Spring time cragging

Every year or so a few friends write a list of routes. Now these can be any route we choose, however the other people writing their own lists can veto them if they think you're selling yourself short or will complete your list too easily (and of course win the coveted and seemingly unattainable prize money of ~£20). My list last year got off to a good start but a lack of motivation and life events conspired to put me out of the game with only 50% of my list completed.

This year seems to be a better bet. The routes on the list will push me, hence some training over the winter rather than the normal running, and are a little far flung from sheltered South Wales but so far I have had a great time chasing these lines around the crags of the country. Starting with Chullila down at Brean and yesterday getting Propaganda done at Cwmaman. The routes between these two (all 5 of them) have all been ambitions for a while.

The biggest of which was the Assassin down at Gogarth. This route used to intimidate me somewhat, the picture of Lee Roberts in the Ground Up guide making it look "way out there" and above my pay grade at the time when I lived there. Years passed and that ember to climb it and the shadows that scared me were still present but on a glorious weekend in late March I had a brilliant couple of days mincing my way up various routes with good friends both old and new. I finally got on the Assassin. It was amazing, both the climbing and the situation in the middle of Main cliff with the sun on the sea and hunger in my belly adding to the atmosphere of a great day. So here's to more brilliant days this year and the years to come.

Me seconding the Strand as our warm up before heading over to the Main event (© Tom Ripley)

The Lost Years

It's been nearly 4 years since I last put anything on this blog. Looking back I can see why. Not because I haven't done anything but because I didn't feel as if it was worth it. For the last 4 months of 2013 I was in Patagonia and the USA, when I came home I had a full intention of writing down what had gone on but all the excuses came into play life, a girlfriend, work, seeing neglected friends, training etc etc etc. But I don't think this was the real reason, I was ashamed and disappointed in myself. I had dragged my heels, complained, let the little things get in the way of the pure joy of the experience I was living at that moment. I was a fool and let a great opportunity to pass me by. And that is what I now know is the real reason I couldn't put it down.

It's been long enough now and I've started to try and take more control of where my own life goes. I have been in some dark places mentally for large parts of the last 4 years, wondered why to bother; to keep trudging the same path. Not going where I wanted to be going, not living what I believed was the life I should have. But I was unwilling- and to some extent still am- to give what was/is required to get there. I am now starting to get there and take those steps (2 year plan). This isn't a miserable post of self pity; it is a full stop on that period in my life. I am now working full time, my free time to live out the rhetoric I spoke of in my older posts has dwindled to 1 day in 7, maybe an evening or two. Yet despite that in the last 12 months I have climbed harder than ever before, I have run 2 ultra marathons and come in the top 10. I have made new friends and tried to keep good ties with the old.  I have bought a house, a van, a bicycle. I have travelled to new countries, and returned to others. It is scary how life is moving forward at such a pace these days (I definitely sound old and apologise, Im not but might be mentally) it takes events around you for you to realise what is going on and see how far you have come from those youth filled idealistic days.

A week ago I went out with some friends, we drank, some smoked, others took drugs. We stayed out late, chatted drivel and watched the sun rise and our eyelids close. As the hours moved on the conversation inevitably turned to our childhood and then where we are now. Little nuances in conversation concerned me, they worried me. Worried for my friends, for my generation. We went to a decent state comprehensive, got a good set of grades, worked hard in college, went to university and got decent results. We got decent jobs and paid into bank accounts to get on the housing ladder as the rents were so high we couldn't eat at the end of the month. But my friends- the same people who followed these steps much like I have- are lost. They are drinking a bottle of vodka on their own on a Friday night because they don't know what else to do. They take cocaine on their lunch break just to splinter the monotony of the working week. What has happened to us. And yet as I look around bars, coffee shops, music gigs, the same look of loneliness and abandon that has settled in my friends eyes, is in other's. But my friends aren't alone, they aren't abandoned but the sentiment of being lonely amongst a crowd is building. We are becoming a generation of lost boys with no future and no understanding of how to escape the cycle without help: economic help.

This blog is going to be my way of communicating a path through this system and my attempts to get myself out of it. I am not rich, I am not poor. I work hard but never get enough done. I want to be something better than I currently am, and will try my hardest not to be disappointed in myself again.

I came 8th in the Gower Ultra (50miles in 9hours something)

Fitzroy under incredible clouds.

Dave on the top pitch of Yellow Wall ( I went back and did both pitches of this great route yesterday).

Lost Boys

Is it finally coming together?

So with the Spanish power still fresh in my arms and mind I managed a good few weekend hits to the Wye ticking through North wall leaving only the very hardest (or the really shitty routes) left for me to get on. Looking back at my climbing standards  for the past few years it becomes apparent that I haven't been going this well ever, not even for this time of year - which considering its March is pretty sweet!

I think going to the wall and bouldering a lot over the winter has helped, as has the week hit to Siurana. But most of all my mental state has definately taken a leap forward. Im more willing to 'go for it', to trust that my gear is good and have confidence in myself as a climber to pull on through the hard moves instead of having a   sandy vagina and bailing. Its a good feeling, and especially considering what I have in store over the next 18months it is probably a very needed thing. So 2013 here we fucking come!

Strange Little Girl (E4) - 2nd of the year but a good one!

Suicide is Dangerous (E3) - Brilliant face climbing at an amenable grade (should be E2)

Taxis, Clubs and Self-Indulgence

Hot sticky eyelids try to claw themselves open. A shrill screeching pierces the clammy dullness of a drunken stupor.

Rushing around with far too little sleep and far too much beer sloshing about in your stomach is never conducive to effective packing. Assorted kit thrown into a sack. But remember the bog roll. Never, ever forget the bog roll.

You swore you wouldn't do this again. And yet another Saturday (well technically its sunday) has rolled around; finding you out of your mind stumbling, lost through the cities maze. Crawling into bed at 5. Last ditch attempts to cleanse yourself of your self indulgence. A pint of water. And another. Shit that was a bit much. Gunna need a piss now. Bollocks.

Soon enough you make it to the meet point. Sunglasses hide bleary eyes from passing motorists but this lot can get close enough to smell the Tequila on your breath. Fuck. No excuses made, and a long day of suffering begins.

Walking to the crag the alco-sweats start. A shiny veneer of last nights consumables layer your neck and face. Spreading like a rash across laden shoulders.

Finally it begins. The climbing. The only reason you've put yourself through all this shit. Well its not for your good health that's for sure. And it can go either way from here on in. It could all go to shit. Quite literally at times (but that's another story involving famous 80's climbers, human shit, and my harness). Or it could go swimmingly. Regardless though these occasions are always marred by trepidation and fear. Not fear of falling and hurting yourself. That is pushed firmly to the back of your mind. But the fear comes with the booze-poos. That elusive enemy of hungover climbers the world over. The enemy that strikes at moments of extremis. At your most fragile. Your moment of weakness.

As the sun finally makes its slow retreat below the horizon you are able to make a dignified exit from the scene. The slow pounding headache, like a fat kid sat on your face has begun to recede. Instead a gnawing hunger has enveloped your inner voice. Haribo and chocolate are rammed down a parched throat. A  dry mouth calls out for fluid.

As you step back into the car a distant buzzing hums its way into your concience.

'Pub later? x'

Why not? This phobia you have developed is tugging at you again. What will the doctor say when you tell him you have a morbid fear of dehydration. Im not sure but I do need to stop going out and climbing the day after. My god its painful.

One Summer

How do you describe the most enjoyable and varied 6 weeks you’ve probably ever had. On the last night sat around the brew pan chatting we tried to think of a single bad thing that had happened during our time travelling across France. Not one came to our minds.

We’d spent 4 weeks in Chamonix climbing some brilliant alpine rock routes, suffering a fair amount (mostly due to my sleeping bag being rated to 11degC when it was –2degC) and living in the woods near Snells field just outside the town centre.

 Catching the coach in late July I had no idea what we would get upto. Would I enjoy it all, would I shit myself and get too intimidated by the scale and the reputations of the classic routes I so wanted to do. But I needn’t have worried, yes there were times when I shat myself, times when all I wanted to do was go cragging on a British mountain crag or sea cliff then go to a pub and eat chips and drink beer. But there were other moments where it all came together. The Grand Capucin day, linking 2 really cool routes and then doing it all lift-to-lift made for a knackering but brilliant day out. Seeing the image of the Gervasutti Pillar in my own eyes not just in the Rebuffat book. Doing the Frendo rock section in 3 hours (the ice was very shitty and I had bendy boots on so that took a long time and lots of pain, see the picture below).

Then the set-back of getting upto the Eccles Bivvi Hut in late August to do the Freney Pillar but after following others advice we only had one rope. You needed 2 this year. But despite this we walked back down, still friends, still alive and still keen for one more route. We picked Frendo as it would be something that we could race up in theory and be back down quickly so as to catch a lift with another friend to Font and then home!

 All in all this summer trip to the Alps was amazing, thinking back to all the things I’ve seen and done. Alpine routes, swimming in Lake Annecy, watching clouds vanish above me in blue evening skies, watching the light fade on the faces of massive rock spires, seeing a tree fall down (with no one pushing it), travelling across France in a classic English gentlemans transit van, climbing on sandstone blocs in Font and visiting Paris for the first time (ran across the Arc d’Triumph roundabout!). Life felt good, and we lived for the moment.

 Below is a selection of pictures Tom Livingstone and Rob Richardson took (my camera drowned in Annecy Lake) that I hope sum up our trip and the fun we had this one summer.

“Life is about love, last minutes and lost evenings. About fire in our bellies and furtive little feelings” – Frank Turner

 

Summit of the Grand Capucin - A Grand Day Out

 

The Dream Team in Font (the pool made us wear Budgie smugglers - we looked like paedo's)

 

Moving Right on shitty ice at the top of the Frendo spur

 

Straddling Papillon Arete - First Route of the Season

 

Last Alpine Camp of the season - Beautiful

 

Im not sure what we were looking at but it sums up the partnership - Pessimistic vs. Eternal Optimist

 

Climbing near the top of La Marchand de Sables

 

Gervasutti Pillar - Birthday Route!

 

We spent a week in font and this is my favourite picture - my white tshirt still shows up

 

Transit travel across France - we got bored at one traffic jam so surfed on the roof for a bit

 

A woodland Paradise - Moss included

 

Snickers and a Candle - one way to wake up at 3am on your birthday! - we look fucked already!

 

 

Sid the watermelon 22-24 Aug 2012 - he gave us stomach cramps so we threw him in the river

 

Its been a while....

I havent posted for a while for a number of reasons. Firstly i had a job interview at Ogwen Cottage in North Wales, which im glad to say i got :-) so as of September ill be  the trainee instructor there! Literally can't wait! In less good news i basically flunked my dissertation and so had to stick my nose to the grindstone to drag my degree back upto a 2.1, I dont know the outcome as of yet but have got all my digits crossed.

During all this time i did manage to get out climbing and partying a bit, spending the bank holiday weekend in North Wales getting some good climbing done in even better locations. And also getting the last taste of the grit i'll have for a while, finally ticking some classics like Long Johns Slab at Froggatt and Eliminator at Stanage. As there are too many tales to put into this post i thought id describe it in videos and pictures.... Enjoy.

 The 5b Slab pitch on Superdirect (Dinas Mot)

 Guns out for the Rainbow, a rainy and blowy evening at Froggatt

 Getting the good crimps on Long Johns Slab (Froggatt)

My Honary 21st Dirty Pint.....It was drunk in one.......

I will endeavour to keep more upto date with bloggings from now on as this summer should be a good one, as  its all about getting good at climbing!

Living the B-Team Dream

Hope you enjoy. We certainly had a good craic. What every trip is remembered for!