Twittering Nonsense

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

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

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

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!

Not much climbing today, I think....

Happy New Year!

The Arch

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

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!

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

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

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......