after it threw itself at me! Spanked. Well and truly. It was nice to be in the sun by this point, so I was warm enough to warrant an attempt. The first move is like that cold shower at 6am - a bit of a slap. Standing on a precariously placed rock atop a very unconsolidated conglomerate bank, there is a tiny left hand crimp under the mini-roof, and a long reach over the top for a jug. Feet are just about on the kickboard above the bank, but for me (and Alicia I think) the next move is to cut loose and swing a right heel up, cross over with the right and pull. Hard. Yes, it's a grunt move. In all honesty it wasn't that hard. I easily had the strength to do it. The problem was the lack of stamina to get beyond the 7th move.

Reaching for the 4th clip on the tufas

So I fell off. Ah well. For the sheer satisfaction, it was probably worth doing that move several times more. But that wouldn't have got me to the top of the route! A few (vaguely impressed, ego-stroking and very welcome) oohs and aahs from Dave and Mike, and suddenly I felt like the Old Pretender, slightly ashamed that I couldn't deliver what my had been promised from the starting block. Still, it was fun. Thus my first Margalef project was born. I haven't climbed tufas like that before. They were pretty powerful and two days later I worked out a very different sequence from Alicia's. It'll go next time. With a bit of training.

La Rambla

The following day we headed to the valley crags of Siurana itself. In celebration of ticking her tufa project the day before, Alicia had proven her capacity for consumption of rotten grapes and had a hangover. But today we were destined for Mandragora, that fabulous orange streak visible in all her glory from the road up to Siurana. Caroline and I had looked but dare not touch last year. Today, Alicia, took her hangover up to the crux and decided enough was enough. So I followed her up to that point, clipstick in tow, and managed all the moves, with a little bit of thought and re-try, up to the first belay. I had been slow, and the crowds were gathering so I forewent the opportunity to explore the upper section.

I really enjoyed it. The crux section was hard, on very tiny crimps, and polished!! I guess this is Siurana, so 7b is the warmup route. No wonder it was polished. Having said that, we moved round the corner so that Dave could have a look at La Rambla. He later told me that that too has some polish on it, probably due to Dani Andrada's 300 redpoints!

7b was harder than I remembered it being, but with a bit of stamina training, Mandragora might go too next time. Project number 2. I've also added this to Caroline's tick list (if she has one) although she won't know that until she reads this ;-)

Mike's damaged skin from Margalef's sharp pockets

I can't write about this trip without mentioning Dave's last ditch attempts at his 8b+/8c(?) project at Laboratori, Margalef. To avoid the circus of local families there on Saturday and the heat of the day, he resorted to turning the car headlights on full beam. Unfortunately, this meant having the engine running.... thereby filling the Laboratori ave with diesel fumes!

Cool enough to climb, but too dark to see! Mr Redpath in the zone.

Four flights and two days travelling was definitely worth it for three days climbing. I came home psyched to climb more and more. I'm not sure I'm so psyched for the training involved, but maybe aiming for anothter spring trip to Siurana might spur me on further.

Team Margalef, high on diesel fumes at Laboratori!

I want to go home NOW!

2008-12-09T19:08:00.004Z

I don't do this very often, travel to London and back in a day by train, but I'm very glad I don't. The 05.50 train this morning was fine. But the 17.00 from Kings Cross is an absolute nightmare. Why is it that people SHOUT at each other? This is a (very) confined space. I can hear people 30 feet away! And the BEEP BEEP nonsense they talk about is unbelievable. Yak yak yak yak, shouting into mobile phones, gossiping about Julie on reception, or Gary in Sales or Darren in marketing. "I like Diana, and what's that blonde girl without the shoes all about then". DING DONG. Then there's the coughing and sneezing. Everyone in here is sick! BING BONG, another mobile phone at a gazillion decibels. I swear that wearing a sharp suit and too much offensive aftershave makes you DEAF. Why else would your phone be on BRRRRING full volume? Or is to make sure that the entire train (I think I counted at least 10 carriages) knows exactly how important you are? I just ATCHOO phoned home briefly (usual progress update) and I can't hear Diff and Diff can't hear me. I just about caught "can't...you. But...lots...other...". And to top that, if I sit back in my seat, the phone is behind BING BONG the wall of the carriage between the windows, so the signal goes BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEP (repeat). So I have to sit forward and practically shout AHEM into the ear of the person in front of me. I don't feel good about this. But they're all BRRRIINNG shouting anyway, so maybe they don't notice.

The wifi is free, but no wonder. You wouldn't pay baked beans for a service this slow. I resorted to UKC, thinking that loading one web page would give me plenty to read, without having to load more pages. Then I read this: http://www.ukclimbing.com/forums/t.php?n=332360&v=1 Now, clearly this evening is not going well for me, but this thread almost made me want to stop climbing altogether it was so depressing. Maybe it's just that tonight EVERYONE is chattering absolute twaddle as far as I am concerned.

Only two and a half hours to go.........

Kyloe-in-the-Rain

2008-11-10T23:20:00.013Z

We made another less than ideal call on the weather last weekend, having other stuff to do on Saturday and opting to climb on Sunday. Ah well, such is life. As we drove down the A1 towards Northumberland the sun was shining and we could see miles out to sea. Caroline commented that she'd always wondered what that coastal view looked like! But as we turned off the A1 it started to rain, and we realised that above the road we were driving along was a line - cloud on the left, sunshine on the right. We were turning left.

Sam had sent Sarah a text message saying that it was pouring at Kyloe so they'd headed to the shelter of Back Bowden. We ploughed on to Kyloe thinking , how bad can it be in the trees.

It stopped raining by the time we got there, but the ground was pretty soggy. Some problems had dribbles of water down them, and some holds were damp but a lot was climbable, and pretty ok actually! Cold and dry.....the elusive "great conditions"!! Wow....this could be exciting ;-)

Then is started raining again. But it was so good to be back on real rock. It felt like ages and ages since I was in Spain, and somehow warm Spanish limestone isn't quite as satisfying as cold, sticky County sandstone. Now why is that?? Am I just strange?

So, amidst lots of sitting about under Cubby's Lip, Sarah managed a proper pop at the sit start to Monty Python's. It was so dark that it took ages to get this photo of her. Eventually I took it about a full second before she moved, which just about gave my cold little camera time to think, charge and flash at the right moment!

For the first time I managed to complete that mammoth traverse from the easy way down leftwards. Caroline too managed it, which surprised her (but not me!) since she's not been climbing for a wee while.

Watching Sarah from the shelter of the Jocks sit start

While the rain was splashing away we thought it might be a good excuse to try the sit start to Jocks and Geordies. It's so hard (for us) that we wouldn't seriously give it a go without a sound reason to do so, probably preferring to concentrate on the standing start (first things first, walk before you run, and all...) But in the rain, it seemed sensible to lie on our backs, feet on the back wall, and just pull hard directly upwards, and from there work out which hand would hold longest if we let go with the other one.

I have to say, that these sorts of sit starts are not my forte. We came up with lots of options, none of which were successful, or even promising. Then someone showed us The Way. It helped, in that we then had something to aim for, but still wasn't enormously successful! I'm just not strong enough yet...

Early attempts in April 2007

When it stopped raining, we crawled out from under the rock and attempted the standing start. I had a go at this in April 2007 and was a long way from reaching the top left hand crimp. To my surprise, this time I managed to get both feet much higher, and wriggled my fingers over the edge of it. Pheewwwwweeeeeee! How exciting was that?! Having done that, I would have gone home quite happily then. To top that, next pop I managed to slap for the top sloper. Big slap. I couldn't hold it, partly because it was a bit.....what's the word? spoogee!, and partly because I didn't hit it quite right.

Looking back at the pictures from April 07 I realised that this time round, I was back-stepping with my left foot rather than twisting my knee in. Maybe that explains the height gain this time round. Ah, the wonders of technique!

So I went home with sore fingers and a smile on my face, psyched to come back and try again.

New beginnings

2008-11-09T22:40:00.000Z

It is probably not as long as it seems since we were basking in southern Spanish sunshine, too hot to climb (for me at least) but fantastic to be on holiday. In many ways it felt as though our trip as doomed from the start what with the booking, re-booking, missing and re-re-booking of flights, change of climbing buddies etc etc. For this reason I think (for me) it was the most expensive climbing trip ever. But that was entirely my own fault. The Ryanair chap at the desk said "I've seen people a day late for their flight, but never a week late....."

Remembering my last visit to the Costa Blanca and the snow we'd seen on the Puig Campana, I had packed my duvet jacket and my thermals. I was delighted not to need any of them (most of the time). It was 30 degrees easily, and way too hot for even me to climb.

Our previous expedition to Forada was aborted on the basis that a) there was no way my little car was going to make it up the rest of that dreadful track and still get us back to Scotland and b) it was December, blowing a hoolie and freezing cold despite the sunshine. So this time, with a hire car and it being too hot to climb in the sun, Jonni and I figured Forada was a good bet. We hoofed up there (yes, Jonni was driving) and did a couple of routes on the sunny side before heading to the Dark Side and the Superheros wall. The sunny side was sharp. Proper sharp. Ouch. The Dark Side was Dark. And cold. And suddenly I was glad of my duvet jacket.

The Sunny Side at Forada

Jonni on Starman

Jonni made short work of Starman. I had a burn on top rope, but it really isn't my kinda thing. For one thing, I didn't have the stamina or the strength having not been climbing nearly enough recently. For another thing, I don't find these kind of overhanging, thuggy, juggy routes particularly entertaining. There's a lot of strength involved, but nothing that feels interesting, or intricate; there isn't much to work out. It's all pretty straightforward. Just hard.

When the girls arrived three days later, the sun was still shining. I had no idea what they were expecting. They'd never been climbing on real rock (bar one day at Pembroke in the pouring rain).

The first morning was spent on the balcony, with make believe chains, bolts and everyone tied into an end of rope somewhere. It seemed like a bit of a muddle looking back on it, but at the time it made perfect sense. We went over it, over and over and over again. How to clip in with a cow's tail, which knot to untie and when. Time and time and time again. It was time well spent.

Our first afternoon at Sector Final, Sella, went swimmingly, until Dina decided she was comfortable enough to lead "something harder". How about that 5+ there? For those of you who know Sella well, "that 5+ there" was Speedy Gonzales - fairly sraightforward once you're past the third bolt. Getting there is a little more tricky, as Dina discovered with her first epic. Good on her, she sat back after the first freak, regained her composure, and carried on. The second freak was a little less easily contained. The nervous laughter from below wasn't helping. First there was the panicked voice, then the shouting, then the hysterical screams, and amongst all the I can't reaches and I can't hold ons, was the desperate cry "WHERE AM I?"

....!!!

Dina, post-trauma

The gang at Toix TV

Tamsyn seemed to have a knack for picking routes with caves in them....she spent a lot of time crawling into them head first. While the back of the cave would be treated to the pleasant view of her pretty face, the rest of us had a rather different view from below and behind!!

Tamsyn at Pego

We managed to climb in various places during the week before the weather turned foul on us. We had an expedition to Pego (great place, pretty stern on the grades but a bit of a nightmare to find), and another one to Echo Playa, where I tried Coco...in one pitch. The rope drag was so bad I messed up the finishing wall, which was a shame, because it's the best bit of climbing on the route; the rest of it is a bit of a vegetated scrabble. I could hardly pull the rope up standing with two feet on a flat bit and using both hands. It was impossible to pull through to clip whilst hanging off fairly small holds with one hand and the rope with the other. Ho hum. Oh, and there is a massive loose block at the very top, which was quite worrying.

Lisa leading at Toix TV.....doing superbly well for someone who had never led anything at all 2 days previously.

Another day we went to Toix TV, which was very hot, but made bearable, even pleasant, by the sea breeze. I repeated a few things I'd done there last December, some of which seemed easier and others harder. So much of it is dependent on frame of mind.... Tamsyn decided she would top rope 6a, so she picked the reachiest one there, and the one that couldn't be done without smearing.....when she had almost no rubber left on one shoe. I turned round to dig out the BabyBel thinking she'd be down in a minute and the next thing I know she's 3/4 of the way up!! Must be all that Super Red Juice she drinks.... ;-)

In between the climbing, we had some entertaining evenings. I couldn't resist posting this one. Maybe it was just funny because we'd emptied the bottle, let alone the glass.... There are other more embarrassing pictures, but I won't risk putting Dina, Lisa and Tamsyn off climbing altogether by posting them here. I don't want them to think that all the dodgy antics of a climbing holiday are posted on the web by default!!

Jonni beasting it up some mega 6c thing at Pego, surrounded by dozy wasps....

I had completely forgotten how much one gets beaten up by the rock when one starts out. These are some pretty impressive bruises. I guess that with experience, practice, a bit of strength and maybe some technique thrown in, I've managed to avoid this kind of damage over the last couple of years. I know chicks dig scars. Do guys dig bruises?? Not sure about that one.....

Me threading the rope at Echo Playa

While this was more of a holiday than a climbing trip for me it was very interesting, and very good for me, to take a step back and remember what it was like learning to climb for the first time. I really enjoyed passing on what knowledge and experience I have, and I hoped I managed to pass on a little bit of the magic that for me comes with climbing. It's a wonderful feeling to see someone else, particularly someone I've known for so long, as excited by my little climbing world as I am. Fingers crossed we can climb together again very soon. I think they're keen to climb again......

That's gotta hurt...

2008-09-23T14:00:00.004+01:00

Cruising around the blogosphere I came across the Crippled Climber's blog. Intrigued by the header I went to the very first post to establish why this guy had started his blog. Check out his first two or three posts here.

Without wishing to spoil the read for you, the basic premis seems to be that indoor bouldering is bad for your health. Don't look at the pictures if you are remotely squeamish. It makes any of my skin injuries look as pathetic as they really are. I haven't had a chance to read more recent posts properly, but it sounds as though he made a pretty good recovery. Phew!

Dave Redpath's flapper courtesy of the Anvil. A mere scratch.....(Pic. thanks to Hotaches)

On location....

2008-09-22T23:59:00.004+01:00

Being injured, Caroline wasn't climbing at the weekend. Instead she was learning to be Action Camera Woman, and learning to prussik up a rope in order to take action pictures. We were fortunate to have the quarry to ourselves at North Berwick so we set up a line further along the wall, so that Caroline could take pictures from a different vantage point.

I think she found it hard work, but she should also have some interesting pictures....particularly given the stupid faces I was pulling at her! All in the name of studying colour, contrast and composition, of course. Once the photographs are developed (yes, Caroline was shooting with real film!), we might see some of the results here in a few weeks.....

Law of Gravity

2008-09-22T23:30:00.001+01:00

The weather has blessed us recently, enough to have two good afternoons on my project at North Berwick. With so much else going on at the moment, it was nice to be able to have just an afternoon out climbing, rather than committing to a full day and spending it fretting about not getting other things done.

I say "my project" but in fact it's probably not project material for a lot of people, including Sam's hardcore Alien 2 crew, but being only 5'4", everything at North Berwick is project material for me. The mission? To grow/stretch/reach at least 3 inches more than my current maximum.

The facial expression here says everything. This is Darkness Falling (6a+) in the corner of the slab. It's only 6a+ and yet every time it feels like relearning my times tables: should get easier but is always an immense and painful struggle. Just reaching the first clip is a mental and physical battle. After that, there's one hard-ish move and then it's ok.

Jonni, looking cool as a cucumber in his new sunnies, gracefully reaching for the good hold on Darkness Falling 6a+.

Moving through the corner and onto the other wall, we concluded our usual warm-up sequence with Law and Disorder (6a+). I'm sure this is well known for it's dynamic start, but I have to dyno off the large block to the right; any minor error of judgement on this would see me hurling myself off the ledge entirely, landing 10 feet down in a pile of nettles which, incidentally, hide a very large rock. Jonni can reach the first hold just by standing on tiptoes.

Jonni on Law and Disorder, smirking about something...can't think what!

Having messed about on lots of fun stuff, I then realised that it was my turn to climb and I couldn't escape the reason I was here: Law of Gravity. The 7a start is too reachy and the nettles under it pose a greater risk than the alternative, so I usually opt for the 7a+ start. The last time I was on this was May, I think, when I managed to link all the moves on a top rope. Bong was dyno-ing for the two long moves low down, which completely freaked me out about leading it. My climbing isn't especially dynamic at the best of times, let alone when I might have to flail around somewhere in the heavens for a tiny wee ledge that is clearly beyond my reach! Anyway, this time I was cornered. Nobody was going to put the clips in for me.

The first two clips went fine, much to my surprise. Thereafter it became a bolt-to-bolt affair. Injured and therefore not climbing, Caroline was along for the ride and to practice her photography skills, so I have some interesting pictures!

This is the second of the two very long moves just above the second clip. Although, having said that, they're all pretty long moves for me. I think I missed the good hold on this occasion, getting the left hand end (which is slopey) rather than the right hand end of it (which is much more jug-like). The right hand end is about an inch higher....not much but when you're almost at full stretch anyway, it makes a difference. Never mind; you know what they say. If you're not falling...

Bolt-to-bolt was good until I got to the last one. That's when the scare factor really kicks in for me. I was talking to Martin at Alien 2 about it, and he said, "Nice move at the top where you get the two undercuts and just stand up." Just stand up??? The damned holds are above my arms at full stretch!! I have to stand on the big ledge with both feet, get the left hand slopey slippy sidepull, tuck my left toe into a tiny hole in the wall above that big ledge, push down hard with my right hand and tighten every muscle in my whole body to get my right foot up onto a tiny ledge so that I can let go with my right hand and reach the other side pull. After that, it's ok. But mustering the courage to tuck my toe into that tiny hole, praying hard that it will stick, is an icky moment.

Dislocating a left hip, crimping hard with the right hand and reaching left hand up for the little black triangle in the break above my right hand. It's a looong way, with nothing else for my right foot.

This is a first, and wrong, attempt at the icky moment move. The tiny hole for my left foot is somewhere behind my left knee in this picture.

So the following week, I got straight on it, bolt-to-bolt first to remember the moves swiftly followed by a first redpoint. All good, cracking through the long moves, psyched for leading the top move, and what happened? My foot SLIPPED out of the diagonal crack lower down. There are no words strong enough to express the frustration. I've made stupid mistakes on redpoints before, and many of them. At least they provide a legitimate reason for screwing it up. But I don't believe I've ever just slipped like that. My fingers can only just reach the bottom of the crack above, so there isn't much purchase there to be able to just hang on and pull harder.

Here is the slippy left foot: I'm at such a stretch it's really hard to see exactly where to put my foot....I guess I put it in the wrong place which is why it slipped. I need that extra wee step up to get a proper grasp on the right hand. Alas, this time it was not to be. Gravity was calling loud and clear.

The failed redpoint...

So, next time it should go. Dave suggested (tongue in cheek I think....!) that for short people like me it should get 7b not 7a+. I'm not sure about that, but I am left asking myself how the grade can be anything but altered by one's height. Clearly, someone with a longer reach than me is going to find this route easier. Does this just mean that I have to be stronger and technically more competent than my tall counterparts in order to climb the same routes? ;-)

The Leeds Wall

2008-09-20T12:27:00.005+01:00

Finding your way around a strange city by bus is always a daunting experience, but on this occasion I found the bus driver unusually pleasant and helpful. It's amazing how many things bus stops don't tell you - like fares, route direction (on a map - place names are no use if you don't include all the intermediate stop names), whether the bus gives change or not (in Edinburgh they don't), whether you can buy a return ticket etc etc. I set out for the Leeds Wall not really knowing where I was going, but the 20ft sign on the building helped quite a bit.

Disappointing. It's the only word for it. The higher leading walls look fantastic. Hundreds of routes, steep and slabby, and all of a decent length. In complete contrast, I found the bouldering totally uninspiring. Most of it is steep, and if you're not into steep, or not strong enough for steep, you might as well just walk away. On the vertical sections I reckon 3 extra problems for each one there would easily have fitted into the space available. It sure wasn't easy to invent your own problems with so few holds on the wall. To compound this problem, the walls were just painted - with gloss paint it seemed - and smearing was just not an option.

The most disconcerting thing, though, was the chalked up, rubber-coated, dirty holds. It was sometimes impossible to tell what colour each was, and at most was a challenge to distinguish blue from purple from green. The problems looked as though they had been set in the Dark Ages and not moved since. They were slimy and greasy, no matter how much I scrubbed at them with my trusty little brush.

I got chatting to someone who looked like he might be "local", who told me that he tried hard not to train here; he had a board at home and would even go to Sheffield rather than come here. He also told me that the feet on most of the problems don't change; all the small green screw-ons are permanent fixtures, and any new problems just have to use those feet, no matter whether they are in the right or wrong place. It took me a while to identify the green ones....they all looked mucky black-grey, not green!

Having paid my £3 registration fee (for which I was given a nice new chalk ball - bonus!) and £7.50 for a session, I thought I would just rag my skin on stuff that was way too hard for me. I quit because my skin was sore, not because I'd managed to achieve anything. I made good use of the excellent shop there, though. - lots of ladies kit and a decent range of shoes. Having been told that Sharma's new Pontas shoes were only available from sizes 6-11 I was delighted to find them in my size there. They weren't right for me, but I wouldn't have known that without trying them on. Unfortunately, they didn't have the Heras, which I think are the replacements for my beloved Athenas.

I haven't been to the Climbing Works in Sheffield yet, but in the meantime, long live Alien Rock :-)

Hepburn in the County

2008-09-10T22:59:00.001+01:00

Despite being a very Keen Bean, Sarah is good at civilised starts (unlike Caroline!). We eventually left Edinburgh around 11am the Saturday before last and tootled down the A1, three of us and three mats in a Metro. The car alone reminded me of school days and putting £2.50 worth of petrol in the car because that's all you could afford! Fantastic!

Hepburn, for those who haven't been, is right on the top of a hill. There is plenty of Forestry Commission parking, and a well worn path up to the boulders. They're pretty high (and therefore pretty scary) with some very not-so-great landings, but the quality of the rock is very good. It needs some more traffic though; many of the problems were a bit dirty. We had copies of both the new and the old Northumberland Bouldering Guides and having the new one made all the difference. The old guide was laughable in comparison, but I guess these things serve a purpose at the time.

Having only just started to recover from some lurgey I picked up on the bus I had low expectations of the day, hoping that just some fresh air and natural light would make me feel better. It did, but then I managed a couple of problems too which was a big bonus! The grading seemed pretty stiff to me, and Rob and Sarah agreed. Having said that, Rob had forgotten one of his shoes, and still, in one shoe, managed to make very light work of things I found very hard!

Rob in one shoe....

Rather than picking particular problems, I took to following Sarah around, on the basis that I couldn't be bothered to read the guidebook, and Sarah is usually pretty good at picking interesting things to try. I can also be fairly certain that whatever she chooses will keep me busy for a while, even if it takes her 5 seconds!

This problem was graded 6a, but it was pretty tough at that; Rob did it in one shoe! I don't know whether it just took me a while to warm up, but for ages I couldn't even do the first move. Probably bored with my flailing around, Rob and Sarah went back to a highball 7a on the Orthopaedic Boulder, and left me to my own devices. After a bit more flailing I managed to get off the ground, reach across with my right hand to hang awkwardly on the sloper while I worked my feet up enough to reach the little ear-like scoop with my right and swing for the jug with my left. After that it's all over (almost!) but the jug looks a very long way away from where I was hanging off a sloper and a crimpy sidepull!

Another 6a arete with a mean start...

We took a wander along the edge of the wood to the Roof boulder, which was pretty impressive. Even Sarah didn't have a pop at it! We also found some other very gnarly looking problems on the two boulders next to this one; some very crimpy starts with nothing-ness sidepulls higher up; some very blank looking vertical walls; some postage stamp landings - small and with crinkly edges. I couldn't get off the ground on the harder ones (6b, 6c maybe?) so I spent a while trying a 6a arete. You know how you can have days where things just don't make sense until someone spoon feeds you the answer? Well, I was having one of those days. I could not, for love nor money, work out how to get off the ground on this one, until Sarah showed me. The solution was some weird inverted upside down twisted hand positions, manageable for just long enough to slap for the jug.......in Sarah's long-limbed, Inspector-Gadget-arms world. I had to bounce my left hand via a non-pocket to be able to reach the jug. Welcome to my short-limbed, Little Miss Short Arms world!

Sarah on a stretchy highball 7a - if she couldn't reach, there wasn't much point in me trying!

We then followed Sarah's nose through dense pine woodland (think Wild Wood and sharp sticks - interesting with a bouldering mat strapped to your back) for what seemed like hours until we found a very Font-esque boulder with a mossy 7a slab on it. Sarah was the only one with enough energy and enough shoes(!) to have a shot. She made good progress, but it needed a bit of a clean and probably needed to be cooler and drier for her to succeed.

We were being eaten not just by midges but by bigger things which looked suspiciously like mosquitos, so we tootled home. I didn't think they had managed to creep this far north, but maybe they have. Nasty things. I have a bite which is still itchy 2 weeks later. As the weather cools a little and the bugs go back into hibernation, Hepburn is definitely somewhere to go back to.....with a stiff brush and lots of mats and lots more spotters!

Neilston: E2 or not E2?

2008-09-10T14:30:00.000+01:00

Caroline and I headed for Neilston a couple of weeks ago. We'd seen the chat on Scottish climbs, and the new topo seemed to spur us on. Arguably it was a bit further from Edinburgh than we had anticipated, and much smaller than I had come to believe (having not looked at the topo myself - totally unprepared, me!). We followed numerous diversion signs, wondering exactly how far out into the wilds this wee place was, but eventually spotted the quarry with it's scary iron sentry. It's a delightul wee place.

Not quite the Eiffel Tower....

We've done a ton of sport and bouldering, and we both enjoy indoor climbing too, but trad is still a strange and mysterious world to us. So we started on HVS, neither of us ever having led HVS before. Why not? It looked ok. In fact it was very nice and pretty straightforward, much more so than I thought it would be. The climbing itself was fairly easy as far as we were concerned. We did both Punk Rock and Curved Crack at HVS 5a, placing as much gear as was humanly possible, just for the practice. Then we did Willie's Route, which is marked in the book as Severe, with an E2 6a variation. After much debate (see below) we followed this with a VS route to the right, unsure whether it was the VS 4c or the VS 4a....

Having admitted that we are not trad bunnies, we are slightly confused by Willie's Route and it's variation. Some friendly chaps there before us, who seemed to know the crag pretty well, said that the Severe went up the crack and then to the right of the grassy scoop. There's a good bit of gear in the back of the scoop, and the right hand option looked pretty easy and with lots of gear.

Always up for a challenge (!) we opted to go straight up the back of the scoop, and straight up the slab above. This fits the Lowland Outcrops description of the E2 6a variation as well as we thought it could, given the brevity of the description, but seemed pretty easy for E2! We thought E2 was meant to be Hard and Scary! We wondered whether the variation might have avoided the broken crack from the ground to the scoop and gone up the slab to the left of it, but that sounded more like the E3 between Willie's Route and Curved Crack - a proper scary-sounding route! Diff also rightly pointed out that in order to be a variation, the E2 option needs to share some parts in common with the original Severe option. Usually a "variation" shares the start, otherwise it's known as a "direct start", which would presumably share an upper part of the route.

Willie's Route (S) marked in red. The line we took (the E2 variation??) in yellow. Punk Rock (HVS 5a) in blue and Curved Crack (HVS 5a) in green.

There is no gear that we could find on the slab above the back of the scoop (along the yellow line above), even for side runners as suggested by Lowland Outcrops. Getting out of the scoop and onto the slab above wasn't a particularly hard move, either. The slab at the top was quite airy, I suppose, but nothing like balancing on the fairy sized ledges of any slab in Font!

So what is E2 6a supposed to feel like? Did we get the right route and it genuinely isn't as hard and scary as we had thought it would be? Or were we completely off route? We'd love to know, if only as guidance for what else we might try. Clearly routes of the same grade can vary enormously, but if this really was E2 we might try some other routes which previously we had written off. I hear warning voices in my head already not to get too cocky - pride comes before a fall, and all that - but maybe I should try things like Grasp the Nettle, Dead Ringer and Elgin's Crack. Caution has previously limited me to anything VS or below, which now seems a bit daft, especially given that on bolts I'm at least up for trying anything up to 7b (on a strong day!). Maybe I should be a bit more adventurous. It would certainly open up a whole new world of possibilities!

Chocolate coated star biscuits only from Gregg's in Barrhead. Yummy!

Out and About

2008-09-10T00:58:00.001+01:00

It seems like forever and a day since I wrote the last blog post. So much has happened in the last year that I think I will still be reeling from the motion for another wee while. I thought I had found something that I wanted to do more than anything else, and that nothing would ever stop me choosing anything else over climbing (given the choice, of course) but I have been proved wrong. Life just takes over sometimes. There are lots of things to do in life. Making the decision what to do first is a dark art, that I am not convinced I will ever master.

So, despite the fact that I have a storage problem at home, stuff everywhere, a house to organise and a pile of filing, I went out climbing. Although my regular trips to the wall have dwindled significantly over the last 6 months, I've still managed to get outside whenever the decent weather (what decent weather??) has coincided with a weekend. This hasn't always meant climbing, but then better to be outside than in, no matter what you're doing.

Three of us trotted up Ben Venue in June, hoping to escape the late afternoon rain. As it was we got drenched, but it was fun anyway. The summer greens and the smell of wet bracken on the walk up was beautiful, and a huge relief from a stuffy office. We found a cute wee frog hiding in the grass too, and nearly got blown off the top.

Greenery and water - themes for Ben Venue

Rescuing the frog from thundering boots

Soon after that, I had a glorious walk up Beinn Iuthan Mhor with Andy. We walked from Dalmunzie House Hotel, up the glen running parallel to Glenshee. In fabulous hot sunshine and a warm breeze it didn't feel like the full 12 or 13 miles. It felt like real summer at last and it was nice to be able to enjoy it.

The view northwards, through the Lairig Ghru, from the top

Early in July we spent a day in Glen Clova. Another glorious day, with tops off, sunburnt shoulders and enough warm breeze to keep the midges quaking in fear underground. We were bouldering this time, with John Watson's new guide to Bouldering in Scotland. It's a beautiful book. At first I thought it might be disappointing because there appeared to be so much rock to climb, but so little of it was documented in the book. But I changed my mind about that, instead finding it pretty inspiring to look at, run around like a nutter and invent my own things to climb. We found a few things first, and then realised they were written up in the book.

Caroline on a nice little vertical crimp-fest

In fact we spent pretty much all day on the Peel Boulder. With Andrea's technique, my slightly foolhardy bravery and Caroline's strength we managed between us to work out the sequence on the Peel Sessions. Given that it was a joint effort I don't think we can claim the Font 6c+ tick! I managed to complete it from standing, but couldn't touch the sit start for love nor money. Andrea cruised the sit start but (probably sensibly) withdrew gracefully from the mad scary top out moves. Caroline too opted to come down rather than go up, as is her wont (ask her about retreating from the highball problem at Bas Cuvier). Instead she proved that her daily trips to the wall are worth it by cruising a tough move to pull from the ground, over the lip of a small roof and onto the slab above.

Diff had some work to do further north so we headed to Inverness for the weekend. The weather looked very flaky for the Saturday so I stayed home with friends, hung out in the garden, played with train sets and watched Cbeebies. It turned out to be sunny where I was and rainy where Diff was. Ah well. On the Sunday we headed south via Huntley's Cave.

Thinking it would probably be running with water our expectations were low. It's a lovely spot, although not ideal for Scottish summer climbing, being down in a gully, by the river and surrounded by trees. Prime midge country, and probably not a quick-dry location, but very pretty. We had Diff's original Highland Outcrops guide which resulted in some interesting route-finding. We also had minimal gear and only one cam! We started on the classic Cave Route, and then moved on the Diagonal (accidentally finishing up the last 3 moves of Cave Route). By the time I was half way up Slot Direct, it was raining. I didn't realise this until I looked down to see Diff with the rope tarpaulin over his head; I was bone dry under the roof of the slot. Good job I did look down, because the top holds were pretty wet and a bit slippy by the time I got to them. Despite not doing much, we discovered it was a good place to go back to. The chippy in Grantown was very nice too!

Somehow in amongst all this I have managed to unpack most of the boxes from our move. What I haven't managed to do is put the contents of the boxes anywhere other than the floor....

Photo Opportunity

2008-07-14T21:38:00.003+01:00

The only reason for this post is to share this photograph, taken at the top of Ben Venue the weekend before last. A classic "we're not ready yet!" photograph.

We escaped the torrential rain for most of the day, but it caught up with us on the way down. We were relieved we hadn't opted for a day's climbing. All the gear would have got wet, and we'd have had a frustrating day not getting anything done.

Apologies for the sock display. I was saving the hems of my Best Climbing Trousers from the bog.....

Freedom of speech

2008-06-21T10:19:00.006+01:00

Over the past few months I have come across a number of views about blogs, some positive, some negative. It seems appropriate to write my own views on blogs on my own blog.

Wikipedia's entry on "blog" says that the word blog has become a very loose term, meaning any bit of media wherein the subject expresses his/her opinion or simply talks about something.

When I started this blog, it was purely an experiment; I wanted to know what blogs were all about. Blogs and other Web 2.0 technologies feature significantly in my work environment, so this was done partly on a "need to know" basis. It is happy coincidence, as far as I am concerned, that others read it, and that I can use it to keep in touch with friends in far-flung places. Without it, I wouldn't have the time to do everything I do and still keep in touch. Some enjoy it, and I'm sure some don't, but that isn't my problem.

Fungus: will grow anywhere dark and damp

There have been a number of threads on UK Climbing recently, which have debated the approach of the climbing media in reporting events which might (or might not) be deemed significant or of particular interest to the climbing community. In some cases the reporters have been been criticised for giving less prominent coverage to events which might be regarded as more significant, and vice versa. Freedom of the press inevitably provides scope for media manipulation of public opinion. We live in a world where the global media makes stars in order to destroy them - creating "news" in order to generate more news in the future. On the other side of that, it's also a world where state controlled news agencies exist, and ensure that the great unwashed are told only what they need to know, thereby ensuring a particular reaction, a particular election result etc. It's an endless and vicious cycle.

The rise of the civic journalism movement has begun to challenge the problems associated with the "traditional" media and journalism. We can all be participants in the media machine rather than spectators, passive readers of whatever is piped at us through established channels. Audience participation has been brought to a new level. We are no longer just the audience.

Simple things like blogs offer us all the opportunity to report to the rest of the world what we think is important and to comment on, well, whatever we wish to comment on. Maybe it is only important to the reporter, but maybe there are others out there who find it important or interesting too. There are well-known therapeutic benefits to writing, whether it be about personal experiences or simply expressing a view and feeling that one's voice is heard. It's there for all to read, and if the reader doesn't find it interesting, so what? It's no different in the "traditional" media (BBC, CNN, The Daily Record...). Rather than simply complaining that the media isn't reporting the right stuff, we are now able to report the right stuff ourselves. The technology and the mechanisms exist for all of us to publish what we believe is important.

However, it seems that in making use of these opportunities, personal bloggers have come under fire. I have seen some blogs described variously as "self-promotory", "cringeworthy" and "egotistical". While I don't wish to comment on any particular author or post, I would defend to the hilt the blogger's right to write in their own style and to say whatever it is they wish to say. They may be offering views on others' activites, or documenting their own; they may be raising awareness of particular campaigns or issues, anything from global disease epidemics to the removal of a local playground or development of greenbelt land. It doesn't matter. From the blogger's point of view, there is one simple but blunt way to express it: it's my blog, and I'll write what I like on it.

The Chardonnet: crystal clear in dawn light

Speaking for my own blog, if you don't find it interesting, don't read it. It isn't offensive, it isn't defamatory, and it's purpose is purely for my own enjoyment. If you also enjoy it, I'm glad. Happy reading.

Thou Shalt Not Climb - Part II

2008-06-11T21:38:00.007+01:00

There are lots of Other Things happening at the moment, so climbing has (regretfully) taken a lower priority recently. Having promised myself I would have one day of the weekend climbing, and in keeping with this year's theme of exploring new places, we headed for Arbroath and the sea cliffs there. Cunningly, we had checked the forecast this time, and it looked good for Saturday almost everywhere. We thought we couldn't go wrong this time, especially after last week's fiasco.

Wrong! (think funny duck noise from terrible TV game shows) Imagine our disbelief and exasperation as the sunshine faded and we drove into the haar in Arbroath. Every immortal power which might conceivably control the weather, is conspiring against us to deny us sunshine, never mind climbing as well. What did we do? Did we inadvertently tread on a spider? Is it St Swithin's Miserable Cousin's Day? On the positive side, it wasn't cold, not really, although there were definite waves of cold and warmth, which I suppose is a "feature" of the haar. We had ice cream anyway, and headed off along the cliff path.

Bong and Caroline sorting gear in the car park

So to cut to the chase, after a little bit of a muddle, we identified The Platform, and prepared to ab in. Caroline doesn't like abbing in; she is freaked by the possibility that she won't be able to get out again. We had two ropes with us and since there appeared to be nobody else around (everyone else was somewhere else in the sunshine) we agreed to leave the abseil rope up.

Having reached the platform, we promptly slipped about on the green stuff and found ourselves being dive-bombed by a herring gull, which clearly wasn't happy at our presence. Maybe this is why nobody else was here....

I've never seen limpet circles like this before!

Shoes on, chalked up, tied on, Bong set off up the warm-up route, a 5+. Within seconds the blue language started. Somewhere in the tirade we identified the words "ball bearings", "sandpit" and "nasty". Not encouraging. All three of us trotted up the route, and agreed that we didn't really want to climb any more Arbroath sea cliffs.

The Platform - looks pretty cool from a distance. But close up....

Verdict? An awesome setting, with interesting (looking) routes but Nasty rock. Really nasty! It was horrible: sandy, crumbly, nasty, nasty stuff. Uninviting and uninspiring. I'm sure that there are others who love this kind of thing, but it ain't for me. Or Bong. Or Caroline. How can this be fun?? Despite the fact that this is sport climbing, it was more scary than the scariest trad I've ever done. Granted, the friction is pretty good if you find a less crumbly spot to hold on to. Maybe we just tried the wrong route, maybe we should have persevered and climbed something harder, which might have been less sandy. But Bong ventured into Seagull Territory and made a closer inspection of some of the routes to the left of the picture above, and concluded that the others weren't any better. Then I read the guidebook - it mentioned something about this definitely being adventure sport climbing, and climbers needing to have enough experience to assess the integrity of bolts. Now, while I think I have enough experience to make such an assessment, I wasn't especially comfortable with climbing nasty rock, on bolts that might be unreliable, with no means of backing them up (we didn't lug the trad gear down the cliff with us). We hatched an escape plan.

Bong's grumpy face as he tops out

Having left the ab rope up, I prussicked up it (apparently being the most keen, or maybe just the most stupid, of the three of us). HotAches would be proud of my rope-climbing skills with my improvised rig. I now have some appreciation of how much hard work it is to jumar the height of Dumbarton Rock, never mind carrying the weight of camera gear too. It seemed only fair for me to take the risk, since it was me who had set up the abseil point at the top! Having topped out, I belayed the others up, and hauled my sack up too. Bong's face as he topped out said it all really. But we had a fun time fiddling about with ropes, working on the logistics and all that kind of faff. That's what climbing is about, no? Faff? Sometimes, I think...

Sandy shoes

Bumbleybee enjoying some clifftop saxifrage juice

Having had our wee adventure in finding the place, abbing in, deciding it was rubbish and climbing out again, we had completely lost our psyche to climb. My finger was sore and the sun still wasn't out. So we bought some Arbroath Smokies and headed for the beach at Elie in sunny Fife.

Arbroath Smokies

The smokies were pretty good actually. If you eat fish and you've never had them, you should try them. The smoky taste is (er...obviously!) very pronounced. It might have been better with toast or crackers, but just fish, on a beach, in the sunshine was pretty cool. They also came wrapped in newspaper; nice to see things the way they should be. We had a squiz at Dundee house prices at the same time. Very interesting.

From Elie towards St Monans. Sunshine at last!

It was a lovely day in the end, but still no climbing. Nor is there prospect of any climbing at least until next weekend :-(

Today's Quotation

2008-06-06T22:53:00.000+01:00

This (apparently) appeared in The Independent sometime earlier this week. After today, I am starting to think it might be true.

"The trouble with the world is that the stupid are always cocksure and the intelligent are always filled with doubt."

Bertrand Russell, from The Triumph of Stupidity, 1933.

Thou Shalt Not Climb Today...

2008-06-02T23:00:00.001+01:00

...or "130 miles to Alien Rock" might be a better title for this post.

In our great wisdom, based on past experience, we chose to disregard (by not reading) any published weather forecast this weekend. On so many occasions have we trekked o'er vale and hill for some climbing, only to be thwarted by the weather. How often have we said in great disgust, "but the weather forecast said..."? How many times has the forecast not come true?

Saturday, as we all know, was a beautiful day. Cloudless, warm, nay even hot! I had promised myself that on Saturday I would make a start on the stack of domestic chores that is rapidly accruing, with the promise of some climbing fun on Sunday. I deliberately chose not to read a forecast, thinking that if Saturday was this nice, Sunday couldn't be horrific. How wrong was I?

Having packed 7 boxes of books at home, and spent some more time moving furniture and tidying, I was restrained at Saturday nights' festivities. I had a good sleep, packed my sack quickly and was ready to go. Caroline picked me up and we headed south, determined to do some trad. somewhere in Northumberland. It looked a little grey, but we commented that yesterday's heat would have made the rock sweaty and slippy. Bad conditions, and all that. Any self respecting climber knows you can't climb when it's too hot, right?

Little Spots
Just past Torness some little spots appeared on the windscreen. There was quiet. Caroline looked at the road. I looked at Caroline. We agreed it would pass, and carried on.

The further south we got, the heavier the rain got. We couldn't see the sea, let alone the tops of the hills.

"This is ridiculous, we might as well turn back, now. Nothing down here is going to be dry." This by the time we got to Grantshouse. So we turned back. The rain got heavier. We thought of Andrea who had gone out west for some sport, of Iain at Kilnsey, of Sarah on her way to sunnier climes, of Diff and the boys at Dumbarton....all (probably) basking in sunshine. And where we we? On the A1 in the rain. Hmph. We also remembered Andrea saying that Sunday would be nice out west. She had read the forecast.

Long discussions ensued as to whether we should drive for another 90 mins to Dumbarton, 2 hours to Loch Lomond, 60 minutes to Limekilns (I don't like Limekilns, says Caroline) ....we resisted calculating how long it might take to reach Kilnsey or the south of France. We concluded that going to Alien Rock would probably result in a slating ("why aren't you outside??") and that we'd already spent enough money on fuel. The only sensible option left was a trip to Ratho. At least nobody there would recognise us and give us a hard time for being indoors at the weekend. All the routes and the bouldering would be new to us, and we could have a Sunday treat of some "window" shopping in Tiso's. Yesss.... (we are girls after all, and we do like shopping, even though we vehemently deny it at every possible opportunity. Note, Window shopping. We had spent all our money on petrol.).

No power
So we trekked to Ratho, round the bypass, in the rain, thinking that at least we would get some stamina training in, if not any decent trad. The car park was surprisingly empty. Our previous concerns that rain=mobbed wall evaporated (unlike the rain) and we cruised as close to the entrance as possible.....only to be stopped by a damp, forlorn and very apologetic member of Ratho staff, who told us that the building was closed. Thieves had been digging into the floor overnight in order to steal the power cables. Since there was no power in the building health and safety regulations dictated closure. You must be kidding.....

Once, twice...three times unlucky?
We laughed, oh how we laughed. We had to explain why to the nice Ratho lady, that we had driven (by this time) 120 miles to Northumberland and back, and had still done no climbing. Sheepishly, we retreated to Alien Rock, expecting it too to be mobbed (rain+Sunday+Ratho closed surely must=busy), but it wasn't. As it was we had a pretty solid afternoon's training. We did feel marginally stupid turning up with 50 litre rucksacks, a full rack and 3 ropes, but the hundreds of 7-year olds there probably thought that was normal for hardcore climbing chicks like us.

We were mildly consoled by J's comment that Alien Rock wasn't busy because most people didn't have our dedication to their sport; they'd gone out, got wet, sacked it off and gone home.

We, on the other hand, drove 130 miles to end up at Alien Rock.

Fingers

2008-05-27T23:46:00.002+01:00

I can't post something about cake with a flippant comment at the end about my sore finger, and not expand upon the last.

I have a sore finger. In fact it would be better described an achey knuckle. It's the middle joint on my middle finger. It isn't swollen; it doesn't hurt when I press it or poke it or knead it; it just aches and feels a bit stiff.

I've been in denial about it for a couple of weeks now, but it is definitely not right. But I don't know what's wrong with it, apart from the fact it hurts. I'm pretty sure it's not a pulley injury, which is a bonus. Any ideas? I've not climbed for 5 days now (not that I did very much at Dumby on Thursday) and it is starting to feel a little better today. In my usual hypochondriacal way, and with my ever overactive imagination, I have had nightmares about warped and twisted arthritic fingers within the next 6 weeks, visions of never climbing again, panic attacks about having to cut up all my food with scissors, and the sad realisation that my climbing achievements may only ever amount to a 7b sports route and a supersoft-graded Font 7a boulder problem. Four years of climbing isn't enough. I want more! As you can imagine, I am distraught at all these prospects, hence the long period of denial that my finger even hurts at all. I am hoping that some time off will be good for it, and have vowed to take my yoga a bit more seriously just in case I need a longer-term distraction to kick in quickly.

While I'm on the subject of yoga, I did spend the weekend practising that difficult jump-through, from downward dog to a seated position. It's hard to describe, as well as hard to do, but for those of you who have done any ashtanga yoga I think you'll know what I mean. Finally today, in class, I managed it. Karen gasped and said "where did that come from?!" I was so pleased with my little self! It wasn't perfect, but it was a good start. Practice does make perfect after all. It was one moment where I felt as though I had made some progress in 18 months of yoga. Climbing has given me enough strength and flexibility to be able to achieve many of the postures fairly quickly, and as a result, I haven't felt a significant change in what has been possible for me. The sense of well-being and energy which results from practice is what keeps me coming back for more, not the sense of achievement. Today changed that a little, which is nice, although I can't imagine that it will alter my approach drastically.

I'm missing the climbing, but I had Other Things to do this weekend, like watching Eurovision(!) and lounging in sunny Invernesian gardens. Blissful, actually....except Eurovision, which was alternately hilarious and excruciatingly painful.

And tomorrow, we eat cake.....maybe that will mend my finger.

Tip of the Day

2008-05-27T21:54:00.002+01:00

If you accidentally drop some eggshell into the raw egg when cracking it into a bowl, the best way to get it out it using the edge of the broken shell. Did you know that? Well I never...

Tonight is chocolate mousse cake night. Nigella's recipe is, as usual, fit for goddesses (and gods, I suppose) and naturally gluten free (as long as you're careful to buy the right chocolate). Especially nice for those who can't usually have "normal" chocolate cake....except that this is normal chocolate cake.

Unfortunately, I don't have a big enough round tin with a removable base, so this time I've put it in the rectangular brownie tin. It just about fits, but while writing this I've realised I'm now going to have trouble getting wobbly, bendy moist, moussy cake out of a solid tin. I have visions of it looking more like chocolate crumble cake than chocolate mousse cake. I'm sure it will still taste good. Presentation never was my strong point!

It has yet to come out of the tin....

Not sure how this is going to improve my climbing, but at least it's given my finger a good rest and my biceps a workout with beating eggs and sugar....not so easy after a power yoga class!

May Madness

2008-05-22T23:44:00.010+01:00

May has been a bit mad, although I seem to have been busy and out climbing with amazing frequncy given everything else going on. This recent spell of good weather has inspired me to get on with some things, although I seem to be collecting projects and not ticks at the moment!

Early in May we had a Solomon Grundy weekend: Sport on Friday, Trad on Saturday, Bouldering on Sunday (...work on Monday, unfortunately). Chasbo picked me up from work at a cheeky 4.45pm on Friday and we headed to North Berwick to meet Bong. Having the long, light evenings makes such a difference to morale...

Bong mid-dyno on Law of Gravity 7a

It was a bit nippy in the wind, and a bit humid, but we had a couple of good burns each on Law of Gravity, Bong doing the 7a and me (idiotically!) trying the 7a+ start, amongst the nettles and the broken glass. I was still top-roping, and still couldn't link all the moves, but it felt better second time, once I'd remembered how to climb on quarried basalt. We warmed up on the 6a+ in the far corner, which, like all the routes at North Berwick Law, is stupidly reachy for those of my slightly diminutive stature. Trying to find a way to reach through all the moves on Law of Gravity has taken a bit of time. I'm not a dynamic climber at the best of times, therefore I am never going to be persuaded that jumping for anything less than a huge jug, particularly on the lead, is a) possible and b) a good idea. I've now managed to do all the moves semi-static, which means I now have to try to lead it. One more project to add to the list.

On the Saturday we steeled our nerves for some trad. Face it, we have inadvertently turned into bouldering sport climbers. This wasn't really the plan; it just happened. One of those mornings when you wake up and realise that you're over 30 and you've got grey hairs and wrinkles.... ah, sorry, that's another story. Since both of us haven't done any trad for quite a long time, and have never done very much anyway, we opted for a 3 pitch moderate in Glen Clova. Ha, how hard can it be. We laced it with gear (in the name of "practice") and had a jolly nice time, thank you very much. Moderate? Not so sure. It actually turned into an epic route finding mission, since the people whoe write guidebooks don't believe in giving beginners any help with the easy lines. In fact I think we ended up tracing a random line which probably warranted V Diff at least. I landed the top pitch, which was exciting to say the least, with a fair bit of yo-yo-ing going on. Finding a belay at the top was also...challenging.

Threatening weather in Glen Clova

Having taken hours and hours and hours on our little adventure, we walked off just in time to run away from the lightening which suddenly came crashing down, hitting the top of the crag as we walked away from it. I wasn't sure whether it was the trad or the weather which scared me more!

One last comment about Glen Clova: I have never seen so many pheasants in one day. It could almost have been a pheasant dating convention!

On Sunday we went bouldering at Dumbarton. This was our first trip ever and one might say that it was a bit of a smack in the face. We knew that Dumbarton has a reputation for defeating some very cool people. As far as I can see, it deserves it's reputation! Admittedly, it was a warm sunny day, and the friction wasn't up to much. I have often been sceptical about the whole "conditions" issue, but it has an undeniable effect when climbing on basalt.

Cory on Requiem

While the rope was up there, we had a shot at Persistence of Vision. Another project..... Definitely harder than 7a in my opinion, but maybe I'm just not as strong as I was. Or maybe hanging out with strong Canadians just kicked me into touch! I probably deserved it. Persistence of Vision seems like something to come back to in cooler, less sweaty conditions.

Caroline at Dumby on a warm up something

Later in May we had a day on the Cobbler. It was too damp for climbing, but good for a walk. Caroline got home with her downies.....or some such nonsense - she's way too in with the kids for me to know what she's on about ;-)

Caroline and Lynwen at the top of the Cobbler - some awesome looking routes up there

Caroline trying to work out her downies homies finger thing

Another day at North Berwick saw me link Law of Gravity on a toprope. Given that it's a pretty stretchy route, I think it might be quite scary to lead. But I have to try at least. The chances of me falling are pretty much 100% and I hate falling. Ho hum.

The Force of Font

2008-05-10T12:45:00.000+01:00

Having sat on this for a while, I've just got around to posting this cheeky little home movie that Diff put together from the snippets of action we took in Font last month. Our objective was to do this ourselves, but having seen the results, it's clearly best to leave this stuff to the professionals!

When it was cold at Cuisinere, we opted for the X-wing flying silliness, which is what all the zipping between boulders is all about (no, we didn't expect you to guess).

Thanks to Chris Hall - AKA DJ b-burg - for allowing us to adulterate his fine work with noises from Star Wars. You can find unadulterated versions of his work on his websites:
http://www.myspace.com/beeburg
http://www.adventuresound.com/

Rock to dust

2008-05-09T23:43:00.000+01:00

We made a bad call on the weather the weekend before last, and ended up indoors on Saturday, but managed to make it to Rockdust in Perthshire on Sunday. What a glorious day. Weem was tempting after the previous weekend, but with various parties exhausted or unavailable, we opted for the sunshine of Rockdust instead.

I am sure I know people who would have thought it was too warm to climb that Sunday. Maybe it was, but not too warm to climb fun stuff. We basked in the heat of this south facing crag, hoping that this would be an indication of the summer to come, but expecting to have to absorb a full summer's worth of sunshine in one April day!

Our lovely afternoon was interrupted only by a jug of a hold coming away from the face en route, resulting in a short but mildly shocking fall for climber and belayer alike. Falling off a 6a was not part of the game plan. The said jug is now safely ensconced indoors as a trophy of a good day out and a brave moment in continuing up the route. On closer inspection it seemed that there were a number of dubious looking holds on the right hand side of the upper crag. In particular, the routes immediately to the left of the 7a on the right hand side appeared to offer the best potential for some unwarranted air miles.

The offending unattached piece of rock

So, if you're heading to Rockdust this summer, be warned. There are some very "new" looking patches on the wall....much bigger than the one we made.

Weem Team

2008-04-28T23:41:00.000+01:00

At last, the promise of a sunny day, and on a weekend! Bong, Sarah and I headed to Weem for some spring sport climbing. The last time I was at Weem various routes were sopping wet and everything was very green and overgrown. This is what I blame for my dragging the others up steep paths and the long way round to the bottom of the crag. Oops. Sorry guys.

Anyway, we found it, and the sun was lovely and warm on it. We legged it up a 6a called ....er, I can't remember, but it was certainly easier than the last time I did it. I was intrigued to know whether 4 months of full time climbing had improved my strength or technique at all, so we made some attempts at the Lama Parlour, a 6c that we had attempted on a top rope last summer. I think on balance it was more attainable this time than last, although I won't pretend that it was still pretty hard! I've no excuses for not doing this, other than I was a big chicken. I've spent too long bouldering, and just bottled out of taking the falls. It was good to have a shot at it and remind myself where the holds were, what they were like and what the sequence should be. I'm not entirely convinced I'll remember them for next time, but I'll try :-)

Sarah top roping the Lama Parlour 6c

As if 6c wasn't hard enough, Sarah persuaded us to try The End of Silence, 7b. Ahem, yes, 7b. It was hard. I'm sure the last 7b I did wasn't as hard as that, but then I'm also sure that memory fades things into being easier than they actually were. Sarah went up it bolt-to-bolt and Bong and I made some valiant but unsuccessful attempts at toproping it cleanly.

One genuine problem we encountered was the cold. It might have been a sunny day, but the air temperature was probably only around 9 degrees. So once the sun had moved round and was no longer on the crag, it was pretty chilly. Therefore, belaying or waiting meant a fairly significant chill-down, even with duvet jackets and hats. It's amazing how much harder any climbing feels when you're cold. However, it's still only April, and the leaves are not yet on the trees, so the sunshine is somewhat deceptive. Apparently the air temperature was down to 6 degrees by the time we left.

Sarah invented some fantastic moves: toe-hooks, heel hooks, foot swapping, crimping, thumb spragging (bet you didn't know that one, huh?!).... idiot that I am, I forgot to take my camera, so I'm sorry these pictures aren't very clear.

It was 10pm before we got home, but while Sarah was studying in the back seat, Bong was driving, I was mentally working through the moves in a desperate bid to remember them. It's a nice little project for the summer I think. A bit more effort and a bit of bravery in taking some falls, and it might go.....

Font Revisited

2008-04-20T21:10:00.003+01:00

It has taken us 6 months to return to where we started out Great Expedition last September: Fontainbleau. So much has happened in between, it was a strange feeling being back there, this time with Caroline's car rather than mine, and staying indoors rather than in a tent. So many things were different and yet so many things seemed the same. We only spent three and a half weeks here last September, but everything seemed very familiar, as though we'd been there much longer and had never really gone away.

In spite of the frustrations we had of our last trip to Fontainbleau, we realised that we both have some very happy and very funny memories of our novice attempts at various problems here. Font is an unusual place in terms of climbing style and technique. It took us the full duration of our previous stay to get to grips with it, and I think it wasn't until our last few days here in mid-October that things finally started to click. This time, however, having spent a day getting used to both new shoes and old rock, things came together much more quickly. I managed to finish a few things that defeated me last time and try some new harder things with a degree of success I hadn't anticipated. But then the weather started to interfere....

Finishing the blue no. 9 - supposed 3c - at Apremont. It might be 5c instead...certainly the colder conditions this time helped in holding the top sloper.

While Rob, Sarah, Iain and Caroline had spent a week in the forest with some fairly reasonable weather, I had been talking my way through 4 days' training in Liverpool. Exhausting. With a 12-hour turnaround in returning home from Liverpool and heading off to France, I was almost (but only almost) glad of a rainy excuse not to climb on the Sunday. I was shattered, and probably couldn't have climbed anything anyway. So we wandered around the forest in Apremont and returned to some of the problems we did last year. I was quite astounded by how much I managed to remember, particularly in finding my way between the boulders. We paid a quick visit to Bas Cuvier too, and Caroline demonstrated her frustration at not being able to climb in the rain by hugging this huge blob.

Monday was thankfully bright and sunny, although still remarkably cold. We trotted off to Cul de Chien, since I was desperate to see that inland beach again. Although we had been to Cul de Chien a number of times, we had climbed very little there. As good practice for me in new shoes, we opted for the blue circuit, starting at problem number 1. By the time we reached problem 17 and had done all the variations in between, we quit. A good day, with plenty of skin left, and a timely Font reminder of one's humility. The guys who developed these circuits deserve respect for their stamina alone!

Caroline on Blue 8b at Cul de Chien - probably responsible for her now (apparently) busted intercostal muscle

It went from 20 degrees the previous Friday, to 4.5 degrees on the Tuesday. And it snowed. I got up at silly o'clock, saw everything white and went back to bed. But as apparently is the wont of Font weather, the sun came out, the snow melted and all the rocks dried out in time for us to do some climbing! Now why isn't Scotland like that?

I don't know why we decided to head to Franchard Cuisinere on possibly the coldest day of our trip, but we did. I remembered a slightly overhanging traverse that I had wanted to try, but we didn't have mats with us at the time. We spent a couple of hours trying to find the right sequence for this brutal traverse, with no real guide as to which way it went, which holds were in or out, what grade it was. Most of our trouble came from trying to stay warm. It was bitterly cold, especially in the wind. Cuisinere is on the top of a hill and so, I suppose, catches any wind there is to catch. We only managed to get half way on the traverse, before giving up and practising our x-wing flying between the boulders. Well, it was a good way to keep warm, and we only felt stupid if there were other people around, which there weren't. So we actually had a lot of silly fun!!

Caroline on the Cuisinere traverse. It's boulder 37 if you have the purple Fontainbleau Climbs book by Montchausse and Godoffe. I have since found this problem on the Bleau.info site here. We were attempting the red route , marked 7a+, from right to left.

Finding the traverse reachy and very powerful, I wasn't sure I was ever going to get any further than this..... My leg just wasn't long enough to reach the foothold at the bottom, and I just couldn't hold on any longer. Amazing how easy it looks in the video, but all I remember when I watch this is just how hard it was!! So we trekked over to Isatis in the afternoon and just in an attempt to keep warm rather than try lots of hard stuff, we made up some epic traverses. They kept us moving, kept us warm, and kept us entertained. Eventually, pumped and hungry, we headed home.

Bad weather led to much silliness. We don't remember ever being bored when we were last here. But this time, boredom appeared to breed some very irrational behaviour. We drank a lot of tea. Makes you strong ;-) We fed the chickens. We went shopping. The label off my new shoes reads: "You should be satisfied with these shoes and we hope you will make good use of them." Lost in translation..... And don't even ask about the sporks.

We also went back to Gorge aux Chats and Bas Cuvier. An attempt to squeeze in a shot on la marie rose was futile, given the crowd of young British hooligans who were clearly there for the duration. Numerous attempts on it led to a volley of abuse being hurled in all directions and some childish kicking of rocks by said Brits. We watched, less than impressed, whereupon a very nice Bleausard whom we had watched effortlessly padding up a 7a slab, tapped me on the shoulder and beckoned us over. He led us to another higher, blanker slab, and said "Zees is much more beautiful than la marie rose. You try. I show you." So we watched, again, agog, as this (almost) elderly gentleman balanced his way to the top of the blankness. Caroline and I both had a shot, and were making good progress until Caroline's fingers gave up. First one, then the other, forefinger split.

I have never seen her little face look so disappointed. Our friendly Bleausard suggested that this slab, known as La Forge, was 6a/b. Caroline looked it up when we got home, and it's listed on the Bleau.info website as 6c or 7a for the more direct finish (which we didn't do). The tiny edges were indeed very sharp, and I think that this is what really took the skin off my fingers too. They didn't split, but were very sore for the rest of the week.

Tiny crimps on La Forge

At Gorge aux Chats we tried something completely different; another slightly overhanging traverse with some long reaches in it. Again, we couldn't finish it. I got as far as slapping wildly for the final hold, but couldn't hold it as well as keep my heel on. Ah well, obviously not one for short weak people like me! Caroline found it hard to keep her toe on. It seems that the wonderful Anasazis are not good for toe-hooking. Shame, since this one was ok for split fingertips...just.

All the while, Rob, Sarah and Iain were chasing 7's and 8's all around the forest. Rob came home one evening saying he'd done 9 7a's that day. Iain was dead chuffed with his hat trick of 7's at Gorge aux Chats, having valiantly fought the lurgey for much of the holiday. Sarah did so much all week I couldn't follow it all, but judging by how exhausted she looked by Friday night, she hadn't given up on anything in a hurry!

The final triumph was Caroline's steady and solid ascent of Science Friction, the infamous sandbag slab at Apremont. Having packed the car and prepared mentally for a long drive home, she decided that her fingers were just about healed enough to attempt a slab. Maybe 4 or 5 attempts later there was a tentative reach and slap for the top edge and a whoop of delight. I wish I'd had my camera out at the time. She looked so solid on it. Officially it's graded a 5 something, on the premis that the holds have been chipped at some point. Maybe they have, maybe they haven't. Either way they are impossibly small. They are also polished after 50 years of scrabbling feet, and are on a crazily steep gradient. I have heard it's more like 6b than 5a. Anyone any views to offer on this one?

Impossibly small holds on Science Friction, Apremont

Day Tripper

2008-04-04T00:24:00.001+01:00

I've spent some time in Liverpool this week, which has been interesting if work-orientated. As is my wont in strange cities, I had a ticket to ride and went hunting for the local climbing wall. Awesome Walls in Liverpool was just that, if one could ever describe a climbing wall as awesome. There was certainly a lot of it; acres of wall covered in the usual coloured blobs and chips. One thing I am never concerned about when visiting unfamiliar walls is being faced with unfriendly or unwelcoming staff. Liverpool must be one of the most friendly and familiar cities I have visited. Everyone wants to say hello, chat, tell you about good things to do and see in their fabulous city, although nobody seems to know where anything is or how to get antwhere. Even the bus stops don't give any clue as to which buses stop there.

Anyway, I digress. Nev, the friendly face of Awesome Walls, showed me around and then landed his pal Charlie with me for some bouldering. I had a fantastic couple of hours trying really hard on steep problems, albeit with with some trepidation. It's amazing how you get used to the set up at your local wall. I am accustomed to the space (yes, I said space) and height at Alien Rock 2. Awesome Walls has some bouldering located in the crypt and in the galleries of a former church. This means that while the wall is steep, it isn't very high, and if you fly backwards off the top of it, you are liable to hit the wall immediately behind you. This makes for somewhat timid dynos (if I were to ever dyno anything, that is) and in fact a reluctance to climb too high up the wall in the first place. It's a very strange feeling that one is subconciously holding back.

I was also surprised to see that the landing areas for some of the vertical walls (which weren't insignificantly high) were not covered with thick matting. Having once fallen off an overhanging blobs problem at an Alien Rock fun comp, landing coccyx first on the thinner mats and paying a late night visit to A&E, maybe I am unusually nervous about landings. My concern on this occasion was, bizarrely, for my ankles. I have no idea where that fear came from.... Maybe from tottering around in high heels this week, which probably did more damage than any landing.

My other observation about Awesome Walls was that the walls were very shiny! No smearing here! No "features for feet" problems, no sneaking padding up walls because holds were too far away. This made some of the problems pretty reachy for someone of my (slightly) diminutive stature. Following a conversation with Charlie about the transition between climbing indoors and then outdoors, I realised that the "sticky" indoor walls and the additional features actually offer a huge benefit to those wishing (or preferring) to climb outside, providing a much better environment for learning the techniques one might most usefully employ on real rock. Smearing, tiny footholds, finding your balance in preparation for reaching the next hold....all these things seemed so much harder when the only options were to put feet exactly where the route setter intended them to go. I thought wistfully of Font, again, and sighed.....

Having worn off some skin and exhausted my biceps, I went in search of something outdoors. I couldn't come to Liverpool and not see (the outisde of, at least) the two magnificent cathedrals here. It struck me that both might offer buildering potential....

When we walked up to the Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral it was dark and I didn't have my shoes with me, and I thought I might get arrested, never mind not being brave enough to try to scale such a massive monument without any kind of backup plan as a harness and a rope. If I fell....Help! I'd be here, there and everywhere. But it did strike me that both the great west doors and the detailed stonework above it, would provide some interesting climbing.

This is the stonework on the facade above the main door. Nice tufas I thought.

I couldn't work out what these massive doors were made of, but they had plenty of bouldering potential. I'm pretty sure they're sturdy enough not to come off their hinges if one were to undertake a delicate traverse.

Then I found several huge buttresses on the sides of the building. They're like giant ramps leading from the ground to the bottom of the tower, almost a stairway to heaven, perhaps. Huge labs, asking to be tackled. They looked like concrete or stone to start with, but tapping on them made a very hollow sound, as if made of hardboard. My guess is that they were at about 45 degrees so in theory eminently climbable by aficienados of the slab. I bet there are some bleausards who would treat it like a walk in the park.

We also took a wander to the Anglican cathedral at the opposite end of Hope Street. [How funny is that? Hope Street with a cathedral at either end....oh the irony!] This seemed to offer fewer buildering possibilities, but I am going to put a picture of it here simply because it is the most enormous building. It's vast. 9,600 square metres, in fact. Well, I suppose it is the second largest Anglican cathedral in Europe. Alarmingly, it also has 31 tonnes of bells hanging in the tower, 219 feet up. Ouch. The highest ringing peal of bells in the world, apparently. Wow. I wouldn't want to be hanging by my fingernails up there at 11am on a Sunday morning!

Is this not a massive building?

We took a ferry 'cross the Mersey; from here is is easier to understand how big the cathedral is. The bond warehouses on the quayside in the foreground are about 6 storeys high, and the hill on which the cathedral sits is not high at all.

Unfortunately, I've missed the Channel 4 programme tonight about the human spider....although naturally I'd much rather be in Font or the County than half way up a skyscraper.

Another nice day out

2008-02-27T00:16:00.001Z

Last weekend we had another fabulous day in the County. A late start (because I'm lazy and Caroline had been partying!) led us to Raven Crag. The parking for Bowden Doors looked a bit like Picadilly Circus, so we felt very smug when we realised we had the whole of Raven Crag to ourselves. Sure, it doesn't have any hard core, Font 8b, pulley-ripping, tendon-twanging problems (nothing worthy of note on the Scottish Climbs blog aggregator anyway), but we just wanted to be outside, climbing on real rock and enjoying the fresh air and winter sunshine.

One thing we couldn't get over was how cold it was! If the wind stopped, it was bearable. As soon as even the gentlest breeze started, we were frozen. The first problem we looked at was the Raven Traverse. It's not that hard, and Diff and I made fairly short work of it last August. But on this February afternoon we found ourselves unwilling to grip the rock properly for fear that it would hurt our frozen fingers! Are we being especially wussy about this? Cold hands + sharp rock = EXTREME PAIN!

We could not get our fingers warm. Rather than risk injury, we didn't pull too hard on the traverse. Instead we wandered further along to a problem I hadn't remembered seeing last time. Mind you, in August, Raven Crag is hidden under 6 feet of bracken, so I think I can be forgiven for not seeing everything that was on offer!

This problem baffled us for ages. Feet were there, the mono was there (yes, even for our pixie fingers it was pretty much a mono!), and we could just about reach the sloper ledge. But after that, there seemed to be an endless reach northwest for the top edge, with absolutely nothing as an intermediate. Just nothing. As far as we could see, you needed to be a) extremely gangly (Sarah?!), b) very tall, c) positive on the ape index by at least 4 inches or d) Inspector Gadget.

Here is Caroline with her hand on the sloper. The problem was where to go next?! Caroline wore most of her skin off by repeating the one move from the mono to the sloper.

As usual it was footwork that triumphed. Having identified which foot to balance on in order to reach through to an undercut with my left hand, I managed to match on it, then go up for the top edge with my left hand and top out. No doubt I was "off route" by using the undercut and any competent boulderer wouldn't count this as a send. But do I look like I care? Not this time.

I never cease to find reward in the process of repeatedly failing on one move, and then suddenly, for no apparent reason, finding it easy. How does that happen? What changes? Why do I find it almost impossible to identify what is different between failed attempts and successful attempts? The wonder of climbing....this is why I continue to torment myself with repeated failure. Maybe David Henry Thoreau was right: Success usually comes to those who are too busy to be looking for it.

Pulling on the mono long enough to go up for the slopeynothingness ledge

How did you get up there??

Caroline decided to save the mono problem for another day, so we wandered further along to Meadow Wall, and tootled about on some of the problems there, inventing challenging traverses until the sun was nearly gone and the chill settled in for the night. The wall is reasonably high (we think , anyway) for bouldering, and we laughed til it hurt remembering how Caroline had bottled it on a problem at Bas Cuvier, choosing to jump the 15 feet to the ground rather than top out; her hands were on the top, her body was over the edge, she just needed to get her leg over ;-) !!

So instead of pulling on monos with no skin left on her fingers, Caroline onsighted this scary slab problem. No disco leg, no bottling it, no second attempt necessary. Brilliant. Clearly it was scary enough to warrant a little self-hug of reassurance at the top :-)

We cruised home in a beautiful sunset, pleased that we managed some time outside and looking forward to flexing our egos, promoting ourselves and becoming famous in the Scottish climbing scene by bragging about our world-class climbing achievements on our blogs.

Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed.

Did I miss the Oscars?

2008-02-25T13:28:00.016Z

I have never had aspirations to being a movie star but sometimes these things just happen. I guess I now have to get used to being chased by paparazzi and must steel myself to comments levelled by the critics. No doubt I can only go out now disguised as Victoria Beckham in a big hat, huge sunglasses and a false moustache.

Diff has put together a wee home movie of my 7b effort, Gurungos, in Siurana. Seeing myself on camera still makes me squirm (why does one say such inane things when the camera is on??) but for me this is a fabulous reminder of a brilliant day. I think as I said at the time, I was higher than 7b will ever get me!

Music by Chris Hall - AKA DJ b-burg
http://www.myspace.com/beeburg
http://www.adventuresound.com/

SuperRockChick?

2008-02-12T17:58:00.002Z

On my return to work in early January, my colleagues had decorated my desk with streamers and tinsel for Christmas. In amongst the glittery things, was the most fantastic figure:

SuperRockChick? Ahem! This is a picture of me, apparently, drawn by my colleague's partner, who is a professional illustrator. Maybe this is what they were expecting to see when I returned. I'm afraid I might have disappointed them! However, my first pair of climbing shoes and my first harness bore a striking resemblance to these.

Dovehole Boulders

2008-02-12T17:58:00.000Z

Saturday was set to be good weather-wise, and for once the forecast was right! It was warm (for February!) and the sun looked promising so Caroline, Andrea and I headed for Northumberland. We all agreed that so often we find climbing in winter so difficult because all three of us get so cold so quickly. Whether this is an unfortunate consequence of our lean, ripped physiques and low body fat, or just because we are girlie wusses, I'll leave you to decide, but Saturday was set to be a perfect temperature for us. Having been to Kyloe so often, Andrea suggested Dovehole.

For some unknown reason I appeared to have removed the road atlas from the car (strange, since we came to rely so heavily on such precious items while we were on the Continent) so we struggled a little with the directions in the Northumberland Bouldering Guide. For those of you who know this wonderful tome, I'm sure you will appreciate the cartographic challenges faced by its valiant authors. More by luck than our expert map reading skills, and maybe because the road atlas was sending us good vibes from it's hiding place under the front seat, we happened upon the Dovehole Boulders peeking out from behind the trees a little way up the hillside. It was a lovely spot, sheltered from most of the wind, and with a lovely view of the Cheviots.

Our first task was to eat. So we sat on the mats and munched our way through various chocoate biscuits, cookies, sardines, coffee, juice and breadsticks, before finding a slightly damp traverse to fall off.

First things first: food!

We started on boulder number one and discovered an interesting and particularly challenging B2 traverse. This was the first time Caroline and I had been bouldering outdoors since September, so it took us a while to work things out.

Following the problems round the boulder in an anti-clockwise direction, the next one was very different from the fingery traverse. A big slappy reach for a rounded lump, followed by a heel hook, turning to a high rockover, and a looooong reach back for some nothingness, left two of us very chuffed to flash it, and one frustrated that she could only do it when nobody was looking!

Caroline getting the heel hook

Depending on which way the boulder was facing, we discovered that some problems were too damp to try. There were some very worn patches too, and we tentatively attempted some of these, our efforts tinged with a mite of guilt at the additional erosion we would undoubtedly be causing just by putting feet on rock.

Our last problem didn't take as long as we thought it would, and our perseverance was rewarded with a proper top out on a Font-height boulder. Wicked! Unfortunately, in our excitement we forgot to take any pictures of it!

We didn't race around and do a huge number of problems; we didn't even do anything especially hard. But just being outside again was fantastic. Circumstances are such that it isn't always possible to spend every day of every weekend outdoors and climbing (although there are many people who seem to achieve that!). For me, the start of the year has been busy, and I have had things other than climbing occupying my time and energy.

Frustrating as this is, I'm not climbing well at the moment anyway so some time out is probably of great benefit. I read with interest extracts from Chris Sharma's journal, written for Climbing magazine. If great climbers like Sharma sometimes feel as though they don't care if they never climb again, maybe it's ok for me to take a wee break from training and pushing my limits while I do other things. Maybe "me and my climbing" have reached the mature stage of our relationship! Climbing indoors is not inspiring me at the moment; I'm finding it hard to muster the enthusiasm to pull hard. Climbing outdoors is currently restricted by office hours and weather, which frequently conspire to limit my opportunities. This weekend's jaunt to the County has most definitely improved my psyche. I hope it will keep me going a bit longer and allow to me focus on other things without going slowly mad.

Trip Photographs

2008-02-02T12:00:00.000Z

I have already written here about how busy life is now that we are back from our trip. So many things to do, and not enough time to do them all! This explains why it has taken me so long to get around to putting my photographs online. I suspect that most readers won't be particularly interested in seeing my holiday snaps, so this post is specifically aimed at friends and family. Be warned, though. In posting photographs here, you have been spared the tedium of flicking through the 1700-odd photographs we took between us!

Speaking of photographs, I was given the most wonderful present last week: a hardback book containing photographs of our trip and quotations from this blog. I understand that it was produced with the wonders of a Mac Powerbook, and a little piece of software called iPhoto. With the magic of digital cameras, it is so easy to take hundreds of pictures that one might never look at again. But to have them, even just a select few, in a book means that I am much more likely to flick through it to remind myself of time well spent. It struck me the other night, that this would be pretty high on my list of "what to rescue if the house was burning down", and might even be my Luxury on my Desert Island. Thank you!

On the road

Fontainbleau Bouldering

January Blues

2008-01-22T18:12:00.000Z

My long anxiety to escape from the routine of office life has returned with a vengeance. Yes, I am suffering from post climbing trip blues. It seems almost inevitable that a high is followed by a low; by definition, once you reach the top, the only way is down! But I hadn't imagined that returning from a long trip would be quite as deadening as it has bee. I don't feel inclined to do very much, least of all concentrate on matters which sometimes seem trivial and unimportant. Another interesting twist to the process of adjusting to being home is driving on the left-hand side of the road. It was relatively easy to adapt to driving on the right, but reverting to the left has been much harder. Even now, a month on, I find myself concentrating very hard to make sure I don't end up on the right-hand side of the road when I turn right! How strange.

I knew that coming home would be great. I would enjoy seeing friends again, having home comforts like hot showers, a comfortable bed and internet access(!); I even looked forward to some hard training indoors. But the joy has been relatively short-lived. This is not to say that the delight in seeing friends and family again is any less than I anticipated; it isn't, at all. But it has amazed me how quickly it feels as though I had never been away, how quickly things return to "normal". I've been back at work for only 2 weeks and already assumptions are being made that I know about x, y or z which happened while I was away. Clearly, my colleagues believe I have some special powers akin to omniscience, that I myself have yet to identify or harness! It's very flattering, but also a bit frustrating.

The word frustration brings me neatly to the subject of training indoors. I had been warned that long sport climbing trips have a tendancy to sap one's strength, particularly bouldering strength, but (in my usual cocky fashion) I firmly believed in my immunity from such symptoms. Wrong! My first trip back to Alien 2 was soul destroying. What do you mean that's a 3?? It feels like an 8!! Similarly, some of the lead routes at Alien 1 seem far tougher than I think they should be for the grade. As Mr Brown rightly pointed out to me the other day, I haven't been climbing steep stuff, which is why so many indoor routes feel so hard. It also highlights the disparity between indoor grades and outdoor grades. In my opinion, any comparison between the two is highly suspect.

On the positive side, the grade labels no longer seem to affect my inclination to attempt either routes or boulder problems, although there is a considerable "can I be bothered?" factor instead! I am sure that will change with time. Indoor walls seem very uninspiring by comparison with the great outcrops of limestone we had become accustomed to. I haven't been able to get outside climbing since I came home, partly because of the weather, partly because I now have my 9-5 job back again and partly because life is so complicated here! There are so many other things I have to do (and want to do), but there isn't time to do them all.

I am hoping this is just January Blues; I'm not sure whether I am treating or torturing myself by flicking through all 1700 photographs that we took.

I have, however, returned to something I love. We had a lovely walk to the top of Ben Vorlich. It was a beautiful day until we got to the summit, where we found ourselves in an icy, gusting wind and thick cloud! Despite being a little chilly, it was nice to be back in familiar surroundings....very different from sun-drenched, Spanish limestone.

The snowy summit of Ben Vorlich

The view towards Loch Earn

Fontainbleau Photos

2008-01-05T12:28:00.000Z

Here are some pictures of the time we spent in Fontainbleau in late September, early October. I have a whole lot more, this is just a slect few! I'll put more pictures up from other places along out route soon.

Fontainbleau Bouldering

Home Sweet Home

2007-12-31T17:08:00.000Z

"I know of no sweeter sight for a man's eyes than his own country" so said Odysseus, relating tales of his native Ithaca. Homer has a point, I think. The best part of going away, for me, is coming home. Coming home after 3 1/2 months away has been quite an experience.... and I haven't got as far as the office door yet! Having thought about very few things while we were away, it has been a shock to remember how phrenetic my "usual" life is.

Dover harbour - darker, colder and wetter than we left

Since September brain power has been concentrated on what there is to eat, where to sleep, what there is to climb and whether or not it's going to rain. That's not to say I've thought exclusively about these things, but I'd left behind the everyday paraphernalia of washing, washing up, phone calls, post to open, deciding what to wear, worrying whether my hair is a mess (ok, so I didn't worry much about this before I went away or while I was away, but suddenly now it seems important!) etc etc. Revolting as this may sound, we even stopped worrying about how often we showered - everything we had with us was also unwashed. Alarm bells only started ringing when we realised that everyone we met smelled of washing powder....

The luxuries of home are as luxurious, if not more so, as I had anticipated: my own bed, a hot shower and clean clothes. My tan is fast washing away as a result; I have had it pointed out to me on numerous occasions already that it might not be tan after all, it's just dirt! On the flip side, I've realised exactly how little "stuff" one needs, even to lead an exceedingly comfortable middle class existence. I've started to clear out various cupboards, signed up for eBay and Freecycle, and am trying very hard to avoid post-Christmas sales (reasonably, though not entirely, successfully).

For those of you who like statistics, or who might be thinking about a similar trip, here are some numbers:

We were away for 93 days during which we drove 5264 miles, climbed 155 sport routes and tackled 160+ boulder problems. We climbed for 71 of those 93 days.

We spent 9 weeks in a tent, 5 nights in hotels, 4 nights in a gite, 1 night in a refugio and 15 nights in the wendy house.

The whole trip cost me £1802.12, which includes bank charges and commission.

Caroline ate 2.75kg of Nutella and bought the entire stock of rice cakes from Intermarche in Laragne. We have eaten unprecedented quantities of butter, rice and potatoes, made our own chips, sampled some strange cheeses and not poisoned ourselves once. We've had 3 hangovers between us and drunk our way through about (I reckon) 250 teabags.

It cost us £168 in petrol to drive the 1654 miles from Finistrat (near Benidorm) to Edinburgh (including one night in a Formula hotel) using the toll motorways through Spain and France. The tolls cost us just under 140 Euros.

We climbed indoors yesterday. That was a shock. I feel like a complete fraud saying that I did 7b in Siurana when I got spat off 6b at Alien Rock. I have no strength at all, I feel weak as a kitten, which seems daft having spent so long climbing outside. My excuse is that I haven't been climbing steep stuff outside, and all the lead routes at Alien Rock are overhanging. I forsee a lot of training in 2008......

Diff climbing the drilled wall near Torello

To sum up, I should have done this trip years ago. It has been a tremendous experience and we've had a lot of fun. I would do it again tomorrow without hesitation. There have been highs and lows, but it's all part of the fun. It's hard to maintain the motivation and enthusiasm to climb every day for so long, when the usual home comforts are missing. There is no prosaic routine to put the exciting things into perspective. I also found that being surrounded by like-minded climbers makes it far easier to explore one's limits, to push oneself and to attempt things that one might otherwise shy away from. In other words, it's difficult to generate all your own psyche! I am rapidly coming round to the idea that everyone should take some time out from whatever they regard as normal. Removing the clutter of things we take for granted (hot water, bed, clean clothes, to continue with the theme....) has given me a better idea of what is important to me, has put things in perspective a little more. "I can see clearly now the rain has gone. I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dark clouds that blind me. It's going to be a bright bright sunshiney day."

Chilling out in Font....happy days :-)

Dave Mac on A Muerte (9a) at Siurana

I'm gradually catching up with the routine stuff I've been evading for three and a half months, including adding photographs to previous blog posts which had none, opening a mountain of post and washing all the clothes I took with me. It's nice to be back in my kitchen, and I promise I'll make some more brownies soon. I know you've been missing them! I'm now looking for the next challenge, which might be as simple (!) as moving house. In the meantime, if anyone out there is thinking about a long trip I've only one thing to say.

Do it.

Happy New Year :)

Driving Home for Christmas

2007-12-21T16:57:00.000Z

Believe it or not, there was SNOW on the Costa Blanca hills on Saturday night. It rained heavily and some of the tents at the Orange House looked like those little floating puffy lifeboat shelters. Fortunately, we had picked a well-drained spot. Having run out of psyche for sport climbing, we thought we would head north to Albarracin. But when Sunday morning dawned cold and everything was wet, we sacked it off and decided to come straight home on Monday. Albarracin would have been pretty chilly.

Heavy frost and -10 in Lyon

We left the Orange House outside Benidorm at 11am on Monday in warm sunshine. Our journey took us through torrential rain in northern Spain (the hills west of Tarragona, towards Siurana, were covered in snow), past a mini tornado just south of Barcelona, bitter chill in Girona, thick freezing fog in Lyon, cold dampness in Calais, and salty road spray and low winter sunshine in the UK. We attempted to maintain a Mediterranean climate in the car by turning the heater right up. Then we bought some cheese and the car started to stink. So we turned the heat down and ate the cheese. Unfortunately, the damage was already done and the smell of camembert lingered on.

Heading north...

Tea on the road at Saint Quentin, 90 miles south of Calais

Travel weary on the Calais - Dover ferry after 2 days' driving

As the temperature dropped, the price of petrol rose as we travelled northwards, and we are horrified to see that it is now more than 100 pence per litre here in the UK. In Benidorm we paid 1.12 euros per litre (which is about 81 pence). The car was washed clean by the rain on Saturday night, and two days' driving through France and Spain left it a little dusty but not too bad. The shortest leg of our journey, through the UK, has left my car black with grime, the windscreen washer empty and the wipers squeaking!

Thick fog on the M11

1654 miles and 32 hours of driving later we are home.

Phew!

Continuing with the cheese theme, once we were in the UK we willed Radio 2 to play Chris Rea's "Driving home for christmas", but they didn't.... what irony that they're playing it now as I write this. The best things come to those who wait.....?!?!?

Clear skies and winter sunshine heading into Scotland

The Pentland Hills finally come into view. The last few miles seemed to take forever...

Little Britain

2007-12-13T19:58:00.000Z

The Costa Blanca felt like little Britain when we first arrived, but last night the electricity pylon next to us exploded and all the lights went out. It´s taken all day to (partially) fix and suddenly we are wishing we were back in the UK where things (appear to) work. It´s gone chilly again (unseasonally so, apparently - again) and we are ready to come home. Although it´s nice to sit in the sun by the pool and under a palm tree, right now I would happily swap this for a hot bath (or just hot water that lasts more than 1 minute) and my own bed. We have concluded that all we need is a week´s holiday from our trip and to come back refreshed and strong and ready to climb Everything and Anything.

A rest day...chilling by the pool this morning

So, more 7b action started with a route called Oceano at the Wild Side, Sella. It couldn´t be more different from Gurungos: steep, juggy and polished. The moves are simple: reach up, grab jug, pull hard. Nothing technical or difficult about it. Not my style at all. I´ve done all the moves on a top rope but I still can´t link them all in one push. The bolts are very spaced and I haven´t even tried to lead it yet. Bong put it very well when he said "It´s not an inspiring route." He´s absolutely right. I want to do it, because it´s different from what I usually enjoy and, although it might seem like making a rod for my own back, I will always at least try to rise to the challenge. I could do it with a bit more practice and a lot of stamina training. Questions are, is it worth it, and do I have time? Answers: no, I don´t have time.....but I´m not sure that answers the first question of whether it´s worth it. I´m not sure that it is, but I like to finish what I´ve started, so maybe I´ll come back in the Spring and have another bash at it. Here is Iain flashing Oceano, with complete composure:

We have had many discussions about good holds and bad holds, and what constitutes a "mono" and a "two-finger pocket". I thought this picture might highlight some of the differences between climbers. This is my index finger and Bong´s index finger. So what is a mono for him is a two finger pocket for me. Hurrah for pixie fingers!

I can´t reach the big holds, so it´s a good job I have small fingers with which to use the little ones.... all swings and roundabouts really.

Oranges and Lemsip

2007-12-03T21:12:00.000Z

We're now at the Orange House, on the Costa Blanca, a lovely spot and a haven of Britishness amidst the happy-go-lucky chaos that is Spain. It's warm and sunny, although the evenings are chilly (but not as chilly as Siurana). We've spent a couple of days being anti-social and sitting outside because when we arrived the Orange House was infested with the lurgey. Fortunately, the affected (and infected) inhabitants have now either departed(!) or recovered (natural selection, I guess) and we are now able to enjoy sitting inside in the warmth!

The climbing here is very different from Siurana - so far, we've only climbed at Sella on grey slabby limestone, with lots of water pockets to tuck fingers and toes into. This is very sore on toes, but very good for those of us with pixie fingers! There are many more routes showing polish than at Siurana, and Sella is much busier than Siruana. We had become accustomed to having the crag to ourselves, and there is a little bit of me which is slightly put out to find that the 10 routes on either side of us are all occupied, and (heaven forbid!) all by Brits! Having said that, it's a nice change being able to chat to everyone without feeling embarrassed at my appalling Spanish language skills. We have many more places to explore here, with many different colours of limestone. The grading definitely seems slightly softer here than at Siurana, although it's difficult to compare them since the climbing (in our grand 3 days' experience) is very different.

The good news is that Caroline has now flashed her first 6b. The bad news is that my faithful shoes have finally gone through at the toes. I hope they will last another 3 weeks, although I have visions of tiny blisters on the ends of my big toes (which has happened before). Maybe we will have to go shopping! (We haven't done that in a while!!) I've lost a lot of psyche after a superb final week in Siurana but Caroline seems to be compensating for this more than adequately. She's definitely on a roll, and we will have her redpointing 7a before she can count 30 elephants. We have some new friends here, Victoria and Paul, who have also achieved personal bests in the last 3 days. (Thanks for the use of your laptop, Paul!). Will has also achieved a personal best today.

Caroline attempting to onsight 7a - La Cosa - only the crux defeated her

I had a bizarre experience yesterday. During a failed attempt to onsight 6c (Dingo Boingo), I heard a voice calling my name from the other side of the valley: Emma! Hello? Who's that? Gary. Gary who? Gary Jones. I nearly fell off with surprise! Fortunately (for me and Caroline) I didn't fall off, but I did bail on the route early because a) it was hard b) it was very hot and my fingers were very sweaty and c) the conversation on the ground below me was more interesting than tiny water pockets above me. Gary and Cristina - lovely to see you both and thanks for the treats! Cristina, I hope you get many happy hours of climbing from your new shoes! It's all here waiting for you...

We're looking forward very much to all our visitors next week. Anyone else want to join us? The more the merrier!

Gurungos

2007-12-03T19:19:00.000Z

In spite of my cavalier approach to climbing goals for the season, promises of 7c by Christmas etc, I don´t think I really believed it would ever be possible. Pipe dreams, I thought... but if you don´t believe it, it won´t ever happen. So having done 7a+ on a third redpoint, I thought that maybe Dave´s suggestion of 7b wasn´t so unrealistic after all. We had several discussions over which route to try and concluded that Gurungos, on Campi qui Puigi at Siurana was probably best, despite the comments about it in the Rockfax guide ("not one for the nervous..." - ha ha ha!). Granted, it seems to be (by concensus, not by me!) hard 7b, but having worked the moves, taken 7 falls off the crux move whilst just doing bolt-to-bolt, it went second redpoint on Tuesday.

Tea - makes you strong!

Pulling the top rope

Clipping the first clip - a boulder problem start on very sharp crimps

Since we were leaving Siurana on Wednesday, I really didn´t want to leave it unfinished, so on Tuesday Campi qui Puigi was Last Chance Saloon. It´s a long route, 27m, with a fingertip-scraping bouldery start, followed by a short easy section to the bottom of a flat vertical wall with small crimps (crux). Above that is a small overhang with some good holds and a bolt above. The top section is supposed to be easy, but frankly, holding it together up there was almost as hard as the crux. The sequence on the top section is not obvious, and I did it a different way every time. The big holds appear to be spread liberally across a rough, sharp and bumpy expanse of blankness, with the odd small, not-so-good hold hiding away. Fortunately, my pixie-sized fingers were able to make use of the small holds to get me across the blank expanses between the good holds! Phew!

Flying lessons off 7b...that's a screaming face not a laughing face

Some cunning redpoint tactics included a down climb to a ledge from the clip before the crux. First redpoint went well: up to the 4th clip and then down climb to the ledge, long rest ("look mummy, no hands!"). But then the crux move went a bit wrong, and ended in a proper scream several feet lower than where I wanted to be.

The crux move - catching the tiny triangle with one finger

It´s awkward to catch a tiny sloping triangular crimp with one finger, nudge a second finger onto it, and then pull hard. I needed to lunge for this one off a small left hand crimp (sorry, that´s a terrible word but I can´t think of a better one - that´s how it felt anyway!) because it was a long way up. Apparently tall people keep their feet much lower on better holds, but that just wasn't an option for me. Second redpoint nearly went wrong when I almost forgot to put my right foot out on the small smear in order to reach up for the aforementioned sloping crimp. There is always that little bit of amazement when a hard move like that is successful. I almost didn´t know what to do next. I guess that´s where the "practice" kicks in.

Then you get both hands on this big ledge...

...and shake out above the crux

Top out - higher than 27 metres will ever get you!

Thanks to Dave and Caroline for patient belaying, to Dave for the loan of his psyche and to Diff and Dave for the pictures. I had a brilliant week with you all and the climbing doesn't get much better than this for me!

Now we are on the final leg of our trip, on the Costa Blanca, there is still time for my "7c by Christmas" pipe dream to become reality. I think it's unlikely, but you never know until you try...

Delicatessen

2007-11-18T18:05:00.000Z

Just a quick update on my 7a+ project, Delicatessen. Third redpoint today (when the route was in the shade) I finished it, keeping a cool head (for once!) and making sure I took every opportunity to rest. I fell of the first redpoint (so I guess that´s almost progress in itself!), and was shaking so much on the second attempt that I had to pull on the gear. It´s all a mental battle rather than a physical battle, and sometimes it´s difficult to tell which is hardest.

The third clip....the easy bit is over by now

Quick shake out before the crux sequence begins

So, Isadora next, or should I try something a little less brutal?!

It also seems to have warmed up a little today so I hope tonight we will not be freezing again.

Cold Deli

2007-11-17T19:04:00.000Z

Siurana might have lots of sunshine but it´s bloody freezing here now. We think it might have been as low as -4 last night, and it was certainly down to 2 degrees just before sundown this afternoon. We had no idea it was going to be this chilly here. Climbing in the sun is definitely the order of the day (except for Dave Mac who still seems to be able to climb in the shade). Although we aren´t camping at the moment, our wee wendy house isn´t exactly insulated against the cold. Imagine a garden shed, the sort you can buy in B&Q, with windows and a door and a balcony, and then put it on stilts (to ensure maximum cold air flow under the floor), and then make it a bit bigger. It´s about15 feet square I reckon. We are wearing duvet jackets inside until the sun comes through the window and starts to warm things a little. The weird thing is that there is no frost because it´s so dry here. However, we have a mountain of tea bags, and a big pan to heat hot water, so we can have tea, even if the milk is frozen.

Outside the wendy house

Inside the wendy house

Climbing wise things are going well. The current project for me is a 7a+ called Delicatessen, a classic route here apparently. I can see why. It has some very cool moves. I´ve done it twice clean on a top rope, so tomorrow is time to start leading it. I won´t deny that I´m a bit scared of falling off, but maybe that will mean I hang on a bit longer....long enough to get to the top maybe. My air miles are not building up very well so far, but I think that means I´m still climbing well within my limit. If you´re not flying, you´re not trying...so I have been told. After this one, I might be persuaded to have a go at "Isadora, dones estas?" at 7b (or hard 7b, according to Keith). It looks pretty tough to me either way, so we´ll see how many air miles I can accumulate from that.

Caroline and I went to Arboli today, which was very pleasant (if chilly), and had the whole place to ourselves. Siurana was heaving with weekend climbers and visitors so we did the right thing by getting out. We just did several very nice 6a routes and came home while it was still light.

On the down side, my re-soled Athena´s are very very thin at the toes. If anyone has a pair of Evolv Athenas, size 5.5, that they´d like to send out here, please let me know! I´m dreading the day they go, although I have a couple of other pairs of shoes with me. None of them are as positive and comfortable as my Athenas.

Lynne, if you´re reading this, I hope Vilanova de Prades is warmer than Siurana. Drop me a line sometime and I´ll bring some Edinburgh coffee to Aberdeen. Safe journey home and happy climbing!

Se miapaga la baldufa

2007-11-14T22:16:00.000Z

I don’t know why 7a is such a magic number for me, but it is. I guess 7 is a magic number for many reasons which is why it strikes a chord. Se miapaga la baldufa is a short 7a on Siurana’s Valley Crags. Having gone bolt-to-bolt up it on Sunday, I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to redpoint it properly. Dave has been telling me I just need to fall off more, so falling off this one, albeit not very far, was definitely progress and much less scary than I thought it would be. I tried a toprope ascent too, but that was difficult – it’s much more overhanging than I thought. Lowering off, I found myself about 10 feet from the bottom of the wall. So leading it was the only way forward…

The route takes a line up a corner for the first two bolts, steps right around an arête to the third bolt, and then heads up a wall on a series of small (and far apart) ledges to a big overhanging flake. There is a (very welcome) bolt in the middle of this block, and a huge pocket to pull off above it. From here, there is a strong move for an undercut pinch, a high left foot over the lip and a long cross-through reach left for another jug next to the sixth bolt. More long moves on good holds lead up to the penultimate bolt, and from here is another reach out left for a small crimp which gives a tenuous pull into the final flake on the right, at the top of which are the chains. All in all, a lovely route, but quite powerful for me, and with some holds that are a bit too big for my pixie-sized hands to grasp comfortably. Since it is a lovely route it is also fairly polished….almost as polished as Orpierre!

After two attempts on Sunday my fingers were sore. The holds are all chalky and polished but have some quite sharp knobbly bits on it. I’d also climbed two 5+ routes and two 6b routes, but was quite psyched for the 7a. I’d done all the moves in order to put the rope up, so the route was at least possible for me. It was just a question of how many attempts it would take.

On Monday I was keen to have another shot. Dave put the clips in as a warm up and showed me how to get a good hands-off rest on the overhanging flake with a knee bar. I’d never done a knee bar before and it took a while to get used to the feeling. For those who don’t know what a knee bar is (I didn’t until pretty recently!), it’s a matter of jamming your bent leg into a space between the rock and then trying to straighten your leg so that the pressure on your foot and the top of your knee holds your leg in place. From this you can then use your body tension and leg muscles to hold yourself in, while taking your arms off and giving them a good rest. The idea is that your legs are much stronger than your arms and that your arms can always use a rest! I had no idea how much pressure I needed to put on my leg to hold myself up, so it took a couple of shots to get the hang of it. What a fantastic move! I have a corker of a bruise on my left leg, but I am sure that the rest allowed me to finish the route.

Keith at the crux, missing out the knee bar

The first redpoint got me to the knee bar in one go, which was much better than the day before. The second redpoint got me as far as the last bolt, and then I couldn’t find my feet high enough to reach the crimp out left. The frustration of getting so far and falling at the last hurdle was unbearable. Yesterday was quite chilly and Caroline must have the patience of a saint to keep belaying in the cold. Third time lucky, and the route was mine. It was a bit of a fight at the top, but I was very relieved to clip the belay.

I don’t have any pictures of me on the route (since Caroline was belaying rather than shooting camera; I’m pleased she wasn’t trying to do both!) so I was going to put some up of Keith instead but the internet connection here is so flaky it won´t let me upload any pictures. As with so many things in Spain, it sort of works and sort of doesn´t....ho hum.

So what’s next? I don’t know where to start….

Siurana Sunshine

2007-11-11T20:47:00.000Z

We are now in Siurana, a beautiful spot at the top of a (very steep) hill south west of Barcelona. We had a slightly stressful journey here in that Caroline wasn´t feeling well enough to either drive or read the map, so I had to do both. Driving in Spain isn´t quite like driving in the UK. We thought we had gripes about French drivers, driving and traffic, but we have come to think of the French as actually ok. In Spain there is no logic to their road system. Junctions have been designed and built by people who have caught the sun, had at leat 7 beers for lunch and were out clubbing last night until 7.30am. Anyway, we are here now, and my post about continental driving will have to wait for another (rainy) day.

The climbing in Siurana is pretty hard, but I still think it´s easier than Orpierre. But we have others to climb with here, which must have improved our psyche to do stuff. We have a nice wee garden shed to stay in (which has a hob and a sink!), and there are supposed to be hot showers (although everyone except me seems to have experienced the hot bit). We have also found a WASHING MACHINE. Yes, we have clean clothes, and don´t smell quite so bad as we did. This is a good thing, since we now have company. Previously, it´s just been the two of us, so we didn´t mind much. It´s amazing how small things like clean clothes can bring so much joy and excitement.

I´m conscious I haven´t posted any pictures recently. This has been quite difficult since many internet places don´t allow you to attach a camera, or the connection is too slow to upload the large pictures my camera takes. So here are just one or two which Dave has re-sized for me on his laptop:

Caroline nearing the top of a 6a at Can Marges in Siurana Village Crags

This is the view from the refugio at Siurana

Caroline on 6a at Can Marges

Dave Macleod on 8a Un Rato at Sector Puigi Campi (??) - sorry, I´m in a hurry. The others have gone to bed!

Dave on the 8b+ at Margalef ....yes, in the dark!

Kirsty, Caroline, Beth and me on the marina wall in Barcelona. Who´s who??? :-)

Apologies for the scrappiness of this post and the bad formatting. I´m in a hurry. Hope to post more pics another time, and if not I´ll augment all these posts with pictures when I get home.

Adventures of a Little Megane

2007-11-11T20:37:00.000Z

Our first venture out of Siurana in the car turned out to be more adventurous than we bargained for. Four of us (me, Caroline, Dave and Keith) headed for Margalef, a beautiful quiet valley with more climbing than you can shake a clipstick at. We found the right crags and had a great day’s climbing on pocketed conglomerate. I think the highlight of the day for me was onsighting 6b again, even though my feet came flying off at the top. [As an aside, I’m finding that the real sense of progress and improvement for me is coming not from climbing harder grades but from keeping my cool on routes that are well within my limit. I am still struggling to fight the panic that wells up when I’m standing above the bolts and can´t see the next hold. If I can keep that under control the route is all the more enjoyable. Progress is much slower than I had anticipated and hoped, but at last there is progress.]

Having watched Dave redpointing 8b+ with impressive smoothness, we headed back to the car in the twighlight. It started fine, but did it’s usual jerky stuff until it warmed up....except it didn’t warm up and the jerkiness didn’t go away. We drove all the way back to Siurana (which is about 25 miles of roads akin to Lakeland passes – Hardknott springs to mind) in second and third gear and a state of heightened anxiety. No phone signal, no laybys, no light, no people, no houses. This truly felt like the middle of nowhere. The car was "chugging" and losing power and I was increasingly worried. The car has become like my home, even though I’m not living in it. It’s the one bit of stability and continuity as we have moved around. The fact that it was sick was very unsettling.

Fortunately, we had invested a considerable sum of money in AA European Breakdown Cover. It seemed extortionate at £175 for a year (which we needed because our trip is more than 90 days), but now that I’ve had to use it, it seems like a bargain! The call centre was very helpful (once they had finished freaking me out by suggesting our cover was invalid because we were staying out longer than 90 days – she didn’t see that we had "long stay" written on the policy!). They arranged to tow the car from here to the Renault garage in Reus.

After a Spanish 45 minutes (aka 90 mins) the car was loaded onto the back of a tow truck by a greasy Spanish truck driver in expensive (looking) shades. Keith very kindly came with me and the car since he speaks pretty good Spanish and I don’t. The drive down from Siurana in a tow truck was almost as scary as the 13 hour bus ride I once took from the mountains in Chachapoyas at 3000m to Trujillo on the coast, in Peru. The driver spent more time looking at his two mobile phones than at the road. I don’t know which I was more worried about: us or the car. Fortunately, he wasn’t going very fast.

The two signs inside the tow truck left us in no doubt what kind of truck driver we were dealing with. My only regret is that I didn't get a picture of the man himself.... I'll leave that to your imagination.

Watching the Renault people manoeuvre my car inside the garage was torture. For starters the chap kept climbing into the wrong side of it (since it’s a right hand drive rather than left hand drive - at least he found it as funny as we did). The problem was simple – a busted spark plug coil – and took less than two hours to fix, and we were able to drive back to Siurana ourselves. The car is now fine, and it was cheaper to fix here than it would have been at home. An epic day, which I don’t wish to repeat. Many thanks to Keith whose translation skills were invaluable and a huge comfort. Cheers Keith!

a tout confort

2007-11-02T19:07:00.000Z

Having written last about all the things we missed while camping, we have now moved to the luxury of gites and hotels.....and I´m not quite sure that I am absolutely, entirely happy about it. Suddenly, I feel cooped up in a box. We have spend near enough 7 weeks outside, and now I have to sleep inside. Sure, it´s warm, it´s dry, and in fact it´s very nice, but I do miss the fresh air. We will enjoy it for a short time (especially the hot showers, running hot water and non-freezing toilet seats) and then we return to our canvas (er, sorry, nylon) shelters for a while longer.

We left Orpierre regretfully, in glorious autumn sunshine, as the village was closing down for the winter. Beyond 31 October, there is very little there, not even somewhere to stay, unless you happen to own a flat in the veille village. We really enjoyed our time there, and will almost definitely return at some point. I have some unfinished business with a 7a called Les bruits des nuages, and a couple more 6c technical things I want to try.

We arrived in Vingrau, just outside Perpignan, in the most violent wind I have ever encountered with sunshine. It was very sunny, but the wind was gusting at about 90kmp. The feeling that yet again the Titanic had sailed without us descended as Vingrau appeared closed and empty. A little further down the road in Tautavel we found that the lÓffice de Tourisme is only open from 1 July til 31 August. The boat had definitely sailed. Still, the Tourist Office directed us to the museum, where the grumpy old bag directed us at the Mairie´s office, where an even grumpier older windier-bag huffed and puffed here way about photocopying a list of gites. The first was full (with what?? the village was completely devoid of human life) and the second was more promising. The chap looked as though he´d smoked enough fags to win a world fag-smoking competition, and asked us whether we wanted two beds or one! Yes, we were pretty surprised at that two. While Caroline and I are very good friends, we suggested that two beds would be preferable if it was possible (yes, my French will now stretch to saying that.). We ended up in quite a nice room, with a bathroom and separate toilet and two single beds, which appeared to have mattresses with springs but no padding. All this for 40 euros a night. Ouch. Still, it was actually very pleasant..... until the announcements started.

Tautavel appears to have a Brave New World-esque way of informing residents and tourists what is going on. There are loudspeakers permanently hooked up at various points around the village, including right outside our window. First there is the Village School Fete music (trumpets, jingly jangly morris men type stuff), and then the woman from the Mairie´s office (surely it must have been her) announcing in a very School Maám sort of way that Mass for All Saints will be celebrated at 18.00hours on WEDNESDAY in the Church at Tautavel. There was also something abotu a lost dog and some other nonsense that we vaguely understood but were so flabbergasted at the concept, we didn´t really comprehend. This happens twice a day.....we think. We left.

The climbing at Vingrau is extensive and on very hard grey sharp limestone. It wasn´t polished, but it was so windy we got blown off. The following day was beautful, if still a little windy, so we wasted it by sitting on a wall having a 6 hour breakfast and sunning ourselves. Lovely.

The refugio at Vingrau, recently rebuilt and very secluded

One more thing about our gite. There was nowhere to eat in Tautavel. Everything was closed. So we ended up cooking rice in the trangia on the floor in the gite, and praying that the smell would not reach the nose of the smoked proprietor. It made me nervous doing something that I knw might get us thrown out of the room, but looking back on it, it was quite funny. It was a bit like getting caught smoking behind the bike sheds at school (or walking on the roof at school, which was what I did, since I don´t smoke and the bike shed at school was open sided). So we did eat. And we drank wine.

Vingrau's suntrap basin where the grapes grow juicy

We are now in Barcelona. It is utter madness after the tranquility of 7 weeks in the countryside, where busy meant there were more than 4 other people at the crag. Already I feel a bit grubby but not the same sort of grubby as we felt camping. That felt like clean grubby (yes, I know this is utter nonsense, but it makes sense to me - I hope you will understand!). Barcelona is exciting, bright lights, lots of food and suddenly a language I don´t understand. I was just getting to grips with French and then we came here. I feel totally at sea. My spanish is limited at the best of times, and most of all when I really need it. This week has not been climbing filled, so apologies to those of you who were hopìng to hear of exciting rock expeditions. Next week we are in Siurana, where the climbing fun will really begin! :-)

I´m out of time now, so this will have to wait. Apologies for the lack of photos too. Internet cafes don´t seem to provide any way of plugging my camera in.

Trust everything is well out there.... we still feel a little isolated, but our hotel here has BBC News 24. Hurrah!!

7 weeks in a tent

2007-10-24T16:41:00.000+01:00

Well, ok not quite 7 weeks in a tent, but 6 at least! We have learned a thing or two during this time, one of which is what we miss and what we don't. It's amazing what you can live without if you don't really need it.

Accoutrements for camping

Things we miss most (in no particular order!):

1. Bed
2. Bed
3. Hot water
4. Emma missed pizza until she found that the wee shop in Orpierre sells it in Emma-sized slices!
5. A toilet seat that doesn't freeze....yeah, let's not finish that sentence.
6. Bed
7. A table
8. Caroline misses loud music and dancing naked around her living room (things you learn about your friends; eh?! E.)
9. Clothes that at least look like they have been washed
10. Bed
11. Emma misses Paul more than anything
12. Caroline misses her Mini more than anything

Hanging out at Orpierre's Prince d'Orange campsite

For those of you who are interested, we don't miss work. For others of you who are interested, it has been down to -3 at night, and Caroline found ice on her sleeping bag the other morning. The days are warm (if we stay in the sun) but the nights are bloody freezing. Climbing wise Orpierre is a wonderful place to just be, climbing or not. Best so far is my clean onsight of 6b. I have also decided I can't be bothered with very long overhanging juggy 6b routes, which just freak me out and knacker my arms for the rest of the day. Give me something short and technical any day. My fingers are feeling a bit stiff and achey, which is a bit worrying, but a bit of rest might help. Caroline just likes stuff she can get up (her words not mine!).

Frosty tent

There is some re-evaluation of objectives going on, since this sport climbing malarky is a lot harder than I remember it being. Let's stick with doing whatever is fun, interesting and do-able; the grades can go hang for now. They're in danger of spoiling my trip.

Gros bisous a tous (I think my French is improving...?!)