Return of The Nipper- France

I should perhaps rename this blog “Things Wot I Done a Month Ago and Can’t be Arsed Blogging Until Now”, except it probably wouldn’t fit onto the Scottish Climbs blog aggregator very well and it’s a bit of a mouthful too. Anyway, France; Emma and I took a 19 day trip starting in the Brittany region, passing through Fontainebleau, Orpierre and Nimes before finishing at the Mediterranean village of Cassis east of Marseilles.

Fontainebleau was fun and relaxing despite the absence of a bouldering mat. But to be perfectly honest, you can go bouldering anytime at home and it’s not why I go to France. A seven hour car drive later and we arrived at Orpierre, not far from Sisteron. Having booked a static caravan at the campsite, we were expecting a grotty, cramped box. However, our residence for the next nine days was the complete opposite; a sumptuous and spacious mini-mansion complete with marble effect tiling in the bathroom, the only thing missing was a butler on call.

The Mansion at the Campsite

Usually, when I’ve got a sport climbing trip I train for it by going to Ratho, doing circuits and generally giving my forearms some form of punishment, all in the name of “getting fit”. This time round, I couldn’t be bothered doing all that and did little training, just some regular bouldering down Alien 2. I also felt it would be interesting to see how much difference all the stamina training actually does from its absence for this trip. I was pleasantly surprised by the results by the end of the trip.

I nearly despaired after the first day having struggled up a 7b+ and having to fight to get to the chain on a 7c. But as the week went on, I could feel my head and body getting back into gear for sustained sport routes. Discarding the staccato rhythms of trad climbing and settling into the slick, almost flowing motions required of steep continental limestone.

Sneaking a rest on a 7c (P.Black)

For Emma as well, Orpierre proved to be the best climbing trip she has been on as all the 4s and 5s were proper lines, well bolted and all of good quality. On previous trips to Europe it’s been a struggle to find such routes at crags. Routes at this level seem to be these scrappy little things tucked away to one side (well, the crags we go to anyway…).

A European sport trip is never complete without bumping into someone you know from the UK. Stepping into those shoes were Phil Black and Alison Martindale, of Raindogs fame, who had last seen me about five years ago running about Alien Rock dressed as Luke Skywalker, but that’s another story…Not forgetting some lads from the Lakes who knew the Sheffield Mafia back in the ‘80s and imparted some, err, “unsavoury” tales of a certain gritstone hero from that era (ask me at the wall or the pub; I know my mum reads this blog…).

The 7cs got easier as the week went on; plenty of wine, beer, pain au chocolates and croissants were consumed. We got up late, had lunch then went climbing only 15 minutes from the campsite. The sunsets lit the crag orange, I cruised a 7c+: it was a perfect holiday.

End of a Fantastic Day

And then I nearly cocked it all up.

I locked the only keys inside the hire car one night.

Frantic calls were made to the hire company the following morning and by lunch time a mechanic from somewhere appeared in a battered Peugeot. With a box of coathangers. An hour later almost no progress had been made other getting the driver door open a one inch gap (via some rubber airsacks and a hand pump) due to the design of this new model of a Fiat Punto. Everyone else on the campsite pitched in with ideas until finally the passenger door was opened with a set of tent-poles.

My relief was palpable as I had had visions of the car being towed away. With all our climbing kit still in the boot. Oh, I onsighted Game Over 8a, that evening too, but of course no-one at the camp-site will remember that little detail- I’ll always be the Scottish numpty who locked his keys in the car.

Game Over 8a (P.Black)

A silly schoolboy error saw me slip off an easy move at the second bolt on Bookaro Banzai 8a the next day. But instead of dogging on to the top, I lowered down, untied, retied and lead straight back up, past my highpoint (lowpoint, really) and the next 20 metres to the chain. Banzai has two distinct, powerful cruxes and cruxy routes aren’t my forte, however having already fallen off had relaxed me and removed the pressure. Consequentially, I seemed more willing to throw and slap for poor holds and only had a mild suggestion of a pump at the top. I felt like I could have climbed another 20 metres! Maybe a good tactic for my next sport climbing trip would be to deliberately fall off at the second bolt to ensure that perfect state of mind on hard onsights…

The last few days of the trip ended at Cassis: sun, sand and sea and plenty more wine before heading back to the muted grey skies of autumnal Scotland.

A great holiday, fantastic climbing and some stories to tell but I will not be remembering this trip for all these things. After nearly five years together, Emma and I are now engaged to be married. The girl who tamed me of my reckless climbing approach, who introduced me to whisky (an Englishwoman no less!) and the one that I dressed up as a ned couple is the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with. Many thanks to Caz and Diff for plying us with excessive amounts of alcohol that fateful night many years ago!

The Missus and I with a "pile of stones" in the background

Return of the Nipper (Part 1)

Since my last post I’ve developed something of a writer’s block regarding my blog…no actually make that plain laziness. Compounding this little niggle was also some kind of motivational come-down after onsighting The Clown. Climbing E7 in this style has been a goal of mine for so long that I didn’t regard what I was going to do afterwards. I know that there are loads of E7s out there still waiting to be onsighted, but even now for me the distance between E6 and E7 still feels like a gap that I will only be able to step across occasionally.

So as it’s been nearly three months since I did The Clown, maybe I should have a quick run through what I’ve been up to:

Deep Water Soloing

Straight after The Clown, on the same trip, Andy and I carried on down the Welsh coast to Pembroke for the Deep Water Soloing Festival. Unfortunately it was pretty “moist” weather, to say the least. But this being Britain, everyone carried on stubbornly in the rain, the speed comp being particularly entertaining as a result. And despite nearly 9 hours of solid rain, the outdoor party continued on late into the night with the same spirit (well, only until the police turned up at 3am…).

A couple of weeks later, the Aberdeen DWS “festival” was on, so keen to get a bit more experience of this great sub sport, Emma and myself headed up. This time I managed to get more routes in before the rain started again, suitably fuelled by the burgers from the barbecue. Highlights of the day included War of Tears 7b with its heel hookery rock over funkiness but the lowpoint has to be getting stuck on the slimy top section of Hell and High Water 7a for 10 minute whilst the drizzle started.

War Without Tears 7b (photo: S.Stronach)

I’d really like to do more of this kind of climbing, as it seems to combine the best of climbing routes but without all the faff of ropes and quickdraws and nuts and cams and all that jazz whilst still retaining that element of boldness high up. So Mr Lines, how about a mass assault on the Red Tower next year?

. Red Meat 7a, DWS Maestro, Julian Lines watching (Photo: S.Stronach)

Developing a New Crag in Arrochar

In between flitting up and down the country to climb up cliffs and lob into the sea, I have also been visiting the Arrochar area with Tom Charles Edward, following up on a tip-off about an undeveloped crag from one of my spies (thanks Ian!). Coilessan Crag on the west bank of Loch Long, as mentioned elsewhere, really is the most glaringly undeveloped crag in the country. It can be seen as the distinctive prow high up on the hillside whilst looking southward from the Cobbler Car park at Arrochar. Less than an hour’s drive from Glasgow and a mere 45 minutes walk in brings you to a steep buttress scored through with many deep cracks just begging to be climbed.

. Coilessan Crag

The first line to fall so far is Ajare which takes the “slabbiest” but equally stunning line on the main crag, the vertical arête of the southern edge of the crag. I have to admit, though, to inspecting the line twice (because I forgot my brush the first time) before the first ascent, a bit of a departure from the whole ground-up onsight ethos that I favour. From my own experience, virgin mica-schist can be very lichenous with loose blocks and plate-like wafers and flakes also have a tendency to snap so a good clean is usually necessary.

. High up on Ajare (Photo: J.Watson)

The “interesting” bit of Ajare is the run out section in the middle; moving from a resting niche onto a wall and then back to the arête where some sequential moves lead to the pod/break; a long way from the last piece of gear with a real danger of smacking off the ledge below.

The first time I climbed this route, I used a small flake high up on the arête which I felt to be br6b, so this combined with the potential nastiness of a fall, it seemed logical to give the route E7 6b. Unfortunately, when Tom followed up afterwards he snapped the flake off but managed to find another sequence up this section- don’t worry potential onsighters, I am not giving anything away!

A week later, I repeated the route for the camera using the new sequence, and it actually felt easier although may possibly be harder to read….hence why I am now confused as to whether the route now warrants E6 or E7, especially considering the fact that I had pre-inspected the line and had full awareness of the terrain ahead. Nevertheless, a 3 star route with a mind-blowing top-out…

. The "interesting" bit of Ajare (photo: J.Watson)

Headpointing routes has never really interested me, but on this crag, I finally discovered the line that will really turn me to the Dark Side…take a 15 metre finger crack, tilt it at 40 degrees, throw a roof in the middle, make the crack flared at it’s steepest section and you’ve got some idea of how impressive (and desperate) this project looks. So far it’s taken me two days to clean it and another day of aiding up it (with about twenty bits of gear) to play with the moves. It’s going to be hard work but I am absolutely smitten. Unfortunately, it’s been a month since I was last on it and the weather is starting to turn so it could be next year before I am back on it.

Next Post: France

Clowning Around

An old doubt raises its head.

“Why am I doing this? This isn’t sensible.”

My left foot creeps onto the edge, hips shifting; I match the pencil width edge and continue to traverse to the left. The ropes are sweeping back a seemingly exponential distance to the roof to my right and the solitary gear. Directly below, the tide is crashing in; Andy is perched on top of a large block patiently holding the ropes as I hesitantly move across the quartzite face.

The Clown E7 6b at Gogarth, not a laughing matter mid-route; looking at the run-out and the foam washed boulders below. Falling is inadvisable from this point 15 metres up. A foothold creaks under my pressure and fleetingly a memory whispers. A memory of a foothold snapping, a silhouette poised in midair before hitting the ground. My body recoils, finding another foothold. Hips adjust once more to accommodate this new position, keeping both feet glued to the wall.

Coldly detached, I reach the flake of The Cad and the first piece of gear for 10 metres and start enjoying life again. More gear is placed; I de-pump my arms and my calves by standing on my heels, constantly shifting position to relax a different part of my body.

Smiling, I allow myself a quick moment of excitement; it’s going well, the lower crux rock-over managed without too much difficulty, the dangerous section negotiated and the top is in sight. A goal that for so long has eluded me, hovering just beyond my fingertips at the top of this lichen encrusted wall.

The wind has picked up and having stopped moving, I start to chill. I try to leave the rest into the continuation and top crux section of The Clown several times but have to climb back down, limbs moving like frozen cogs.

Doubts bubble up again. Stuck on the rest with shivering arms, the next bit looks impossible and the top further away than it should. But I’ve been here before, dealing with these uncertain emotions. I decide the next time I move up, I am not retreating.

Committed past my previous high point now. Precariously out of balance, I high-step a foot high up onto my left hand hold, a flake the size of a postage stamp. Undercuts are reached wrong handed. I fight to adjust my fingers into a better position. A crucial crimp is found higher up. I place an RP quickly behind a wafer thin flake. Moving up, my left arm cramps from placing the gear. My foot skitters on a smear. A flicker at the corner of my vision, the RP has fallen out. The wind sounds louder, roaring through me.

Finally, growing relief as my fingers curls round an incut flake that signals the finishing easier section. A break - bomber nuts and cams - the first gear in the 10 metres since the rest flake. I wave to Andy, a thumb up in response: I reconnect from isolation. Then I am standing on top, my first true E7 onsight.

Happy but cold at the top of The Clown, Gogarth (photo: Andy Hein)

Helmet's Story

Helmet and his Shiny Blue Coat

This is the sad story of the Petzl Meteor II no. 13,456 Helmet . Helmet was created in the Petzl factory in 2003 and given a wonderful metallic blue coating. It was here that Helmet learned of the privilege of his purpose: he was to protect his owner’s life and ensure his owner could climb with increased safety. Helmet was shown many gruesome images of what could happen to peoples’ heads if a helmet was not worn; Helmet now felt suffused with purpose and meaning, even vowing to make the Ultimate Sacrifice himself, if it meant that his owner would live on.

In the shop, many people tried on Helmet and commented on his nice colouring, but Helmet ignored them. He wasn’t there to make people look nice. Finally a young lad tried him on and Helmet just knew this was going to be his owner. Helmet’s heart lifted when he heard his new owner chatting to the shop assistant “Aye, I am going up to the North West this weekend, and thought it was time to get one of these lightweight jobs. Should be good for the winter stuff too”. A proper climber then! Helmet looked forward to a long and fruitful relationship with his owner. Helmet got worn a few times in the wind and sunshine and even acquired a few dents-the mark of a real climber’s helmet!

Helmet and me, Expecting To Fly E4 6a, Stac Pollaidh

And then the long dark waits in the back of the cupboard started. At first Helmet reassured himself, that not everyone could climb all the time not even this super keen lad. But from time to time, Helmet noticed that the other gear would go missing for days at a time. So, the Lad was climbing without him then! And with the nuts and cams too! Helmet felt betrayed, hadn’t the Lad brought Helmet to protect himself just like all the other gear? Surely not to be stuck on a shelf collecting dust, sinking deeper and deeper into a purposeless depression.

A rare outing for Helmet on Angel, Etive Slabs. Helmet came in very useful on this pitch as I fell off twice getting to this point and slamming into the lower slab... (S.Richardson)

One magical day, Helmet got taken winter climbing and he really showed the Lad what he was made of then as he deflected all the snow and ice that came tumbling down and even once, an axe that popped out of a placement. Helmet was ready to forgive the Lad if it meant more days like this but sadly, he never got taken out onto the white stuff again. One time, Helmet was put in the bag and taken off to a crag where he simply sat on the grass and didn't get worn at all. He even heard the Lad saying to his partner that because the crag was steep and the rock solid, he didn't need to wear a helmet!

Hadn't the Lad learnt that rock is unpredictable stuff and anything could happen like a foot slipping and taking a swinger into a jaggy corner? Or when a flake decides to detach itself onto a belayer? Or what about a backward fall onto spiky boulders?

Helmet got angry at being left on the shelf for longer and longer periods while the other gear went out and had all the fun. Occasionally some of gear didn’t come back, having made the Ultimate Sacrifice for the Lad. Helmet now hates the Lad and wishes that someone who did not climb such "steep and solid rock" had chosen him. Resigned to his fate, Helmet collects dust and dreams of days of feeling the sunshine and wind...

Sad and angry, Helmet sits and waits and collects dust

Mingulay

Wednesday, the day for our mid-week transfer to Mingulay from Pabbay. I wake up to the sound of heavy rain on the tent. I go back to sleep. Nobody even bothers to check the bay to see if the boatman appears. Everyone seems to be chilling out today, Dan and I don’t feel too bothered about get anything done; down time after the excitement and stress of new-routing the previous day.

Thursday, a much brighter day. The boatman picks us up. I ask how the weather’s been on the mainland as we’ve had it pretty good with three days of solid sunshine: “Floods. England. Rain.” A man of few words but gets his point across without any fuss. We all feel smug, soaking in the sun and the fresh wind whilst knowing the rest of the country is being soaked.

The last time I was on Mingulay three years ago, I had a bit of a mare on the Creag Deargh (the Red Cliff), an immaculate face balanced a 100 meters above the sea and choss. I lost my bottle, to put it bluntly on an E6, and retreated with a bad case of the wobbles. This time I wanted to face an old demon and get on the hardest route on this cliff, Steve Crowe’s The Scream E6/7.

Aren’t belayers wonderful people? Not only do they stand for hours on a small ledge the size of a chocolate bar holding your ropes but they also put up with your repeated down-climbing and resting on ledges whilst you wait for the sun to dry out the rock. And after many aborted attempts at the crux with the ensuing down climb to jugs whilst you try and work it out. And then they have to listen to your Tarzan like yells as you swing out ,high upon the void, hand traversing and kung foo-ing sloppily as your feet regain the rock. Yes, they are fantastic people indeed. Very strangely, Ali couldn’t be bothered leading anything after his three hours of belaying me on The Scream…

Another hard route repeated, another down-grade? I felt that The Scream, was hard E6 but did not warrant the original split grade. Yes, there is a run-out bit, but this is on good rock with fantastic gear in a flake and the technical crux is only just above this flake, plus, the entire lower section was wet up to this point…

But, I can’t help but feel that I am turning into a serial down-grader of routes especially with these split grades. Credit to Steve for climbing this route, absolutely amazing effort for the ground-up (shame that hold snapped on the first ascent, eh?), however this is part of the problem when climbing new routes and the subsequent grading.

Contrast following a route description and knowing the difficulty, even knowing exactly where the crux is to climbing into completely unknown territory with knowledge of absolutely nothing ahead of you: no idea if there is gear, no idea how hard the moves are going to be, no idea how good the rock is, no idea where the line really goes and no idea where you are going to end up on the cliff. A whole bag of uncertainty compared to simpler task of just following the guide and pulling hard on some holds.

So, of course it’s going to feel harder when onsighting new routes as you hold on harder and climb more conservatively: this approach gets reflected in the proposed grade. It happened with my own route, Geomancer which Dan repeated only a few days earlier, going from E7 to E6. Basically, repeats of routes first done in this style may not feel as hard on the second and third ascents (or is that a gross generalisation?).

Part of the problem with down-grading routes, though, is that it can be perceived as a personal slight towards the first ascentionist. The down-grader in some cases is seen as saying “I found this easier than you, therefore I am the better climber”. But personally I think I am guilty of the attitude that if I can climb something then it just can’t be that hard, in a kind of inverse modesty, conveniently forgetting the amount of effort that the route required. I am glad grading’s not an exact science because it fuels about half my conversations with other climbers!

Team ascents of the four star Big Kenneth E5 6a on Dun Mingulay were made the following day and the rest of trip passed by in a more relaxed vibe. Everyone myself included seemed a bit climbed out and lacking in psyche by the last two days. Poor Fiona, though had a major fright abbing down after her partners only to discover that the abseil rope had been completely shorn of the sheath 70 metres above the maelstrom (don’t worry, she made it out alive). Whilst staying in Castlebay overnight on the way back, I heard that some very drunk visitors had managed to row out to the Castle and scaled the church roof during the night…tut tut.

(Apologies for lack of photos on this post-Nobody could be bothered taking any pics by the time we got to Mingulay)

Pabbay

This was my fifth visit to the Southern Hebrides Isles of Pabbay and Mingulay since 2002 so it's fair to say that I am an addict. There is something very unique about the islands that is hard to pin down, other than the sheer quality of the climbing: big steep lines on hard, sculpted, funky, crystalline gneiss that feels incomparable to any other rock type in the UK. But there is also the soothing ambiance of these islands: from waking up in the tent next to a white sandy beach; to the walk over the moors to the cliff; to racking up above a glittering sea. Above all though, is the inescapable feeling of isolation: there are no cars and roads to battle with; no Tescos or Morrisons to endure whilst grabbing some crag food; no parking tickets or petrol to pay for. Just you, your mates, the climbing and your beer at the end of a great day.

Racking up above the Sea, Pabbay (Hot Aches)

On the first day on Pabbay, Ali and me made a beeline for Banded Geo. I've had something of an affair with this Geo since my very first visit to the island, the Ship of Fools wall leers out like a galleon in full sail. Long and steep at 45m and 5m in the respective planes it offers fantastic climbing on incuts and scallop-sculpted walls. My attempt at repeating Ship of Fools E6 6b (first put up by the original pioneers of E5+ routes in the Isles, Paul "Stork" Thorburn and Rick Campbell) in 2002 proved problematic as I went horribly off route, cutting through the lower roof with an extremely difficult sequence and then rejoining the original route ten metres below the top. Tim Rankin, a few days later repeated it via the correct line at E5. The following year I returned and added an independent start and finish to my variation, naming it Geomancer E7 6b which turned out to be an optimistically high grade, more on that later...

Ali set off up SoF after I had pinpointed exactly where to climb through the roof dispatching this with ease and then forging into the sea of jugs on the headwall. My intention was to climb a line to the right of SoF, so when I seconded Ali, I was dismayed to see chalk highlighting the holds on this line: someone had beaten me to it! However, the chalk had suddenly veered into SoF at half height, at least I could finish it off with an independent finish. An hour later I sat on the top of this wall, pleasantly surprised at the amenability of the line, a three star E5 6a. The Hot Aches boys who were out filming for their new project, Committed, however were disappointed, they wanted something hard and dramatic, not this stroll in the park. My investigative work since getting back has revealed it was Jonny Clark who had climbed this line thinking it was SoF, thus Jonny Scuttlebutt was born .

Banded Geo, Ali (orange speck) seconding Jonny Scuttlebutt (Hot Aches)

A few days later I stood under the Ship of Fools roof again, waving my arms about and describing to Dan McManus where to go on Geomancer. Dan seemed nervous, muttering about hard boulder problems through the roof but then discovering a slightly easier and more natural solution by traversing left on the lip before cruising the next thirty metres to the top. I followed, surprised and embarrassed at how easy the climbing felt: oops, definitely not E7 then. I had to agree with Dan on a reassessment at E6 but thankfully retaining all of it's three stars.

Dan climbing Geomancer with ease (Hot Aches)

Eyeing up a line at the back of the Geo where there were no existing routes, a dark and gothic cave that severely undercuts at the base, only touching down in a few places for sixty metres. From one of those places, sprang an impressive stepped corner on good rock that led to an obvious rising traverse across the cave and into a choice of corner systems. I had pointed the line out to Ali a few days before who immediately baulked at the thought of doing the rising traverse on the admittedly awful looking rock. Luckily (and with Machiavellian timing), I had persuaded Dan to do Geomancer earlier that day: he was now indebted to me belay-wise...

Stepping off the boulder, the pristine texture of the rock, the sea crashing and roiling, the sun disappearing behind the overhangs; nothing but an inconsequential pinprick on the skin of this cliff. A microbe that has flickered,fleetingly, into it's geological existence. Suddenly, I am bought back to my own time, fighting on matchstick edges, heel hooked high and pulling into the bottom of the corner. The crack is wet! I throw in some gear, rest briefly and continue up the corner which is now leaning out alarmingly. After some hard, piston-like bridging, better gear is reached and then a vertical wall with a thin but positive crack-sheer bliss...The last of the sun hits me on the belay and Dan follows, confirming the difficulties of the first pitch.

Grooving up the first Pitch of Redemption Ark (Hot Aches)

Tentatively Dan starts out the next pitch, we both know it's going to be loose but seem to be choosing not to acknowledge that fact verbally. Dan's body language reveals his anxiety on this pitch: creeping, inching, testing, checking, doubling back, sussing and faltering he made his way along the blocky traverse. A hold rips and I am pulled forward from my hanging belay, Dan is now level with me swinging on the end of the ropes, a clattering below that will become a familiar sound over the next two hours. Curiously, the fall seems to have relaxed Dan and after he climbs back to the ledge, he completes the thirty metre traverse. I contribute further to accelerating the erosion process on the part of the cliff as more lumps rattle down to the back of the Geo.

Dan on the second pitch of Redemption Ark (Hot Aches)

The final pitch. A choice of three loose looking corners. Dan begs me not to take the one above the belay, I note for the first time that we are not wearing helmets, stupid...Stepping to the left and away from Dan, I find lots of gear but I don't trust any of it, the rock is wet and I keep pulling half of it off. Contrasting with the powerful and positive first pitch, this final pitch is draining me with the nervous tension. I keep my hands and feet tautly in position, stretched tight and responsive as another hold crumbles away. Cramp is creeping into my legs. Many options present themselves and then immediately discarded: the flake with my left, nope it moved; the jam with my right, the side of the crack falls off; move my foot onto that edge, it snaps. Really hating this now, why can't I do something nice and safe like watch football on the sofa (no, better make that golf, not as exciting as football) and drink beer and then go to the pub and then watch crap t.v? Finally, better rock is reached, relief washes over at the top. Dan comes up smiling, escaping into the amber light of the sunset.

Redemption Ark E6 6b XS, and where did the name come from? My favourite science fiction book of the same name, suitably dark and gothic: a very well thumbed book on my shelf.

Next Post: Mingulay

Prelude to the Islands

In Profundum Lacu E5 6a, Pink Walls Pabbay (C. Adam 2005)

Today, I and about ten other like minded souls head out to Pabbay and Mingulay for a week. This is my most favourite climbing area in Britain, I usualy always have a good time here and some of the routes are big and long, hmmmnnnn. The weather's looking a bit squiffy at the moment but hopefully I'll have loads to report when I get back...