Time to back off?

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

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

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

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

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 ;-)