A week to remember

Well what a week ive just had!! In climbing terms it has been phenomenal. In general terms its been more jokes than live at the apollo.

Spending the week at Pembroke with a good tide and weather forecast was always going to bode well but as we left Cardiff, we were a bit hesitant as to what was in store for us. The first few days of the trip were spent hiding from the rain in the abandoned firing raid shelters that scatter the Range East coastline of St.Govans head. It was whilst walking back to the car after a pretty successfull day that the first occured. I heard a voice say my name but assumed Liam was just catching me up, but when it was shouted i stopped and turned around. Just in time not to be run over by a mahoosive bull full on charging me. It must have been my red tshirt.... a little more than a bit of poo came out and we carried onto the car park as quickly as we could without looking like weirdos running from cows.

The next day dawned clear and bright so our faces dropped when the spaz wagon refused to start. A rapid hunt around our campsite found some jump leads and a famous climber helped us jump the car. When i say helped, he did everything whilst we looked on in awe at how long his arms were and big his hands are!!

As soon as the car was back up and running we hit the road to Mothercareys, a magical place where another adventure ensued. I had just finished leading the first pitch of Deep Space and being a little pumped i wanted to just get into the half way cave and set a belay up to bring Liam up. But my plan was foiled by a fulmar in the little cave. A fulmar for those that dont frequent the sea cliffs of the UK, are a sea bird that when disturbed projectile vomit with great accuracy at its 'attackers'. I happened to be that attacked and recieved on a number of occasions a spurt of acidic fishy orange liquid fired in my direction. Wonderful! The smell stayed with us all week, mostly as Liams leg got nailed and he had trousers on so they stunk to high hell for a good while.

After a couple of days more normal cragging we headed down to Trevellan as the tide started to come in. Liam quickly dispatched the classic Trevallen Pillar. But it once again wasnt the climbing that stole the show. A pair of other climbers (a short dude with shit loads of hair on his head, back and chest - Little, and his tall, bald tin friend- Large). Little decided to scuttle around the bottom of the crag as the waves broke around him cackling in a high pitched squeal. This was just brilliantly funny and made another normal day turn into something special.

Our final escapade of the trip was a daunting one that we had postponed all trip. Preposterous Tales, is a route that begins by traversing into the mouth of a blowhole. And then with headtorches on, you venture into the bowels of the earth in search of a way out. No doubt to say that it was wet, greasy and the most awe inspiring place ive been for a while. It was crazy, the sea was crashing below us into the back of the cave and shooting water up into the void we filled beneath the grounds surface. A shaft of light, snaked its way down into the hole and this is what we followed out into day-light. If you want to understand in your adult state what beign born is like, jsut go down there. It gives you all the ingredients, wetness, dark, the foreboding nature of your setting and the movement toward light and a new life. Its fucking mental!

Unfortunately the escapades ended here as Liam had a coach to catch but what a trip. The people we met were amazing! And really did make a climbing trip into something more!

Liam fiddling in gear on Bloody Sunday (E4 6a, Huntsmans Leap)

Large getting his gurn on (Fascist and Me E4 6a, Trevallen)

Bird puke belay (Deep Space E2 5b, Mothercareys Kitchen)

A pleasant E1 arete at St.Govans

Space Cadet (E3 5c, St.Govans)

Psyced for Preposterous Routes (Preposterous Tales E2 5b, Bosherston Head)

Entering the Blowhole (Preposterous Tales)

Rebirth!

Once again lack of posting....

Once again, a lack of posting on my part. What can i say, its summer, ive been climbing...and drinking. Mostly drinking to be honest....whoops.

Managed to get over to the Frankenjura for a couple of weeks before my graduation which was jokes. Got some good routes in and keen to go back for a longer stint next time, project some steep bouldery limestone. The 'jura is really really cool to climb in, its all reasonably close to the campsite (Gastof Eichler) and so we managed to limit driving to every other day when we visited some further away crags or we were feeling uber lazy. Climbing wise managed to get a few 6c+'s done and a 7a second go but as they use the UIAA grades they were all 8- until we got home to check. Anyway here's some pictures for your viewing pleasure.

When it rained, it rained....(Photo: O.Burrows) 

Steep pockety limestone...gorgeous!! (Photo: O.Burrows) 

Paul hanging out on a F6b+ (Photo: O.Burrows) 

The Team Assembled on the Ferry before the 15hour drive......Autobahn!! (Photo: O.Burrows)

Since the 'jura ive managed to get to Pembroke a couple of times, hitting up the North for the first time. Carreg y Barcud being the highlight. However the South still holds my heart with the proper routes, steeper limestone, bigger seas and awesome beer in the Inn. I can also finally understand peoples enjoyment of coasteering on the North. Its the perfect setting, loads of little islands, clear sea, reasonably sized rocks to jump off and obviously the sun. Still shit myself when i jump in, not from fear of hurting myself (although it does hit a chord with this time last year) but because of the fucking seals! Saw a couple and their HUGE! I know they wont eat me or anything but my god they scare me. Massive pussy but hey we all have our weak points, mine is animals, especially those larger than me that are in water (this includes sharks especially basking sharks, they have massive mouths!).

Back to life, I'm house/dog/cat/horse sitting at the mo (yes a bit ironic considering the last statement I made) to earn a bit of dollar so i can go back to Pembroke and have some petrol money for my new pimp mobile (M-reg astra thats literally amazing!) when im in North Wales in september! Life is looking up, how does the saying go.....Young, Free and Single. But instead of chasing girls perpetually i think my heart lies in chasing routes and the 'buzz' of being alive.

Rath of the Weather Gods

Having got out quite a bit in the last week i had my hopes up for the following week, when i was heading to pembroke again for some cranking with uni mates. However the weather had other plans.

Above: Sam retrieving the ab rope from above Heart of Darkness (Mowing Word)

After buying food (mostly bagels and a bag of peanuts) from the service station we headed on our way along the M4. Got there and the weather was pretty good, much to our delight. However after setting the alarm for 6am and grabbing a few bevvies from the pub, we woke to find greyness and not brilliant weather. Got down to Mowing word and were the only people there surprisingly on a sunday. The forecast must have scared most people away. After doing two classic routes and being a pussy on another, we headed back to the tent in the rain. From this point onwards it didnt stop. So after a free night in the vicars field, we headed home, collecting free supplies of coffee, sugar, salt and pepper for Sams box of fun from a service station. The weather seemed to brighten up as we got near Cardiff so we changed direction and headed for Ogmore, only to be caught up by the shit weather once again as we got out of the car. On the plus side Sam saw Ogmore and seemed pysced. Yay another body into the fray.

It wasnt a massively productive couple of days but we had a good laugh and did some classic routes. The highlight was the goings on of the hedghogs that liked our tent at night. As after we chased them off with a flip flop on the first night they came back again the second, stealing our bin with its discarded tuna tin and also taking sams shoe for a walk into the middle of the field and into the rain. Vengeful hedgehogs indeed.

Now at least i get a week of training before heading back to uni and peak limestone, the grit and boulder training sessions. Every cloud has a silver lining. Its mostly rain but, i only go training when its raining so its probably a blessing. Never ending pysce.

The accident posthumous

This post is going to be a little more light hearted than the previous ones. Since the last one ive been and come back from cham, got fit and lost weight in the gym, done some first ascents and done some Pembroke horror show repeats, and had a birthday. Sick

First to Chamtown. Got there after a pretty long trek on the coach with a pissed french dude and some loud smelly fat women sat near me. Not a brilliant start really. Arrived well early so went and got our free bus passes from the tourist office by pretending we were staying in one of the campsites. Then headed toward argentiere to get established, the shack had some long term residents in it so hti up Bernards campsite. Managed to only pay for one nights stay as the next day we fucked off up the mer de glace to the Couvercle hut for some rock acclimatisation. After the slog up the sketch ladders ( I would stick in some pictures but unfortunately have none) found the hut under the Moine, the hill we'd come to do. Checked into the hut and scoped out the start of the south east ridge integral route planned for the next day, looked a lot longer than the 600m predicted by the guidebook but assumed it was foreshortened or something. I wasnt feeling brilliant at this stage, and after an oright nights sleep didnt feel masses better. This feeling of being completely battered continued all next day on the ridge, we later worked out to be about 1000m long (fucking Lindsay Griffin. Twat) I was unfit and not ready to be in Cham, having had to take 4 weeks off all exercise 'cos of my foot, jumping straight into a long rock ridge route on Chamonix granite was asking for trouble. And thats exactly what i got. 17.5hours after starting we got back to the hut, having only drunk a litre of water and some scraps stolen from the huts breakfast bar. I wasnt in a good state. It was on the way down that i decided i was coming back home to the Uk to get fit. So thats what i did. I left Cham 4 days later after running away from the campsite at 1am after the climbing world cup, escaping to the shack for a night out on the veranda under the stars. Brilliant night. Next day i got the coach home and the training began.

Above: The slog up the Mer de Glace, the '600m' ridge of the Moine is the left hand skyline.

Trad in a sporty world. When i got back to the diff i went to the gym everyday for 2 weeks and started toying with the idea of going climbing. The first time i went climbing was at a newish crag a bunch of climbers have been developing called Crymlin near Pontypool, South Wales. They'd done what most sports crag bolters do and stand at the bottom spraying clip-able bullets at the entire place. Which is another discussion in itself but one i try to stay away from as its more hassle and notoriety than its worth. But Gary Gibsons a twat. Anyway, there was a solid F6a+ crack, that was slightly wider than fist jams but not wide enough for stacked jams so with my knuckles baring all i went at it with my blue camalot an cracked the beast. First trad ascent done. Felt good, was good as well as my 'mentor' did the first ascent and bolted it. So the young upstart gets one up on the old fart. Only got to do routes like Kitten Claws and Owl and the Antelope first now... is gunna take some doing.

The following weekend i got into a chavmobile, complete with massive soundsystem, massive wheels and no boot space to make my way to Pembroke, stopping at Llanelli to have tea. Had a brilliant weekend, got scared in mother scarys but it all culminated brilliantly in hollow caves bay. Sick place if you've never been.

Above: Spot the climbers..... (both are wearing white tops on the third pillar from left)

So we abbed into this place with the intention of chekcing out a route called Galactic Glory (HVS 5a) a 3star route he'd never heard of or done. It turned out he'd not heard of it for a reason. The higher beings at Rockfax had made it up, well some of it its really more like E2 5b but is definately 3stars if not top50. Sooo good but definately gunna lure some unwanting HVS people down there. Shotgun the crag swag! Was a bit epic getting out, an RP#3 protecting the crux moves on the second pitch onto the arete being the high point, but i thouroughly enjoyed myself and as i hadnt climbed properly for pretty much 2 months i was happy with the progress.

Above: Me on the arete of Galactic Glory a definate 3star route in an 'atmospheric' setting.

Back from Pembroke, training continued, then i had my birthday. Another year older, a little more jaded, a little less accepting of societies dicks. But meh im off on holiday, a real person holiday with a pool and beaches and shit. Will have to see how i cope, but a week back in Pembroke when i get back should sort me out :D!