Freedom of speech

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

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

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...

...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

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

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

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

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

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

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.....