tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35052556353259549212024-03-05T01:11:29.795-08:00Ab rope, anyone?David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-43954302280111669702019-02-09T01:56:00.002-08:002019-02-09T02:10:19.289-08:00Some Ice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Lac Montriond Icefalls</div>
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So skiing is kinda fun and everything, but sometimes you just have to haul yourself up walls of ice with spikes to get your jollies. With the chaos of half term in a ski resort looming me and my climbing buddy George are pretty keen to avoid queuing for ages to get on chairlifts, or skiing down pistes with a million other twats all trying to be on the same square foot of snow as you. It's been pretty cold lately so we decide to hike up to the icefalls that form above Lac Montriond to see if any are fat enough to climb.....</div>
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Ice climbing superstars/gormless tits</div>
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The main icefall looks absolutely nails, like Scottish VI, but there's an easier angled bit to the left that we aim for. I grab the rack and get going. It's almost immediately steeper than it looks from below - who knew??? But the ice is in pretty good nick, and I make fast progress up to a mini cave fringed with icicles. The next bit is plumb vertical, and I start to get a bit nervous. Spend ages fiddling around trying to thread a sling around the thickest icicles. Clip the bastard. Tenuous traverse to the left to the hard bit. Fuck me it's steep.....</div>
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Double-tapping screws below the crux</div>
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I think about building a belay and making George lead it, but that would kinda be a dick move, so <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">instead I place two screws in some pretty good ice and keep going. Steep moves, I hack away at the ice trying to find good placements. Shuffle my feet higher. Just as I'm starting to get slightly (ok, massively) pumped and scared I sink my right tool into some mega snow-ice and I'm kicking my way to an easier angle and a welcome rest. Now the only problem is I've got just two screws remaining and there's still about 20m left of pretty steep ice.</span></div>
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Bugger.</div>
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Run out fun out near the top</div>
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I climb 70-80 degree ice as far as I can stand then plug in a screw. It's a good placement but sadly it's also a fucking stubby and doesn't inspire much confidence. But I want to save my remaining long screw for the top bit, which looks pretty bastard steep from where I am, teetering miserably on my frontpoints and wishing I had more bloody screws. Anyway, off I go, climbing to just below the last vertical bit, where I find out that one of the teeth of my last screw is fucking broken. It takes ages to drill the cunt in, by which point I'm basically knackered and wondering if I should just stop delaying the innevitable and throw myself off.....</div>
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Looking back down the pitch</div>
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There's some exposed rock to the left, so I shuffle over and manage to fiddle in a couple of uninspiring nuts. Maybe slow us down enough for the last screw not to blow, fuck knows. Now there's nothing else to do but begin a series of tenuous little foot shuffles back right, tools in brittle, dinner-plating ice above me. I swing my right tool, ice breaks, a big chunk smashes into my face, blood splattering, well isn't this just so much fun.....A final heart-in-mouth step up, the last steep move, I sink my tools into better snow ice, where a final wallow up powder leads me to a bolt belay on the wall above. Thank fuck for that. I tie in and my arms are so shagged I can barely pull the near-60m of rope in to bring George up. </div>
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Fuckin ice weapons mate</div>
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Well bugger me if that wasn't a shitload of effort for one single bloody pitch of ice. I forgot just how crap I am at it. We ignore the second mixed pitch up a ramp of unconsolidated snow and instead abseil back down again. Good to get some ice mileage after nearly a year away from it. I keep looking over at the far steeper main fall to the right - hopefully I'll get a chance to come back a bit fitter and with sharp as fuck new picks and smash the bastard. Beats queuing for ski lifts anyway..... </div>
David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-39710655854265459572018-11-20T15:37:00.001-08:002018-12-28T10:23:59.997-08:0020182018 has been a pretty challenging year for climbing, with a combination of injury, lack of fitness, lack of mojo, and, y'know, just not being very good at climbing. Still, I managed the best winter season of my life, and scraped enough half decent trad routes together to feel like it wasn't a total write-off. Oh yeah, and I cycled like a bastard when a buggered finger forced an extended break from gibbering around on bits of rock. Anyway, rather than ramble on about the over-arcing narrative of the year, here's a massive wanky list of my best (and worst) experiences from the last 12 months.....<br><div><br></div><div><b><i>Savage Slit - Coire an Lochain</i></b></div><div><br></div><div>Mega fun, mega classic Northern Corries mixed route. I swung leads with a guy from UKC called Gwyd. He did a great job leading the thin techy crack at the bottom of the corner, leaving me to grovel my way up the inside of the chimney above. Never desperate but sustained the whole way up, the guidebook says you can climb the outside of the chimney - well fuck that.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Crypt Route - Bidean nam Biam</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>With alpine super wad Dave K. Winter climbing meets caving. A hilarious journey into the heart of the mountain, leading to an utterly perverse squeeze through a letterbox to get back out again. Greg Boswell couldn't climb this pig stylishly.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Stirling Bomber - Coire an t'Sneachda</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>Dragged up this monstrosity by that man again Dave K. Still undecided if this counts as one of the good or bad experiences......a desperate fight up the chimney from hell in a brutal Cairngorm blizzard; the horror, the horror.....</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>North Gully - Lurcher's Crag</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>Had no real expectations of this route, which ended up being 250 odd meters of nearly continuous ice climbing; fucking ace! Climbed this with Graham, the rest of the Northern Corries were getting shagged by windslab, so it was a punt that paid off big time.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>George - Liathach</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>I was nowhere near good enough to do Poacher's Fall, but this route was still pretty damn fantastic. Climbed with International Man of Mystery Dave Bird, 2 long ice pitches then a quick jolly up to the summit. Perfect bluebird weather didn't hurt either. We also did the classic ridge traverse, which was equally brilliant.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Cuillin Ridge Traverse - Skye</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>Where to start on this one? I could write pages.....My lifetime UK climbing ambition achieved, in stunning conditions, with the right partner at the right time. Cheers Jack. Bit of boring number crunching; we were 36 hours from car to car, about 20 of which was spent actually moving (fucking long shiver bivy), and it took us 15 hours between Sgurr nan Gillean and Gars-bheinn. We soloed everything barring a 15 meter pitch going up Sgurr Thearlaich and did 10 abseils along the way. One of those magical routes where you know from the very first step you're going to fucking smash it. Still, months later, I can hardly believe I've done it.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Crowberry Gully - Buachaille Etive Mor</i></b></div><div><br></div><div>A reminder that winter climbing can be fun in the moment, not just in retrospect. Despite climbing as a 3, me Pat and Jack shot up this in no time. Outrageous cave belay below the crux icefall.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Wall of the Early Morning Light - Beinn Bhan</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>See the previous blog post. I never thought I'd be good enough or lucky enough to pull off one of the big ice routes on Beinn Bhan. This really was an absolute beast. 18 pitches, shit belays, bugger all gear, and we climbed the last few pitches in the dark. Thanks to Graham and Pat for an unforgettable day in the hills. Back for Silver Tear next time, right boys?</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>The Pumpkin - Creag Megaidh</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>My last winter route of a phenomenal season. I tried leading the crux pitch as my first grade V ice lead, but got spooked by some cruddy ice and backed off......which turned out to be a very good thing, as one of my boots disintergrated seconding Katie up the sodding thing. Thanks Katie for leading all the hard stuff, while I hopped and cursed my way up like a total spanner. Great to finally get a route done on Meggy.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Haste Not - White Ghyll</i></b></div><div><br></div><div>So this is where it starts going tits up. I backed off leading the first pitch of this, then decided against seconding my boss John up it, as the route follows a massive, exposed traverse line, and you sadly can't get hauled up a traverse can you? Tragically indicative of how most of my trad climbing would go this year. </div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Route One - Raven Crag Walthwaite</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>This, rather than actually getting injured, was the absolute low point of the year. It's a fairly non-descript severe that I'd led before, but lacking any sort of climbing mojo I had an absolute mare on it. I finally stalled out a few moves below the top, spooked as fuck by a slightly damp hold, and convinced that the gear I had in was all going to rip out if I fell off. I downclimbed it a nervous wreck and made John do it instead - no doubt by this point he was seriously reconsidering his hiring practices. </div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Soloing Jolly - Brimham Rocks</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>This was mostly a highlight actually. Me and Jack spent a mega fun day soloing easy routes and exploring the crazy rock formations of Brimham Rocks. It only went slightly Pete Tong when I slapped a rope on and tried leading some slightly harder stuff. I backed off a couple of the classic VS, then skulked away to solo Mods again. We also buggered up the second day of the trip by getting shitfaced in Harrogate the night before and waking up far too hungover to move, let alone climb anything. Jack unfortunately managed to not projectile vomit in the middle of Waitrose, which would've been top banter.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Smeggy Little Boulder Problem - Indoor Wall at Tenby</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>If you're going to get injured while climbing, you want it to be on some massive, epic route, that way at least you've got a cool story to tell. Instead I pulled a tendon on some random problem at the indoor wall in Tenby on a bleak, windswept day when we couldn't climb outside. There's simply no way to make that sound badass. Although given my total lack of ability up to this point, it was actually kind of a relief to be forced into a break from climbing.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>West Coast of Ireland Cycle Tour</i></b> </div><div><br></div><div>Superb trip from start to finish. Me and Dad began in Cork, then headed south to the coast, and along as far as Mizzen Head, Ireland's most southerly point. We then improvised a route along the stunning west coast, over a fair few mountain ranges, eventually reaching the most northerly point, Malin Head. Oh yeah, and it was 20-30 degrees every day as well. Highlights were going over the stunning Healy Pass, the massive limestone pavements of the Burren, and the barren beauty of Malin Head at the climax of the tour. Just under 800 miles in total. Absolutely mint.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Great Dun Fell</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>A mountain in the Pennines with a paved road that goes all the way to the summit. Easily as good as the Bealach na Ba in Applecross, but harder, with a constantly fluctuating gradient and some brutal 20% ramps near the top. Best cycling climb in England. Done as part of a 90 mile slog around the Pennines, starting and finishing in Appleby. Hilariously windy on the final hairpins.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Etape du Dales </i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>The other cycling highlight of the year. 110 miles of beautiful Yorkshire scenery, and a shitload of savage hills.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Tophet Wall - The Napes</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>The big comeback route, and easily one of the best mountain multipitches I've done. Fucking nails for the grade mind. I found the first pitch wiggy as hell, tiptoeing up and across the mega steep wall, slings draped over hollow spikes hardly inspiring confidence. Then Jack led the unprotected wall above the belay, hello factor 2 fall, leaving me to grovel up the final outrageously exposed flake to glory. Sensational.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Moonraker - Berry Head</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>Good climbing the whole way up, but what sticks in my mind is the approach......first the sketchy downclimb above an ankle snapping slab that you'd bounce off and into the drink, then the long solo traverse of the Great Cave to reach the first belay just above the sea. This was mostly on mega holds, but it's pretty damn steep, and you'd sink well fast with all the ropes and gear and everything. First and third pitches were the best, which Staples breezed up on lead, while I took the easier middle pitch and still found it hard. Why is it all the best trad routes are scary as fuck sea cliff traverses?</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Anvil Chorus - Bosigran</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>One of the best routes I've done at Bosi. I ran the first couple of pitches together, then Staples led the big layback. Pretty hard work for VS, you want to keep moving quickly, and then there's a proper sting in the tail gaining the belay after the traverse. I challenge anyone to do that bit elegantly.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Rock Dancer - Carn Kenidjack</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>Man, I wish this was one of the highlights. An incredible 40m pitch of edges and hidden pockets up a just off-vertical wall of perfect golden rock. It's just a shame I tried leading it when it was clearly beyond my limited capabilities at the time. I got about a third of the way up, before getting scared and lowering off a couple of cams. Staples took over and made it look piss, the bastard. I'll be back for this one.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>The Arrow - St Govan's Head</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>Clearly I learned nothing from Rock Dancer, because later on in the year I thought trying to lead another big sea cliff E1 was just what I needed. Predictably binned it off when it got steep near the bottom, and once again along came Staples to the rescue. Only this time he sacked it off as well, after banging on about how easy it was - it's the little victories that make life worthwhile. Anyway, another one on the revenge list when I'm (hopefully!) way fitter next year.</div><div><br></div><div><b><i>Sidewinder - Coire an Lochain</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>Ok, so this was by no means one of the best winter routes I've done, it was shagged with powder and made pretty hard work by a lack of build up in places.....but what else do you expect from early season winter? Still, it's better to finish on a successful note rather than sacking off hard trad routes. This was a great day out on the hill with Graham and Katie, plus it meant I actually got a winter route done before spending the rest of the season being shit at skiing in Morzine. Good effort from Katie leading what we think was the last pitch of Western Route - some pretty tough moves in the less than ideal conditions. Here's hoping for a great 2019!</div><div><br></div><div>Thanks to all my climbing and cycling partners over the year; Jamie, Gwyd, James, Dave K, Graham W, Graham L, Dave B, Katie, Liam, Staples, Clem, Jack B, Pat, John K, Jack H, Mick W, Bob, Dad, Nina, George. </div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-32367270348212163792018-03-11T01:12:00.001-08:002018-03-21T13:33:45.559-07:00Wall of the Early Morning LightWhat's all this Beast from the East shite about? We're dossing in a layby at the base of the Bealach na Ba and the weather is great. Bit windy but the sky is blue...ish, and there hasn't been a snowflake all day. Kind of weird to imagine the rest of the country grinding to a halt, idiots trapped in their cars for like 19 hours, shops all running out of bread and milk. Why does everyone panic buy bread and milk? If the Beast really is the harbinger of an icy apocalypse, why the fuck would you stock up on stuff that will go mouldy within the first week? <div><br></div><div>Anyway, oblivious to all this chaos in the north west, we're doing the usual thing, stuffing our faces with pork pies and whisky as preparation for a big route on Beinn Bhan. I've always wanted to do a route in one of the enourmous corries that line its east flank. They're long, serious, rarely in condition. I'm gambling that the sustained cold weather will bring the massive icefalls into good nick. The classic direct route is Silver Tear, but we're all sadly too shit at ice climbing for that one, so instead the plan is Wall of the Early Morning Light, a slightly easier route that wanders all over the place seeking out the easiest way through a series of steep sandstone tiers. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9hPmuOtXbKQMMD_ECU00PfLqtOUVsdBGAhHx4__60Ul2cO47c7e_LSON_Mt-QbXZUCjEw3hj5ay4zA982TyyTATbjLqm3B8a8tJjRaY-NGCtkHF9TMPu406qtV2WltvcBaRG5y6lQtM/s640/blogger-image--145973337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9hPmuOtXbKQMMD_ECU00PfLqtOUVsdBGAhHx4__60Ul2cO47c7e_LSON_Mt-QbXZUCjEw3hj5ay4zA982TyyTATbjLqm3B8a8tJjRaY-NGCtkHF9TMPu406qtV2WltvcBaRG5y6lQtM/s640/blogger-image--145973337.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The corries of Beinn Bhan from the road</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The team is myself, Pat and Graham. Me and Pat are carrying most of the gear in, so we will make Graham lead all the hard scary bits. Don't want a couple of southern ponces upsetting Scottish pride after all. The walk in is pretty steady, and by about 8am we are in the awesome amphitheater of Coire na Poite, trying to spy a feasible route through a series of steep dribbles of ice and snowy terraces. After the north face of the Ben it's easily the most impressive wall I've ever seen in Scotland. Makes Sneachda look like a bouldering wall. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8MCwJY1i67E-QTNO3daEV4QabWH3YrPK5Jn-GoSj2FvFeppMBcUwTr9oiLvy9ZfNRd68J9aajLGJyqNhiNcRtGFN1j9ik6Wcd33NnZk631lavWl1pZ02d7a925NY126KMwlFEx5Ruos/s640/blogger-image--2000238864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8MCwJY1i67E-QTNO3daEV4QabWH3YrPK5Jn-GoSj2FvFeppMBcUwTr9oiLvy9ZfNRd68J9aajLGJyqNhiNcRtGFN1j9ik6Wcd33NnZk631lavWl1pZ02d7a925NY126KMwlFEx5Ruos/s640/blogger-image--2000238864.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Entering the mental Coire na Poite</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We gear up at the bottom and figure out a line to take through the initial icefall. The most direct line looks pretty steep and not brilliantly formed, so instead we head further right to better looking ice. Looking in the north highlands definitive guide afterwards we might've climbed the start of a route called Meanderthal, but it's pretty hard to get info on this face, so fuck knows. Anyway, I lead the first pitch, steady IV climbing with decent ice and screws, and belay on screws when I get to easier angled stuff above. And by easier angled I mean 50-55 degree bullet hard neve, which is something we will get increasingly familiar with as the route goes on.....</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl00HA0sVtMwbjBnDh_AtgE1irDbnPux-HgbYyqD7pavTuoqpUTUx1cmUUiqq4TUB0_mqD8eQDENuTIS1A7YcQcN-XxTFxzfMhv2LQrMVHG9HyMBoq0gQXoBS-L7Sy-mLeBTVCd8243bY/s640/blogger-image-1977325698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl00HA0sVtMwbjBnDh_AtgE1irDbnPux-HgbYyqD7pavTuoqpUTUx1cmUUiqq4TUB0_mqD8eQDENuTIS1A7YcQcN-XxTFxzfMhv2LQrMVHG9HyMBoq0gQXoBS-L7Sy-mLeBTVCd8243bY/s640/blogger-image-1977325698.jpg"></a></div>Approaching the right hand icefall start to the route</div><br></div><div>Graham is the only one of us with any sort of talent for this ice climbing business, so he leads the next 2 pitches to another terrace of snow, past a thin crux section near the top. Pat and I hack our way up after. The belay is on dodgy screws and because of the angle of the neve we're perched on there's no way to take a proper rest there. Instead we kick steps into the fucking stuff and try not to weight the anchors. Not easy finding space for 3. To save time me and Pat traverse simultaneously across the terrace towards where we think the route usually goes. But the scale of the face is such that we don't get anywhere near the next section of ice, so end up bringing Graham across on some utter toss belay so he can finish the traverse. I lead another pitch up and across some ice and belay off a single tied off peg just right of the steep bit. No obvious way through presents itself. I vaguely remember something about a chimney in the guidebook description (like 3 sentences for a 400m route) but I'm not sure where it's meant to be. But it's Graham's problem so who gives a fuck.... </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6RDL8paOPBhBX6m8N_QSbWVK1lX1hTvxz9WSk0TuXBNU_5A0JXretgI4bpm_JTH3KhMp6k5JW8p6VBqcWCs1u0wjTPBOGWZOdnSV04fGrb9DH_mmDrxXYvMoMYXa6V6OVEW1YCCa_nU/s640/blogger-image-495052218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6RDL8paOPBhBX6m8N_QSbWVK1lX1hTvxz9WSk0TuXBNU_5A0JXretgI4bpm_JTH3KhMp6k5JW8p6VBqcWCs1u0wjTPBOGWZOdnSV04fGrb9DH_mmDrxXYvMoMYXa6V6OVEW1YCCa_nU/s640/blogger-image-495052218.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me leading the first of 18 pitches</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He traverses left then spies the chimney and starts climbing upwards. We can hear him yelling that it's fucking nails, and I stare at the tied off peg and fight to supress hysterical laughter. What fun we're having. But he gets up the bastard like the ice weapon he is, and soon enough it's my turn to follow. The gear is wank and it's pretty hard and steep, easily V 5. Superb lead by Graham. Above there's what looks like a short ice step, that turns out to be almost as hard and cruddy as fuck. I gibber my way upwards towards what I hope is a ledge. This turns out, of course, to be yet more 55 degree neve. There's another step barring access to what I'm sure is the final snow terrace before we head left into a big fault line to the top. So I have a go at it but it's steep, off balance, and the ice is complete toss. No problem, I'll just belay and make Graham lead it instead. Serves him right for not carrying a rope in. </div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4f-eytOUeLuR52MBDa_QDUl7lhM60Io2Wq-DvwTwv8JNnEnwrFoActcNj0u8ulkXV81ViifmF7dhZIbiczBhSiGEfRznt0jcxp6GyuJI2LgFM70U9w6U2wGmHGM09mrz829t6Fd884o/s640/blogger-image-2138311971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4f-eytOUeLuR52MBDa_QDUl7lhM60Io2Wq-DvwTwv8JNnEnwrFoActcNj0u8ulkXV81ViifmF7dhZIbiczBhSiGEfRznt0jcxp6GyuJI2LgFM70U9w6U2wGmHGM09mrz829t6Fd884o/s640/blogger-image-2138311971.jpg"></a></div>Looking back down into the corrie - climbers crossing the frozen lake (last photo we took!)</div><div><br></div><div>Graham leads the final ice step, and it is indeed fucking hard. Pat and I wearily grovel up after him and we peer across the terrace with thousand yard stares, hoping there's an easy line to the top just round the corner. It's getting on in the day and I'm starting to wonder if we'll finish the route before it gets dark. And whatever else we encounter there's definitely a cornice to be overcome. Still, I reckon we'll be alright, can't be too bad now - so of course the traverse across the terrace alone takes another 3 pitches. Bastard. But at least we can see the fault line now and it doesn't look that hard. Graham and I lead a pitch each before the daylight fails and darkness steals across the highlands......fantastic.</div><div><br></div><div>Just to make matters worse I now desperately need a shit. It's so bad I get Pat to belay Graham up pitch god-knows-what, while I undo the waist belt of my harness, teeter on my front points, and unleash a foul torrent of cack down the mountain. Pat stoically pretends that he's.....fucking anywhere else but here, I suppose. If I overbalance mid-shit then I'll probably pull the 3 of us off the sodding hill altogether, hurling us all to a messy, shitty death at the bottom. Still, I feel much better for it, and that's the main thing. </div><div><br></div><div>So it's proper headtorch climbing now, and I reckon we've at least 3 more pitches to go. From Graham's wank belay I traverse across unconsolidated snow towards a break in otherwise steep looking ground. A hard move with no footholds sees me on a slightly gentler slope of neve, and I manage to find an ok hex belay just above. Once again the 3 of us perch miserably on our front points, unwilling to test the only thing that's holding us to this sodding face. Graham leads a final unprotected pitch up steep snow ice to where I'm frantically hoping the final snow slope lies. Thankfully our estimation is correct, and from this last belay I trudge up steep neve towards the looming cornice above. </div><div><br></div><div>Much to my surprise and relief, there's a big notch in the bastard, so it's completely piss. I crawl onto the summit plateau of Beinn Bhan on my hands and knees, dig in, and belay Pat and Graham up after me. It's bitterly cold in the wind but I'm so tired I find myself nodding off as I pull the rope in. It's about 10pm now. We quickly pack up the gear and begin a fairly straightforward plod back down to the cars. 18 pitches, probably 600m of climbing with the right hand start, rubbish belays, fuck all good runners, and a few unfortunate flecks of shite still clinging to my trousers.....what a fucking route!</div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-1945701149292690132017-12-19T06:18:00.001-08:002017-12-19T10:23:26.251-08:002017<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-o6OCKNx9uap-ZIYj9scAiJABVDNqQUsiF5elC8tEKJLVfRZuo5A_s-K4hB0_SRvkJGJSBTwlOK39DYM3CxqVhl5vmhzTbAFJcXznULT_ro1FQsm1XPpYFA20EGXQVPbLpXKnenJSQcs/s640/blogger-image--1866589380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-o6OCKNx9uap-ZIYj9scAiJABVDNqQUsiF5elC8tEKJLVfRZuo5A_s-K4hB0_SRvkJGJSBTwlOK39DYM3CxqVhl5vmhzTbAFJcXznULT_ro1FQsm1XPpYFA20EGXQVPbLpXKnenJSQcs/s640/blogger-image--1866589380.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPi2Y5IZ22lwhyt5zuw8O_cZfOJG3IhIRtHIgUzYZptGYhyDTSVWcVVL_tQJG6kXcwwPkusGgasNgGJdZrt0v3bK7rlPMYAciaLqx9aWsWX0uZBGmrVwRlchEbhMyrwOliB_-An7uRjm4/s640/blogger-image-363348556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPi2Y5IZ22lwhyt5zuw8O_cZfOJG3IhIRtHIgUzYZptGYhyDTSVWcVVL_tQJG6kXcwwPkusGgasNgGJdZrt0v3bK7rlPMYAciaLqx9aWsWX0uZBGmrVwRlchEbhMyrwOliB_-An7uRjm4/s640/blogger-image-363348556.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Winter 2016/17 is fucking awful. However, in between the rain and devastating thaws, Staples and I manage to bag a few routes in early March. Best of the lot are probably Curved Ridge of the Buachaille in bluebird conditions, and a traverse of An Teallach a few days later. The viz is pretty pish for An Teallach unfortunately, but still a fantastic, atmospheric day. We also sneak a couple of harder routes in Coire Sneachda and Stob Coire nan Lochain. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87Yrg7NfGhAS9QMkYF56ZfXYUKGO5hk5Ztuk5gyxQfet2dxIHobq5U2Xs-PbHcKCXWTiW5BgurrbiAVjy28J7fbM1K4aiUPmRQkhzndnxxZiMMGAFm83yFJn2pAzZnCsE1jUkZQQcjf8/s640/blogger-image--451277672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87Yrg7NfGhAS9QMkYF56ZfXYUKGO5hk5Ztuk5gyxQfet2dxIHobq5U2Xs-PbHcKCXWTiW5BgurrbiAVjy28J7fbM1K4aiUPmRQkhzndnxxZiMMGAFm83yFJn2pAzZnCsE1jUkZQQcjf8/s640/blogger-image--451277672.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikauixpbOCjW5IDKjqwVnqKEK8iwxucwM1DYInUx79tIy0QGV1_Yegnc0CdSA56JA1-pe6GKoUF-JwiOY0qTBKaBQmybPfrVNftFcVG3NDyKp0eDfGzcIePnwS_A4Lfw9lBuGxeuFpa8/s640/blogger-image--399366084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikauixpbOCjW5IDKjqwVnqKEK8iwxucwM1DYInUx79tIy0QGV1_Yegnc0CdSA56JA1-pe6GKoUF-JwiOY0qTBKaBQmybPfrVNftFcVG3NDyKp0eDfGzcIePnwS_A4Lfw9lBuGxeuFpa8/s640/blogger-image--399366084.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat and I head up to the Ben afterwards in the vain hope of snatching something. We climb Ledge Route in the rain (past a guy pitching the whole bloody thing to teach his girlfriend how to winter lead, the poor bastard), then give up on winter and go rock climbing in the Lakes instead. Photo is me grovelling up the steep bit of Kransic Crack Direct. We also have a fun jolly up the easy mountain classic Gillercombe Buttress.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8lulnBaWhmBrdBlYveHkng2c7-U-Cg87Yg2owASs-7iBHDtao7fEg4fZpA46B9wEf8qUu9sWxP2-vEzVtdnBI44ShBxI0pr9qUKKg-aEXRuWElgZ1xxqNR4vO0HZ5Z5x2a2gQG36CG8/s640/blogger-image-860059533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8lulnBaWhmBrdBlYveHkng2c7-U-Cg87Yg2owASs-7iBHDtao7fEg4fZpA46B9wEf8qUu9sWxP2-vEzVtdnBI44ShBxI0pr9qUKKg-aEXRuWElgZ1xxqNR4vO0HZ5Z5x2a2gQG36CG8/s640/blogger-image-860059533.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0_QE69azYHwWpBIMVQzZ5MkeQOJU-4lH8enZmXG7ORCrf4Sx-Tn8f4Za29wREz_PPYbaAElwUlgFBuy1XXEGNDfqzSxQmGd2K8Rq8pEwPb4dxai7IizVDr8HKLY1bL0N0ZEP05Napo4/s640/blogger-image--1890731222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0_QE69azYHwWpBIMVQzZ5MkeQOJU-4lH8enZmXG7ORCrf4Sx-Tn8f4Za29wREz_PPYbaAElwUlgFBuy1XXEGNDfqzSxQmGd2K8Rq8pEwPb4dxai7IizVDr8HKLY1bL0N0ZEP05Napo4/s640/blogger-image--1890731222.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Langdale Enchainment with Pat and Megan - godawful polished solo up Lower Scout, the classic VDiff on Upper Scout, Slip Knot then Slab Route on White Ghyll, then finally the mega classic Golden Slipper on Pavey Ark. Superb early season trad day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnT9f45g4gWOSMSVCFtQSYzaJhl6cT9Vc52Zly5EywhDPd7F7eTjoR1Vi0iiyW66OZNow-dwL393E9GBQHyx0-lLEfJeK5WW9AUug0gtqfaI744h-kE1Q0jefv3YLFkAEuqWcLY7fCBE/s640/blogger-image--587571768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnT9f45g4gWOSMSVCFtQSYzaJhl6cT9Vc52Zly5EywhDPd7F7eTjoR1Vi0iiyW66OZNow-dwL393E9GBQHyx0-lLEfJeK5WW9AUug0gtqfaI744h-kE1Q0jefv3YLFkAEuqWcLY7fCBE/s640/blogger-image--587571768.jpg"></a></div>First pitch of Pluto, Raven Crag. Steep corner crack, grovelling frog traverse, delicate techy rib; any pitch could be the crux. I find them all equally hard. Megan particularly enjoys the traverse pitch, literally screaming and weeping for joy the whole way.....;)</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIzif738t5Rn9Qj1dgbGa7erjGojyhuN4emhTL1vIaX_ieuvCKLZRyJpTOl2IS8JUvVtMd22p-_hTl2nZZLyRto9A12oVsO0j18kumUXIO52Z2Q9LsCMJZP9UuCDIA7sGj2kygpQ38s0/s640/blogger-image-362599136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIzif738t5Rn9Qj1dgbGa7erjGojyhuN4emhTL1vIaX_ieuvCKLZRyJpTOl2IS8JUvVtMd22p-_hTl2nZZLyRto9A12oVsO0j18kumUXIO52Z2Q9LsCMJZP9UuCDIA7sGj2kygpQ38s0/s640/blogger-image-362599136.jpg"></a></div>Photobombing at Avon Gorge, one of only two days climbing down south all year. I somehow manage to slap my way up an E1 called Limbo, pretty hard by my standards for April, just in time for an ear operation and subsequent loss of all fitness immediately afterwards.....</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMiBfJk49CBLqhuMmJQI7FkdLCf6XYPSUj0sDlhAyBzd0REMVYYGWC2IMjUeQ7-b4JCDHEgnH5oQiVekpx3t643e8kjN3REKYMNd0m3MVP_LntrHm4I3QG5BjvaWJh-IYXArtPF4oL8w/s640/blogger-image-1581733558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMiBfJk49CBLqhuMmJQI7FkdLCf6XYPSUj0sDlhAyBzd0REMVYYGWC2IMjUeQ7-b4JCDHEgnH5oQiVekpx3t643e8kjN3REKYMNd0m3MVP_LntrHm4I3QG5BjvaWJh-IYXArtPF4oL8w/s640/blogger-image-1581733558.jpg"></a></div>Pembroke Easter Jolly. It is fucking freezing so no one climbs particularly hard, but between us we tick a shitload of easy classics, drink a lot, and consume unhealthy ammounts of spam. Still in recovery from the ear op, I climb like a sack of mouldy turds. Great jolly with a proper climbing squad.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Z_b9hZ9SOrA7F9tcUeT4ie903LYLNAYcQB8qYX3LVQWqR25n4WOZSy7uQw32Ucil-j9mKPS1L517FvbLLlcBUfgwwQvkgw0rISeL96OsF0JeXgNBUdkCq4GIeKbBT8jNmQ9I6y0ivzY/s640/blogger-image-1601117710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Z_b9hZ9SOrA7F9tcUeT4ie903LYLNAYcQB8qYX3LVQWqR25n4WOZSy7uQw32Ucil-j9mKPS1L517FvbLLlcBUfgwwQvkgw0rISeL96OsF0JeXgNBUdkCq4GIeKbBT8jNmQ9I6y0ivzY/s640/blogger-image-1601117710.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SKr-FGsy4oWAHIE-GI-JFNC8CD8bcIMVZbMGfQLSKm8hKHCmIKQJq1gDzEcl7EbGLUW1czWn7smnnNwIJT-66uhd9SPRSJxZCz2gAlHy8vVQvhh3r0kqKveTBNwL4Qwgl9mY0tBqBXE/s640/blogger-image--6573340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SKr-FGsy4oWAHIE-GI-JFNC8CD8bcIMVZbMGfQLSKm8hKHCmIKQJq1gDzEcl7EbGLUW1czWn7smnnNwIJT-66uhd9SPRSJxZCz2gAlHy8vVQvhh3r0kqKveTBNwL4Qwgl9mY0tBqBXE/s640/blogger-image--6573340.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQGLJxalSG3X2ny2S9V-RMVaYAloitB5dnSQ9j2eNJoU5xrZHBiDoeYzi26LGT2eMJQUZvbCh9gxF9x3QnMpGTbCbwnlFgmueVS7tM-5nJQBAUwAdPAh_K4BNMimX5Rwat7-uFiSuO-g/s640/blogger-image-14230946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQGLJxalSG3X2ny2S9V-RMVaYAloitB5dnSQ9j2eNJoU5xrZHBiDoeYzi26LGT2eMJQUZvbCh9gxF9x3QnMpGTbCbwnlFgmueVS7tM-5nJQBAUwAdPAh_K4BNMimX5Rwat7-uFiSuO-g/s640/blogger-image-14230946.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUfgIL4_mQUtw5cJHx3i1CvEXYO4KzGzc-Qu_trRp_h0sacuHR27_tGia9-WqY61DzLNNDs5ZRcRec_t90bB9U5tW8mdCxnG9iPdCi6fKW0VH8FkwLaoPxfY9mSucib2IfhksmJRZmro/s640/blogger-image-200856257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUfgIL4_mQUtw5cJHx3i1CvEXYO4KzGzc-Qu_trRp_h0sacuHR27_tGia9-WqY61DzLNNDs5ZRcRec_t90bB9U5tW8mdCxnG9iPdCi6fKW0VH8FkwLaoPxfY9mSucib2IfhksmJRZmro/s640/blogger-image-200856257.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After getting some form back, and shockingly managing to onsight Cenotaph Corner, fuck knows how, I go back to Pembroke a couple more times. Highlight is definitely Heart of Darkness/New Morning, which is everything a sea cliff classic should be - committing, terrifying, strenuous, greasy, traversey, steep, terrifying, seagully and terrifying. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAvMjpHBrg5s_yVZiQzV9rJJCiyWWKBhmSEVzLfYNCb7UNyzjQGDc5WnnVFdpn68obXaYMOoZNZpJDTGhnxdZLFcr2nnEuo5e344naZgqA-aShjQiGToG1qja4__rsJkHbHoLETPw9OU/s640/blogger-image-1629865584.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAvMjpHBrg5s_yVZiQzV9rJJCiyWWKBhmSEVzLfYNCb7UNyzjQGDc5WnnVFdpn68obXaYMOoZNZpJDTGhnxdZLFcr2nnEuo5e344naZgqA-aShjQiGToG1qja4__rsJkHbHoLETPw9OU/s640/blogger-image-1629865584.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijnl0pQ661kKyRQchtfbl65sq-G78gO-bwxHFxmG1HpvUbW0ZxQZQ7pQBA_xtAbjdGMAG23WKQqur8SqbP8mtHmC8WHwEKm0mbjNp4W3A43Qe4Gdasj1w3rOMGGfBHxp9DVaM4iKOPSDA/s640/blogger-image-1126200298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijnl0pQ661kKyRQchtfbl65sq-G78gO-bwxHFxmG1HpvUbW0ZxQZQ7pQBA_xtAbjdGMAG23WKQqur8SqbP8mtHmC8WHwEKm0mbjNp4W3A43Qe4Gdasj1w3rOMGGfBHxp9DVaM4iKOPSDA/s640/blogger-image-1126200298.jpg"></a></div></div>Staples leading his first E1, Manzoku, another super sustained Pembroke classic. Top effort from the boyo.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdiUgfPZ49WJHlsttRkh5EnSZyNXz7u2esJS63KYiRgPfG-69s94m4zI54d-p0gXSCQxjQ5WJeFo7PIV38Ea_EIZaftTkj5tzRtJ68ddTyc2ErJQOvTyL0JUp65ucYY7kb_i7t2Z9GMA/s640/blogger-image-511219307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdiUgfPZ49WJHlsttRkh5EnSZyNXz7u2esJS63KYiRgPfG-69s94m4zI54d-p0gXSCQxjQ5WJeFo7PIV38Ea_EIZaftTkj5tzRtJ68ddTyc2ErJQOvTyL0JUp65ucYY7kb_i7t2Z9GMA/s640/blogger-image-511219307.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCsn5n8jyx44N5SyVXHgtA9oBaPfEduTYTqBbgxTzWgDBQne8Ui6ktO3MztIZoR6fkjA7pbYDCN-FVPQqYXwyHiEIeia8HwiQVqJliSqNS3Xs3frW6iNJgcwKB4lgijFULgnddfcKZvo/s640/blogger-image--857850014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCsn5n8jyx44N5SyVXHgtA9oBaPfEduTYTqBbgxTzWgDBQne8Ui6ktO3MztIZoR6fkjA7pbYDCN-FVPQqYXwyHiEIeia8HwiQVqJliSqNS3Xs3frW6iNJgcwKB4lgijFULgnddfcKZvo/s640/blogger-image--857850014.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNIT6m4r7nLm197oDMOGCwQteRpZZ-5prtUyFwjByZStTyyFukV6b4fYakWf_8e7PW5RDQ7Rs4RSUEyPpXiEbCmNaS6fkoiI2jV1CPD0_g8PlQhEl2qWNp-jR-1ea5go1oKMEbw7761U/s640/blogger-image-2106605686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNIT6m4r7nLm197oDMOGCwQteRpZZ-5prtUyFwjByZStTyyFukV6b4fYakWf_8e7PW5RDQ7Rs4RSUEyPpXiEbCmNaS6fkoiI2jV1CPD0_g8PlQhEl2qWNp-jR-1ea5go1oKMEbw7761U/s640/blogger-image-2106605686.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiASmHLaEpDoAkl_n-4mxEsxOLzlyiD1pAw3noZwW-zD1lloSxHwK7JXRfhYL5OeDXybj5FfB6_375fDxTWNaZ23XJut-xGW72-ohNkb68GpZ8Bt5BKSYD3SFJsfchLPwHiyYoGorJvs20/s640/blogger-image--434349218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiASmHLaEpDoAkl_n-4mxEsxOLzlyiD1pAw3noZwW-zD1lloSxHwK7JXRfhYL5OeDXybj5FfB6_375fDxTWNaZ23XJut-xGW72-ohNkb68GpZ8Bt5BKSYD3SFJsfchLPwHiyYoGorJvs20/s640/blogger-image--434349218.jpg"></a></div>After that I move up to the Lakes for a job. It rains a lot. I spend most of my spare time cycling up hellishly steep mountain passes rather than climbing. However in July Staples comes up for what is to be Jock Rock Jolly II.....half of which we spend in the Lakes doing some trad classics. Best day is up on Gimmer, doing North West Arete, Whit's End Direct and Kipling Groove. After that we drive straight up north, a few days of perfect weather forecasted.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgTbjUOJ9_wQ1pA1bsAxYTRpnOyjgMCUUuKP5h7_BNU2pyx0dVCyHO1vANcJASF7s0U29ve5-PTwDmVizUQtwXoVEMXhJG5McdwSmcM1PeIYo2seZcf5WdL9K4gbvyHe4O19RqB61DDM/s640/blogger-image-1832743157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgTbjUOJ9_wQ1pA1bsAxYTRpnOyjgMCUUuKP5h7_BNU2pyx0dVCyHO1vANcJASF7s0U29ve5-PTwDmVizUQtwXoVEMXhJG5McdwSmcM1PeIYo2seZcf5WdL9K4gbvyHe4O19RqB61DDM/s640/blogger-image-1832743157.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNr11IXp0gevy8eN5CTeg9jM396Uy7031FZvuxbKAm2Gc5pamOsGa6Oz2iYuIRywy6Llt_6dSbfkWxnUf4b6w9Mw4_EyIY2JgOPYuDwyirBJeK3im2sREbsSKGE0zZlmBaeYyqnmktII4/s640/blogger-image--594148238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNr11IXp0gevy8eN5CTeg9jM396Uy7031FZvuxbKAm2Gc5pamOsGa6Oz2iYuIRywy6Llt_6dSbfkWxnUf4b6w9Mw4_EyIY2JgOPYuDwyirBJeK3im2sREbsSKGE0zZlmBaeYyqnmktII4/s640/blogger-image--594148238.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sword of Gideon in the awesome Bealach na Ba. First multipitch on Torridonian Sandstone. Staples manages to fall off the first pitch, which is graded a whopping 4a, the fucking tit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRLmTVSt7XdD4r-CidmNMTiwcwR5Xe4DnuNFdN9TzmSifxf_TEGgktI30wSqpLCtNhMpGlKh1iDc7I_g1IO63tb1lEW1XS_yq5r3f87EJvphsUyZYfSeYQcTNqqZJK3kdg38rc2vvUFk/s640/blogger-image--547291596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRLmTVSt7XdD4r-CidmNMTiwcwR5Xe4DnuNFdN9TzmSifxf_TEGgktI30wSqpLCtNhMpGlKh1iDc7I_g1IO63tb1lEW1XS_yq5r3f87EJvphsUyZYfSeYQcTNqqZJK3kdg38rc2vvUFk/s640/blogger-image--547291596.jpg"></a></div>The Bealach na Ba. I'd be back to cycle up this monster later in the year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0yntcG_r8W8zFa2q3Uf_4XPGPvy8d3bpUgl7EAH1fp0CUpZhbdzZHHEHEtcrieIgOI2ZIlHufy0HBmaPfELlqHZIPYjnoanLmbJZew5Pu-9ovvGX8HQ_lFcQ2TmYOPNq_pc2aVeA3mM/s640/blogger-image-350425881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0yntcG_r8W8zFa2q3Uf_4XPGPvy8d3bpUgl7EAH1fp0CUpZhbdzZHHEHEtcrieIgOI2ZIlHufy0HBmaPfELlqHZIPYjnoanLmbJZew5Pu-9ovvGX8HQ_lFcQ2TmYOPNq_pc2aVeA3mM/s640/blogger-image-350425881.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqz6gWw27CUOWD1wSxrJJT2F74_V0PWzPDhhv_FzZ-gwEg7rpZ1-gssQE-mXV_O2obQP8kQpGAS4FpC7cxd0kdlrWJvdhXom6fF4wNN3BASwVUjRr02sIVoyNDLmFxEww9onT7xw4wpU/s640/blogger-image--1124768599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqz6gWw27CUOWD1wSxrJJT2F74_V0PWzPDhhv_FzZ-gwEg7rpZ1-gssQE-mXV_O2obQP8kQpGAS4FpC7cxd0kdlrWJvdhXom6fF4wNN3BASwVUjRr02sIVoyNDLmFxEww9onT7xw4wpU/s640/blogger-image--1124768599.jpg"></a></div></div>Back to the incomparable Diabaig. Best rock in the world. First up is the Black Streak. Warm up for the big one..... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ryETWaHEhM7R6fPhoZ0zpKOLLTWQCAX6C5GNRBLrlmABs4qrB7Fo7hqF4JrGhVSGtyr9ODB-DDNbnJJkrzEPQT2BCPkRUs0_l7lJM3bUzV0z5-qAKsM4h8HYqaXhK-iuOWeE-iPCs74/s640/blogger-image-997469361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ryETWaHEhM7R6fPhoZ0zpKOLLTWQCAX6C5GNRBLrlmABs4qrB7Fo7hqF4JrGhVSGtyr9ODB-DDNbnJJkrzEPQT2BCPkRUs0_l7lJM3bUzV0z5-qAKsM4h8HYqaXhK-iuOWeE-iPCs74/s640/blogger-image-997469361.jpg"></a> </div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr135Ioqhbr0lGD_AtLwXUL7Q42ksxnY942ZlfrRE8CI1Y1s0ZRBV6G-M4EXc7qZNYHVqdOHtZVgqgCNkVbn8HlwlkhV1_JokGp0VNcUOw9l5WxlK1S-ZKikxVnwqR3rNJYaRsbok8Dpo/s640/blogger-image--1517311932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr135Ioqhbr0lGD_AtLwXUL7Q42ksxnY942ZlfrRE8CI1Y1s0ZRBV6G-M4EXc7qZNYHVqdOHtZVgqgCNkVbn8HlwlkhV1_JokGp0VNcUOw9l5WxlK1S-ZKikxVnwqR3rNJYaRsbok8Dpo/s640/blogger-image--1517311932.jpg"></a></div>The Diabaig Pillar. Best single pitch trad route in the world. 40m of crimpy brilliance up perfect golden rock. Not a bad first E2.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGO4TqMZJ6dB9UNETG9aJkxPv3plq10Akfng7AyCGltx99cWCQiHUmKN0Gly8259AWZKRpE9ytowx3qn7agsovfj3PKz6f2_ZC_dzqHiMwkc0Gus1X1pmqIHUeoparHjW9HbSe2Mvjog/s640/blogger-image-46897880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGO4TqMZJ6dB9UNETG9aJkxPv3plq10Akfng7AyCGltx99cWCQiHUmKN0Gly8259AWZKRpE9ytowx3qn7agsovfj3PKz6f2_ZC_dzqHiMwkc0Gus1X1pmqIHUeoparHjW9HbSe2Mvjog/s640/blogger-image-46897880.jpg"></a></div>The Pillar in all its glory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT12N6NWcaGAS9WWX8-wffu1w10p94WlvTMAPqJoNjB58O0hg2-lNRcMtfpz2WzOZS5ubRrRr9DyoQmYgoO-TlBHwDPDUgs_3XHcBcxTBnXIK6OnsSX0pGYb_fB0R3Aj4wNSs5Ny_HpZs/s640/blogger-image--876527586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT12N6NWcaGAS9WWX8-wffu1w10p94WlvTMAPqJoNjB58O0hg2-lNRcMtfpz2WzOZS5ubRrRr9DyoQmYgoO-TlBHwDPDUgs_3XHcBcxTBnXIK6OnsSX0pGYb_fB0R3Aj4wNSs5Ny_HpZs/s640/blogger-image--876527586.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhevRirWw9FUSUXsrDZuGVaIIQbbDDkNcsz978o31aGaY07cpLnwamiRRgKlzNivH4TBI5crm7pNP8ZGNM0UOd0V_DF0FC5RD3Ymh40iCANTUbrubsCTjGwYncUKcjHpabLlQe6_8ksg/s640/blogger-image--1401755470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhevRirWw9FUSUXsrDZuGVaIIQbbDDkNcsz978o31aGaY07cpLnwamiRRgKlzNivH4TBI5crm7pNP8ZGNM0UOd0V_DF0FC5RD3Ymh40iCANTUbrubsCTjGwYncUKcjHpabLlQe6_8ksg/s640/blogger-image--1401755470.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pdJM25YO97ZQeOVdjrS5ZIuElVK1gOfC_y4no79O0FrPBI_phFvRRUJTLhDHdkWd5EH-Bco2f831HQdXONG9Xxj8KKk2kzsWkh701SGe4iPtjVoDm8FFB46B6XpEYoHQF72aYfIfnE8/s640/blogger-image--2140598791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pdJM25YO97ZQeOVdjrS5ZIuElVK1gOfC_y4no79O0FrPBI_phFvRRUJTLhDHdkWd5EH-Bco2f831HQdXONG9Xxj8KKk2kzsWkh701SGe4iPtjVoDm8FFB46B6XpEYoHQF72aYfIfnE8/s640/blogger-image--2140598791.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTO412h53UtXodNIF2GOmeFjOsaOspvGhhyphenhyphenOerJpLzDwkdEA3hAZpiPha9bz99MdCBR_BjNXMSzscvH13BjICJVYVwchyvqaWszVzdZHqXh8OCWPs32ssdzGVHre3gOqqSxBt4TDGiJ4/s640/blogger-image--2103350721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTO412h53UtXodNIF2GOmeFjOsaOspvGhhyphenhyphenOerJpLzDwkdEA3hAZpiPha9bz99MdCBR_BjNXMSzscvH13BjICJVYVwchyvqaWszVzdZHqXh8OCWPs32ssdzGVHre3gOqqSxBt4TDGiJ4/s640/blogger-image--2103350721.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8rO0VP-uLFwG2_zUgNt4E0yslsRWQIsCo3EZ8hIb9SexARiESyOJqkKe6jLMBzvTDAOYBl0O-v0lA1ez4mOF6FxAM7puhZbNGKR7hCOBFK0gkJuLaom64bUXcgdh5RiXxFF15JEXb8Gg/s640/blogger-image--1500954358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8rO0VP-uLFwG2_zUgNt4E0yslsRWQIsCo3EZ8hIb9SexARiESyOJqkKe6jLMBzvTDAOYBl0O-v0lA1ez4mOF6FxAM7puhZbNGKR7hCOBFK0gkJuLaom64bUXcgdh5RiXxFF15JEXb8Gg/s640/blogger-image--1500954358.jpg"></a></div></div></div>After getting the shit kicked out of us on Kilt Rock, we spend the final day of the trip doing a big link up of routes on Sron na Ciche; Chioch West, Arrow Route and Integrity..... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKs2HdkfY0UvKmE_ckvwfuI-NP6qN7flJayLmlEuK9aedwVrH_C8zzYj7uhbhaXKIWYokYCh1xx1Q8-FVI6pqVDhQVS82RYHXG8AFo_katyL5WmfC4UtCAeL067iJx6aiVwP_0val-0I/s640/blogger-image--1693911638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKs2HdkfY0UvKmE_ckvwfuI-NP6qN7flJayLmlEuK9aedwVrH_C8zzYj7uhbhaXKIWYokYCh1xx1Q8-FVI6pqVDhQVS82RYHXG8AFo_katyL5WmfC4UtCAeL067iJx6aiVwP_0val-0I/s640/blogger-image--1693911638.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwKp5SWA0PdSj8uTRcEJPf8Uin-WJ1_1-cHYJ0eiX6Qb0DxVqb7Y1zmKWkcbheLFAlAeLob5KH2Kh3yu7j1UbAuDRBqYEluJg9zoezIi0pcNmwcZ0_L3v1PS9mI7rmfF5STqG52DSSgT8/s640/blogger-image-752066118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwKp5SWA0PdSj8uTRcEJPf8Uin-WJ1_1-cHYJ0eiX6Qb0DxVqb7Y1zmKWkcbheLFAlAeLob5KH2Kh3yu7j1UbAuDRBqYEluJg9zoezIi0pcNmwcZ0_L3v1PS9mI7rmfF5STqG52DSSgT8/s640/blogger-image-752066118.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjer-JS_0lnTRcUTiCSMVVL84mLeH7wudgp7ErQrEJ7VwL5jp8WDPvoOhY7_ZCy0MA2zcQEKoH7ifacxV1HpZsx_eZ9Ghdlt0teNCUY-3H6BZli-7vkfmmqW1RjWqaHLmc3b-njuY8MezQ/s640/blogger-image-201262555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjer-JS_0lnTRcUTiCSMVVL84mLeH7wudgp7ErQrEJ7VwL5jp8WDPvoOhY7_ZCy0MA2zcQEKoH7ifacxV1HpZsx_eZ9Ghdlt0teNCUY-3H6BZli-7vkfmmqW1RjWqaHLmc3b-njuY8MezQ/s640/blogger-image-201262555.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">After that we traverse the Cuillin Ridge over Sgurr Alasdair and Sgurr mich Chionich to finish on the Inn Pinn. Spectacular mountain day.</span></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlA828_dSfXQqgAtnjIMKPYmijdMB4sf2LDrWyu-4Zih9ENoTUH7Q2zarKKGXUB8ppQD_9XbPZx2_NO8Rm0hJnU-4-X-HKZydEkxm5VVVw4lsd47v6sFh0af6cpDetewkS8doiKlfpNiw/s640/blogger-image--1048539531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlA828_dSfXQqgAtnjIMKPYmijdMB4sf2LDrWyu-4Zih9ENoTUH7Q2zarKKGXUB8ppQD_9XbPZx2_NO8Rm0hJnU-4-X-HKZydEkxm5VVVw4lsd47v6sFh0af6cpDetewkS8doiKlfpNiw/s640/blogger-image--1048539531.jpg"></a></div>Abseiling off the UKs hardest mountain peak.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2f5qKh9RGAObfXzpaMg2KiBD0GbHcwcEsCEL0y8G9h8WxF2fuf7cyuExR6Vi8vGwTIfTF7_NSesVzQwTrmePN1CVbxY9XAtqMpPzcLMGVRQ1Jrt_cwyExrTyG4_0XtD4znutBWDE3GOE/s640/blogger-image-267253046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2f5qKh9RGAObfXzpaMg2KiBD0GbHcwcEsCEL0y8G9h8WxF2fuf7cyuExR6Vi8vGwTIfTF7_NSesVzQwTrmePN1CVbxY9XAtqMpPzcLMGVRQ1Jrt_cwyExrTyG4_0XtD4znutBWDE3GOE/s640/blogger-image-267253046.jpg"></a></div>After that I spend the rest of the summer cycling. Here I am bollocksed out of my mind after finishing the Fred Whitton route - 100 miles and nearly 4000m of climbing. Going over Hardknott Pass right at the end nearly fucking kills me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2E-B7HiIj9K1pXeqBnJlsowv3lK1BkI2PYUPYrxc9VZnJUchhfUaUJK_4GxF11coKx0HGQ2Zsz6Lq6l4-7ed7_o7YsvTsOP7hI3bvTmlE8woscljnZCfRce3if9Bxx1fa1IoaG4E05BU/s640/blogger-image--677728857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2E-B7HiIj9K1pXeqBnJlsowv3lK1BkI2PYUPYrxc9VZnJUchhfUaUJK_4GxF11coKx0HGQ2Zsz6Lq6l4-7ed7_o7YsvTsOP7hI3bvTmlE8woscljnZCfRce3if9Bxx1fa1IoaG4E05BU/s640/blogger-image--677728857.jpg"></a></div>It is all training to cycle the North Coast 500 route of Scotland with Dad. Best trip of the year. 7 days of hills, wind, rain, the odd bit of sun, and the most beautiful scenery in the country. And of course the obligatory tourist pose at John O Groats. We travel pretty light, stay in hostels, and average about 85 miles a day. We also meet a guy in a cafe who turns out to be the first person to do Land's End to John O Groats.....on a fucking unicycle! Absolute nutter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkDLYH7zzLG9VGyxdY4ImYlpcUHPBCRrwUOE_UKDxhxbnOyZGRALZD28MlZVAT17C19s2Hg8dW_2TytnfKtGH2pIpy8B8DrziuyYO6cYy6JfwNYN1UPIQaVuAdvFK9gMhDIB92qd8UiA/s640/blogger-image--563890619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkDLYH7zzLG9VGyxdY4ImYlpcUHPBCRrwUOE_UKDxhxbnOyZGRALZD28MlZVAT17C19s2Hg8dW_2TytnfKtGH2pIpy8B8DrziuyYO6cYy6JfwNYN1UPIQaVuAdvFK9gMhDIB92qd8UiA/s640/blogger-image--563890619.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzVogDmr-Q0680kQUoHPOS9z8LmxDxcAJkBqOGxeo2qT7xsUyM-8ErCAwbu7Dv70-6wm4eaaWMq5y7Ty7S14rmrrJRdVlOs_MVqkmdlqZqQi1zYcgPIx6LGjoKeL7wqCv8fsvH-d3M0w/s640/blogger-image--308695656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzVogDmr-Q0680kQUoHPOS9z8LmxDxcAJkBqOGxeo2qT7xsUyM-8ErCAwbu7Dv70-6wm4eaaWMq5y7Ty7S14rmrrJRdVlOs_MVqkmdlqZqQi1zYcgPIx6LGjoKeL7wqCv8fsvH-d3M0w/s640/blogger-image--308695656.jpg"></a></div></div>I do the odd bit of rock climbing in the autumn, but my winter psyche is taking over. Taking advantage of the first cold snap in november, I climb a bunch of fun easy routes, mostly solo. Photos taken on the classic low grade route of Lochnagar, Central Buttress. Massive effort from Graham with the camera actually making me look sort of cool.... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo24elTuwpKW7Nokj_zF9DxRdQaa1Q9t3J3rpeQ4CqJlP3T5vO9wgNyoAT7Ni3oB3QoJ3V5xVL0itWYDEq_yj9whjzFmOObnwthxwoQuW6N2DGNnfL87i0-BuUEiDcbVIwiN5QQIRM11E/s640/blogger-image--185217431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo24elTuwpKW7Nokj_zF9DxRdQaa1Q9t3J3rpeQ4CqJlP3T5vO9wgNyoAT7Ni3oB3QoJ3V5xVL0itWYDEq_yj9whjzFmOObnwthxwoQuW6N2DGNnfL87i0-BuUEiDcbVIwiN5QQIRM11E/s640/blogger-image--185217431.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgChUXV7KhBoXwdNuSF78c4Ph3oOypmTF4khc_D-fDAYuTw0amE8Az6d8kveVYksEWLiGQiw2Tk857iJS-HWQkwm5s7_CYm4jaqp01yZesb0_ayaYBiogdAxzpGSDlgKkcwpF3dUeHqRA8/s640/blogger-image--565508234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgChUXV7KhBoXwdNuSF78c4Ph3oOypmTF4khc_D-fDAYuTw0amE8Az6d8kveVYksEWLiGQiw2Tk857iJS-HWQkwm5s7_CYm4jaqp01yZesb0_ayaYBiogdAxzpGSDlgKkcwpF3dUeHqRA8/s640/blogger-image--565508234.jpg"></a></div>Dorsal Arete - the most fun grade II I've ever done! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnf-WwCI5U-CfB2_82vnk6AiwDKJilKtX8jRsMdQWekly6uVzpcRUoToTqG01K8Y1KTUu-4nnxN1WqiKPEUWgw2VUehA4FFLjmzwyslp6U6zDSA4RXES95Hwqo7bbcsnn0ZP4tDR1DM3s/s640/blogger-image-517829836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnf-WwCI5U-CfB2_82vnk6AiwDKJilKtX8jRsMdQWekly6uVzpcRUoToTqG01K8Y1KTUu-4nnxN1WqiKPEUWgw2VUehA4FFLjmzwyslp6U6zDSA4RXES95Hwqo7bbcsnn0ZP4tDR1DM3s/s640/blogger-image-517829836.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCW6YADGwu5u864BFFOUWEOQOi3-wRe_LnRUNXA-VanMrUNoEJ3iCgljKGM6kNuEejJy8-iL6WdRuC9sjsns6fwS09B8qRkVver2e25eeVF4I2gk_5YngMjb8FC848O3m-zuh5CENIQ4Q/s640/blogger-image--36998369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCW6YADGwu5u864BFFOUWEOQOi3-wRe_LnRUNXA-VanMrUNoEJ3iCgljKGM6kNuEejJy8-iL6WdRuC9sjsns6fwS09B8qRkVver2e25eeVF4I2gk_5YngMjb8FC848O3m-zuh5CENIQ4Q/s640/blogger-image--36998369.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcCT26FUJ_fB-SfQn8gqEWbCEmjqdqEkhJip_TO8JO4gXeNsIHFmdLdYYqqDVOzboA4baTg4ycSobgyjIJZMkRn2HyMORTtG-BBjP7xIudytLT960juVLjucmvHWBUZFvzW5PfDZ7hxQ/s640/blogger-image--1140518929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcCT26FUJ_fB-SfQn8gqEWbCEmjqdqEkhJip_TO8JO4gXeNsIHFmdLdYYqqDVOzboA4baTg4ycSobgyjIJZMkRn2HyMORTtG-BBjP7xIudytLT960juVLjucmvHWBUZFvzW5PfDZ7hxQ/s640/blogger-image--1140518929.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div></div>I don't want to spend the entire winter season in Scotland, so instead I head off to the Atlas Mountains in Morocco to bag a few peaks. Annoyingly there is no snow, meaning I spend the whole time scrabbling my way up scree slopes and choss. I do manage to climb 4 4000m peaks before getting bored and fucking off, including Jbel Toubkal.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_cdY7VSj-7CeG-l3KNnGRdcs0rIlwNjgxhDur2lKwfHS7xpNkT3YEk1L7QQTJaKc1BHGgcOX7iZ0NpG397h8Zlui-f8ojJKGaGoz6AC9vIluCNRKBwilFLOOFoJuuHC8O4_a1uUMvHwU/s640/blogger-image-91077520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_cdY7VSj-7CeG-l3KNnGRdcs0rIlwNjgxhDur2lKwfHS7xpNkT3YEk1L7QQTJaKc1BHGgcOX7iZ0NpG397h8Zlui-f8ojJKGaGoz6AC9vIluCNRKBwilFLOOFoJuuHC8O4_a1uUMvHwU/s640/blogger-image-91077520.jpg"></a></div>Typical view from the High Atlas - shite rock, dust and desert!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpEeB9mTA6_fYErLqsWv7m9FAcjOotOMfr4xg-6J26uWvpyq58fUJkCD5WEaX-yAN6dkSfz2LDD6bzoPRc9_GyJ8k2GXp3k8DMrtKS5PwEpOMXlm1vP2t1qhacw3kvr1ekAuELyNsPyc/s640/blogger-image-2144046712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpEeB9mTA6_fYErLqsWv7m9FAcjOotOMfr4xg-6J26uWvpyq58fUJkCD5WEaX-yAN6dkSfz2LDD6bzoPRc9_GyJ8k2GXp3k8DMrtKS5PwEpOMXlm1vP2t1qhacw3kvr1ekAuELyNsPyc/s640/blogger-image-2144046712.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRyb0MwuMSuBnEU6tmQrOP-x-PJ_MNpRCNGXVQiTfxLrV_zhPmM0FW_c0jyo3pPo5tMTJo96n_CkiFhisP4P00ftJm4C_pNRfHqBrmQtStXySMLpvRj-kQ6md7yXvH3LgD9AZsFsty2E/s640/blogger-image--1322981847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRyb0MwuMSuBnEU6tmQrOP-x-PJ_MNpRCNGXVQiTfxLrV_zhPmM0FW_c0jyo3pPo5tMTJo96n_CkiFhisP4P00ftJm4C_pNRfHqBrmQtStXySMLpvRj-kQ6md7yXvH3LgD9AZsFsty2E/s640/blogger-image--1322981847.jpg"></a></div></div>Psyched to get back into winter, I attempt a lean Bowfell Buttress with my boss John. After 2 pretty hard pitches I find myself torquing up the crux crack - my first V 6 mixed lead. The crack is fine, but I go and ruin it all by taking a massive lob when a sketch hook rips on the thin slabby traverse above. Despite being all bashed up I manage to finish the pitch second try. Annoyingly the final pitch isn't properly frozen, so we reluctantly rap off from a big flake. Gutted not to finish the route but a mad little adventure anyway, and it's always good to push into a new grade.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixTepahfNUyUduYLbijxP4rJGCj5yvK3ZvaUpwmUBFsA6vn7MussYzsbUAhUfv5pDxzNjz-JuFOSC1k2nSbBTACDiYDqLB50bvPGtkFS0VF-5eU3e0bzypZ4U5XjIJog1HWsjK9rAQdjU/s640/blogger-image--1753452496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixTepahfNUyUduYLbijxP4rJGCj5yvK3ZvaUpwmUBFsA6vn7MussYzsbUAhUfv5pDxzNjz-JuFOSC1k2nSbBTACDiYDqLB50bvPGtkFS0VF-5eU3e0bzypZ4U5XjIJog1HWsjK9rAQdjU/s640/blogger-image--1753452496.jpg"></a></div>Back in Scotland I climb the Stob Coire nan Lochain classic Scabbard Chimney with a super talented guy called Jamie. It is filled with useless powder. Needless to say I find it fucking desperate. Jamie floats up it of course, levitating up invisible hooks and edges, while I hack and flail and swear for every bitter inch of progress....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6Qcq0Fm0NxYtXmEtzqy-rqtm3iDgF8H8S1otyHjQCOwfXS7IiPUW4-4znIPYv6-vMD0v3bzKAVjbyeitReVTL-9NqXQafux0qpYR2Q_2Xw9BKiokG99hCjW_58SJPhpKaOAQlFialtA/s640/blogger-image--434952660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6Qcq0Fm0NxYtXmEtzqy-rqtm3iDgF8H8S1otyHjQCOwfXS7IiPUW4-4znIPYv6-vMD0v3bzKAVjbyeitReVTL-9NqXQafux0qpYR2Q_2Xw9BKiokG99hCjW_58SJPhpKaOAQlFialtA/s640/blogger-image--434952660.jpg"></a></div>Final route of the year.....and what a route! The sustained cold spell in december has brought the icefalls of Beinn Udlaidh into condition. With Katie I climb the mega classic Quartzvein Scoop in pretty decent nick. Easily the most pure fun Scottish winter route I've ever done! The next day we walk into the Ben hoping for more ice. The Curtain is tantalisingly close to being formed but just too thin on the initial slab, so we have to leave it there. And then an innevitable december thaw rolls in. But it's been a great start to the 17/18 winter season, so here's hoping it continues that way, with some fat ice in the new year!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Finally a massive thank you to all my climbing partners this year; Staples, Pat, Megan, Javi, Grace, Cam, Anna, Gerwyn, Rich, Jimbo, Jack, John K, Graham, Dave B, Jamie and Katie. Thanks also to Bob for pushing me to go faster up the passes, and Dad for the NC500. Cheers for the awesome photos and more importantly the adventures.</div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-38527796989916838022016-11-30T04:45:00.001-08:002016-12-02T12:13:16.502-08:00GlencoeSo I've moved up to Scotland to get more winter climbing done, and finally my days off and good weather have coincided. Two weeks ago I was sinking up to the tits in powder in the gorms. Trying to micro-navigate towards a crag in about 20 feet of visibility when everything just looks white. Well fuck all that, the forecast is actually sunny, and no wind....all I need is for something to be in condition to climb. The Glencoe webcams look promising so after work me and Colin drive straight up the A82 and doss in a car park opposite the Buachaille. Plan is the north buttress, which should go in pretty much any conditions. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXX-tptyOQ9Yl2m-hkS1tnrH0YDC49xMzTjf3hp3DCypKn6AcL7VjiiUkBu-Gj1HY7ZU7JLi8wf1JYuMDXEtyJYoOtlYXq90rvdZrJYaOa_2uYSaRMkgB5LbEe4o7lrMiftrqiPT2W9c/s640/blogger-image--1686126224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXX-tptyOQ9Yl2m-hkS1tnrH0YDC49xMzTjf3hp3DCypKn6AcL7VjiiUkBu-Gj1HY7ZU7JLi8wf1JYuMDXEtyJYoOtlYXq90rvdZrJYaOa_2uYSaRMkgB5LbEe4o7lrMiftrqiPT2W9c/s640/blogger-image--1686126224.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Buachaille - photo taken back on the February trip</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Colin runs ultra marathons and does all kinds of crazy ski mountaineering things. I cycle a few miles to work and back and occasionally slobber my way up a hill. No doubt he could be up and back down this route in the time it takes me stagger to the bottom of it, but the plan is to not rush and just enjoy the day. After skidding up an icy path we start scrambling directly up the buttress, the odd step but mostly steep walking. Snow lying all over the place but it's all unconsolidated toss. It's getting light but the sun hasn't yet appeared above the skyline of mountains. </div><div><br></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUcmDa8hfQeaxLnKygYEHf9uFDXozlq9D6rcaUDayx74hYNjMXjWu-Xb6WcnDM5yLzsQ2lA9bk8Io47rcV445iHgPSWXiBrO0Ej4NgeBqK82Xmen_0UwGU9Vzjugdw9i8x_jHL5Bnpsk8/s640/blogger-image--1815453070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUcmDa8hfQeaxLnKygYEHf9uFDXozlq9D6rcaUDayx74hYNjMXjWu-Xb6WcnDM5yLzsQ2lA9bk8Io47rcV445iHgPSWXiBrO0Ej4NgeBqK82Xmen_0UwGU9Vzjugdw9i8x_jHL5Bnpsk8/s640/blogger-image--1815453070.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me leading up one of the icy chimneys</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We stick a rope on for the chimney system that splits the steep part of the buttress. The holds are icy as hell and there's snow on all the ledges. After two pitches of sliding around and chipping ice off footholds, we think sod it and put crampons on. The climbing isn't hard, just kinda awkward, and every now and then I have to use a tool to make progress. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEdObtphNYi0UYGeK4xoEgyJ-Ap88z6AoZDAN3OFFx6sTbAZvx3kFA9HJwRZnL01Eqgw3ERXLMnD_P1rWO5nIHLnkabQUsvPoSfxHnwvAm0qHkKtdoVM65sEtyKpOcBtGThxrHCRUxuM/s640/blogger-image-1337835989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEdObtphNYi0UYGeK4xoEgyJ-Ap88z6AoZDAN3OFFx6sTbAZvx3kFA9HJwRZnL01Eqgw3ERXLMnD_P1rWO5nIHLnkabQUsvPoSfxHnwvAm0qHkKtdoVM65sEtyKpOcBtGThxrHCRUxuM/s640/blogger-image-1337835989.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Following a pitch as the condition get more wintery with height</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After the third chimney we short rope the remaining steep bits then take the rope off and jolly up to the top. The weather is fucking amazing. No clouds, snowy mountains everywhere. We drop into Coire an Tulaich and bum slide most of the way down a narrow gully. A final skid along an icy path leads us back to the road, maybe 5 hours after starting. Colin shoots off up the ski lift at Glencoe Mountain to do some skinning while I sit in the cafe eating cakes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidF4xHetMyomEa0nJM8JHSUE2gpymo8v9Y9mvHCzlngR8I-_qatcUIR4y1CVcMg4rklQbJgYqwN7-yrzpcrLJ2G1trdqDXxnQ9LNnxn29SWVheafLXl9-9jaiTC41kRQgo3f9uUjjTzf0/s640/blogger-image--1402920468.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidF4xHetMyomEa0nJM8JHSUE2gpymo8v9Y9mvHCzlngR8I-_qatcUIR4y1CVcMg4rklQbJgYqwN7-yrzpcrLJ2G1trdqDXxnQ9LNnxn29SWVheafLXl9-9jaiTC41kRQgo3f9uUjjTzf0/s640/blogger-image--1402920468.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Moving together near the top of the buttress</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJAZSIRsD6HlCCW4lZuShzzhEckybzFPMTD69i-YEA2mqHjHRBfD9ADxTO4mkkshZHSFcA5wguRBErs6vf1B7rPIE8emvY5UKAO_ApYdsjEAxqbhIYZiJprV725fe5wF6EFAe5rpyr0gI/s640/blogger-image--1779232043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJAZSIRsD6HlCCW4lZuShzzhEckybzFPMTD69i-YEA2mqHjHRBfD9ADxTO4mkkshZHSFcA5wguRBErs6vf1B7rPIE8emvY5UKAO_ApYdsjEAxqbhIYZiJprV725fe5wF6EFAe5rpyr0gI/s640/blogger-image--1779232043.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">International Man of Mystery, and some fat English git</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Colin disappears off in the evening to get ready for some exciting sounding job in the Alps for the winter. I go to the Clachaig and stuff my face with food and beer. My plan for the next day is the Aonach Eagach ridge traverse, something pretty spectacular but easy enough for me to solo. Colin tells me not to bother descending the other end of the ridge, just go all the way back along it, more climbing more fun, right! I huddle in my sleeping bag as the temperature plummets and the car ices up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_s-GT6HlPuJmxjRuNapogmOxD-a57I3TcZdth8xRt1YPaxTs0RXeVUr4jjs0n0AaWgcOlLik8i9kPJfdmiHueMfVmQS9pxwrcL0EEb52D9PF6Ghp9oLvT0f_bTJLg-KbSzlaYc6UD1k/s640/blogger-image-1556860967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_s-GT6HlPuJmxjRuNapogmOxD-a57I3TcZdth8xRt1YPaxTs0RXeVUr4jjs0n0AaWgcOlLik8i9kPJfdmiHueMfVmQS9pxwrcL0EEb52D9PF6Ghp9oLvT0f_bTJLg-KbSzlaYc6UD1k/s640/blogger-image-1556860967.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">No doubt the best weather I will have all season now....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I leave early and slog up to the first summit in an hour or so, just as the sun rises. It's going to be another spectacular day. The initial descent is the crux of the whole ridge, a grovelling powdery downclimb, after that it's pure fun climbing over steps and pinnacles, mega exposed. Pretty soon I reach the final summit, still feeling strong. Then I look back at all the ridge I've committed to reversing, and suddenly my legs ache and I feel knackered as fuck.....why am I taking the advice of a guy who runs 100 mile backcountry marathons??? With a weary sigh I start retracing my way back through the various peaks and pinnacles to where I started. Actually fuck it, I'm still feeling good, it's still great fun. I get back to the car 6 hours after leaving. Not a bad start to the winter.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Unfortunately the battery in my ipad died in the cold so no Aonach Eagach photos I'm afraid. I arrive back at the layby and startle a bus full of tourists by taking off my wet trousers and eating a whole pack of pork pies in front of them. Mmmmmmm, pig arsehole, that's what climbing is really all about. Here's hoping for a good winter! </div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-84079414600476111782016-10-11T02:08:00.001-07:002016-10-18T07:07:07.009-07:00Jock Rock Jolly<div style="font-family: '.sf ui text'; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">I've done loads of mountaineering in Scotland but never any proper rock climbing. However me and Staples are starting to get pretty bored of all the usual places - North Wales, Cornwall, Peak District - so now it's time for a road trip north of the border. Looking through the 2 cherry picker Scottish rock guides it is fairly obvious that the climbing in Scotland is going to be far far better than any of the shite us English and Welsh brexit cunts have down here...</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Keeps the midges out and it's stylish as fuck...</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">We arrive knackered after the long drive but with enough time to knock out a couple routes on a crag near Dunkeld in the Central Highlands. I go for the first route, some VS, and shamefully get pumped near the top fiddling in gear then lower off again. Staples leads it instead and annoyingly I find the move completely piss on second. To redeem myself I try another route, this one with a steep Boulder problem crux, and cranking through the hard bit I manage to stick my hand in a pocket that's full of slugs. Lovely.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">I'm close to saying fuck it, let's just go back to Tremadog or somewhere, but instead we find a layby to doss in and Staples gets on the uri geller. I can't drink anything because I'm still on meds for a tooth infection that made my jaw swell up like the fucking elephant man.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7wBGNaRiCriHn3ZUPb67SL4M48iRUHDmObZBXCZQAAgwcRKeEFSi70BMlV5Xtf-FNtNloVBIuJBZhrU4njWl-W3ThJGm-i4nRIdQuoBgSKt30zVGI_qJO2a47KNceoAKU6EQ17FixlU/s640/blogger-image--921841394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7wBGNaRiCriHn3ZUPb67SL4M48iRUHDmObZBXCZQAAgwcRKeEFSi70BMlV5Xtf-FNtNloVBIuJBZhrU4njWl-W3ThJGm-i4nRIdQuoBgSKt30zVGI_qJO2a47KNceoAKU6EQ17FixlU/s640/blogger-image--921841394.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Crag Sodding Death</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Next day finds us hiking up to a cliff with the interesting nickname of 'Crag Death'. Famous for its sloping handholds and bugger all gear. Great. We decide to try a classic called King Bee with the direct HVS start. Staples leads this because he was clearly going better than I was yesterday. The climbing is exactly as advertised until the scary as fuck roof crux, which thankfully has actual holds and some gear protecting it. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Staples leading up the absence of anything positive or secure</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">My pitch traverses across a steep wall towards an arete. I start edging my way across, fumble in a terribly uninspiring cam, but soon enough my head starts turning to porridge. It all looks the same so I've got no idea where to go, and I'm shitting myself that I'll end up stuck completely off-route with no gear in. I can't bring myself to keep going so it's back to the belay I go. Staples isn't keen on the pitch either so we just abseil off a tree and say a heartfelt fuck you to Crag Death.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">The weird sight of Coire Sneachda not being plastered in snow and ice</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">The vague plan is to spend a few days in the east while the weather's a bit crap, then head west for the remainder of the trip. So we drive north to Aviemore with the extremely optimistic hope of getting a route in Coire Sneachda done in a brief afternoon weather window. Amazingly we walk into the crag in blue skies and sun but clouds are massing to north and starting to come over. Our objective is an amazing looking HVS called the Magic Crack, featuring a huge finger-width splitter on the final crux pitch.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">A somewhat rubbish photo looking up the second pitch</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">The first pitch is pretty wank and badly protected, but it gets you into the good climbing. Staples leads up a finger crack in a slab, traversing into a layback corner. All brilliant stuff but here comes the bloody rain to ruin everything. He carries on because there's gear the whole way up the pitch and our guidebook says probably tat at the belay as well. I pay out rope and curse uselessly at the weather, at god, at the Easter bunny, at fucking Boris Johnson. I bet this is his fault, somehow.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">We gamble, push on, and for once are rewarded by the rain fizzling out and the sun coming out again. I rack up for the big crack pitch, set off, and am just fiddling in the first wire when an enormous cloud of midges appears out of nowhere and swarms around my head. The wee bastards. They burrow into my ears, my eyes. I'm frantically clawing them out of my face, climbing fast as I can just to escape the fuckers. Lob some gear in, any good, who cares, just keep going. Despite the wee bastards the climbing is utterly sensational every step of the way to the final belay. We abseil off and walk out feeling pretty damn pleased with ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">The view across Torridon from Diabaig</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Have you climbed at Diabaig? No? Well you're missing out because it's the best 'cragging crag' in the world. Without a doubt the best rock I've climbed on as well, you poor bastards.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Funky moves past the holly in pitch one of Route One</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">The 5c direct of pitch two</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Sweet cracks on pitch one of Route Two</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">The amazing second pitch</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Perhaps it's inevitable things will only go downhill after Diabaig. The weather forecast is terrible and we spend a couple of days scratching around without getting loads done. We spend a morning at some unremarkable crag outside Gairloch getting midged to buggery, then take a punt further north and find dry(ish) conditions in Ullapool. Here we tick off one of the big aims of the trip and climb on Torridonian Sandstone. Guess what, it's fucking good. Like grit but pinker and not polished.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Amazing Highland sunset</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Me leading a cool HVS on Ardmair Crag</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Staples chooses the perfect moment to discover he's shite at jamming</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">More apocalyptic weather is forecasted but we wake up in the middle of nowhere in Assynt and it's not raining. Wind howls across the emptiness but it's actually not raining! We've got two options - tick a few single pitch routes on the Reiff sea cliffs, or gamble on a multipitch on the iconic Stac Pollaidh. We say fuck it, throw together a light rack and start trudging up a track towards the peak. Out to sea we can see huge dark walls of cloud and rain come hurtling in, getting closer every minute. The wind is rising. We have a quick think about our options and decide to leg it up to the summit, do the classic ridge scramble, then at least if all hell breaks loose we've done something worthwhile with the day. This turns out to be a good shout when we reach the summit cairn and it starts pissing it down.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">The amazing Assynt landscape</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Stac chaps</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Looking back at the peak as the waves of rain pass over</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">The weather sort of goes completely tits up now. The only half decent forecast is back east, so off we go, hoping it'll clear up and we get at least a couple good days in the west before we have to return home. In the meantime the only dry crag we can find is some wank cave in a forest outside Aviemore. I second Staples up a route and know the moment I grab the first hold that it's shit and I hate it. After that I bail on the crux of the crag 'classic' and we fuck off again. Nice to see there's some rubbish north of the border as well, though it doesn't quite compare to the utter toss known as limestone that we have so much of down here...</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">We really want to get another mountain route done, and fortunately there's a day of good weather forecasted. So we find ourselves making the long approach trudge to a peak called Binnein Shuas where lurks Ardverikie Wall - the best HS in Scotland according to our guidebook. Alrighty then. It's windy as fuck, and the now familiar fronts of ominous clouds are massing on the horizon, but we seem to be in a pocket of relative shelter. After some hellish bog wading we reach the start of the route and get going.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Me on the juggy as balls first pitch</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Staples gets the best climbing up a nice flake crack</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">The first two pitches are really good but it sort of gets a bit scrappy after that. Plus the wind is fucking freezing and keeps blowing clouds across the sun. Luckily the bad weather seems to be sticking to the other side of the valley, so at least the crag is staying dry. Three more slabby pitches see us to the top, then we slog back to the approach path and bugger off to Aviemore again. Probably not the best HS in Jockland but great nonetheless.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Treading carefully through wet streaks on pitch four</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Bad weather rolling through the valley</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Oh dear. Oh fucking dear. Now it really does go pete tong. Yet more high winds are forecasted for the next day, so we think 'sod it' let's have a few at the Pine Marten bar. I'm off the meds now and have been itching to get wankered for days now. We chin a few cans, polish off a bottle of Highland Park, then wander somewhat unsteadily into the bar and get the pints in. Sometime later an old dude with a handlebar stache is playing folk songs and we're sharing a table with these very nice middle aged ladies. Who keep buying us rounds of whisky, and who, coincidentally, are getting more attractive with every passing hour.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Yes this can only end well</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">I don't remember very much of what happens next. Everyone starts dancing, I'm blind drunk, next thing I know I'm crouched outside in the howling darkness, clinging onto the wheel of Staples car like it's the one thing keeping me alive. Sometime later Staples arrives, opens the door and we pass out inside. There's this godawful retching noise and I see, to my eternal horrified amusement, the drunk twat puke all over himself, his sleeping bag, and his half of the car. It literally goes everywhere. The stench of it. For about two hours I fight a losing battle against my own insides, before giving up, booting the door open, and hurling all over the verge. Finally I lapse into a merciful dribbling unconsciousness.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Needless to say the hangovers are something biblical. Staples uses about eleventy million baby wipes cleaning his mess up and we spend the whole day shivering in our sleeping bags, a right pair of sorry cunts.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">Now I'm afraid it's all downhill. The forecast is hopeless for the whole country but pretty good for the Lake District, so we cut our losses and drive south. We manage one route the afternoon we arrive before we get word that Staples flatmate has seemingly gone AWOL. So he gives pol pol permission to kick the door in and have a look, and it turns out the poor guy is dead in the living room. End of trip. We start driving home right away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: ".sfuitext";"><span style="color: white; font-family: ".sfuitext";">RIP Chris 'Iron' Garside. Miss you chief.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: rgb(69 , 69 , 69); font-family: ".sfuitext";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqYJ4o3WcjI9UWEHwe_C6oYTByUHfA5iziwrZUluPiSNtuOhgJHBJ6SwZRml1QlMKQ-Fo93KXKRNoZuubS9Xm3Mvt5A18skw3qoV5dumXaGaEnaeQI2MtZ-ycONlLH-P2sjqqvdf3AfQ/s640/blogger-image-416110459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqYJ4o3WcjI9UWEHwe_C6oYTByUHfA5iziwrZUluPiSNtuOhgJHBJ6SwZRml1QlMKQ-Fo93KXKRNoZuubS9Xm3Mvt5A18skw3qoV5dumXaGaEnaeQI2MtZ-ycONlLH-P2sjqqvdf3AfQ/s640/blogger-image-416110459.jpg" /></a></span></div>
David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-42333903200648106752016-08-10T00:29:00.001-07:002016-08-16T12:04:23.665-07:00Skeleton Ridge<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfyiFHdhfBQe9wFNMHMy7ZzpqsjGSBgdBSPvLghGbSdd49UqnRMGetSzSkPPeqzTsYHxQnI3gSYdEQD6bblRMUVv4aUxKHnYw4jGJM1fcggAftk4WHjQQy4-7QYelW3BKV5roQDnbLK4/s640/blogger-image--1942116319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfyiFHdhfBQe9wFNMHMy7ZzpqsjGSBgdBSPvLghGbSdd49UqnRMGetSzSkPPeqzTsYHxQnI3gSYdEQD6bblRMUVv4aUxKHnYw4jGJM1fcggAftk4WHjQQy4-7QYelW3BKV5roQDnbLK4/s640/blogger-image--1942116319.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Skeleton Ridge follows the crest of the Needles</div></div><div><br></div>For reasons that I struggle to define I've wanted to climb this crumbling monstrosity for ages now. It's made out of chalk, and therefore slightly less stable than a third world democracy, highly committing, and worst of all you have to go to the Isle of Wight to do it. But it appeals to me in a 'you don't have to be a good climber just fucking stupid' kind of way I suppose. Either way here we are, me and Staples, on the Pile of Shite and ready to climb Skeleton Ridge.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BmFLR3ZysxPq_sGuhg2n6TlD6UK6GCjLYnJPx1Ha0UJ4thKB8qHFWhFUQ2iPr_hE18VFnSBs_i454MSAq2gxz286CAGSvJvJOtDaEDUqW94hUgoiH2SmgoVySVC1jZGk00lrQb8xRog/s640/blogger-image-815691574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BmFLR3ZysxPq_sGuhg2n6TlD6UK6GCjLYnJPx1Ha0UJ4thKB8qHFWhFUQ2iPr_hE18VFnSBs_i454MSAq2gxz286CAGSvJvJOtDaEDUqW94hUgoiH2SmgoVySVC1jZGk00lrQb8xRog/s640/blogger-image-815691574.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back a couple pitches in</div></div><div><br></div><div>It's a huge amount of faff just getting to the start. Early morning ferry crossing. That's eighty sodding quid straight off the bat. Then we hike down to the National Trust fort thing on the headland and meet with one of their guys. He's really helpful and shows us where to rig all our ropes. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">We've got 100m of static line, 4 60m half ropes, plus 20m or so in tat. Enough to siege a Himalayan peak.</span></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivu3kf1br5ZTFyDeqaWnK4JcIklDjRkevmV9ewpm-HtMrmtetgwUGNQHp7-Ct-Myo6qS0uI87mxwaqMmYnOwRnDXpRlfxOngU3BPhzlyUtrvhJGuX28jkv1pELNouviuO0Hpb94UKe_-c/s640/blogger-image--1907805330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivu3kf1br5ZTFyDeqaWnK4JcIklDjRkevmV9ewpm-HtMrmtetgwUGNQHp7-Ct-Myo6qS0uI87mxwaqMmYnOwRnDXpRlfxOngU3BPhzlyUtrvhJGuX28jkv1pELNouviuO0Hpb94UKe_-c/s640/blogger-image--1907805330.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pre-placed rope for the final belay</div></div><div><br></div><div>We leave a rope in place for the final belay, which is otherwise non-existent, and another as an initial abseil into a sort of ditch just to get down to the main ab point. Here we find a stake and a chunk of rubble, which we equalise as the anchor. Finally we tie our two statics together, which should be enough to get us to the deck. Just in case it's not the first man in will carry a spare rope to reach the bottom. All that done we sod off back to the cafe to wait for low tide.</div><div><br></div><div>After some food and an extremely nervous shit I find myself slowly abseiling down a slabby face of vegetated choss on the southern side of the Needles. Rubble pours down the cliff after me, covering me in chalk dust. I reach the knot, pass it, and finally land on the bay at the bottom. Prussiking back up would be an absolute fucking nightmare. I wait for Staples to descend then we both stagger off along a shingle beach towards the start of the ridge. The ledges beneath the first pitch are still underwater so we find shelter from the sun under a low overhang. We sit there pulling chunks of rock off the cliff with terrifying ease.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDi4JLJbUJqYCd6I97UypCpLs3IWIvENh7kgZCWKwEoqT0RRubR0upclx7opGIvyRrTFhPlDK_y5eFv9iJg7C4osC0i3BsWlJS1Jw96wAgVHo4pahrV3wolTt3g7XlKFzQJwAgxwHN_Qk/s640/blogger-image-424441251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDi4JLJbUJqYCd6I97UypCpLs3IWIvENh7kgZCWKwEoqT0RRubR0upclx7opGIvyRrTFhPlDK_y5eFv9iJg7C4osC0i3BsWlJS1Jw96wAgVHo4pahrV3wolTt3g7XlKFzQJwAgxwHN_Qk/s640/blogger-image-424441251.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Approaching the start of the route</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1umgh5Bac5_TUcMGBGgKKekK16hiUY5ByBnaxsbTivlwtYjle2jQtFM75rI3ij-3Nj2D0xVJBuhOACyX6wBte-fDCXzxFcv9pX2iW393QK-O-7x25BRsAHLiJI4dNIQPCVH4ggynOKOw/s640/blogger-image-1531159343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1umgh5Bac5_TUcMGBGgKKekK16hiUY5ByBnaxsbTivlwtYjle2jQtFM75rI3ij-3Nj2D0xVJBuhOACyX6wBte-fDCXzxFcv9pX2iW393QK-O-7x25BRsAHLiJI4dNIQPCVH4ggynOKOw/s640/blogger-image-1531159343.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Not in any way worried at the bottom</div></div><div><br></div><div>Eventually we get bored and wade across to a small ledge. I look up at the serrated ridge rising above me, like some prehistoric spine, and wonder if it might be easier to simply walk into the sea with the rack on and save a bit of time.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYETP598ToEYv8lC5A4fg5mxnMb68apT09GmYsdAns7-TRH64GvBkOauAUspReT7Xljqst0nk3cf-2S446HpxU3yLIyAiqLy37uf8x00aNMtSGMYmJ7-9GA5RQj_weOrkTB_VGgBOjyI/s640/blogger-image-501372733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYETP598ToEYv8lC5A4fg5mxnMb68apT09GmYsdAns7-TRH64GvBkOauAUspReT7Xljqst0nk3cf-2S446HpxU3yLIyAiqLy37uf8x00aNMtSGMYmJ7-9GA5RQj_weOrkTB_VGgBOjyI/s640/blogger-image-501372733.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The superbly protected first pitch - note the tied off screw at the start of the traverse</div></div><div><br></div><div>Instead I start climbing up a vague groove of darker, waveswept rock. There's a good runner about a foot above the belay and that's pretty much it for the rest of the day. Next I reach some toss old peg, clip it anyway, keep shuffling upwards. It gets even better - I find an old borehole, think 'why the fuck not?' and start drilling in an ice screw. With hateful predictability the bastard only goes halfway in, so I just tie it off and begin a long, unprotected traverse on bits of flint embedded in dust, laughing hysterically all the merry way. Somehow I reach the crest of the ridge and a shite belay on, you guessed it, rubbish pegs.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkyaZYB6ejB_6j7HlVGX-DAOQyao6mRWyR7Fd-63UyMgslkdeOgrt_3EIH_qobNtYjmDx8w0njWH9zImy4FX97xUl7EWwxefE0si05RJ9ur4pt8fkVGPjWOLZFMk8aPyDOQToIPdpYPY/s640/blogger-image-77842169.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkyaZYB6ejB_6j7HlVGX-DAOQyao6mRWyR7Fd-63UyMgslkdeOgrt_3EIH_qobNtYjmDx8w0njWH9zImy4FX97xUl7EWwxefE0si05RJ9ur4pt8fkVGPjWOLZFMk8aPyDOQToIPdpYPY/s640/blogger-image-77842169.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Razor pinnacles lying in wait</div><div><br></div><div>Staples follows me up the pitch and just like that we're more or less committed to the whole miserable lot. The usual existential 'what the fuck am I doing with my life' crisis swiftly follows...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVb2sV_XhNgZgFRtOcZ8pfdh17ofrhaDkNPh8aCAQOuIUzLzPHP4-5hfjcMPzFYOVdZybi_nWxRL-YZ-h9lxkuQBJsJC15gboZeKvC6wWHcXAnN_VnlWwaC1IUJYHzA2M8Yk3ojcPYuGc/s640/blogger-image--1684993065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVb2sV_XhNgZgFRtOcZ8pfdh17ofrhaDkNPh8aCAQOuIUzLzPHP4-5hfjcMPzFYOVdZybi_nWxRL-YZ-h9lxkuQBJsJC15gboZeKvC6wWHcXAnN_VnlWwaC1IUJYHzA2M8Yk3ojcPYuGc/s640/blogger-image--1684993065.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples leading the easy second pitch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1dxwE2PxqgBcrKSRXnMwX3d8-5216n3P6DhAV7IvaAU6v37dlkSCZyA7eEpas_jvyoSfKa7ZsZop2ZIgGglPFzNXpAgcTM_AzGe3C_OJDmErPC3caw0iMiQPJJeFJ0tkpTspAQbtiwU/s640/blogger-image-1690935933.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1dxwE2PxqgBcrKSRXnMwX3d8-5216n3P6DhAV7IvaAU6v37dlkSCZyA7eEpas_jvyoSfKa7ZsZop2ZIgGglPFzNXpAgcTM_AzGe3C_OJDmErPC3caw0iMiQPJJeFJ0tkpTspAQbtiwU/s640/blogger-image-1690935933.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And the joke of a belay at the end of it</div></div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The next bit is an easy wander across ledges to the base of a steep pinnacle. This is the crux of the route, and I won't lie I'm shitting myself as I edge along the knife edge crest towards it. A cluster of hilariously awful pegs greets me, I clip every damn one and fiddle a nut into a crack that probably wasn't there ten minutes ago.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb1B-t4D9hH6Q8M0uUvKk8wCTE4iHi0H5-pGBC1Yk9w9i5iOaPYzGvazFYe8E_hpTtCuCzXwyp94EHwUWK6Atimi2Y7as3LU3Zeqa3I5u1T6kVhXEoKJb_ZOAHL67oOZPNnh93Ihg9VV8/s640/blogger-image--1651726297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb1B-t4D9hH6Q8M0uUvKk8wCTE4iHi0H5-pGBC1Yk9w9i5iOaPYzGvazFYe8E_hpTtCuCzXwyp94EHwUWK6Atimi2Y7as3LU3Zeqa3I5u1T6kVhXEoKJb_ZOAHL67oOZPNnh93Ihg9VV8/s640/blogger-image--1651726297.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me leading the steep crux arete</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3hs4mLyWaJtVVwjiguptWVeW3aBq3VJJ0Vxfqnwd-2-npGOE_Zvjq3-yoVshHD6pUmfBUv2qfkt9DSKoQk0NeTrOCOGDegcwAwoqKEs2chq7dDFfbUk15SpawVT1dKtW9XG_R3T4FF0/s640/blogger-image-1220935012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3hs4mLyWaJtVVwjiguptWVeW3aBq3VJJ0Vxfqnwd-2-npGOE_Zvjq3-yoVshHD6pUmfBUv2qfkt9DSKoQk0NeTrOCOGDegcwAwoqKEs2chq7dDFfbUk15SpawVT1dKtW9XG_R3T4FF0/s640/blogger-image-1220935012.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Relieved to get it done!</div></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Nothing else to do but go for it. A few pulls on big but crumbling holds, a high step, job done. Absolutely piss. Nowhere near 4c, probably more like 4a. I reach the belay with some relief and bring up Staples. He manages to break off a foothold, the silly twat, an ominous reminder that we can't get too complacent on this pig.</span></div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnAVmEk1hIV3UOirzUtErDBBKFcCaxB1vbQe08L9VpqyE3cmWS7anEVP9vTc8ylGMlz53Q0M47vJSz6ZH3WvZoshxo7Cg6OqwUO5fNDd7CRHjWkUtGNTQCu4NM46JOMNVR_Ib_qvMiHE/s640/blogger-image--1248053963.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnAVmEk1hIV3UOirzUtErDBBKFcCaxB1vbQe08L9VpqyE3cmWS7anEVP9vTc8ylGMlz53Q0M47vJSz6ZH3WvZoshxo7Cg6OqwUO5fNDd7CRHjWkUtGNTQCu4NM46JOMNVR_Ib_qvMiHE/s640/blogger-image--1248053963.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Easy but fun climbing on pitch 4</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgweAVVoLMZAChhdNGjdQHWV1Rr_yKjLNqtPYdV2XfP8tloLMYkGzNTVsQyQu-8aLomnQT6HrF_rJbsNDB05yNLtWyNyYYaDiZQeTvs0AbJl6U3my_FVLHx_VKWMfDGUrrVS8tKk7OVDWw/s640/blogger-image--1063866400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgweAVVoLMZAChhdNGjdQHWV1Rr_yKjLNqtPYdV2XfP8tloLMYkGzNTVsQyQu-8aLomnQT6HrF_rJbsNDB05yNLtWyNyYYaDiZQeTvs0AbJl6U3my_FVLHx_VKWMfDGUrrVS8tKk7OVDWw/s640/blogger-image--1063866400.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pulling holds off on the chossy ramble of pitch 5</div></div></div><div><br></div><div>I don't know if it's my alpine mountaineering experience, but I'm really not finding this bad at all. Yeah it's a bit loose, not exactly Stanage Popular, but come on. I've heard horror stories but it's just easy rambling on slightly dodgy rock. We breeze across the next two pitches, booting off the odd block, trying not to pull the ridge off by accident, and soon arrive at the final (terrible - who knew?) belay. Now the fun begins.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOmREXh9CKpn4oi55_-uHPfk8onP3_QXLPmFoQu1n3hYOsRl6V9kib6pRkf-0ApZnOjFyprvMVMFc3OipCaGdrwFZJ6W-7FUE2bqWo4lVwkreEP5BiWCYklX4JKh1ZadP40-PiQCe9Yw/s640/blogger-image--2068149106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOmREXh9CKpn4oi55_-uHPfk8onP3_QXLPmFoQu1n3hYOsRl6V9kib6pRkf-0ApZnOjFyprvMVMFc3OipCaGdrwFZJ6W-7FUE2bqWo4lVwkreEP5BiWCYklX4JKh1ZadP40-PiQCe9Yw/s640/blogger-image--2068149106.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The last steep wall before the top</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmO5UQtx8d6WCh5PzxZbBxraSosHezsM7cbXAfLuVid20eJtmUMgMajZ2TDvGJ_PoIf3V0xD-rE3hKgRbUJWxe2VT1IEx84sjCncm_Bg5wrFEWjOJHZy4hqZ_YpcPrEysT2rL0YSCBNYU/s640/blogger-image-1882930107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmO5UQtx8d6WCh5PzxZbBxraSosHezsM7cbXAfLuVid20eJtmUMgMajZ2TDvGJ_PoIf3V0xD-rE3hKgRbUJWxe2VT1IEx84sjCncm_Bg5wrFEWjOJHZy4hqZ_YpcPrEysT2rL0YSCBNYU/s640/blogger-image-1882930107.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples already a way above the only gear on the pitch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYuZ2itoHN4Vii9F77vXQhLK5_KpEB5pfcnp7zh9bb77p-ZkbQcSjyxUeiQQcHh0QeRQPDj3uK6sqLyrcqZBuMAdmxM1ZUnK2M26Ma3ZprUj1nMwGEYCvwiCxlHfBDKJIQ4KCdSYmqmd0/s640/blogger-image--421899531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYuZ2itoHN4Vii9F77vXQhLK5_KpEB5pfcnp7zh9bb77p-ZkbQcSjyxUeiQQcHh0QeRQPDj3uK6sqLyrcqZBuMAdmxM1ZUnK2M26Ma3ZprUj1nMwGEYCvwiCxlHfBDKJIQ4KCdSYmqmd0/s640/blogger-image--421899531.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Gaining the final ride to safety</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmQeUdQU5lh4jk4-9rhFKV-O8SCGEuzcJ6yHcEU6r-w7gJMy0jv2AVYXgUnQ9WO8ClDDq_6pRHjJpXUkwcHxrwdQ1zH31ywr1nUeCBR1Rnv6-Sm1SUOvTSrolFCczlE50Uo_0oh4Gpoc/s640/blogger-image--2039894430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmQeUdQU5lh4jk4-9rhFKV-O8SCGEuzcJ6yHcEU6r-w7gJMy0jv2AVYXgUnQ9WO8ClDDq_6pRHjJpXUkwcHxrwdQ1zH31ywr1nUeCBR1Rnv6-Sm1SUOvTSrolFCczlE50Uo_0oh4Gpoc/s640/blogger-image--2039894430.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples demonstrating the true elegance of rock climbing</div></div></div></div></div><div><br></div><div>It's Staples lead, and off he goes, up a narrow pinnacle, two pegs after ten feet then bugger all else. He reaches the very apex of the ridge, a jagged fin of chalk mere inches wide, and begins the final death-straddle to safety. That's literally what you have to do - hump your way to salvation. The exposure on either side is ridiculous, sheer faces dropping away into the sea, and the feeling that such a thin bit of chalk really could break off any second under your weight. Staples edges his way along, laughing, sobbing, I can't tell anymore. The ridge eventually widens into the headland, and he disappears from sight. I follow, it's the most outrageously stupid bit of climbing I've ever done. The whole time I feel like I'm about to pitch over sideways, pendulum into a chalky void, end up topped at the bottom.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggtcRWh6TTenPbnisAA4YrH4a5D9GUsKiVQUja3RO26IDoUjqC5PUq6UOvUq7hyrvzfG6D0rRVZE2fMi2hkMamD7MYL1X7yn6rZimJphVmBwUnqeyaWN7uVg4RrQOuPBJDl3UZw3FmZ0/s640/blogger-image-1350069145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggtcRWh6TTenPbnisAA4YrH4a5D9GUsKiVQUja3RO26IDoUjqC5PUq6UOvUq7hyrvzfG6D0rRVZE2fMi2hkMamD7MYL1X7yn6rZimJphVmBwUnqeyaWN7uVg4RrQOuPBJDl3UZw3FmZ0/s640/blogger-image-1350069145.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me enjoying the knife edge of death up my arse</div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDifNcsATU-WFQyZm2KzVobjNuQ86edOJiZ0bY9XSSNANqCWLFa_7rhCQTFByLzOHgWxd-lktrBjT8TgkleFqT9Lp-ctp5pzmFYygHCjDG53mMl_Zbiqdo22pUoeFvcuOggOITfEW0lw/s640/blogger-image-1740253369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDifNcsATU-WFQyZm2KzVobjNuQ86edOJiZ0bY9XSSNANqCWLFa_7rhCQTFByLzOHgWxd-lktrBjT8TgkleFqT9Lp-ctp5pzmFYygHCjDG53mMl_Zbiqdo22pUoeFvcuOggOITfEW0lw/s640/blogger-image-1740253369.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking down at the bay about 90m below me</div></div><div><br></div><div>I can't say it any better than our guidebook; if there's a more spectacular pitch anywhere, you don't want to climb it.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNyadOF-1LnVfC6z0Ir-FT_7oTZkBJSZ_tPTT5oMhrVU176pBXmm0uR_i5E5hncHuNzEUcE33C63jj2UgYkipf3ZkX1t-QHSqqrFHXw5fU6lZaingIq3ihpWQYfblVgxX9Tl4z0wOYCA/s640/blogger-image-1463688058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNyadOF-1LnVfC6z0Ir-FT_7oTZkBJSZ_tPTT5oMhrVU176pBXmm0uR_i5E5hncHuNzEUcE33C63jj2UgYkipf3ZkX1t-QHSqqrFHXw5fU6lZaingIq3ihpWQYfblVgxX9Tl4z0wOYCA/s640/blogger-image-1463688058.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The arete we both shagged to get to safety</div></div><div><br></div><div>Soon enough though I'm riding the last section onto solid ground again and that's the route done. Tourists gape at us from various viewing platforms. They look at us like 'what the fuck are those idiots doing?' and I can't help but agree with them. We're both covered in chalk and pissing ourselves at how crazy the whole thing was. It takes about an hour just to de-rig all our ropes and pack up. We say a final goodbye to the National Trust guys, promise them some shaky headcam footage of us swearing our way up choss, then fuck off to the pub.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvJ2QDptChexHHcW2V2RjaM3CyDfWIuYHB8AUsbaO2NU6s3CbUEPs1AOofVHCcUvDER1BnJhsmoNvQO9BryxISzI1SGEO0wLqxL5Z27Z1PhZQTNYKUXluQNnpiPukCqoNWapzJFcXrKE/s640/blogger-image-1822250877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvJ2QDptChexHHcW2V2RjaM3CyDfWIuYHB8AUsbaO2NU6s3CbUEPs1AOofVHCcUvDER1BnJhsmoNvQO9BryxISzI1SGEO0wLqxL5Z27Z1PhZQTNYKUXluQNnpiPukCqoNWapzJFcXrKE/s640/blogger-image-1822250877.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Job done, in all its pointless glory</div></div><div><br></div><div>Drinking beer. Now then. Wonder if there's a route up Beachy Head....?</div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-25739789628300239302016-06-22T04:22:00.001-07:002016-06-22T10:47:41.030-07:00Skye<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I've<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> been dreaming about the Cuillin Ridge for years. I've been on it twice in summer and once in winter, never getting close to achieving a full traverse. The ridge is 12km long, and crosses 11 major peaks, dozens of minor tops and pinnacles. A traverse requires something like 13,000 feet of ascent and descent. And the Black Cuillin lie far to the north-west on the beautiful but volatile Isle of Skye. Bad weather can appear out of nowhere, heavy mist cloaking the mountains and turning them into a maze of slippery rock, false trails, dead ends. These peaks are truly alpine in stature and difficulty, all jagged spires and knife edge ridges. The Black Cuillin are, beyond doubt, the finest and most challenging mountains in the country.</span></div></div></div><div><br></div><div>But for all this the goal is simple - traverse the ridge from end to end in one continuous push.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3s2A56odc3MuF3YdG7jjGhJl4A3DKCMed6Oj2gTMTewuFG65qWcRoWIJLzUwKk05RcVJvPIvoP0h03RZ0omncA3hCcu8y4j-1AbokRbswwUp5xNcrXaRacXQj4-hVbtXVk9ZdB2P6dIc/s640/blogger-image-1765997405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3s2A56odc3MuF3YdG7jjGhJl4A3DKCMed6Oj2gTMTewuFG65qWcRoWIJLzUwKk05RcVJvPIvoP0h03RZ0omncA3hCcu8y4j-1AbokRbswwUp5xNcrXaRacXQj4-hVbtXVk9ZdB2P6dIc/s640/blogger-image-1765997405.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The mighty Cuillin Ridge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm racing up the country, car loaded with gear and supplies, prepared to stay on Skye as long as it takes to get the traverse done. I cross the bridge to the island and am greeted by walls of cloud, the dark outlines of mountains barely visible. Rain spits upon the windscreen. I arrive in Glen Brittle and bed down for the night. Next morning the rain has stopped so I imediately start hiking towards the start of the ridge - not to climb it though, not yet. My plan is to recce the approach to the first summit in case I have to do it at night. I memorise forks in the path, landmarks that point the way. I must also get mountain fit before I can hope to achieve a full traverse.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJsG2eemzpR40vUGidHRIxDYa12XqNAmrYJi-wF04ZF7HRB-bpIlf4P8WH_Mal1EM_oG_pHqu51O8QbHMFowAgLmCbLqc_AYVveG3831sOzgdn97SNgHnc-HpRlEKzUVa1oB6PwX5KFw/s640/blogger-image--2046071872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJsG2eemzpR40vUGidHRIxDYa12XqNAmrYJi-wF04ZF7HRB-bpIlf4P8WH_Mal1EM_oG_pHqu51O8QbHMFowAgLmCbLqc_AYVveG3831sOzgdn97SNgHnc-HpRlEKzUVa1oB6PwX5KFw/s640/blogger-image--2046071872.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Alpenglow on Sgurr nan Gillean, the north peak of the ridge, from the layby I slept in</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GEklIWVrNie1wPjIbL5WpV3j8SZNhtgS8iBKbq4pHFa2LfDnovMVaORwbccej90gPJVhH4sNn7ohPkqrI4E35Oc92u76sLrBVV0jd6FHJwyV8cBxHuJvXs-MLcof3pfVskhkTa3miqU/s640/blogger-image--1135366096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GEklIWVrNie1wPjIbL5WpV3j8SZNhtgS8iBKbq4pHFa2LfDnovMVaORwbccej90gPJVhH4sNn7ohPkqrI4E35Oc92u76sLrBVV0jd6FHJwyV8cBxHuJvXs-MLcof3pfVskhkTa3miqU/s640/blogger-image--1135366096.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The more gentle Red Cuillin, which I hiked in to build fitness</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next day brings back the rain, so I hike up a mountain called Beinn Mor Dearg in the neighbouring Red Cuillin, traversing two other peaks to get there, deliberately pushing myself hard up steep paths.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbi0AfDYNuMdgU28JRw54zZr5CHuxkLF_M9x4PPHP2i4AMyv7BWuxyxvEo3m5lpNWu-d2A0YbwlZbmCkzLfSZ3zi0vFClmMd_lOqPNIVLKVk__o-ePuJtoSuZ8MHABkkFIOXk5-tcyqEM/s640/blogger-image-422547392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbi0AfDYNuMdgU28JRw54zZr5CHuxkLF_M9x4PPHP2i4AMyv7BWuxyxvEo3m5lpNWu-d2A0YbwlZbmCkzLfSZ3zi0vFClmMd_lOqPNIVLKVk__o-ePuJtoSuZ8MHABkkFIOXk5-tcyqEM/s640/blogger-image-422547392.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Bla-Bheinn and Clach Glas</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Tuesday brings fine weather but I know I am not ready yet. So instead I do another famous ridge traverse of Skye, Bla-Bheinn via Clach Glas. After a steep approach slog up the first peak I enjoy sustained scrambling on wonderfully rough gneiss, occasional harder sections that I climb fast and confidently without a rope. I hate being weighed down the mountains. It takes me about 4 hours car to car, a sign my fitness level is not too bad. The weather is perfect, and from the summit I have a perfect view of the Cuillin Ridge, lying monstrous before me. My god, it's fucking huge. I can't wait to try it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_GoHRpY7sF9WeRa4Sg1M3zTRl3RnL-YKWswbsvYEM1XdDvSh0L9dM6W3lNrRZn9Tp2DjXYacte7qRynIQu8N6DGb4D0o2_IV9OpBYcKa-xMjWHPDhI3eU8KDkEEJdEZ92WH317rIUvk/s640/blogger-image--2080714041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_GoHRpY7sF9WeRa4Sg1M3zTRl3RnL-YKWswbsvYEM1XdDvSh0L9dM6W3lNrRZn9Tp2DjXYacte7qRynIQu8N6DGb4D0o2_IV9OpBYcKa-xMjWHPDhI3eU8KDkEEJdEZ92WH317rIUvk/s640/blogger-image--2080714041.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Clach Glas, Matterhorn of the UK, with Bla-Bheinn looming beyond</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3xqtrZCAA8VeuHDz4CEg9qB7bBJpKhUVlcZMGvngdn6-JOpamUTNpyHn-DEHFF9Dst0hg6O_33PLsP_7Ohfr4-1aMgX6x32auN04oIE5OWGyrBqOgXZfTlBQ3RpWyT-peUHLFxhTsPU/s640/blogger-image--1863939120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3xqtrZCAA8VeuHDz4CEg9qB7bBJpKhUVlcZMGvngdn6-JOpamUTNpyHn-DEHFF9Dst0hg6O_33PLsP_7Ohfr4-1aMgX6x32auN04oIE5OWGyrBqOgXZfTlBQ3RpWyT-peUHLFxhTsPU/s640/blogger-image--1863939120.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking up the crux chimney pitch (still piss though!)</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi72uVhjWaDGErIts6tDpWmeQCbsqeEEADUftd9X-qs4LfioN4_BNx7YTbe44mbQtpz8GIbESccNXeUsh4e_7MJJIHUyEhBMQanLT4XtnxLGowf_njp1LSJR2HujWgS_Z4ChJdgO1KtTPs/s640/blogger-image-198679120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi72uVhjWaDGErIts6tDpWmeQCbsqeEEADUftd9X-qs4LfioN4_BNx7YTbe44mbQtpz8GIbESccNXeUsh4e_7MJJIHUyEhBMQanLT4XtnxLGowf_njp1LSJR2HujWgS_Z4ChJdgO1KtTPs/s640/blogger-image-198679120.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Summit of Bla-Bheinn</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm basically waiting for a weather window now. The next two days it's pissing it down, I read books, drink tea, constantly hounding my parents to text me weather forecasts. On Skye they can generally predict what tomorrow will be like - after that forget it. It seems that a weak front of high pressure is moving in, just enough for me to complete the traverse with a bit of luck. After that it's a grim picture; more low pressure, a whole week of rain. I really can't be arsed with sitting around a whole week, I'll be bored shitless. I've got to make the most of this window.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My initial plan is to start stupid early Saturday morning and smash the ridge out in a day. Hopefully before the forecasted rain arrives in the evening. But I wake up Friday morning to clearing skies, the peaks already starting to break through the clouds. Fucking hell, has the weather window rolled in early? I make a snap decision to start the ridge right now, today. Take bivy gear and get as far as I can this afternoon, leaving me with less to do Saturday in case it craps out early.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Got to be as light as possible. I take - super light down sleeping bag, in waterproof outer bag. This weighs maybe half a kilo. Roll mat. Micro fleece. Hard shell. Helmet. 2 litres of water in my bag. Plus 2 litres to carry in my hand for approach. A malt loaf. Couple of chocolate bars. Map and compass.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I decide not to take a rope. My goal is to traverse the ridge end to end, I will avoid the optional harder bits and trust that I will be able to down climb any required abseils. If I get stuck with no way up or down I'm fucked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wxcVreAI0Z0CwU2aCGbqmQn-XCOFw_fD5Tf-pyIPpawtKS3nbgfvozPchkMCrdgUW8LivgJGfvddme6DWsOEvI2WSd7K1qqYnRAGe2PB7YsCPYE4dO5bw5YDdWAYdn0FEvazs9HDMLU/s640/blogger-image-717495174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wxcVreAI0Z0CwU2aCGbqmQn-XCOFw_fD5Tf-pyIPpawtKS3nbgfvozPchkMCrdgUW8LivgJGfvddme6DWsOEvI2WSd7K1qqYnRAGe2PB7YsCPYE4dO5bw5YDdWAYdn0FEvazs9HDMLU/s640/blogger-image-717495174.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On the summit of Gars-Beinn, first peak of the ridge, long way to go...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSylKDk42Y_6ZWAIWJspBUAc_VkMW4zNA9OARIKOGh0-5_vBuRUKsOiixQEFMdSgReRGN6SKeH8_YELrn5wy0VWmKpK2UWPZ64QyXFmsP1tPLuYhxT0L-kPm7QIMIXKxwaGzyzjYex60s/s640/blogger-image-23774918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSylKDk42Y_6ZWAIWJspBUAc_VkMW4zNA9OARIKOGh0-5_vBuRUKsOiixQEFMdSgReRGN6SKeH8_YELrn5wy0VWmKpK2UWPZ64QyXFmsP1tPLuYhxT0L-kPm7QIMIXKxwaGzyzjYex60s/s640/blogger-image-23774918.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nowhere to go the other way</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrn1xij4UNmRU-K87IXdXnkiYzZyEXv8oJM_GH5q00YHnK2HveHWPVDom8HGyxPPS0kul9QqKCUz4j8HIGhamcD52gvp9Me1z8XK1Nof1AGNGlRc4WEKz-ayTOGtk8UbsbNdNsCTQnNFM/s640/blogger-image-706561103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrn1xij4UNmRU-K87IXdXnkiYzZyEXv8oJM_GH5q00YHnK2HveHWPVDom8HGyxPPS0kul9QqKCUz4j8HIGhamcD52gvp9Me1z8XK1Nof1AGNGlRc4WEKz-ayTOGtk8UbsbNdNsCTQnNFM/s640/blogger-image-706561103.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Ready to begin!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I leave my car in Glen Brittle and start hiking up at midday. Soon the path disappears, and I've no choice but to forge on directly up the grass and scree of the south-west face of Gars-Beinn. It's bloody hard work. I drink most of my spare water. Finally I'm on the top and can get going. The first section is easy scrambling, and I move very quickly to the TD gap, the first real obstacle. There's a hard down climb (my scribbled notes tell me everyone abseils this), then a crux pitch up a wide crack on the other side. I arrive at the top to find abseil slings and a gently overhanging wall. There's no way I'm going down without a rope.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wkd5lreAGm5laK61NxBSRnd4xwauPH5F1inHeUQd4EktcAzdf75yxXGlaL4HskM_HYj8Q0FPfjSQQovHpj_6boCrUYowgoL-Rz88NNBwCc_fPKPRHSpu14j6NcDy2uSSUnD-S3cEUC4/s640/blogger-image-1074164638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wkd5lreAGm5laK61NxBSRnd4xwauPH5F1inHeUQd4EktcAzdf75yxXGlaL4HskM_HYj8Q0FPfjSQQovHpj_6boCrUYowgoL-Rz88NNBwCc_fPKPRHSpu14j6NcDy2uSSUnD-S3cEUC4/s640/blogger-image-1074164638.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back towards the first part of the ridge</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgL2ihfwvhkevxG1ytfw89p59w46QlM_x3kX-CuT_B8VbQMHr06PiPZwo0oPYP_hRS-92N38cF2vqzsHVpDG_6kd57jHIQAgNa00Idewb_Knkh8gtgXb0qTfrf3SJU4wzAF4Ls5WNFY4/s640/blogger-image--636928266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgL2ihfwvhkevxG1ytfw89p59w46QlM_x3kX-CuT_B8VbQMHr06PiPZwo0oPYP_hRS-92N38cF2vqzsHVpDG_6kd57jHIQAgNa00Idewb_Knkh8gtgXb0qTfrf3SJU4wzAF4Ls5WNFY4/s640/blogger-image--636928266.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Traversing the corrie to avoid TD gap</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I improvise an awkward way off the ridge and skirt around a corrie, climb a chimney, then follow the exposed west ridge of Sgurr Alasdair to the summit. This is the highest peak of the Black Cuillin. The gap was the one section I was really concerned about, and now it's behind me. I've only been going a few hours and I'm feeling strong and confident.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LgBcKUVMwtYFJuveowBlE7j-uoVdhJyN711LjGg0T5juPHhC9urEbb8TVxt7A57puJNbw4tUu9isJOxLimteAyPbHjtDnsTykPPFOzAxAlNn5qvvItIMWOtMmMSozRayNaJb-lR1NWA/s640/blogger-image-1330952984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LgBcKUVMwtYFJuveowBlE7j-uoVdhJyN711LjGg0T5juPHhC9urEbb8TVxt7A57puJNbw4tUu9isJOxLimteAyPbHjtDnsTykPPFOzAxAlNn5qvvItIMWOtMmMSozRayNaJb-lR1NWA/s640/blogger-image-1330952984.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On top of Sgurr Alasdair</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRaBTFWS_z96L-fzYQiQwr0EG2ExRZxFXdxfQePFb_E-kpusGm2EH8OxwfPRq-sn7CNBILzn4uTHa-5NcT6fCxUC2stlK803mlAWAWXQcugxix0OKBx6KEF8tL-lAE8Kk6mOAsuaL92bQ/s640/blogger-image--1340791975.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRaBTFWS_z96L-fzYQiQwr0EG2ExRZxFXdxfQePFb_E-kpusGm2EH8OxwfPRq-sn7CNBILzn4uTHa-5NcT6fCxUC2stlK803mlAWAWXQcugxix0OKBx6KEF8tL-lAE8Kk6mOAsuaL92bQ/s640/blogger-image--1340791975.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back to the high point of the Cuillin</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Next I negotiate Sgurr mich Chionnich, again managing to avoid a difficult section by taking a traverse line just below the crest. Now it's a tiring but easy slog up to the top of Sgurr Dearg and the base of the Innaccessible Pinnacle. This improbable blade of rock is the true summit of the peak, and therefore the hardest major mountain in Scotland. I climbed it with my Dad back in 2011, so although it would be nice I decide to leave it this time round. I can't abseil off the top and don't want to waste time and energy on a hard, exposed down climb from the pinnacle. So I carry on, already entering the middle section of the ridge. Evening is drawing in, the weather is still hot and sunny but a cold wind blows across the crest from the east. Still time to go further today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMDKkBsoawoABGims5rNbpgxOfvVl6-Pl8GmjiVw2GBBklVCPRNmwlKnjpTVaQ4vMgvcx5Kv2LzsogwRJJkhQl5K45ggtbZWHC1LAsGis0Px1HmodRun6rO9ltzxSCMcLvgoyL6Z2wOQ/s640/blogger-image-481686720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMDKkBsoawoABGims5rNbpgxOfvVl6-Pl8GmjiVw2GBBklVCPRNmwlKnjpTVaQ4vMgvcx5Kv2LzsogwRJJkhQl5K45ggtbZWHC1LAsGis0Px1HmodRun6rO9ltzxSCMcLvgoyL6Z2wOQ/s640/blogger-image-481686720.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Innaccessible Pinnacle</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJ9nMHYus2E4TARWYOOb07tG-YrsUIZWd4diMHlp-5gDokdm8eo7m_5asKc1qfm6wXwUaVK8tP6l-LataxdqfXLcnnIXItNiwPaLNEXrt-LcukbamgeLlXpweP60pmPoyWkbsI6d8J_Q/s640/blogger-image-682942223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJ9nMHYus2E4TARWYOOb07tG-YrsUIZWd4diMHlp-5gDokdm8eo7m_5asKc1qfm6wXwUaVK8tP6l-LataxdqfXLcnnIXItNiwPaLNEXrt-LcukbamgeLlXpweP60pmPoyWkbsI6d8J_Q/s640/blogger-image-682942223.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next section of the ridge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBAg40KfKgFI789rjCrHbddzVxHEOP8UrqgorPYimwTGXoE6MyjOzEWL-6vWJSrPQaHrWJ_Om76pnfzxLsGiCilN7CVHBWhAwIlh_E0601Fzncm4fVhl6GVv4e8p_4UsBwBZ8SxzcQzw/s640/blogger-image-1657378392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBAg40KfKgFI789rjCrHbddzVxHEOP8UrqgorPYimwTGXoE6MyjOzEWL-6vWJSrPQaHrWJ_Om76pnfzxLsGiCilN7CVHBWhAwIlh_E0601Fzncm4fVhl6GVv4e8p_4UsBwBZ8SxzcQzw/s640/blogger-image-1657378392.jpg"></a></div>The southern end behind me now</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On I go, the ridge is easier now but I find myself tiring. I did wonder what my endurance would be like with so few mountain days in the last few months. The next summit is mostly just hiking, then more scrambling over a series of sub-peaks before I reach Sgurr a' Ghreadaidh. I seem to have come to a dividing point in the weather. I stand bathed in glorious sunshine, but a few meters onwards, blankets of cloud roll over the ridge, the whole north end is completely hidden. I decide to bivy here, where I can lay in the sun, rather than carry on another hour or so and get cold all evening.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xmTbTpY9EOgCNqgJHpdwK8UVSGseCvpynRANU-84Ild4iuQy14da3VaftYzwU4KBh_5Yvx47kvzw70bRuuDFZJNhEu_0i4xI5mYRV_WrffC2bcbzWw3cGz9NIWfpeg0b27pYUeI4hec/s640/blogger-image--149623570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xmTbTpY9EOgCNqgJHpdwK8UVSGseCvpynRANU-84Ild4iuQy14da3VaftYzwU4KBh_5Yvx47kvzw70bRuuDFZJNhEu_0i4xI5mYRV_WrffC2bcbzWw3cGz9NIWfpeg0b27pYUeI4hec/s640/blogger-image--149623570.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I bivied a few feet below the summit of Sgurr a' Ghreadaidh</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There's a low wall of blocks already built by previous climbers, I make it a bit higher to keep the wind out, then settle down for the night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4C3CVQ6TEl4grHgGsQSgWGpoC0OIgk02ZrA8snaJU63Y14lRsq4kOTGj8sLj1QW6AkTScMM7KtK6mbYYVFN0sMS34z9Wp_noso7aiUzbowb0Mcqsp_OHm7Iw759q_xfZtGMyDL52Ah4/s640/blogger-image-1593008824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4C3CVQ6TEl4grHgGsQSgWGpoC0OIgk02ZrA8snaJU63Y14lRsq4kOTGj8sLj1QW6AkTScMM7KtK6mbYYVFN0sMS34z9Wp_noso7aiUzbowb0Mcqsp_OHm7Iw759q_xfZtGMyDL52Ah4/s640/blogger-image-1593008824.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">5 star mountain accomodation</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhq7dSINheWLc5NPd0I3loJyspiueWFMNhlSdy8AKegvoKzGcezhuIBayzBs_sGfHzrDlr0Fm_tYwGLLuq6EpaWDL-5r_LCGrhJRkWxW65xTF1Z72HWACaZ4JTnECByIkolXkEQHNm2U/s640/blogger-image--12350067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhq7dSINheWLc5NPd0I3loJyspiueWFMNhlSdy8AKegvoKzGcezhuIBayzBs_sGfHzrDlr0Fm_tYwGLLuq6EpaWDL-5r_LCGrhJRkWxW65xTF1Z72HWACaZ4JTnECByIkolXkEQHNm2U/s640/blogger-image--12350067.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">View from my bivy, the clouds never came any further across</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The nights are short here in summer, so I spend a pleasant few hours dozing and gnawing malt loaf while the sun sets. After that it gets cold, and I sleep fitfully, listening to the wind whistling over me. By 3am it's already getting light again, but I decide it's still too cold to start climbing. I lie patiently 'til half four then struggle out of my sleeping bag and get ready to leave.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfgIFcKFH81I-FgVtPqHpgwZSK5U6xpgOQQUT5luHz8LRIHyFlL3lED7ym9kjjuNgblMzdKl6UncH4oyMdKIKNL8CCqLEYZHflEpITNLUkwgduKvoFYH929AC7OnZK3b6l3RWsEl_s48/s640/blogger-image-1623060168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfgIFcKFH81I-FgVtPqHpgwZSK5U6xpgOQQUT5luHz8LRIHyFlL3lED7ym9kjjuNgblMzdKl6UncH4oyMdKIKNL8CCqLEYZHflEpITNLUkwgduKvoFYH929AC7OnZK3b6l3RWsEl_s48/s640/blogger-image-1623060168.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Beautiful morning cloud inversion</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Z-1zpUDwsf32ubBE0JdG7egAfoFdnQVelSEInFaLHC55_zhvFrT0Q9Knqv13BY5AA3nICktY3LaR1xX0MJmc7To7eswTC_n_g-Qgz_t3UAyUwwqYN2axkFKY-v5uw8jcPl3IL6jxhQI/s640/blogger-image--554539146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Z-1zpUDwsf32ubBE0JdG7egAfoFdnQVelSEInFaLHC55_zhvFrT0Q9Knqv13BY5AA3nICktY3LaR1xX0MJmc7To7eswTC_n_g-Qgz_t3UAyUwwqYN2axkFKY-v5uw8jcPl3IL6jxhQI/s640/blogger-image--554539146.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pointless bivy selfie</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpH4OQrbICrw72CBkVDaOcXEH9KaitPi0J7-ibnIv6orzbThhlf0SFecMcD2YmO6_Pav3UbP2CaPBc5_QOYpiB3uA9e_Curl6pzJqatJ_BSXrNq0YAcpKj-uY8Ll5nAzPcLg7Ma6UxAzE/s640/blogger-image--2001357580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpH4OQrbICrw72CBkVDaOcXEH9KaitPi0J7-ibnIv6orzbThhlf0SFecMcD2YmO6_Pav3UbP2CaPBc5_QOYpiB3uA9e_Curl6pzJqatJ_BSXrNq0YAcpKj-uY8Ll5nAzPcLg7Ma6UxAzE/s640/blogger-image--2001357580.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Early morning mist on the Cuillin Ridge</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next bit is quite tough in the misty conditions. I should wait longer for the sun to burn it away, but I'm paranoid that the weather window may close earlier than forecasted, leaving me no choice but to retreat. I know I won't get a better chance than this to achieve the traverse so I move on cautiously, checking my map and waiting for the occasional breaks in the fog to show the way forward. There's a section of complex route finding and harder climbing around three pinnacles, then I reach a broad, grassy bealach where some sheep are grazing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFu6w2Em2hEbjj5itgNoQ1SZnWbg6G_a-ewFKinbTBqwdNfve0CvI8QmXQE7DiOeqVVl4OyoXUNwHy3fEsK3YMigMnyy86_pBwQvcTuJtzxJ2iHBpqHu5R7obq31_ZergJ7kSryJ_Rz2o/s640/blogger-image--1088472503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFu6w2Em2hEbjj5itgNoQ1SZnWbg6G_a-ewFKinbTBqwdNfve0CvI8QmXQE7DiOeqVVl4OyoXUNwHy3fEsK3YMigMnyy86_pBwQvcTuJtzxJ2iHBpqHu5R7obq31_ZergJ7kSryJ_Rz2o/s640/blogger-image--1088472503.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The ominous tops of Bidean Druim nan Ramh</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZh5SgTny_Pg5w94wFjuHR05wwZ-w1tfRZ9fJ8wz02_bkV257m4cODm8iDhhvdMcgOWSnn9-ocgkQJ30q3PuWZyxnce7Y9t5wMz1Fu6poUjKntIc0HPusLfT5Ve0TcOXXvRAfUR3zLhg/s640/blogger-image-641777503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZh5SgTny_Pg5w94wFjuHR05wwZ-w1tfRZ9fJ8wz02_bkV257m4cODm8iDhhvdMcgOWSnn9-ocgkQJ30q3PuWZyxnce7Y9t5wMz1Fu6poUjKntIc0HPusLfT5Ve0TcOXXvRAfUR3zLhg/s640/blogger-image-641777503.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">'Basalt staircases' rising above me</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next section, traversing the tops of Bidean, contained some of the most intricate route finding of the whole ridge. I read my notes carefully, and slowly find my way over the first two tops, climbing a series of basalt staircases and chimneys, before reaching the main summit of the peak. I know there is a section awaiting me that most people abseil, and I'm anxious to get this done as soon as possible.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQcUTLZFKFz80hKTEn2hMGH9GMIM_tO3Zq8SygIqvnfTsSLb_YBIp55sIe4PpEkJaIAou4S58Bdltl86cN_hYtFM0WcUBqLYXKy9Y9r9iXnYt8hMR7xZRDC9_wuwe8CCemkH_aYE2510/s640/blogger-image--703700422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQcUTLZFKFz80hKTEn2hMGH9GMIM_tO3Zq8SygIqvnfTsSLb_YBIp55sIe4PpEkJaIAou4S58Bdltl86cN_hYtFM0WcUBqLYXKy9Y9r9iXnYt8hMR7xZRDC9_wuwe8CCemkH_aYE2510/s640/blogger-image--703700422.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Trying to hide my nerves on top of Bidean</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5XILCSuYMHiZMT7GaC5gyih7F1wLI-rZufjrs_EjyCz5njTj1ByBHsPCmIrn_OS5zx8NviJ83QIkYkmZvgKXnH-mfuoSjE9MncB_egM_4TnsNs2nyziCcZMmucNx779UdmT4zC-ab1Xg/s640/blogger-image--1330124593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5XILCSuYMHiZMT7GaC5gyih7F1wLI-rZufjrs_EjyCz5njTj1ByBHsPCmIrn_OS5zx8NviJ83QIkYkmZvgKXnH-mfuoSjE9MncB_egM_4TnsNs2nyziCcZMmucNx779UdmT4zC-ab1Xg/s640/blogger-image--1330124593.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Amazing light phenomenon, I think it's called a Broken Spectre</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGYbL6yklnXc76x2syX5VLj-9bJHbQY0VLR3ViC6VP8SN8qceMoalEKLzFPBa8xxLWq6y5A2HtGttooACMda2Dgw36UCfjTzDZ9dgD_qYfpu07uqek6lau9kzUybFkSx_WjdnZVakNFQ/s640/blogger-image--295909344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGYbL6yklnXc76x2syX5VLj-9bJHbQY0VLR3ViC6VP8SN8qceMoalEKLzFPBa8xxLWq6y5A2HtGttooACMda2Dgw36UCfjTzDZ9dgD_qYfpu07uqek6lau9kzUybFkSx_WjdnZVakNFQ/s640/blogger-image--295909344.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Horrible wall of overhanging death, note the abseil tat at the top!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I reach the dreaded down climb, and my worst fears are confirmed - it looks fucking awful. There is a nice cluster of abseil tat to lower yourself down in moments, but of course not for Billy no rope here. So I have no choice but to begin a very tenuous shuffle down sloping edges, hands pinching at the cold rock, feet clumsy in big mountain boots. I'm shitting myself the whole way. Trying not to look at the drop below me. A desperate move across a bulge to reach another slab, and finally I'm down, hands shaking, heart racing. But now I feel like there's nothing that can stop me reaching the end.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-mitPMbTQoXNeX3082PBmFeoU6tvqSBvn8AiMGLkBB8bcvO3GB_mCoEI9VKuKM_RXhRRlTnm4JBQUpf8JBZW5ZbkhiNj0s2SRo9OLEaEmmpZ8fQfRLQgK_LvwG00zEt6pAVOSCSs4SI/s640/blogger-image--1717286375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-mitPMbTQoXNeX3082PBmFeoU6tvqSBvn8AiMGLkBB8bcvO3GB_mCoEI9VKuKM_RXhRRlTnm4JBQUpf8JBZW5ZbkhiNj0s2SRo9OLEaEmmpZ8fQfRLQgK_LvwG00zEt6pAVOSCSs4SI/s640/blogger-image--1717286375.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking towards the final section where the ridge kinks back right</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOOvPNoBYwoULy99Ubf3KNTaSddsofewyViMKOiFPgKh6omAo8_ltL4rD8MTfPxCkVEDOrfWPTja5gavifXIDOuUpWv3Z-Qrz5jbcg5i9ibAARxYpxAISRpBfFR1bsJ9klZ79Vo91-8c/s640/blogger-image--2078907018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOOvPNoBYwoULy99Ubf3KNTaSddsofewyViMKOiFPgKh6omAo8_ltL4rD8MTfPxCkVEDOrfWPTja5gavifXIDOuUpWv3Z-Qrz5jbcg5i9ibAARxYpxAISRpBfFR1bsJ9klZ79Vo91-8c/s640/blogger-image--2078907018.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Bastier Tooth rises out of the mist</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I carry on to the next summit, third last on the ridge. It's mostly easy scrambling with another tricky down climb that I would rather be abseiling. It's not as bad as the Bidean one though, and I'm soon looking at the final section of the ridge, the peaks Am Bastier and Sgurr nan Gillean. By this point I'm absolutely shattered, my legs are burning with every step. The end is near but I know it will take everything I have to get there. I reach the base of the Bastier Tooth, a steep fang, and just when I think I'm nearly there I can't find a way up the bloody thing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My notes tell me to scramble down the right hand side and locate an easy ramp to the top. The only ramp I can find is anything but easy, I'm doing hard moves on small footholds, passing clusters of tat where people have lowered off from here. I reach a ledge, arms trembling, but cannot see any easy way to the top. If I commit and get stuck I will have to either wait for more climbers to find me, or try to call a helicopter. It's not worth it. I downclimb, very carefully, and skirt around the base of the peak. Finally some easy scrambling leads me back to crest, to the bealach between Am Bastier and Sgurr nan Gillean. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9m_gn7A65efdK98N6hjO1Xnfc9qsmWM5xUtOM3WE7vuJ3bGJAPWJPu-XmyffaTqGg1t3GyjkO5wlIwJrdy5F7ZvnHYQ_SpLh36ttC-a65W2js30MUciXPGgfI9er6XPMqe4X-zdSn-E/s640/blogger-image--11482884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9m_gn7A65efdK98N6hjO1Xnfc9qsmWM5xUtOM3WE7vuJ3bGJAPWJPu-XmyffaTqGg1t3GyjkO5wlIwJrdy5F7ZvnHYQ_SpLh36ttC-a65W2js30MUciXPGgfI9er6XPMqe4X-zdSn-E/s640/blogger-image--11482884.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back to Am Bastier</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I debate going back on myself to tag the summit of Am Bastier but I'm knackered and I just cannot be arsed with it. Sticking to my ultimate goal of the traverse, not individual summits. The final ridge is before me. I'm going to do it. I'm actually going to fucking do it. The weather has cleared at last and it's a glorious day, blue skies and sun, I feel very lucky to be in this position. I climb on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrRoAlXRvnQNDHm6G24SIkjO4Df_e3dQulbLg0Az_Tk-DMjUloWfXre6EoX_2TysVwQQACdgXBYcM2SvaYm2XHNsPeqA4mZZlahEk474YxIke2ZdqzQ2S49ZbAGcZ-3PnjQNDODRUgKk/s640/blogger-image--818290914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrRoAlXRvnQNDHm6G24SIkjO4Df_e3dQulbLg0Az_Tk-DMjUloWfXre6EoX_2TysVwQQACdgXBYcM2SvaYm2XHNsPeqA4mZZlahEk474YxIke2ZdqzQ2S49ZbAGcZ-3PnjQNDODRUgKk/s640/blogger-image--818290914.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The west ridge of Sgurr nan Gillean, final leg of the traverse</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The ridge is pretty mellow scrambling, one section of climbing up a wide chimney. Once I'm up this it's a straight run to the top, only a sudden lightning bolt can stop me now. I crawl through a gap between two large blocks, emerge blinking into light, the summit cairn is right in front of me. Gasping for breath I take the final few steps to the peak. Mountains all around me, the ocean beyond. I look back across 12km of ridge to where I started yesterday afternoon, and can hardly believe that I've done it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNTaboJ4867Fh48JbElywZCovg2pGM8rTEMh8So4-aHv0biLFMgbUYLerFxuyde44vDZfDOVQQ9YdJCkv5eraEYnmepSYrjQj8r0yc-p6UzHBjoVNymEv9fE8KALuq-WXwNdyKMalzi90/s640/blogger-image--1739255464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNTaboJ4867Fh48JbElywZCovg2pGM8rTEMh8So4-aHv0biLFMgbUYLerFxuyde44vDZfDOVQQ9YdJCkv5eraEYnmepSYrjQj8r0yc-p6UzHBjoVNymEv9fE8KALuq-WXwNdyKMalzi90/s640/blogger-image--1739255464.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Exhausted but very happy on the summit of Sgurr nan Gillean</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArsisVO3YQM9MlsqFusMx47QM4Jl-8p99nhyphenhyphenUvo5PsP5afHhGlK2KOu9T6yWDmjQuf2nhUyUtHOcsHtXKkp01v2r3_MDJFN5mj84ZQBQPU5x2zv4hN137cGvqMwQRYF4QeM6UL9gGHoM/s640/blogger-image-1339536714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArsisVO3YQM9MlsqFusMx47QM4Jl-8p99nhyphenhyphenUvo5PsP5afHhGlK2KOu9T6yWDmjQuf2nhUyUtHOcsHtXKkp01v2r3_MDJFN5mj84ZQBQPU5x2zv4hN137cGvqMwQRYF4QeM6UL9gGHoM/s640/blogger-image-1339536714.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The valley I descended into, Sligachan visible at the head of the loch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I stagger back down the south-east ridge and finally arrive at the Sligachan Hotel, where I get happily drunk on beer and fine whisky. Fucking good times.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-35245896714656044892016-06-01T02:12:00.001-07:002016-06-09T11:47:32.263-07:00North Wales AgainI've been lying awake for hours. Staples is snoring again, the bastard. How the fuck is he making these noises? How? It sounds like two old drunks fighting to the death in a hurricane. I'm going to fucking top him if he doesn't shut up soon. Eventually I can't take anymore. I throw my pillow at him, "Prop yourself up better you twat" says I, before stomping round to the boot in my pants to improvise another pillow. This increase in elevation seems to do the job, and I manage to grab a few hours before morning comes and it's time to get up.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcXC6K2aaOp3iuN4cIkaA25Sb8LJg5TnQWQupigFdAoO5ncn5r-GuBvMdJcC8mei6rQm_6ap5VmocuD16L-gJKscGmwzPs6IPbUUNFJhARExSDKb15eQ8JuiwZgh0lZc4AKjmaHoxXro/s640/blogger-image--1181008444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcXC6K2aaOp3iuN4cIkaA25Sb8LJg5TnQWQupigFdAoO5ncn5r-GuBvMdJcC8mei6rQm_6ap5VmocuD16L-gJKscGmwzPs6IPbUUNFJhARExSDKb15eQ8JuiwZgh0lZc4AKjmaHoxXro/s640/blogger-image--1181008444.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Keep your friends close (and your enemies closer)</div><div><br></div><div>Trouble with climbing classic routes on weekends is every other tosser has the same idea. So you either have to queue behind the usual bumbling incompetents, or get up stupid early to be first. We want to do a couple routes on the east face of Tryfan then head over into Cwm Idwal for some soloing. Still pissed off with him, I make Staples carry the rope and the rack, storming up the path fast as I can. There's already 2 guys in front, I'm certain they'll be heading to the same route as us, but I know we can overtake them. Well I can anyway. I catch them on the Heather Terrace, have a quick chat, they offer us first dibs on Grooved Arete. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNFVDyUH0aSUfCZ7M7ieKBw8mAcYutaImITkYMsAQp7Am_4j87U5mhsnID34SquOx-y0ORD241WsDF0bP2aD7EMbcbJpMq8ejQRfmKvQswx5na7G72De_ewgNYn9gZo78BFtDns6p3wM/s640/blogger-image--762659573.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNFVDyUH0aSUfCZ7M7ieKBw8mAcYutaImITkYMsAQp7Am_4j87U5mhsnID34SquOx-y0ORD241WsDF0bP2aD7EMbcbJpMq8ejQRfmKvQswx5na7G72De_ewgNYn9gZo78BFtDns6p3wM/s640/blogger-image--762659573.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The east face of Tryfan, we climbed the middle and right hand buttresses</div></div><div><br></div><div>Fantastic. Except Staples is nowhere to be seen. I can't really demand to go in front but make them wait for my fat mate to wheeze his way up the mountain. Don't worry fellas. He'll only be a few more hours. It's the weight of his tits, you see.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh695iPUrqeeYyNbTLRHfsY_M7glFQvgBo1wwX_Hd88rAPvJvxzi3y-cCprMtJVrunLxGqz_TQiG6DdFJgvOhyf97aQP_gLWjeI5dnqituO02vg_5Wtpz1hRjzp30tCkmN3ioX3pZx_ICo/s640/blogger-image-1656389342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh695iPUrqeeYyNbTLRHfsY_M7glFQvgBo1wwX_Hd88rAPvJvxzi3y-cCprMtJVrunLxGqz_TQiG6DdFJgvOhyf97aQP_gLWjeI5dnqituO02vg_5Wtpz1hRjzp30tCkmN3ioX3pZx_ICo/s640/blogger-image-1656389342.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me leading an easy pitch</div></div><div><br></div><div>Nah, fuck it, we can do Pinnacle Ridge instead. Staples finally catches me up looking absolutely bollocksed out his mind. Now he's as pissed off with me as I am with him. Great start to the trip. I grudgingly agree to take the rope for the last 5 minutes or so, and we wander up to the start of the route. I sort the gear out, Staples sits with his head in his hands, gasping for air. We're ready to smash this goddamn mountain. The climbing is piss, we sprint up in 3 long pitches, solo the last bit, and soon reach the summit of Tryfan. Quick jump between the Adam and Eve stones then we stomp back down the south ridge and to the Heather Terrace once more.</div></div><div><br></div><div>By some miracle Grooved Arete is not that busy. We tie into a short rope and move together up the first 4 pitches. But suddenly the skies are darkening. Spots of rain. Clouds rolling in like bouncers to break up the fun. We're at the bottom of the crux pitch, a sort of grooved arete (who knew?), what do we do now?</div><div><br></div><div>"Fuck it" I say. "Let's keep moving together."</div><div><br></div><div>So we commit to the harder climbing and immediately it starts pissing it down. The already polished holds now have all the friction of soap. We skid and curse our way up, grovelling towards a beckoning ledge below the famous Knight's Slab. Here we decide to pitch the rest of the route, and after more lovely wet climbing we reach the top again.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQnGEaCfqp6n6BuNgP6v-NQKZe33VP9JqsFZE7pHJJcqffEb3CvyTNjkjyHOKiiqWVbKWNsnVGkMY-3Vwj9tOh5HzznSBJwVsnfnmTuVFF6HUsCtfkV0lYmD_W3phJLk0lZurTjT2pmY/s640/blogger-image--1806663896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQnGEaCfqp6n6BuNgP6v-NQKZe33VP9JqsFZE7pHJJcqffEb3CvyTNjkjyHOKiiqWVbKWNsnVGkMY-3Vwj9tOh5HzznSBJwVsnfnmTuVFF6HUsCtfkV0lYmD_W3phJLk0lZurTjT2pmY/s640/blogger-image--1806663896.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Seconding the Knight's Slab in the pissing rain</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We trudge back to the car and try to get our gear dry on the heater. We drive to Pete's and have a massive greasy fry up. Can't be arsed with soloing wet routes now. Instead we lay-by it somewhere and I get halfway drunk on beer and whisky. Staples has to stay sober because tomorrow's plan is Gogarth and we want to get there this evening.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Back through the desolate Jeremy Kyle academy that is Holyhead. Back for a rematch with A Dream of White Horses.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvsHbSxWVSIMn0C8puRhrvxGji8RCvqvOgubyU03B2Ql9roe2jpooDTANSGdvwyOFfOLx6whFIGqgMkq6G5kxfF_0RsmX6d2NYgPDbdqx2gMTEKhQwlgF0-VdA4vpG5A7mhTmB3Pj5ZI/s640/blogger-image--1133330534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvsHbSxWVSIMn0C8puRhrvxGji8RCvqvOgubyU03B2Ql9roe2jpooDTANSGdvwyOFfOLx6whFIGqgMkq6G5kxfF_0RsmX6d2NYgPDbdqx2gMTEKhQwlgF0-VdA4vpG5A7mhTmB3Pj5ZI/s640/blogger-image--1133330534.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back down the corner pitch of Pel</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We've learnt our lesson from the retreat 2 weeks ago. This time we will wait 'til the afternoon sun hits the zawn. So we spend the morning ambling up Castel Helen, linking the first pitch of Pel with the second pitch of Rap. Once I get my pipe cleaner arms warmed up it all feels rather easy, I'm confident we won't get buggered up the arse this time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCJiJitwNQZEG3YGVBr9kvmrOCq2EWhvEWHAloe4whtsgk_p9kb1Rvp94F5lkdAjmwRbM0E12Au1U6Jb2oKf7YzcHbS0mKfzbJVkBhM_B6c3nWaTyDQgAWU6wdkAG669rGdc02dgFUIk/s640/blogger-image--1509566973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCJiJitwNQZEG3YGVBr9kvmrOCq2EWhvEWHAloe4whtsgk_p9kb1Rvp94F5lkdAjmwRbM0E12Au1U6Jb2oKf7YzcHbS0mKfzbJVkBhM_B6c3nWaTyDQgAWU6wdkAG669rGdc02dgFUIk/s640/blogger-image--1509566973.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples jollying up Rap</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We hike over to Wen Zawn. There's already a couple teams on the route but we're not really in a hurry. We wait for a safe gap to abseil past them and reach the very bottom of the slab. The weather is warm and sunny, no wind at all, the sea gently rippling beneath our feet. Perfect conditions. I was freezing my tits off last time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsfv89njyrvtWRqyozcNBKd4SYfg7wNsL4D9K-R4mrrAJ7i913N8tBXSuDxdD48KTaIhVogO6hffU59PKAOL-zpJ7sphf4cp5XoE8SOE3dmzbMh5FZUkMApOWVLf0YFJHB8lBgvjZ4TI/s640/blogger-image--358890853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsfv89njyrvtWRqyozcNBKd4SYfg7wNsL4D9K-R4mrrAJ7i913N8tBXSuDxdD48KTaIhVogO6hffU59PKAOL-zpJ7sphf4cp5XoE8SOE3dmzbMh5FZUkMApOWVLf0YFJHB8lBgvjZ4TI/s640/blogger-image--358890853.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The sweeping monstrosity of the Dream slab</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkC8eoLmRwRgmMyefwyBN9sCp-cAAPQNvgG5pNXIxt1srrylOopMPSgRq-_0qxaVAqguTHfbrz0m2hE5AOKM4KbDhg5uqWbym-recVl9Wfi1d7goVySbHnf6ATynIRyq8-5hVYWgvowJs/s640/blogger-image--721647943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkC8eoLmRwRgmMyefwyBN9sCp-cAAPQNvgG5pNXIxt1srrylOopMPSgRq-_0qxaVAqguTHfbrz0m2hE5AOKM4KbDhg5uqWbym-recVl9Wfi1d7goVySbHnf6ATynIRyq8-5hVYWgvowJs/s640/blogger-image--721647943.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Leading up the corner of pitch 1</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The first pitch has a few tricky moves but nothing too bad. I reach a pinnacle to belay on and bring up Staples. Here we wait an hour or so while the guys in front move on. We watch someone making the famous traverse of the final pitch, it looks outrageous. Completely ridiculous. I have no idea how you're supposed to climb this overhanging wall at an easy grade. Eventually the next belay is clear, and Staples leads off, traversing to the big crack in the middle of the slab. Hanging belay. The ropes come tight. It's my turn.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzUo-0leZXQjOtY2q7nIagEGZE-RX7KHeAtTZvDYHECVZtcCdvdGMalI92OkgmddomSIH7k5thGZvCRn6ru5Jc2J41rCMsv6TGFG5YSPxWQhXXu-U2Dya5ihEhm1vlQhV3M0OYqrIQdw/s640/blogger-image--1454623388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzUo-0leZXQjOtY2q7nIagEGZE-RX7KHeAtTZvDYHECVZtcCdvdGMalI92OkgmddomSIH7k5thGZvCRn6ru5Jc2J41rCMsv6TGFG5YSPxWQhXXu-U2Dya5ihEhm1vlQhV3M0OYqrIQdw/s640/blogger-image--1454623388.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Two silly twats on the first belay</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This is the bit I backed off from last time. I'm nervous as I edge towards the hard move, but anger takes over, a quick skip of the feet on a tiny edge, lunge and slap, I've done it before I even realise it. Well that that fucking piss wasn't it? What the fuck was wrong with me last time, stupid prat. I apologise to Staples for being a massive fanny and we wait a bit longer for the blokes in front. Then it's my lead again, and I haul my way up a rising flake line, getting surprisingly pumped in the process. I'm sweating like a bitch in the heat and my hands slip off the holds as my feet windmill below me. Eventually I reach the apex of the flake, and begin a wobbly down climb on what looks like rubble to the next belay. The big pitch lies waiting before us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBRUFl0WcqOCz9AGTOh9ZPBZzZbLJPPf3zDI71p17j7FOHwxl0jrrDm2bA4SKn_yxuXnQUAA-0JD1bFKDiTvZDhQpF73mzCILhFOI_QLVyCDMSuLL54cMsZ-zd1IvImAR08QQbyGDPnk/s640/blogger-image-1798067414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBRUFl0WcqOCz9AGTOh9ZPBZzZbLJPPf3zDI71p17j7FOHwxl0jrrDm2bA4SKn_yxuXnQUAA-0JD1bFKDiTvZDhQpF73mzCILhFOI_QLVyCDMSuLL54cMsZ-zd1IvImAR08QQbyGDPnk/s640/blogger-image-1798067414.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You mean we have to climb across there?!?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5kS_OeXjQ2_5Zp_g2zWSWV7xn5j8oNMFpYDh9hyphenhyphenw_yMKNp7x5oiQrYTPJZpaPp04cqU_hS6isqA1Y-HH5S_JX7SU0EgfvYYTc8ATmJAW6eUIV4kObChbR2lrasGGFyH0XZKaj_K7iqU/s640/blogger-image--1516060757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5kS_OeXjQ2_5Zp_g2zWSWV7xn5j8oNMFpYDh9hyphenhyphenw_yMKNp7x5oiQrYTPJZpaPp04cqU_hS6isqA1Y-HH5S_JX7SU0EgfvYYTc8ATmJAW6eUIV4kObChbR2lrasGGFyH0XZKaj_K7iqU/s640/blogger-image--1516060757.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And the void awaits below...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples does a great job on lead. He climbs steadily, not hanging around, placing enough runners so I'm vaguely protected as well. This pitch is notorious, an absolute MUST NOT FALL job. I've heard horror stories of people lobbing off into space, swinging across the zawn, dangling helpless with no way back onto the rock. Where are my prussiks? Shit, they're in the car. Oh shitting fuck. Reaching down with a sense of inevitable dread to unthread the laces of their rock shoes...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrllLFBLcIP6zdMtfApGRuvrcArV5ckSMoZ7MZ51hsppmIfeVA3_J1_cLo56Tc3mXEfZVI2dAG5GO4YDDkP0ddBjuaGAXQ6cC2y7w7H3b7GOOj5i5KNMK6YqAOI5Va97ejBoyiCzcyM0/s640/blogger-image-1552158849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrllLFBLcIP6zdMtfApGRuvrcArV5ckSMoZ7MZ51hsppmIfeVA3_J1_cLo56Tc3mXEfZVI2dAG5GO4YDDkP0ddBjuaGAXQ6cC2y7w7H3b7GOOj5i5KNMK6YqAOI5Va97ejBoyiCzcyM0/s640/blogger-image-1552158849.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples halfway across the Dream traverse, exit groove just out of sight</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Soon enough he clears the final hard section, ambles up the final groove and pulls in the ropes. I'm not going to lie, I'm shitting myself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiGMtm9a7kmEPirZEYVSSnBNa16soPBgye9aqAaE8ThKgVOPeAiINKaN8Wvp8QgowSnLb-1Iw32EGubfc5nadhlt0mHiz4R-yW76o0IuxWgThJ1tFJvqAHSKXvJN0UlaKJJfCMgHUIgyY/s640/blogger-image-183012717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiGMtm9a7kmEPirZEYVSSnBNa16soPBgye9aqAaE8ThKgVOPeAiINKaN8Wvp8QgowSnLb-1Iw32EGubfc5nadhlt0mHiz4R-yW76o0IuxWgThJ1tFJvqAHSKXvJN0UlaKJJfCMgHUIgyY/s640/blogger-image-183012717.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I DON'T WANT TO GO THERE</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I start shuffling my way along, reach the first hard bit, a swinging downclimb around a hanging fin. I lurch outwards, grasping at the holds, manage to pull myself back into balance and keep going. I focus on moving steadily, trying not to think about the consequences of a fall. But for all this gibbering the climbing is actually really easy, on your feet the whole way. That's what makes the pitch such a masterpiece, the impossible revealed to be possible with every further step. Finally I hand traverse a rail to the easy slab before the groove and I let myself relax, enjoy the exposure. As I top out and we shake hands the sun falls beyond the horizon way out to sea.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXC_VcsOMNTBri4QKiM2logHQkxzqswQ-9IViknakU-Vh7wUUPcA6Q6vO3cO6m9lQN5oc2foc55UECglvhpOvDqLFWX-xf_SsIAnCfT-4NJRNO89QVzBWX_uXICUy_e2OvkZleQZYxcM/s640/blogger-image-1951758063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXC_VcsOMNTBri4QKiM2logHQkxzqswQ-9IViknakU-Vh7wUUPcA6Q6vO3cO6m9lQN5oc2foc55UECglvhpOvDqLFWX-xf_SsIAnCfT-4NJRNO89QVzBWX_uXICUy_e2OvkZleQZYxcM/s640/blogger-image-1951758063.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just in time!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwZUNNiQUCkdyCcAniL6xcNNXNAHmnwRq73o2nEE_sMxK2pTvpgfrpyczWF9qdKP9gO-2-DloFp6BoIUsxVDkxUEnR3YUrBXLgpXF4glDttbQUWa-mLxW-A8bcWKluoaYpU_Gt5efqRE/s640/blogger-image-49763303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwZUNNiQUCkdyCcAniL6xcNNXNAHmnwRq73o2nEE_sMxK2pTvpgfrpyczWF9qdKP9gO-2-DloFp6BoIUsxVDkxUEnR3YUrBXLgpXF4glDttbQUWa-mLxW-A8bcWKluoaYpU_Gt5efqRE/s640/blogger-image-49763303.jpg"></a></div>A final look down into the zawn</div><br></div>We're both completely stoked to finally do Dream, and drive back to the Pass exhausted but happy. Could just knock it all on the head there, but we decide to grab a route in Dinas Mot monday morning before the drive home. We climb the Direct Route, a classic wander up the face of the Nose to an infamous boulder problem crux on the final pitch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhwt4BzDuD7TCF48bMzA3Is-gL86wbaKx4VwPKX5jCtdizmgWv5ArkAYtnVoyM_X2TXnx8Dtl09qnz46SirruSFz58Rp1F1JLJVvruAuu-f7dlWojd64Nnt2XbK37cJHT9RlhbILLApb0/s640/blogger-image--1724470349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhwt4BzDuD7TCF48bMzA3Is-gL86wbaKx4VwPKX5jCtdizmgWv5ArkAYtnVoyM_X2TXnx8Dtl09qnz46SirruSFz58Rp1F1JLJVvruAuu-f7dlWojd64Nnt2XbK37cJHT9RlhbILLApb0/s640/blogger-image--1724470349.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples is relieved to find a good runner 'protecting' the nails hard crux move</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Guess what, Staples is going to lead it, thank god for that. He reaches the base of the corner and is appalled to find the only gear at knee height, and therefore will do nothing to prevent him smashing back into the ledge should he fuck up the desperate, polished moves. What joy. He fumbles around but understandably doesn't want to commit to the ankle wrecker. I point out that at least the gear will stop his broken body from tumbling all the way back to the road. However this inspirational talk does not seem to help.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"You want to try it mate?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"Nah you can do this champ, you got it."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"I can't, you have a go."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"Just give it one more try buddy"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"Seriously, I can't-"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"JUST GIVE IT ONE MORE FUCKING TRY."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Eventually Staples takes the sensible cowards option, puts a sling stirrup on the runner, steps up and just about reaches the first half-decent hold. A quick thrash up and he reaches a massive flake and some useful gear. The rest of the pitch is not much easier, an endless series of 'hugging a fridge' moves leading to an awkward and shiny as hell final crack. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3pBVabNCpjy1nbDReJQyPgrdDFn9ADllZJLBEBN0WR71tt3XJHOqLw3Ssn_yvcfQADUs-WPlunIc1MQVRPuKKI2abTw5AXGUyRfhgGgJIt6fc4wdOWwuN33Ce8_cuxBwAmjxWDiL_itg/s640/blogger-image-1611221106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3pBVabNCpjy1nbDReJQyPgrdDFn9ADllZJLBEBN0WR71tt3XJHOqLw3Ssn_yvcfQADUs-WPlunIc1MQVRPuKKI2abTw5AXGUyRfhgGgJIt6fc4wdOWwuN33Ce8_cuxBwAmjxWDiL_itg/s640/blogger-image-1611221106.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thank god that's over...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThWk2MCTmkEM61li_7i7nKKZ-1otuJFHlwpo1sBfbFbVPr99b2D2F5a4zw100_rlNzbwP8PwtIyARqpCkV4C8Yos0Qcm7Dxz9egjSRa_-G557TSlRXZCWw0fvViTuDV9i03AYENDFDIo/s640/blogger-image-686269099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThWk2MCTmkEM61li_7i7nKKZ-1otuJFHlwpo1sBfbFbVPr99b2D2F5a4zw100_rlNzbwP8PwtIyARqpCkV4C8Yos0Qcm7Dxz9egjSRa_-G557TSlRXZCWw0fvViTuDV9i03AYENDFDIo/s640/blogger-image-686269099.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Embrace the rock boyo</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I follow up by the skin of my teeth, desperately bridging on chuff all to reach the flake. I find the rest of it nails as well, much harder than anything on Dream. We abseil down a manky gully and stagger back to the car. Beer. Where's the fucking beer? We debate doing another route but we're both knackered and don't want to get stuck in all the bank holiday traffic. Instead we cook up enough pasta and meatballs and cheese to kill every fat cunt in Italy and begin driving home. Happy days.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2S2Hxu6NhuVs2tQOzNjj7YAkXx60HstPPzREYeVxFa78vIFZvDDYqBcKVMy3FrA9lGfaun7MUap9V7_oe_5vBdEvfPQ_r3tqHnCNTQRWur-neSoa3rfziqm6a4w0VNiI_I0m6ffAs5I/s640/blogger-image--1282227234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2S2Hxu6NhuVs2tQOzNjj7YAkXx60HstPPzREYeVxFa78vIFZvDDYqBcKVMy3FrA9lGfaun7MUap9V7_oe_5vBdEvfPQ_r3tqHnCNTQRWur-neSoa3rfziqm6a4w0VNiI_I0m6ffAs5I/s640/blogger-image--1282227234.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking across the Pass in perfect weather, no better place to be</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-82508666601209761082016-05-24T13:55:00.001-07:002016-05-26T13:16:33.576-07:00David Gainor<div>David Gainor. Four syllables. One for each of the basic elements of the universe. This is not an accident.</div><div><br></div><div>Who, or indeed what, is David Gainor? This question has baffled historians throughout the ages, and we are no closer to the answers even now. Millennia of speculation. Rumours and whispers. So little is known about this enigmatic figure, this god-like being. Arguments rage as to whether he even exists, ever has existed at all. Maybe we will never know for sure. This might well be for the best, for how could our pathetic human minds ever comprehend something so much greater than ourselves? Can a mere mortal truly understand David Gainor? We peer through a tiny keyhole into a smoky room, snatch glimpses of what lies beyond. To see the full picture would surely destroy us all. Even the slightest view can shatter the most brilliant individuals. Why do you think Einstein is dead?</div><div><br></div><div>David Gainor is everything. He is our hopes, our fears. Our dreams and our nightmares. He is all that ever was, is, can be, yet he is also nothing at all. A manifestation of infinite possibility. The terrible vacuum of space unknown. David Gainor can make a calculator divide by zero. David Gainor is the true subject of the song 'the Hokey Cokey'. He wrote it as a gift to Mozart, who immediately died aged only 35 as a result of this exposure. Wracked with guilt, he replaced the words 'David Gainor' with 'Hokey Cokey' to hide its true, terrible meaning. </div><div><br></div><div>There are no definite facts concerning David Gainor. How could there be? But ancient records show that several key events almost certainly took place. It is thought that sometime around the ninth millennium he led a doomed expedition to the endless craters of the dark side of the moon. And there, in that blasted, airless landscape, was the sole survivor of an incident so horrific that even he never spoke of it. The wolves know. They howl, not at the moon, but at what is waiting there. Please watch over us, David Gainor. Keep our children safe.</div><div><br></div><div>David Gainor also may well have been instrumental in the peace negotiations between the human race and the mutant clones, just as the war between them seemed ready to tear the universe apart. Study the photos. That blurry figure, barely visible behind Overlord Trump. Face in shadow, perhaps a smile playing around the mouth. Who is it? Could it be David Gainor? Was David Gainor behind the grassy knoll? Yet he can be seen in the Bayeux Tapestry. The Turin shroud nothing more than a testament to his awkward grunge phase. And finally, the most bewildering of all, David Gainor is almost certainly the backing dancer fourth from the right during Boney M's performance of 'Daddy Cool' on Top of the Pops, in 1977.</div><div><br></div><div>Supposed eyewitness accounts claim he owned at least three chequered shirts. If not four. But equally, others will argue his skin itself was chequered, hence why he would never appear to be wearing anything else. David Gainor, a chameleon perhaps? Changing his skin to suit, nay lead, the fashion trends of each passing age. </div><div><br></div><div>None of this can even begin to explain how David Gainor ascended to heights previously thought reserved only for the gods themselves. How does a mere man gain mythic status; become the founder of all myth itself even? The earliest scriptures we posses seem to refer to a being very like him at the time of the first creation. The Bible even states that David Gainor witnessed God himself design the human appendix, and was heard to say "Well that's a load of fucking bollocks, isn't it?" And atheists are stumped as to why connecting the random blemishes found on the fossils of dinosaurs will always, without fail, produce a rough image of the face of David Gainor.</div><div><br></div><div>How? Why? Nobody can say. He never explained himself, nor left behind any writing. But is it really only a coincidence that the phrase “All the great artistic statements humankind has ever produced” contains within it the letters that make up the name 'David Gainor'?</div><div><br></div><div>But one thing is for certain. Even without evidence, in the face of overwhelming contradiction, we believe in David Gainor. We believe.</div><div><br></div><div>Thank you.</div><div><br></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-57250219299729186162016-05-16T07:43:00.001-07:002016-05-17T10:44:24.896-07:00North WalesI'm shitting myself. There's this sloping foothold up and left of me, I need to stand up on it but there's nothing to hold onto while I do it. My fingers are so cold I can't feel them at all. Can't tell if the bloody things are gripping the rock or about to slip off. The ropes arcs away from me, curving up to Staples on a hanging belay, one runner between us. So if I fall off this move, which feels pretty fucking likely, I'll be taking a big old pendulum swing and end up somewhere beneath him. Probably all bashed up and bleeding. All in all bit of a problem really.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMile2tMjqU-_3verKXlxYBNDJIO-dRx7F_LITVU4Jx7AyBJht9wJU2DVYUI88T81hLVxXyxqhmoFYrA8DbuPucsd29qJ_BEkFDsTlHGeWWNWmXQz9UgvKV-LWC6zfbQG58j3cr1yF9SA/s640/blogger-image-936464095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMile2tMjqU-_3verKXlxYBNDJIO-dRx7F_LITVU4Jx7AyBJht9wJU2DVYUI88T81hLVxXyxqhmoFYrA8DbuPucsd29qJ_BEkFDsTlHGeWWNWmXQz9UgvKV-LWC6zfbQG58j3cr1yF9SA/s640/blogger-image-936464095.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Wen Zawn looking ominous in the early morning gloom</div><div><br></div><div>So what's going on? Well, we did the drive up stupid late, as usual, and arrived in Anglesey at 4 in the morning. Then had beer. And after 2 hours of useless sleep we woke up, grabbed bags, and bounded towards Wen Zawn like puppies chasing a ball. Nevermind that the sun was hours away from warming up this particular cliff. Nevermind that an icy wind was howling in from the sea. Oh no, fuck all that, Dream of White Horses was down there, and we stupid twats just couldn't wait to get on it. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi3FzFl7hf-LN0IWzab2S2ucrImoNcuR2uovM1V2AJbMjCJcNzh1pKfWCY9R9wpWV1Pei5jaP4ZGsn9qWirSGKpsLy36MQjOWU4pjZzf6_tZYKOcPClmlL9ZVYj43oNAHjhJCqwGlKqcc/s640/blogger-image-1163811600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi3FzFl7hf-LN0IWzab2S2ucrImoNcuR2uovM1V2AJbMjCJcNzh1pKfWCY9R9wpWV1Pei5jaP4ZGsn9qWirSGKpsLy36MQjOWU4pjZzf6_tZYKOcPClmlL9ZVYj43oNAHjhJCqwGlKqcc/s640/blogger-image-1163811600.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples abbing in</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZn9tFzZcclwy-IXtP4w7Or-jNfWGf6hVfX0yEAVxECL-xwVuqW9rItXaMkopAZtMBxAk0wocxarttJmezUyyI6iGXWpz_bo88N_yMcfUt6EJo6c-n3ATeLbBo0BRq38R_7uAXGJ_cd8g/s640/blogger-image--1677078707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZn9tFzZcclwy-IXtP4w7Or-jNfWGf6hVfX0yEAVxECL-xwVuqW9rItXaMkopAZtMBxAk0wocxarttJmezUyyI6iGXWpz_bo88N_yMcfUt6EJo6c-n3ATeLbBo0BRq38R_7uAXGJ_cd8g/s640/blogger-image--1677078707.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Belay at the high tide ledges</div></div></div><div><br></div><div>Abseiling in we realised the bottom was still piss wet, so we reluctantly decided to start from the high tide ledges and climb straight to the second belay. Staples led. I hung there, slowly feeding out rope, absolutely freezing my tits off. Doubts creeping into my mind. At long last the ropes came tight and it was my turn...which brings us right back to where we started....</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9ovQ7wp3q4pA3Ic5u6u97mfEO9hiPGnsbmcwBg_YqJPY0-YmmJygOIJ_KApLqjl4-ao0SEA3gQ37eTsKg0tLpoleBwLJ5lMhAILB5iUXgb2tS74tdAMRKzWe5WH8zVIYfiS62u54nog/s640/blogger-image-99877198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9ovQ7wp3q4pA3Ic5u6u97mfEO9hiPGnsbmcwBg_YqJPY0-YmmJygOIJ_KApLqjl4-ao0SEA3gQ37eTsKg0tLpoleBwLJ5lMhAILB5iUXgb2tS74tdAMRKzWe5WH8zVIYfiS62u54nog/s640/blogger-image-99877198.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples leading</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1buKgsmhXxs_Mej1ebPTiM7Ukp9oWWSDw9ZLCsiseR_dWrwk9VOn7AoIHk51VVw8vl8houbFAydkFvQ_OKwkIsTk28m2Jd5P0tt-_V2uZlex857BdkiWcTIYPj4YATvqM3Ik-37nIae8/s640/blogger-image--987242126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1buKgsmhXxs_Mej1ebPTiM7Ukp9oWWSDw9ZLCsiseR_dWrwk9VOn7AoIHk51VVw8vl8houbFAydkFvQ_OKwkIsTk28m2Jd5P0tt-_V2uZlex857BdkiWcTIYPj4YATvqM3Ik-37nIae8/s640/blogger-image--987242126.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me about to heroically sack the route on second</div></div><div><br></div><div>"I'm not fucking doing it!" I shriek at Staples. I climb back and forth, back and forth, but with my numb hands I can't figure out the move. The abseil rope dangles to my right - our escape route. </div><div><br></div><div>"Nah sod this mate" </div><div><br></div><div>I start traversing back to the rope, putting all the runners back in to protect Staples. Excuses already forming in my mind;</div><div><br></div><div>It's freezing cold...</div><div>I can't feel my hands...</div><div>It's the first route of the trip...</div><div>I fell over while I was pissed a few days ago and my knee's still fucked...</div><div>The route only gets more serious, better to pull the plug now...</div><div>I...</div><div>It's...</div><div>OH JUST FUCK OFF WHY DON'T YOU?</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTaHZN7RkBkJaRP6OWUMN4YNj1M_spkseuBfdegY5NptPOfUa7Oqkz7qPWTfQhvq3M9RRvoIB0oPHh0liyFispVvco2S8h1ff60PlcxK9ipbnQQzDShbKdtImWWT99AbRYo-S0trbq6o/s640/blogger-image--629569076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTaHZN7RkBkJaRP6OWUMN4YNj1M_spkseuBfdegY5NptPOfUa7Oqkz7qPWTfQhvq3M9RRvoIB0oPHh0liyFispVvco2S8h1ff60PlcxK9ipbnQQzDShbKdtImWWT99AbRYo-S0trbq6o/s640/blogger-image--629569076.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking up the escape line!</div></div><div><br></div><div>Back at the static I belay Staples across and we prussik back up to the top of the cliff. The dream is dead. I slink off, tail between my legs, feeling ashamed of myself. How long have I wanted to do this route? And now I've ruined it by throwing myself at it like a beer goggled drunk at a fat lass. Staples gives me all the piss-taking and abuse I deserve. I think about how it's a shit route I never wanted to do anyway, not fooling myself in the slightest.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVZGbCf0nxFyM8Iczz4_gQbtuBUOIl_E69Tj7NbJBbgFRkF-ZqtBmIftJP7mya8SHF0QrFqf2X9dzGxV6pVeO9n1fQqh9lL8-ZQ6wlXy-DUoqK5j0KBhe6V7XBlkDbPdoqWxsFRQ5Akg/s640/blogger-image-288879919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVZGbCf0nxFyM8Iczz4_gQbtuBUOIl_E69Tj7NbJBbgFRkF-ZqtBmIftJP7mya8SHF0QrFqf2X9dzGxV6pVeO9n1fQqh9lL8-ZQ6wlXy-DUoqK5j0KBhe6V7XBlkDbPdoqWxsFRQ5Akg/s640/blogger-image-288879919.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me leading pitch one of Lighthouse Arete</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYrdNqZQcV0IgpjUnxFhsxew9QhKrpt1vpxNgDbKD5TvCES1wJNj3tLnEYtrb6A2N2zxJQYXcz8f2aEZ1nDF72EefLx0_Px-4waLdmgvQa5V086bmebJQD3qi3NfJ5iub_YF00TnFw4I/s640/blogger-image-1112395264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYrdNqZQcV0IgpjUnxFhsxew9QhKrpt1vpxNgDbKD5TvCES1wJNj3tLnEYtrb6A2N2zxJQYXcz8f2aEZ1nDF72EefLx0_Px-4waLdmgvQa5V086bmebJQD3qi3NfJ5iub_YF00TnFw4I/s640/blogger-image-1112395264.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples on the crux pitch</div></div><div><br></div><div>Still, it's early days, we've only just got here. Staples is reluctant to abseil into another sea cliff with this quivering mess of a climbing partner, but I persuade him as long as it's in the sun and no traversing I'll be fine. So we wander over to Castell Helen and jolly up Lighthouse Arete. The long drive and sleepless night finally take their toll. We head back to Llanberis Pass and bed down in the Cromlech layby.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNc1PUNb60utQtdhtCrhpm-rYmWDY9h0VUW3V7Kfb3s5uuzZSP3bLSTsysibd0lTM1jIWSDjU2AuVszrULO289XduFcdtwQGMz4XYgz4rHL2DYO87M3NSPBc62m3sAm0_tMM9ABTg_Vk/s640/blogger-image--1329178728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNc1PUNb60utQtdhtCrhpm-rYmWDY9h0VUW3V7Kfb3s5uuzZSP3bLSTsysibd0lTM1jIWSDjU2AuVszrULO289XduFcdtwQGMz4XYgz4rHL2DYO87M3NSPBc62m3sAm0_tMM9ABTg_Vk/s640/blogger-image--1329178728.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pitch one of Dives/Better Things on the Cromlech</div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWnGM_NeLyrZ0ShZZDm8Ow7WX5xC_wrFAgWP7w2Q_CHlNWBCu9XYKOKIh1MTuJJfg_d_87m6iqvO55_DNDVy2f27W47CazL5YnO6c9ALt-OU5nk5Vy1EVF5y5KK_tINm1B_aIoS7S99U/s640/blogger-image-1730757568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWnGM_NeLyrZ0ShZZDm8Ow7WX5xC_wrFAgWP7w2Q_CHlNWBCu9XYKOKIh1MTuJJfg_d_87m6iqvO55_DNDVy2f27W47CazL5YnO6c9ALt-OU5nk5Vy1EVF5y5KK_tINm1B_aIoS7S99U/s640/blogger-image-1730757568.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples disappearing into the finishing corner</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div>Next day the weather is beautiful, and we trudge up the knackering path to the Cromlech to climb a couple of VS classics. I find myself leading up the wide crack of Sabre Cut, blindly poking wires into flared seams, wishing we had more than one big cam. Eventually I can't take it any more, I place the daddy dragon about halfway up, desperately run it out to the top. Silly sod Staples has an even harder time on second after somehow managing to boot one of his climbing shoes off the belay ledge. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZkzGqYMbJ_t_K43vfz2r9Nxeff_6s7talAD9R17B0aeBVYqdhfSlzWvhZjw7W2I15R07r0cqEeB7w0h5L2Xv-fPvhkoV8deYLqs3w_-8RCPd0mtoGDZk0FUTCwV05LrAq-wv6rMy_Pk/s640/blogger-image-195057617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZkzGqYMbJ_t_K43vfz2r9Nxeff_6s7talAD9R17B0aeBVYqdhfSlzWvhZjw7W2I15R07r0cqEeB7w0h5L2Xv-fPvhkoV8deYLqs3w_-8RCPd0mtoGDZk0FUTCwV05LrAq-wv6rMy_Pk/s640/blogger-image-195057617.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fun moves on Sabre Cut</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9itbOdRv2OkVybFNt1Grap4jHM5AfUt1VcnEaMp2U2mCitpcHXbBii9Y08V_W5SNyXXT1qCrDF17raWRCQQDTPFAiRsfIF9jOPbf0ZgvhoqqrSKRsyUMOB215kay06PoscwFG3gyIuzw/s640/blogger-image-795228572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9itbOdRv2OkVybFNt1Grap4jHM5AfUt1VcnEaMp2U2mCitpcHXbBii9Y08V_W5SNyXXT1qCrDF17raWRCQQDTPFAiRsfIF9jOPbf0ZgvhoqqrSKRsyUMOB215kay06PoscwFG3gyIuzw/s640/blogger-image-795228572.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me at the top of the 'orrible wide crack pitch</div></div></div></div></div><div><br></div><div>"Don't worry mate, as long as you can smear on tiny edges with your left foot you'll be fine!" I yell down, as he grovels and skids all over the place.</div><div><br></div><div>"FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING C..."</div><div><br></div><div>And so on. After that we swing round to a quiet little crag called Clogwyn y Wenallt, drink some more beer, and climb a mega fun route called Oxine. The first pitch is a shit traverse but it's all about the second one on massive holds up this outrageous head wall. Staples leads. There's a hard move to gain the first jug, so rather than tech his way up he simply launches himself into a one handed hero dyno. It might've even looked impressive if he hadn't kicked out the crucial gear placement on the way. Still, he manages to slap his way up to the top, kicking out another runner because why the fuck not?</div><div><br></div><div>On second I hang one handed off massive flakes, unnecessary heel hook above my head, chalking up, vaguely hoping there are girls watching from the campsite below. If any of them were impressed they didn't come tell me as we walked back to the car again.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQf38UkR2Smh7-iwlo7NUl4iqoUvkKkjKxttsEgYzlnZ3ItKopTzSJ6Qg_Oahpumthx2GXn9IUsI31VwuRYJofvWFlEeikRvv5HIuehS3VRHGCC25MNvE3zINpDJrCkAXOI4rRJg2r9A/s640/blogger-image--923946833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQf38UkR2Smh7-iwlo7NUl4iqoUvkKkjKxttsEgYzlnZ3ItKopTzSJ6Qg_Oahpumthx2GXn9IUsI31VwuRYJofvWFlEeikRvv5HIuehS3VRHGCC25MNvE3zINpDJrCkAXOI4rRJg2r9A/s640/blogger-image--923946833.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Barbie, beers and whisky in the Cromlech layby, good times</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujfOmIC24sof7xn9YMoce2cLw1QWK1SrG9d4RZX19Qp7gn1BXMEG71B9HoTsGd1C54FTi_s7NYuhWr4gZZ77GmV12Ns0NA8wDfxE6xzRVLh_YjDRBJnqg26b4pERnw0BNlaXuvfLsY08/s640/blogger-image-1941164514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujfOmIC24sof7xn9YMoce2cLw1QWK1SrG9d4RZX19Qp7gn1BXMEG71B9HoTsGd1C54FTi_s7NYuhWr4gZZ77GmV12Ns0NA8wDfxE6xzRVLh_YjDRBJnqg26b4pERnw0BNlaXuvfLsY08/s640/blogger-image-1941164514.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Awesome sunset in the Pass</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">(For some reason we didn't take anymore photos beyond this point. So instead I will treat you to a load of stupid pictures of myself. You're welcome.)</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div><div>Day three, off into the Moelwyn Hills to find a crag called Carreg Alltrem. It takes us ages because our guidebook description is completely useless; something like drive up the road, park your car, walk to the crag. Eventually an old boy shouts directions from his house, and off we go, bouncing up a forest road towards the cliff. Here we climb another steep classic, Lavaredo. Staples has the easier pitch this time, a nicely sustained bridging groove, while I get the ridiculously overhanging prow that leads to the top.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIs_lYRnniKRDE5vwyyLImQt5iYKKQlfRyF4CwxjMEIQvYf_y5urrlmH9_Ccplo9Ltkm-rV807owc1REE6fvdQGnR6VyzPWpcqzNSVpmNNSV8oQLaPikU95jqdwabofJJGj2X7D3hCcVg/s640/blogger-image-1809458116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIs_lYRnniKRDE5vwyyLImQt5iYKKQlfRyF4CwxjMEIQvYf_y5urrlmH9_Ccplo9Ltkm-rV807owc1REE6fvdQGnR6VyzPWpcqzNSVpmNNSV8oQLaPikU95jqdwabofJJGj2X7D3hCcVg/s640/blogger-image-1809458116.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">David Gainor</div></div><div><br></div><div>Clearly I'm still hopelessly fat and scared, because it's utterly desperate. I climb a series of spikes, wedging slings behind them, to reach the top of a pinnacle below the steep wall. A really long stretch sees me bug eyed with terror inching my fingers over a beckoning hold. From this super pumpy position a rather unhelpful finger edge leads out into space, only a dubious promise of better holds above.</div><div><br></div><div>And here we go again, up and down, up and down, I tell Staples I can't do it, I say I'll just have another look. Eventually I can't handle the self hatred anymore, I launch myself outwards, feet dangling in the air, traversing the finger rail. High foot, step through, slapping at shit holds, somehow missing the huge jug right in front of me. I gibber into a position of balance and hang there panting and slobbering as I place about nineteen runners into various cracks and breaks. </div><div><br></div><div>Fortunately the holds are massive to the top, and I just about manage to haul my way up, arms wilting, to collapse face first on top and lie there dribbling for awhile before belaying Staples. What a great route!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvktCbz2zsOTU1RJjTRIMm3gTe9SV_nferoa88B8G-x3OcpLXO8z00Khaxx2jWo_GqUfKKMQ4eEXdjBtg55dekUqzRdDCPQYLXuxLnhQhyphenhyphensMuh3-SfnvvKYTk73wb3W-9kb8-97pHm5Y/s640/blogger-image--421048453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvktCbz2zsOTU1RJjTRIMm3gTe9SV_nferoa88B8G-x3OcpLXO8z00Khaxx2jWo_GqUfKKMQ4eEXdjBtg55dekUqzRdDCPQYLXuxLnhQhyphenhyphensMuh3-SfnvvKYTk73wb3W-9kb8-97pHm5Y/s640/blogger-image--421048453.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">David Gainor</div></div><div><br></div><div>We then head back into the Ogwen Valley. It's a sunny weekend so of course every bugger and his dog is up here. Cars are packed in everywhere. We squeeze into a layby, unsure of what to climb. I don't want to get stuck in a queue anywhere. So we kind of settle on wandering into Idwal Slab and seeing what's free. However an ill-advised short cut leads not to the crag but a bog, and as we wade across I suddenly go in up to my shins and I'm fucking soaking.</div><div><br></div><div>Well that does it. I immediately throw a massive hissy fit.</div><div><br></div><div>"I DON'T WANT TO GO FUCKING CLIMBING AT FUCKING IDWAL FUCKING SLAB!" I scream.</div><div><br></div><div>"Well why did you say you were OK with it back at the car then?" says Staples, reasonably.</div><div><br></div><div>"WASTE OF A BEAUTIFUL AFTERNOON, MY FEET ARE WETTER THAN A MERMAID'S..." Etc etc.</div><div><br></div><div>"WELL YOU CAN FUCK OFF CAN'T YOU, YOU WHINGING GINGER PRICK."</div><div><br></div><div>He storms off one way, me the other. I soon calm down and run after him. We shout at each other a bit more before finally agreeing to carry on with the plan. I tie my socks to my bag in the futile hope they will dry and squelch my way into the Cwm. Here we shoot up the classic route Hope in about 20 minutes then carry on up the walls above the slab in another 3 pitches. The evening sun lights up the mountains all around us, the lake blue and shimmering below. It's actually really fucking good, I'm glad we did bother in the end.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9E9Yq3bJx1EKJ6ZDjP1ATQH_bTddNJeO8_qBIPI06GrwBn4beY9NwM3OFIrIcUw9vaUG-dFsQmwrSLrat9DN8ec4brZsx_VPBZ1PidkL5_P1Z-I1LP-Kl05vvlOLOoVX2-AQCr0gmQWk/s640/blogger-image--294106121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9E9Yq3bJx1EKJ6ZDjP1ATQH_bTddNJeO8_qBIPI06GrwBn4beY9NwM3OFIrIcUw9vaUG-dFsQmwrSLrat9DN8ec4brZsx_VPBZ1PidkL5_P1Z-I1LP-Kl05vvlOLOoVX2-AQCr0gmQWk/s640/blogger-image--294106121.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">David Gainor</div></div><div><br></div><div>Afterwards, by way of apology, I get the beers in and we get drunk in the layby. Washing down buds with swigs of Talisker. It still feels wrong drinking a single malt straight out the bottle.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMHcYcD1HkHiBfSmK0Lo3956fNXPfA4BWL6Pt_7jUbLbM06GpimBI-g9rGRVwtEkQbPO5mIRwKvUsvNTza91UvWgza3VWDpnsWmZJGuBSGCbardlWGVpH-Iuz21hyphenhyphentlynX4gNpaD7jKk/s640/blogger-image-1506483218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMHcYcD1HkHiBfSmK0Lo3956fNXPfA4BWL6Pt_7jUbLbM06GpimBI-g9rGRVwtEkQbPO5mIRwKvUsvNTza91UvWgza3VWDpnsWmZJGuBSGCbardlWGVpH-Iuz21hyphenhyphentlynX4gNpaD7jKk/s640/blogger-image-1506483218.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">David Gainor</div></div><div><br></div><div>Last day. We wake up exhausted. Last nights drunken plan was to keep climbing hard in the Pass, but that's not going to happen. Instead we drive south towards a peak called Cadar Idris, where there's a classic ridge you can climb up the north face. It will be cool to finish off on something easy but big on a proper mountain.</div><div><br></div><div>Once again we struggle to find the car park, but soon enough we're plodding wearily up a track, skirting across moorland to a hidden lake in a basin below the face. From here we thrash our way up scree to the bottom of the route. In an effort to go light we are carrying no backpacks, just a harness with a water bottle and rock shoes clipped to it, mars bars stuffed into pockets. No rope either, which means we're soloing this pig. Whether Staples likes it or not.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8O_Ex7b0ReQ_YLc7NdcGgJ4gWQ1rskmtxJQZwWjhj1GslFtLXAj1C8GLvqGwXQmsMIM-y0uSu3NV4TqyWvFbN4kAXpPyQtztnJeWOxJWMo65OSzKragjMkuTERZM0qAxW1ENkFhexawk/s640/blogger-image--1679917514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8O_Ex7b0ReQ_YLc7NdcGgJ4gWQ1rskmtxJQZwWjhj1GslFtLXAj1C8GLvqGwXQmsMIM-y0uSu3NV4TqyWvFbN4kAXpPyQtztnJeWOxJWMo65OSzKragjMkuTERZM0qAxW1ENkFhexawk/s640/blogger-image--1679917514.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">David Gainor</div></div><div><br></div><div>It's lovely easy climbing up big holds and blocky terrain, only the slightly dodgy rock quality keeps me alert, rather than just cranking on anything and plummeting to the bottom again. 4 pitches up the initial buttress then we reach the crest of the ridge itself. Easy but spectacular climbing up walls and pinnacles. I love soloing. Before long the angle eases off, and we change back into trainers and hike up to the summit itself. It's a clear sunny day. Mountains and hills everywhere, the ocean out west, sweeping moorland in between. After a rest and a bite to eat we amble back down to the car. The whole trip takes three and a half hours. After twatting my knee the other week I'm relieved there's been no long term effect. </div><div><br></div><div>One last beer, then it's time for the long drive home. It never gets any easier leaving.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTiQUwedcYPmS8eJ_U7A9ykMsyTOlMk7i_38_7W9CQtw9rId1yWPeJrndl1AQWcGeTmt19uLRM90MLBvezjY3VDiyutexVVC8VgnAyb50KuNQP7ZMgSpnexqV2lK6Iy8-poSs5V3u01E/s640/blogger-image-280149651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTiQUwedcYPmS8eJ_U7A9ykMsyTOlMk7i_38_7W9CQtw9rId1yWPeJrndl1AQWcGeTmt19uLRM90MLBvezjY3VDiyutexVVC8VgnAyb50KuNQP7ZMgSpnexqV2lK6Iy8-poSs5V3u01E/s640/blogger-image-280149651.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fin</div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-581185536945554652016-04-18T14:09:00.001-07:002017-04-11T03:06:32.691-07:00Land's End JollyI wake up in the car to the sound of rain hammering down on the roof. Wind howls across the coastline. I'm absolutely shagged after the long drive up last night. Whisky. Where's the bloody whisky? All I want to do is go back to sleep again, but high tide is right in the middle of the day, and I guess we should at least try and climb something. Cam and I struggle out of our sleeping bags, grab our stuff and stagger off towards Bosigran Cliff. It's cold in the wind but at least the sun is trying to come out. We decide to warm up by soloing Bosi ridge. The tide is already racing in, and we only just manage to squeeze around the tip of the ridge as the waves crash higher and higher against the rock.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKaIaDSOwVWcCdJMiEl1Di__zD5qEtorNcRZ_iJRFL39LC4SePW8MxR4MATKG_OJb5VIaeWq27eyA3Hky4DA99jpbHHXs43W8wN34J9EdTN_uDglLR7XPcQDfYN85Qlch-Ybb9joWMAyU/s640/blogger-image--1137574680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKaIaDSOwVWcCdJMiEl1Di__zD5qEtorNcRZ_iJRFL39LC4SePW8MxR4MATKG_OJb5VIaeWq27eyA3Hky4DA99jpbHHXs43W8wN34J9EdTN_uDglLR7XPcQDfYN85Qlch-Ybb9joWMAyU/s640/blogger-image--1137574680.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Heading towards the steep crack of pitch one</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkV4APMjAiRt7-hwcwgH-pDSR175CF5yUZss8ZuAnaH4ySyV8SSMAH5zMsUSCo_1LWP9LxjTcNvG_JEXaoYVzq8MVouUjQPYW3hsDMyeMrwD20fgmrIBoAQp4Pzd0a016iTM1fVWHfnVU/s640/blogger-image-1728810558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkV4APMjAiRt7-hwcwgH-pDSR175CF5yUZss8ZuAnaH4ySyV8SSMAH5zMsUSCo_1LWP9LxjTcNvG_JEXaoYVzq8MVouUjQPYW3hsDMyeMrwD20fgmrIBoAQp4Pzd0a016iTM1fVWHfnVU/s640/blogger-image-1728810558.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Really don't want to fall off right now</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It feels committing leaving the starting ledges and climbing up towards the steep crack above, the sea crashing at my heels, but the holds are massive and we soon gain the crest of the ridge. Easy but exposed pinnacles lead us back to land. The whole thing takes about 15 minutes. Good start to the trip.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMwKLuxOZidLU2oY6Mlp_AVxzcHY6RNAuG4s73ihsPvf9h3HLd6NS5CDjSog7p7-s-00h0kPagxVbWWPH6oakeQOXfJWHIUCUON1NQKAedTBIDuViv7UdA5VBJ27bh7o2fS7guVr5SJ0/s640/blogger-image--499545039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMwKLuxOZidLU2oY6Mlp_AVxzcHY6RNAuG4s73ihsPvf9h3HLd6NS5CDjSog7p7-s-00h0kPagxVbWWPH6oakeQOXfJWHIUCUON1NQKAedTBIDuViv7UdA5VBJ27bh7o2fS7guVr5SJ0/s640/blogger-image--499545039.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Traversing higher up, the Main Cliff behind </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We amble round to the Main Cliff and climb the mega classic Doorpost. I've done it before, so I lead the shit wet pitch at the start so Cam can have the glory jug hauling to the top. He races up the golden wall, past parallel cracks, black stained holds that seem designed to be climbed on. After that we solo Alison Rib and call it good for Bosi.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDe54dIrHQeoYX87gE-OMiCpoRs2RhjCu616GiHU7yOAX5oEn2q0zcH3I2crtM-qjUS_JABa_-OniejC5P9Ywg3ojd9-l-ja-_UNpK9ibNRFQjeEaqGyJ5eijHrakaUe-wGZI_ZFErPM/s640/blogger-image-1475804737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDe54dIrHQeoYX87gE-OMiCpoRs2RhjCu616GiHU7yOAX5oEn2q0zcH3I2crtM-qjUS_JABa_-OniejC5P9Ywg3ojd9-l-ja-_UNpK9ibNRFQjeEaqGyJ5eijHrakaUe-wGZI_ZFErPM/s640/blogger-image-1475804737.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Following Cam up Doorpost</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div>We head up the coast towards Gurnards Head and have a quick pint in the pub before hiking towards the crag. It's non tidal as long as the seas aren't too rough. Our planned route is called Right Angle, which takes this insane line into a mega intimidating zawn of black, wave battered vertical walls. It starts off easy enough with a mellow traverse to a big ledge, but you can see what you're getting into looming just ahead. The second pitch is ridiculous - you keep traversing until against all instinct you have to start climbing down, closer and closer towards the sea, all the way to a small ledge just above the high water line. Cam leads. I pay out rope and watch him disappear into the zawn.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNY-oLQZlPHVu9c1nuMLLJJqHojZU0pKs0ITLACmm7YLxIxmm9RBz5YEp0DW-INIsYLOuFAj9j7nl_uyqKbLNhV5fdAEsqK2hkK0zz9KHjZ3fOdylJUenAAxYtASel-KBN6zRjszciYmM/s640/blogger-image-947581071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNY-oLQZlPHVu9c1nuMLLJJqHojZU0pKs0ITLACmm7YLxIxmm9RBz5YEp0DW-INIsYLOuFAj9j7nl_uyqKbLNhV5fdAEsqK2hkK0zz9KHjZ3fOdylJUenAAxYtASel-KBN6zRjszciYmM/s640/blogger-image-947581071.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The end of pitch one, before it all kicks off</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyfzJg2OOMX2qqpzL1mU-obmZ3vNUbR6koWH8OSdRjg9ywodB4hpB-Xkx6Kbvm2AK3OjD1L8I9NjzT6yXBR0YKISkqiCWaa2NArLTUqODE_YSsC7o607W7xdhCjfL7UyYkklgAZPsmMxE/s640/blogger-image-1475628413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyfzJg2OOMX2qqpzL1mU-obmZ3vNUbR6koWH8OSdRjg9ywodB4hpB-Xkx6Kbvm2AK3OjD1L8I9NjzT6yXBR0YKISkqiCWaa2NArLTUqODE_YSsC7o607W7xdhCjfL7UyYkklgAZPsmMxE/s640/blogger-image-1475628413.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Some rusty bit of shite from years ago (and a piece of climbing gear)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As Cam teeters across the crux to the belay ledge I feel a change in the weather. The sky darkens, the wind rises. Spots of rain. Oh fucking fuck please don't rain now. I think I've made a terrible mistake. Maybe I can just quietly untie the ropes and solo back across the first pitch, quickly, before it gets too wet. Cam can wait for a passing fisherman to notice him hanging there on the wall and rescue him, while I get pissed in the pub. Or he can just drown. Whatever. But before I can begin this dastardly betrayal the rain fizzles out and the ropes come tight and now it's my turn.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2TpRpJVCNddXbtEvp9DEYH4ECNG4LEN5FJpra8ZIhruxsxEHGbCOmKzHruddtB2WRh06zJaArOL9OoRELjmIcsxOjsSXuJAz5dbFnGqj6Ws6bmMqVcMhUAp3neg_LfuubtFpn86lntM/s640/blogger-image-1534181230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2TpRpJVCNddXbtEvp9DEYH4ECNG4LEN5FJpra8ZIhruxsxEHGbCOmKzHruddtB2WRh06zJaArOL9OoRELjmIcsxOjsSXuJAz5dbFnGqj6Ws6bmMqVcMhUAp3neg_LfuubtFpn86lntM/s640/blogger-image-1534181230.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Yeah this looks ok, don't know what all the moaning was about...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4hcEq0Iqpq6U9wslQOcMGVoapBQuY1YQbAkekV_Hyjas86kG7RR5_mRgu62z00k0mEbVh3JXNfexgSCX7S97M6ClAfsa2CPs8mCuKibPk-ZKFdFRUOxAWTL8wBZCBDcaE2Mun7NHqJSI/s640/blogger-image--725192753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4hcEq0Iqpq6U9wslQOcMGVoapBQuY1YQbAkekV_Hyjas86kG7RR5_mRgu62z00k0mEbVh3JXNfexgSCX7S97M6ClAfsa2CPs8mCuKibPk-ZKFdFRUOxAWTL8wBZCBDcaE2Mun7NHqJSI/s640/blogger-image--725192753.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">OH FUCK ME I'M GOING TO DIE I'M GOING TO DIE</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqBKuQz2_yab3S7T6tjypXjaoHhcjx-tmUjAeGquXSrkAMNeePCtKZgoj9ua2OKGVCo0RuejIaiMUqf3vO0d1YrTojCgGzdBvXLe829WoCmO_nePy5rqRFyz7HdoXJm_nL_dO0KMqSgk/s640/blogger-image--1927762516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqBKuQz2_yab3S7T6tjypXjaoHhcjx-tmUjAeGquXSrkAMNeePCtKZgoj9ua2OKGVCo0RuejIaiMUqf3vO0d1YrTojCgGzdBvXLe829WoCmO_nePy5rqRFyz7HdoXJm_nL_dO0KMqSgk/s640/blogger-image--1927762516.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nah piece of piss really</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The down climb is really fun and easy until it isn't. Suddenly all the useful holds and foot ledges disappear, replaced by a slippery crack and chuff all else. My feet skid on nothing. There's nothing protecting me between here and the ledge, so if I bollocks it up I'm in the drink. I tell Cam I can't do it. This is fucking stupid, who does this out of their own free will? Awkward, off balance moves, fumbling at shite holds, my hysterical sobbing echoing around the ominous zawn. Finally a better foot ledge at the base of the crack, thank fucking god, I'm lurching across to the waiting belay. Breathe in, breathe out. Alright then, what next? Fortunately the last pitch is utterly spectacular, a 40m bridging corner that's just brilliant 3D climbing all the way. I top out into blazing sunshine once again. A perfect mini adventure. Now let's get back to the pub, there's beer to drink.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjht2RmFKhgM53JiR9l1ubnzTN-lFBJw1P9UQ-lLT84KoOnbDrslTd1dAH9PZQ0O5A2MAvU9ua7wt-IfHL6sR9P7xcAFcmTR6pgyaJjXaxE8GVdsGCs1xuuw-KCZiLodge-m2LMrVliipo/s640/blogger-image--1354264108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjht2RmFKhgM53JiR9l1ubnzTN-lFBJw1P9UQ-lLT84KoOnbDrslTd1dAH9PZQ0O5A2MAvU9ua7wt-IfHL6sR9P7xcAFcmTR6pgyaJjXaxE8GVdsGCs1xuuw-KCZiLodge-m2LMrVliipo/s640/blogger-image--1354264108.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The fantastic final pitch up the big corner</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3_1rUu7otdtNg9rstBQsy3PEmv2RLzBKYnPD85nRA_ZSmyoo9qyTFT2c3iyEiNuq3_Wa-ydNTTT40h6CcEjdJYc1zDqyqEwYILbvZgfx1jjTEbUR0B3cDtsOHBTWnUQ0WwK8ztYKAGDI/s640/blogger-image-698321768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3_1rUu7otdtNg9rstBQsy3PEmv2RLzBKYnPD85nRA_ZSmyoo9qyTFT2c3iyEiNuq3_Wa-ydNTTT40h6CcEjdJYc1zDqyqEwYILbvZgfx1jjTEbUR0B3cDtsOHBTWnUQ0WwK8ztYKAGDI/s640/blogger-image-698321768.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back into the zawn from the top</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Now the temptation is to settle down for the evening and get drunk, but the weather is so good we can't resist another climb. Off to Land's End to solo the good old Long Climb. I remember this being really hard a couple years ago but we shoot up in about ten minutes flat. Finally we head towards Porthwgarra, arse end of nowhere, and pass out knackered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXXWUYqqaO-r9wpmDP2p0F0PVooQieletWzQPpShydBkSehkp4NfNlR5KpXrUHYA4Z8b8eQMjRCgmceA-SpTacP1rDSGu43GmhLSXfhBRUz8ONPcYWpNySLWLaLlEhVXQnpBtV8Biwfs/s640/blogger-image-1277037794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXXWUYqqaO-r9wpmDP2p0F0PVooQieletWzQPpShydBkSehkp4NfNlR5KpXrUHYA4Z8b8eQMjRCgmceA-SpTacP1rDSGu43GmhLSXfhBRUz8ONPcYWpNySLWLaLlEhVXQnpBtV8Biwfs/s640/blogger-image-1277037794.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Chair Ladder looms above in the early morning</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Big day. Chair Ladder. Ever since doing South Face Direct in 2014 I've wanted to come back. Massive towers and buttresses of golden granite, 70m high, awkward tides and access, loads of psychotic nesting seagulls. A perfect adventure crag for shit trad climbers. We get up early to catch low tide. After gearing up we scramble down a series of boulders, jumping over chasms, heading for the western buttress. Our target is a classic HS called Pegasus. Cam starts up pitch one. It follows a wide corner crack, still wet from the receding tide. He wants to get stood up on a good hold before placing gear but his feet skid off the slimy wall, and the silly twat falls off, plummeting back down to the deck, bouncing off a ledge to land hilariously, with a massive splash, in a deep rock pool at the base of the route...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He goes in all the way to the tits! I'm absolutely pissing myself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrko_prC7rSPz-YYM5KNDGPXpcusi8wKxELnoQwX19jX-3i8Q7dYm91lVtvpPfNKwnqMlnBbxMbhdPL2WLiswFyvnAagXkdyJx0rI8T_N0JkOZR3S22Ks82gELlhudCB5BswLhcI6Tik/s640/blogger-image--830154595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrko_prC7rSPz-YYM5KNDGPXpcusi8wKxELnoQwX19jX-3i8Q7dYm91lVtvpPfNKwnqMlnBbxMbhdPL2WLiswFyvnAagXkdyJx0rI8T_N0JkOZR3S22Ks82gELlhudCB5BswLhcI6Tik/s640/blogger-image--830154595.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me leading pitch one after Cam's little plunge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He's completely soaked and a bit bashed up, so I lead instead, and find the pitch nails. I forgot just how shit I am on Cornish granite. A bastard hard move halfway up almost shuts me down entirely, I do some desperate grovel up finger pockets while my feet flail hopelessly in the air, shrieking "THIS ISN'T HS IT'S FUCKING E3" again and again. It eases off a bit above the crack, before I reach a final roof, which thank fuck has massive holds, and then the belay. Cam seconds up, a shivering mess, and I lead off up an easier corner system, following a cool line across a curving slab. The last pitch is fairly toss, just a way to the top really, then we're both lying shell shocked on the grass and wondering if we should just go home instead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCgvjFYmU69LgbGNwJu7LWg2An14m5iuH7aK_LT0YOklgqLA0dKaf4CQWGht8jAeeh3c4sfGux7JoO48iBu8MPu82Ps2BHUWx_wNlmg_2SdxhW5L8bzx8MyCUyKcDHnvpsKeaxNdycgA/s640/blogger-image--2077242091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCgvjFYmU69LgbGNwJu7LWg2An14m5iuH7aK_LT0YOklgqLA0dKaf4CQWGht8jAeeh3c4sfGux7JoO48iBu8MPu82Ps2BHUWx_wNlmg_2SdxhW5L8bzx8MyCUyKcDHnvpsKeaxNdycgA/s640/blogger-image--2077242091.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pitch 2 up the slanting corner system</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrSlVE2UJ3KL8nTci-Njrc8NczEZZMwS-JRpBihG_pIrO4m6WOXPpqaGD0lXLIGZmPiL6WeMFNSkOi3laIdxiho32Nw9x5aXjiYEYCKoHulWcuSP5mtjEFFs6lOOfwNADN2TxuoI81J0/s640/blogger-image-1949227995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrSlVE2UJ3KL8nTci-Njrc8NczEZZMwS-JRpBihG_pIrO4m6WOXPpqaGD0lXLIGZmPiL6WeMFNSkOi3laIdxiho32Nw9x5aXjiYEYCKoHulWcuSP5mtjEFFs6lOOfwNADN2TxuoI81J0/s640/blogger-image-1949227995.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Victorious on top</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam changes clothes and warms up a bit, and we reckon there's just enough time to sneak in for another one before the tide gets too high. So back in we go, down climbing an awkward gully, only to find the tide is already cutting off the base of the cliff. We manage to get onto a massive boulder, from which an all or nothing leap gains a wave-washed ledge. We time our jump between waves, scrabbling up to safe ground below our chosen route - Pendulum Chimney. The sea cuts off retreat. No way out but up now.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdiCjBjaO1qpEVrA9UwPeV73qDdwdHYUgRTf8OYhnYfl17ua_rXOEGUYJ-O8f_6I6fVmcwm8SrTtqW5uI9sS0QR43ojw_pDFryEI70r3Vq_k0tmIIMPHl70JlppOrrRNYmHaK-BmeZJBY/s640/blogger-image--1740421525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdiCjBjaO1qpEVrA9UwPeV73qDdwdHYUgRTf8OYhnYfl17ua_rXOEGUYJ-O8f_6I6fVmcwm8SrTtqW5uI9sS0QR43ojw_pDFryEI70r3Vq_k0tmIIMPHl70JlppOrrRNYmHaK-BmeZJBY/s640/blogger-image--1740421525.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Starting pitch two of Pendulum Chimney</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXMRdUJ4rCQsuUj-XXZcpL7g9_Xwjf7V8aASeiSqsAv8T8g6lQe4V4bG5bGzNJZzrTPvcEyr-e2XwztBbogJZQieryzlf5ysXleGk-cTxsoPQQ9XTBowJx68e66Kb3uGzuWLz4oRxDzI/s640/blogger-image--1968114072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXMRdUJ4rCQsuUj-XXZcpL7g9_Xwjf7V8aASeiSqsAv8T8g6lQe4V4bG5bGzNJZzrTPvcEyr-e2XwztBbogJZQieryzlf5ysXleGk-cTxsoPQQ9XTBowJx68e66Kb3uGzuWLz4oRxDzI/s640/blogger-image--1968114072.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Brilliant climbing further up the crack</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam leads up a wide crack, way too wide for any gear, then splits off left up a bold face, finally managing to place a runner before heaving onto the belay ledge. More awesome pitches up cracks and corners, past the crux chimney which is bloody hard work for me (although harder for Cam to second with a rucksack), brings us to an amazing belay on a natural throne in the rock, just below the top of the cliff. I gaze out across a flawless blue sky, the ocean rippling far below me. We sit here for a while before a final pitch leads us to an exposed pinnacle summit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4A5bAsxpAVnhAaPVx1lRZZrVsakLnskjHr9aeL6qohSvG-24kzc9TQ7Q9SMlVGaJK7RyQi9F9F200Ce8YvRVdzpW7114fE9oHr1Cs4cm_c8aBWSMe48ZZf2wEAUzGxYorH3y_fe2Op4/s640/blogger-image-1933181096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4A5bAsxpAVnhAaPVx1lRZZrVsakLnskjHr9aeL6qohSvG-24kzc9TQ7Q9SMlVGaJK7RyQi9F9F200Ce8YvRVdzpW7114fE9oHr1Cs4cm_c8aBWSMe48ZZf2wEAUzGxYorH3y_fe2Op4/s640/blogger-image-1933181096.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Seconding Cam up pitch three</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5_Jk7PHSgSVjlrDIE_N7tZt0FQJ6Ara_87H6O172zswiwfvHXmU1wAXzqEuWAdd8Px9EnqBgDgzANyb4ah5v8unn4061kHqOmuez1vDiwO5v_Bq59q7rUn7k6UWu8Yl0EwQH5_WbnQY/s640/blogger-image-1093947372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5_Jk7PHSgSVjlrDIE_N7tZt0FQJ6Ara_87H6O172zswiwfvHXmU1wAXzqEuWAdd8Px9EnqBgDgzANyb4ah5v8unn4061kHqOmuez1vDiwO5v_Bq59q7rUn7k6UWu8Yl0EwQH5_WbnQY/s640/blogger-image-1093947372.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The crux chimney</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7CZTBoKgD9YpZQsza4rxNF-eTnjg8X_ISz5ZH6nFdiJXYwtKm6d2XXPbjSBljGxXKiVi66n_Rqumkj_hJLixvGPOAXn4vYwnMQ0yJcBAEY8K29WBmw98PvYXamRlg1VCsgSKMOecWQA/s640/blogger-image--196678516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7CZTBoKgD9YpZQsza4rxNF-eTnjg8X_ISz5ZH6nFdiJXYwtKm6d2XXPbjSBljGxXKiVi66n_Rqumkj_hJLixvGPOAXn4vYwnMQ0yJcBAEY8K29WBmw98PvYXamRlg1VCsgSKMOecWQA/s640/blogger-image--196678516.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking out from the top</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We've just got time for a quick solo up the top half of Terriers Tooth, a steep fang of rock that stands proud and isolated from the main cliff, before we have to start the long drive home. The evening is warm and calm, the sun shining as we leave. It feels wrong to go, we should be drinking ale in a beer garden and planning tomorrow's adventure. Fuck work. We'll be back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr50kSnkPstGZ9q2FoHRlsV-dh9dlj9e8Uh7rP0nQ-Csf5Ikhh8mbdHsqveNSd7BDPCBBSFRlcpPLHP2_lDm-b8RaT7BtxaCl38-yna4Nb4ihsXg7u2Z9q7cjMeDYrjqaGqzlMqFiSLfg/s640/blogger-image-1067788188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr50kSnkPstGZ9q2FoHRlsV-dh9dlj9e8Uh7rP0nQ-Csf5Ikhh8mbdHsqveNSd7BDPCBBSFRlcpPLHP2_lDm-b8RaT7BtxaCl38-yna4Nb4ihsXg7u2Z9q7cjMeDYrjqaGqzlMqFiSLfg/s640/blogger-image-1067788188.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-46689841227017218452016-03-28T12:53:00.001-07:002016-04-04T14:39:16.156-07:00Pissing in the WindEaster weekend, bank holidays, Staples and I have both got five days off - brilliant! This can't be anything other than completely awesome. We'll go to a crag like Chair Ladder or Gogarth. Climb some mega classic routes. Become immeasurably better human beings in every single way....<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div>Except we fucking won't will we. Because here comes a massive wet turd from the weather gods themselves.</div><div><br></div><div>Fucking Storm Katie. Fuck off, you meteological slag, go piss on somewhere else. I spend hours trawling the met office and eventually decide that Torquay gives us the best chance of dry rock on Thursday. Is there actually any climbing in Torquay? Fortunately yes, a cool looking sea cliff called Daddyhole. Alrighty then. On the drive up we come across a shop telling bottles of Talisker for £24 a pop, and seriously consider sacking the whole climbing bollocks, buying a dozen or so, and getting stone drunk for five days instead. But Cam and Natalie are already heading over to meet us there, so that's buggered that one up. We'll have to go sodding climbing now.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ding-sBYO9hWBVpkgDMBjifIZWw40ZG8TenIywSZG0-jqkD3P3gMGs4zqDYvreU3TFn9WDKRS1oaTqYmz3Qv2p49nCUNrwMMZv8Pgmuw23vT51JdWFRlbpjYGBpXpzFNhWzN5wok95E/s640/blogger-image--1145585920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ding-sBYO9hWBVpkgDMBjifIZWw40ZG8TenIywSZG0-jqkD3P3gMGs4zqDYvreU3TFn9WDKRS1oaTqYmz3Qv2p49nCUNrwMMZv8Pgmuw23vT51JdWFRlbpjYGBpXpzFNhWzN5wok95E/s640/blogger-image--1145585920.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Daddyhole Main Cliff</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After spending the night sleeping in the car in a Torquay housing estate, classy chaps that we are, we awake to a grey but dry morning and scramble down to the boulder beach at the base of the crag. It looms above through the murk. Steep and featured, tinted shades of pink and brown. We climb the classic route Gates of Eden, which is easy but exposed jug hauling apart from one absolute arse of a move on the first pitch. I slap and curse at a series of shit holds, feet flailing everywhere, eventually manage to grovel onto a slab and the belay above. Fuck me that was nails.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo20v4yiKaE7oc2hpXUdl1keZ8hxs7aKFM5r71C4QS3LUrbLXlDLXEBii6Ny7AOpG4uiAkKWUZmvTd1h55VoFzTl6QJV5h-CnR3npkxOSS-6kcKJkpYzS3EDoRyI1y2UNdblcRjzyWqyI/s640/blogger-image-975362556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo20v4yiKaE7oc2hpXUdl1keZ8hxs7aKFM5r71C4QS3LUrbLXlDLXEBii6Ny7AOpG4uiAkKWUZmvTd1h55VoFzTl6QJV5h-CnR3npkxOSS-6kcKJkpYzS3EDoRyI1y2UNdblcRjzyWqyI/s640/blogger-image-975362556.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pitch one just below the crux wall</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzs2YtBs9ISRxvRNZ1ImRiJ9s7iesufRspN05pDGJf76TriTKsDkaIPnpk4_cCnqAX1t8bWf5gjXOCnHZJlFqHLGiP9PJyDBpkPrMYZD9pQ3nRbLfHVbv5CmZjLwhRYVrXDOAC-z3in0/s640/blogger-image-1804845951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzs2YtBs9ISRxvRNZ1ImRiJ9s7iesufRspN05pDGJf76TriTKsDkaIPnpk4_cCnqAX1t8bWf5gjXOCnHZJlFqHLGiP9PJyDBpkPrMYZD9pQ3nRbLfHVbv5CmZjLwhRYVrXDOAC-z3in0/s640/blogger-image-1804845951.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Wrestling with the hard bit</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNUg6O_XFXj0MjlTdCoVpM9LQe8a2CH2b1_4zMOp1Z9fxie_vA3CqLzT5Q65n3kEvz_ZaBWA0x17colvfm2rrybqoGNb2Usr3CONNc5ZCXd0G-LJqtDInd8OdzXTI77WkWAP6LXa-EW4k/s640/blogger-image--102904064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNUg6O_XFXj0MjlTdCoVpM9LQe8a2CH2b1_4zMOp1Z9fxie_vA3CqLzT5Q65n3kEvz_ZaBWA0x17colvfm2rrybqoGNb2Usr3CONNc5ZCXd0G-LJqtDInd8OdzXTI77WkWAP6LXa-EW4k/s640/blogger-image--102904064.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples mincing across the traverse of pitch two</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples runs the next two pitches into one, and enjoys the best climbing on the route. Really easy but massively exposed, traversing into a cramped niche on an arête, then up a corner crack to the top. We immediately head down to do another one, only this time I'll make bloody certain Staples leads the hard bit, the lazy bastard...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqvz8brKluijAtFdU3wvViEspZMSyDmiByN_0YbsMQgy5iMYQGQgNgL8nJh9eUv9dKrWjmd08PBt08jQdaxWZ0Mj-xuB5N4vOr_QlAAxrCcJRuvvWk5lejcpQYi6FuIPCf9bT6eo1SBA/s640/blogger-image-1184128221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqvz8brKluijAtFdU3wvViEspZMSyDmiByN_0YbsMQgy5iMYQGQgNgL8nJh9eUv9dKrWjmd08PBt08jQdaxWZ0Mj-xuB5N4vOr_QlAAxrCcJRuvvWk5lejcpQYi6FuIPCf9bT6eo1SBA/s640/blogger-image-1184128221.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam and Natalie climbing a VS on the left hand side of the Main Cliff</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQibrUNRyvA5CoyL9lcHMHJL5nhnfg6w5EreQDjgfLmeJU_glv88Ng8jcp0wxCiRflaPuwd60Ax6y3uP9W0gQBUX7h0f4aMy1uOlKJQJKMC1iqiRuvwKA3-ShaAfkos6SmKRL9d1AiOiM/s640/blogger-image-1125882230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQibrUNRyvA5CoyL9lcHMHJL5nhnfg6w5EreQDjgfLmeJU_glv88Ng8jcp0wxCiRflaPuwd60Ax6y3uP9W0gQBUX7h0f4aMy1uOlKJQJKMC1iqiRuvwKA3-ShaAfkos6SmKRL9d1AiOiM/s640/blogger-image-1125882230.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The ominous corner of Triton</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This'll do the job. Triton, an obvious corner feature. VS 5a. Hard for the grade. Perfect, that'll teach him a lesson. I jolly up easy vegetated blocks to a grotty belay below the main event. All the while the wind is rising and the sky darkening. Did I just feel rain? Maybe I'm imagining things. Either way it's not my fucking problem. Staples takes the rack and heads up the corner, and right on cue it starts to piss down with rain. His feet skid off the sheer walls, hands squelching uselessly inside the jamming crack. He puts about thirty-seven runners into a few feet of climbing. I'm laughing my head off and thinking how nice it'll be getting tippy-topped up, when there's a sudden heave on the ropes and I realise Staples has fallen off. Nah, that's impossible, he yells down, either we abseil off or you've got to do it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4DjZQw7YUEFpVbqwX8em7jDuHwKEmmwauygH8t-8tpcbxhgWS_FWk1DQaHk3PNmdUbCJAnsudaa8-oqCcd02mPpHrwJcfxXTBoAehJL1o8D8hrNnp2Nh5MA9pnRZFx4MQpqEo3c06tHY/s640/blogger-image-1446710902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4DjZQw7YUEFpVbqwX8em7jDuHwKEmmwauygH8t-8tpcbxhgWS_FWk1DQaHk3PNmdUbCJAnsudaa8-oqCcd02mPpHrwJcfxXTBoAehJL1o8D8hrNnp2Nh5MA9pnRZFx4MQpqEo3c06tHY/s640/blogger-image-1446710902.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples preparing to throw in the towel</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh fuck you, Staples you bastard, fuck you in the dick. I don't want to lead the bloody thing, it looks really hard. That's why I made you do it. I desperately hunt for anything I'd be happy to abseil off. There's nothing. Sod all. Only one way out of this mess and its up. So off I go, greasing off the soaking everything, getting pumped to buggery. Soon I reach the nest of gear and have no choice but to continue upwards, making progress just slightly faster than I slide back down again. A final hard move, I crank through a layback, grab a block, the fucking thing detaches in my hand, somehow I don't lob off with it. I crawl onto the grassy slope above leaving a trail of blood, tears, and dribble behind me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When you climb cracks oop norf your hands get all chewed up, it's called a 'gritstone kiss'. Well this wasn't a kiss. It was more like a 'being done up the arse for hours on end in a gloomy windswept travelodge just outside of Swindon'.....or something like that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So, anyway, whatever. The forecast is even better Friday so we head up to the Culm Coast for a nice laid back day climbing slabs at Vicarage Cliff. It's a beautiful sunny day as we amble in to the crag along the coast path and hand over hand down the sketchy as fuck approach 'path'. Vicarage Cliff is a narrow fin of culm rising prehistoric from the sea, set against a pebble beach and towering piles of choss behind it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJ7fPp44CVojNWVuAZ_pog840CBjI_o0SRqVGKzwHlMWQWHtO26-UG4mgVXTSmlI2nqMXHamxwcdKxMLpt7xf2_cMO07D1XlPfuqWodiXeW8Is-t7UPhotJozZ876yGXDwMa-ZFQP1hE/s640/blogger-image-727451725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJ7fPp44CVojNWVuAZ_pog840CBjI_o0SRqVGKzwHlMWQWHtO26-UG4mgVXTSmlI2nqMXHamxwcdKxMLpt7xf2_cMO07D1XlPfuqWodiXeW8Is-t7UPhotJozZ876yGXDwMa-ZFQP1hE/s640/blogger-image-727451725.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Culm Coast</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfuHkKcU2Uk-8glVKKKMe8s9r1vTCKu0RHUkd3zt27nLDayRCK2_VcBOstE9ew_OL09K7FLEhtLa-QfoCSiymdBK4L9usT8okMm2HnXjCq_vv4QPy6MPp072S07cb_6UTqrN2ikIEHEE/s640/blogger-image--1303292630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfuHkKcU2Uk-8glVKKKMe8s9r1vTCKu0RHUkd3zt27nLDayRCK2_VcBOstE9ew_OL09K7FLEhtLa-QfoCSiymdBK4L9usT8okMm2HnXjCq_vv4QPy6MPp072S07cb_6UTqrN2ikIEHEE/s640/blogger-image--1303292630.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The ominous rubble of Wreckers Slab</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH1Pyq9JAt2ipzqRL0ebZaA69TLH2cBzqGFdJlFOya5OcA18m92FXC-Fh6kp2y06sqJc8RCvw-ndQZ4itWPfGVDL-K-XrC3l-dzm9UhyxKfwV4k1UiZ10-kg8a4zQEweVICmTR-AF1dWk/s640/blogger-image-968479298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH1Pyq9JAt2ipzqRL0ebZaA69TLH2cBzqGFdJlFOya5OcA18m92FXC-Fh6kp2y06sqJc8RCvw-ndQZ4itWPfGVDL-K-XrC3l-dzm9UhyxKfwV4k1UiZ10-kg8a4zQEweVICmTR-AF1dWk/s640/blogger-image-968479298.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Natalie enjoying the pleasant approach to the crag</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypVNohp6tZiDO3ce8AHYCKojJg5nmcCnU1-Xx929EmV1q6cM2A7jUUGmibjRFoMaQIgSjrgFVH5ws2vhC7TaEdV_j3bdcbkkpJT_9y2R8wRdlO6PrGBG9C48CRwBT1vJm4L0VuV9T3aY/s640/blogger-image--369133656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypVNohp6tZiDO3ce8AHYCKojJg5nmcCnU1-Xx929EmV1q6cM2A7jUUGmibjRFoMaQIgSjrgFVH5ws2vhC7TaEdV_j3bdcbkkpJT_9y2R8wRdlO6PrGBG9C48CRwBT1vJm4L0VuV9T3aY/s640/blogger-image--369133656.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Vicarage Cliff</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We spend an awesome few hours ticking routes on the slab while the tide is out. It's been years since I last climbed on Culm and I spend ages getting massive calf pump trying to fiddle wires in all the weird little cracks you get. The crux of most of the routes is pulling through the big overlap halfway up. Staples even manages to fall off one of them but God knows how. It's literally the easiest move in the world, you just stand up on a massive foothold, the massive nonce.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUuoLWQLa2W8ymJOuvVlbThC7ur-pdeyAVUka8ggwXd9QHS6mZWveYkvZqc0PjkVjRhlmWT55IPFEHfIrtVeylV_kKdqvi4wQA3KxEMVKBM_kkQYIdSq-Z-RkHPTOb1gZIvaXFezQfhdo/s640/blogger-image-1566899471.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUuoLWQLa2W8ymJOuvVlbThC7ur-pdeyAVUka8ggwXd9QHS6mZWveYkvZqc0PjkVjRhlmWT55IPFEHfIrtVeylV_kKdqvi4wQA3KxEMVKBM_kkQYIdSq-Z-RkHPTOb1gZIvaXFezQfhdo/s640/blogger-image-1566899471.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam leading a HS with about 3 runners in nearly 30m</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmb_XfYUuEh3jzMuZBkcByJKCOzvNJ9pqdgpAcNSuRIOIbkCwDWzTXQUO51ostyUfEfUVY1rLJLK158WZCIE3AYrM6AFgbwvcDXQ1zpNcj5tvMQYi6LBxNt-dma8oj5Z-eCfecU30fMM/s640/blogger-image--475227043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmb_XfYUuEh3jzMuZBkcByJKCOzvNJ9pqdgpAcNSuRIOIbkCwDWzTXQUO51ostyUfEfUVY1rLJLK158WZCIE3AYrM6AFgbwvcDXQ1zpNcj5tvMQYi6LBxNt-dma8oj5Z-eCfecU30fMM/s640/blogger-image--475227043.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me on the classic Box of Delights (although I would've called it Box of Wanky Cracks)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkShTdfr8NofRUfcNFeZKrAOos4KdNxwLSda5LONr3Jw9F-Ms_KTIR38IXSM08Gj-fYU5hvltFsAjQFW_A6clnjSG6dxHK5fWDdw5y2oMP4yP8rdC9TzhI0pNNwLGX6eSC-4VyeCiNL0/s640/blogger-image-403316216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkShTdfr8NofRUfcNFeZKrAOos4KdNxwLSda5LONr3Jw9F-Ms_KTIR38IXSM08Gj-fYU5hvltFsAjQFW_A6clnjSG6dxHK5fWDdw5y2oMP4yP8rdC9TzhI0pNNwLGX6eSC-4VyeCiNL0/s640/blogger-image-403316216.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples pulling through the tricky crux of Wellington's Stand</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0UC0YPaVdj-fwUQv30Iz5t2WJtr9oCHmIU6_oRMQOkmQXEz0-2xU8yGtKFYl4pRcY5NZF6awsVkOCiblC4X5qGb09KdS2i23LrtyKScgEQdVpudYPJWxpi5EvE8mGL-dGxEsZ63eSH0/s640/blogger-image--81037074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0UC0YPaVdj-fwUQv30Iz5t2WJtr9oCHmIU6_oRMQOkmQXEz0-2xU8yGtKFYl4pRcY5NZF6awsVkOCiblC4X5qGb09KdS2i23LrtyKScgEQdVpudYPJWxpi5EvE8mGL-dGxEsZ63eSH0/s640/blogger-image--81037074.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A couple of cool VSs at the end of the crag</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVX8caN_ItvLXePW9N5VEIH9C7fmfHfKyo967g3ZF0OoKLmifu22gqosJydhyphenhyphenUOozWndb4qgngE5sjhV4TotSTpRNe9_FVBXzOD9ubLK_wY9uW1ZpkH8yeWcj686ISNBst3B6lJz84NQ/s640/blogger-image--1147876405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVX8caN_ItvLXePW9N5VEIH9C7fmfHfKyo967g3ZF0OoKLmifu22gqosJydhyphenhyphenUOozWndb4qgngE5sjhV4TotSTpRNe9_FVBXzOD9ubLK_wY9uW1ZpkH8yeWcj686ISNBst3B6lJz84NQ/s640/blogger-image--1147876405.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You only get a couple of hours either side of low tide to climb here unfortunately</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All too soon the tide comes back in again and we retreat back up to cliff top and wander back to the cars. After a quick discussion, and much checking of the forecast - which is completely toss - we decide to head over to Woolacombe where Staples' grandparents own a holiday flat. They've very kindly given us the keys for the weekend, and we waste no time in getting completely arseholed on beer and whiskey. Sometime later we stagger into the Red Barn and then onto another place that I can't remember fuck all about for some reason. Eventually we're thrown out and on the walk home Staples hears a crash, turns around to see me lying face down in the road and bleeding everywhere. After picking me up and helping me stagger back to the flat the muppet decides it's a perfect time to go surfing. Blind drunk, all on his tod at two in the morning, in massive waves being smashed into the coastline by Storm Cuntflaps. Every time the water hits him he pukes everywhere. Got to get your jollies somehow I suppose.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next day the weather is predictably awful. Which is handy, as I'm so hungover I can't even move. Cam and Natalie make the sensible choice and clear off home, while me and Staples linger like a rancid fart in a lift. Eventually, after a fry up, we think it's a great idea to try a route at Baggy Point. The drive there is through narrow, twisting roads, lots of abrupt stops and corners, and I'm fighting a bitter war against a fountain of vomit. Upon arriving at the National Trust car park an attendant puts her hand through the window for the fee, and is luckier than she will ever know not to receive the contents of my stomach instead. We realise climbing on a sea cliff isn't the best idea right now, and skulk back to the flat instead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So we've still got a couple of days to fill but the weather is not having any of it. After much checking of the forecasts we come to the conclusion that Chudleigh Rocks is our best bet for Sunday. Climbing wise you know you are in a dark place when polished shithole Chudleigh is your best option. In the list of things I really don't want to do, climbing there just squeaks in before hacking off my spuds with a rusty saw.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSyPpPsUlHmd7WHZA1CQGAcArzGKKkKoBEsKUm2g5bECt2Q7vcrvCtZbh10JEYrIqsPItWsg788M2RwccNw2P4Q8qR85ZhKTQnkHArMwYGSLcAPNMg8b-Qhe2PffP_P2YWfyLck7sQijQ/s640/blogger-image-1877824762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSyPpPsUlHmd7WHZA1CQGAcArzGKKkKoBEsKUm2g5bECt2Q7vcrvCtZbh10JEYrIqsPItWsg788M2RwccNw2P4Q8qR85ZhKTQnkHArMwYGSLcAPNMg8b-Qhe2PffP_P2YWfyLck7sQijQ/s640/blogger-image-1877824762.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples leading some awful bloody route in a hailstorm</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's grey and ominous. The wind howls around the crag, which is just as polished and uninspiring as I remember. Staples gets halfway up a VDiff when the inneviatble happens, a massive storm erupts and pelts us with rain and hail. He struggles to the top on rock with the friction of soap then brings me up to share the misery. All the cracks have got snails in them. We trudge back down and contemplate doing another route, but more hail comes hurtling down, and we think fuck it lets get pissed instead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0b64h_JWxgl1dCeb1rKQQdxLwTo3fqegfZ1m5YjoGO9QtPzBepa_VzBAeXeQBZO3m2sePj3MKorjnXZkcG2_pL0Ia8d7A6ZVpQKVD4A7HSd8rcd2spTsFfNXD8h4AEt9faj_EOnfm2bA/s640/blogger-image-1710009791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0b64h_JWxgl1dCeb1rKQQdxLwTo3fqegfZ1m5YjoGO9QtPzBepa_VzBAeXeQBZO3m2sePj3MKorjnXZkcG2_pL0Ia8d7A6ZVpQKVD4A7HSd8rcd2spTsFfNXD8h4AEt9faj_EOnfm2bA/s640/blogger-image-1710009791.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The pinnacle of any climbers career, reaching the top of Chudleigh in shite weather</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnH4RZYJvAPUt03TPb7EHIa_E9NM4ssXb84MFZHlTEgnQDvciN8Au73lgriix6Zf7dwkMUcMIyRGAXZYsIJRZ77gl93lRy2sq1tilY2_KfdjG38ytOGrxuhRcbsioSLgEZsQ4Aftit0Ts/s640/blogger-image-457344727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnH4RZYJvAPUt03TPb7EHIa_E9NM4ssXb84MFZHlTEgnQDvciN8Au73lgriix6Zf7dwkMUcMIyRGAXZYsIJRZ77gl93lRy2sq1tilY2_KfdjG38ytOGrxuhRcbsioSLgEZsQ4Aftit0Ts/s640/blogger-image-457344727.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This is what I think of you Chudleigh</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And on that note...</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-32219457852603138732016-03-26T11:19:00.001-07:002016-03-26T11:26:15.293-07:00Grit Shit InnitApart from a few smeggy top ropes down Portland, I hadn't climbed anything on rock this year before a weekend jolly up to the Peak. So to no one's surprise I climbed like a sack of old turds. Here's a few photos from the trip...<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYv0DzjyBWs6TSpb0L9_tGCHyPujq0a81U9CRNk4m7Qi9YE3DsHI3GAK52GByqKA4yB7Ab6iV0oQ_no24jBkxN57O7EQDy_jnD_uiT0oBFpt9zA52aN1l30DWQo0SV5IT681eT3fFc3KU/s640/blogger-image-1903049443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYv0DzjyBWs6TSpb0L9_tGCHyPujq0a81U9CRNk4m7Qi9YE3DsHI3GAK52GByqKA4yB7Ab6iV0oQ_no24jBkxN57O7EQDy_jnD_uiT0oBFpt9zA52aN1l30DWQo0SV5IT681eT3fFc3KU/s640/blogger-image-1903049443.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The towering majesty of Birchen Edge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQ6O8j4hiqZKW_4N0-JPBKq7g-TwA4lPPzL0WSZAPbrg_70idL-MN1_tV_D7etuJJR1lTNsqQVQGgqQeHmKp6esch0IV5gJgRK06XS1GK_wqxZtDzOIncAZTOrgczC6mtQIGasA3Ev1o/s640/blogger-image--658597810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQ6O8j4hiqZKW_4N0-JPBKq7g-TwA4lPPzL0WSZAPbrg_70idL-MN1_tV_D7etuJJR1lTNsqQVQGgqQeHmKp6esch0IV5gJgRK06XS1GK_wqxZtDzOIncAZTOrgczC6mtQIGasA3Ev1o/s640/blogger-image--658597810.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam soloing something easy</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5dnUkX09IN6bRhibkDEeU68ldl1sXf4JyO_IuHq_dMrEvfUwBEWfrIL6D2LQeE5dLBDM3E46WW7DwaBH5sfWl7VmBKYCxCB0ToF1nQat6rYhe59soadfzjnPgX8xjHJDF4YqkALYDv0/s640/blogger-image-249942064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5dnUkX09IN6bRhibkDEeU68ldl1sXf4JyO_IuHq_dMrEvfUwBEWfrIL6D2LQeE5dLBDM3E46WW7DwaBH5sfWl7VmBKYCxCB0ToF1nQat6rYhe59soadfzjnPgX8xjHJDF4YqkALYDv0/s640/blogger-image-249942064.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Good climbers make hard moves look easy, however shit climbers.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAK5E_K28EsW2K8bBLspERn4BPWe4sNcffnKyZD-9JetfppRoJrBwmee1Y148_CZXTG5QkQvjQoH_iRc5WlcG6_CISzyreiLmK1eOVLnHCNquJp1tk4wh6lrz21eDxaEBU0LKjXhBWy0/s640/blogger-image--926629108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAK5E_K28EsW2K8bBLspERn4BPWe4sNcffnKyZD-9JetfppRoJrBwmee1Y148_CZXTG5QkQvjQoH_iRc5WlcG6_CISzyreiLmK1eOVLnHCNquJp1tk4wh6lrz21eDxaEBU0LKjXhBWy0/s640/blogger-image--926629108.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Grovelling to the top</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8S6n2xC018jAla0rab4eKkLovlwlpEcn4Ppbq-yF70Jj8vez0hLePmN57u_Mpkja0xB0_pK50ZLrs35xPyo_7ThIjCrUloYra7s5907o6ToGE0TjFWcz4TW-gx_Q2Xvhh_zUXvIzaAYk/s640/blogger-image-507974262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8S6n2xC018jAla0rab4eKkLovlwlpEcn4Ppbq-yF70Jj8vez0hLePmN57u_Mpkja0xB0_pK50ZLrs35xPyo_7ThIjCrUloYra7s5907o6ToGE0TjFWcz4TW-gx_Q2Xvhh_zUXvIzaAYk/s640/blogger-image-507974262.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam on the same route, think it was VDiff, still felt hard</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmjZCFNa471QNjTye_yNnFWoD-VopaeYBQXeSn9E_3E0_A7ObIPyw8LYKHq1E6tJb46Q_8ASF-uP92MYgrumJNkglEWv6jcIAALWL-NJL2Tof_YpJmVmxTQrcMekQ_YzY5ukedev6GQg/s640/blogger-image--485322310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmjZCFNa471QNjTye_yNnFWoD-VopaeYBQXeSn9E_3E0_A7ObIPyw8LYKHq1E6tJb46Q_8ASF-uP92MYgrumJNkglEWv6jcIAALWL-NJL2Tof_YpJmVmxTQrcMekQ_YzY5ukedev6GQg/s640/blogger-image--485322310.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam thrashing up a jamming crack at Burbage</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoJHXmx2Qn06n37obJcMpohKR7C9Z8oQSUmeQxkfsF8PY1pkxbontkR3E2K7qdwhHcnUj5R8g2crIqnH0mCBzcnJJQIdwjDrw1vYEfa7GvgOQKzpHlSOs2dnEseDenzMZ3DNGTvvpEiQ/s640/blogger-image--822014127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoJHXmx2Qn06n37obJcMpohKR7C9Z8oQSUmeQxkfsF8PY1pkxbontkR3E2K7qdwhHcnUj5R8g2crIqnH0mCBzcnJJQIdwjDrw1vYEfa7GvgOQKzpHlSOs2dnEseDenzMZ3DNGTvvpEiQ/s640/blogger-image--822014127.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And another one</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxGpyDiFskWxZ6JPGn3bktY2PN4HejneGDi7-XLzJ9mB9YsbRzaqIza3p79uNWO43V_9vrLESwgcDnuARya-SiY2LWSz5SX3jDRD9nlliLWtTqKaOann2nt0cjNzZalXL4d3zt8jNEZZg/s640/blogger-image-1685885990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxGpyDiFskWxZ6JPGn3bktY2PN4HejneGDi7-XLzJ9mB9YsbRzaqIza3p79uNWO43V_9vrLESwgcDnuARya-SiY2LWSz5SX3jDRD9nlliLWtTqKaOann2nt0cjNzZalXL4d3zt8jNEZZg/s640/blogger-image-1685885990.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Easy soloing walls at Stanage</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwfgadP77DT4S21RTzsmPatgPSTMTqj28Y0adANYYuhDhFLVZLJKoNuJ-kIKQdAPHNefQdRhcaN4IfNOA20bfKbwdrpaAW4v2rTKlSjF-WbKPF2vVtbruQ1KnoXwEB5YmT3CVAcrBrP0/s640/blogger-image--953037426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwfgadP77DT4S21RTzsmPatgPSTMTqj28Y0adANYYuhDhFLVZLJKoNuJ-kIKQdAPHNefQdRhcaN4IfNOA20bfKbwdrpaAW4v2rTKlSjF-WbKPF2vVtbruQ1KnoXwEB5YmT3CVAcrBrP0/s640/blogger-image--953037426.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Classic David 'Snake Hips' Gainor high foot beta in action</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzTQZkitugu2QkXm4SC_qP3GcoYE4ple7FULVrdoy50mWLEblx0rI4oHU7ZRAIfApG-wGAWxnZ3bEB8h5XyzenDKkbiBRBlGUvyao6QlxskwzerrGCceNQTlFrnW321dWrkhj4JZ3vl8/s640/blogger-image--1219253338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzTQZkitugu2QkXm4SC_qP3GcoYE4ple7FULVrdoy50mWLEblx0rI4oHU7ZRAIfApG-wGAWxnZ3bEB8h5XyzenDKkbiBRBlGUvyao6QlxskwzerrGCceNQTlFrnW321dWrkhj4JZ3vl8/s640/blogger-image--1219253338.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam failing to jam his massive hand into a crack</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Wx6bOm3MfJ8tyO9fCrd4SQAW6wy2Sr-P894DXyI_1r4wxQZU1_l9vBAP6gYU5Dh3S2wsz9UGgHz8aJPAtGy863sFD1XDeCsVWRtgy7vHsP7ElG8RdDnKsRka3tDCXdwb1D0jkIyv318/s640/blogger-image--423675474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Wx6bOm3MfJ8tyO9fCrd4SQAW6wy2Sr-P894DXyI_1r4wxQZU1_l9vBAP6gYU5Dh3S2wsz9UGgHz8aJPAtGy863sFD1XDeCsVWRtgy7vHsP7ElG8RdDnKsRka3tDCXdwb1D0jkIyv318/s640/blogger-image--423675474.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat making an absolute Dogs Arse of April Crack</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFMwvidbtPUu2_iCF9yGvxKMOVDwlyc9hucPuacnHPC08lfDzCFLwrOYJn90fgQGQDIXqUL0OJOhiJ_KxeCsFXhOEGmAynzS5pGVwKEZfiG8ZsEVFC7T0yW1MggH1M65Bh5OECFOOUfjU/s640/blogger-image-857026049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFMwvidbtPUu2_iCF9yGvxKMOVDwlyc9hucPuacnHPC08lfDzCFLwrOYJn90fgQGQDIXqUL0OJOhiJ_KxeCsFXhOEGmAynzS5pGVwKEZfiG8ZsEVFC7T0yW1MggH1M65Bh5OECFOOUfjU/s640/blogger-image-857026049.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me not doing much better on second</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaASPMF1rfeAa-BFlAAZ1QkQ_f81-aMHkXkCvoJgVz92Ca7Fu-j4iUOC9di_uXTf2tt-8W8WnXRNcLi7gD1rD3vppfTMC34ljdOxxH4qZjXwNShdAZkehi8jXP5tCwPMvFLSoNlHtEDUQ/s640/blogger-image-1200479084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaASPMF1rfeAa-BFlAAZ1QkQ_f81-aMHkXkCvoJgVz92Ca7Fu-j4iUOC9di_uXTf2tt-8W8WnXRNcLi7gD1rD3vppfTMC34ljdOxxH4qZjXwNShdAZkehi8jXP5tCwPMvFLSoNlHtEDUQ/s640/blogger-image-1200479084.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As does Cam</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9D5ij7Si4M_KE4NeXj2YH90CriwHY4AsljxQOw4DB7vulFiyw6iP3wrK6_-9ARJIvfD7UPF9P7phhsKugBPTGKeH88e01B5pXv7F1qEh4jVk6Q00cpmVIdVqvtKiqFCGqgfUUB4CiiI/s640/blogger-image--2144969041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9D5ij7Si4M_KE4NeXj2YH90CriwHY4AsljxQOw4DB7vulFiyw6iP3wrK6_-9ARJIvfD7UPF9P7phhsKugBPTGKeH88e01B5pXv7F1qEh4jVk6Q00cpmVIdVqvtKiqFCGqgfUUB4CiiI/s640/blogger-image--2144969041.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me at the top of Robin Hoods Buttress, which thankfully isn't the gruesome struggle you expect from the deck</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJklqBcaZHyg1MWRBzzsjQKCvHMD95O8aGcxMA0UaXnK6nMsWmar8jzRQjcTJnYMY0qQx8IlWUT_pQ9Mc5lKagOuIArUaCnTf8qp8AufuwSxIkqk5x3yMBvt1oRpqUQjGUNsRS-1JMnw/s640/blogger-image--1975883772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJklqBcaZHyg1MWRBzzsjQKCvHMD95O8aGcxMA0UaXnK6nMsWmar8jzRQjcTJnYMY0qQx8IlWUT_pQ9Mc5lKagOuIArUaCnTf8qp8AufuwSxIkqk5x3yMBvt1oRpqUQjGUNsRS-1JMnw/s640/blogger-image--1975883772.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cam fighting up Agony Crack</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tJe8f2TkyBVNrKE1Fz0Lv_OZIIvN4iTtJE0eWkc524Lty6mSi8Uas21WacldFBG6xIvIaqB8CeGYIkKQZ-4qOVoyPYi8vZcjcSTFXvVCzpBXcO6ggclo09OBaJOO8AtbxKHr4tj67F0/s640/blogger-image-688888262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tJe8f2TkyBVNrKE1Fz0Lv_OZIIvN4iTtJE0eWkc524Lty6mSi8Uas21WacldFBG6xIvIaqB8CeGYIkKQZ-4qOVoyPYi8vZcjcSTFXvVCzpBXcO6ggclo09OBaJOO8AtbxKHr4tj67F0/s640/blogger-image-688888262.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat having a go at Flying Buttress Direct</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicg4BVS9IyYgBnP8S_1XpMgmjPu3Yqg9kMCmhlNefsp2ZSSsKaB6RNOhiqnQq9BYHewE5qO3aAFcBwyV4HNgP6uJx4B-n9MwVbsS9KhQ3P1W9ubTiZHxZekZyzPNh7Q_dq9Nsai8CK0xg/s640/blogger-image--982678134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicg4BVS9IyYgBnP8S_1XpMgmjPu3Yqg9kMCmhlNefsp2ZSSsKaB6RNOhiqnQq9BYHewE5qO3aAFcBwyV4HNgP6uJx4B-n9MwVbsS9KhQ3P1W9ubTiZHxZekZyzPNh7Q_dq9Nsai8CK0xg/s640/blogger-image--982678134.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After time beyond human reckoning, and more tries than I could count, this was as far as he got, the massive wetty</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9hhXxZ05hsSL_1rjTBRemLdRbOnMMWrxKqPqMJuKG_-boD_iKusnYc9QEUAhW9mcQ4x1lvKak9aM721VqYh8By2KH43bMoal5ltVwx7cSvk_XCB4spqj50o83H4kimTy3ia_seQp9LY/s640/blogger-image--2037379270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9hhXxZ05hsSL_1rjTBRemLdRbOnMMWrxKqPqMJuKG_-boD_iKusnYc9QEUAhW9mcQ4x1lvKak9aM721VqYh8By2KH43bMoal5ltVwx7cSvk_XCB4spqj50o83H4kimTy3ia_seQp9LY/s640/blogger-image--2037379270.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So to make Pat feel better I get rescued off some sloping horror show called The Flange</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSw7Q9C46WYz9CL7KFu6YwxyZ2uffTFoL2meItqLMSCOv1oLDXi1azYKRBoocBsrMHv18KKPu9fnQBadC4AmuuAZg9IjUe1lRujQZMl-ToUZnYKLlCzQAhgJyo3TJQCg95N9c8A_219E/s640/blogger-image--1410489183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSw7Q9C46WYz9CL7KFu6YwxyZ2uffTFoL2meItqLMSCOv1oLDXi1azYKRBoocBsrMHv18KKPu9fnQBadC4AmuuAZg9IjUe1lRujQZMl-ToUZnYKLlCzQAhgJyo3TJQCg95N9c8A_219E/s640/blogger-image--1410489183.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">3 gormless idiots at the top</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CfKyDMHrfuta7MrJKhN1cDbuRnWBCE0GTl-aCOdRohPX4EjhbMQR34jVj8A729am1JLvZTGhSsoSwUtsQH2-0PdYDG7gqJdd-1oOJpbqDtQ0wK_Ktq5DzEJJ5Q59HlQ2ckqmBIWVnA8/s640/blogger-image-1221964504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CfKyDMHrfuta7MrJKhN1cDbuRnWBCE0GTl-aCOdRohPX4EjhbMQR34jVj8A729am1JLvZTGhSsoSwUtsQH2-0PdYDG7gqJdd-1oOJpbqDtQ0wK_Ktq5DzEJJ5Q59HlQ2ckqmBIWVnA8/s640/blogger-image-1221964504.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Amazing sunset over the peak, good times</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-64743672565128855042016-03-06T12:36:00.001-08:002016-04-04T13:43:43.276-07:00ScotlandWe're going to fucking smash it this trip. Do all the classics. Talisker, Jura, Glenlivet, Old Pultney. The list is massive but we're all mega psyched. Months of hard training behind us. Also, there's a few bits of climbing gear chucked in the boot as well, but sod that for a game of soldiers. Scottish winter climbing is bloody miserable. I don't really like it. Cold, painful, and no one's bothered to put any bolts in the crags. But I guess we'll have to if we get bad whisky conditions one day...<div><br></div><div>Long drive overnight. Three ill-prepared southern pansies crammed into a Ford Focus with dozens of bags filled with gear, and enough pasta to feed Italy for a week. Staples and I drive, getting no sleep whatsoever. We arrive in Aviemore in the morning exhausted to the point of hallucination. The road up to the ski station is closed - thank fuck for that. Gives us the perfect excuse to sack the days climbing, catch up on sleep, and drink whisky instead.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TzoIsoPPTUaMCHpr4HJo9osWRiATTWwoDneEiBzF9vZkhDzo9wyPfMEHZLqKu0rXVP_UTxLwBs_r_XO9hAzpJiQIU-zjKrSDLUSgLBx9PtWYVvo1oDKUZybLgDAEfwgTRJ4oq8aCi0w/s640/blogger-image-1159374836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TzoIsoPPTUaMCHpr4HJo9osWRiATTWwoDneEiBzF9vZkhDzo9wyPfMEHZLqKu0rXVP_UTxLwBs_r_XO9hAzpJiQIU-zjKrSDLUSgLBx9PtWYVvo1oDKUZybLgDAEfwgTRJ4oq8aCi0w/s640/blogger-image-1159374836.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Typical scene from one of our 'climbing' trips</div></div><div><br></div><div>Off to the pub. Just a couple though. Big day tomorrow. Much, much later we're all blind drunk and buying rounds for the local folk band. Slapping the table along to a load of old songs about what a bunch of cunts the English are. Eventually we stagger off into the freezing night to sleep in the car. Morning comes with a crippling hangover. Ice everywhere. There's a big pile of sick next to Cam's bivy. I've seen roadkill that looks healthier than he does right now. Slogging through drifts of powder and pine forests towards the crag. I can hear the wind howling through the mountains higher up. Every few steps Cam stops to throw up more of his internal organs. </div><div><br></div><div>We lurch our way up the mountain like zombies. Has a team ever been less ready to go winter climbing? I move in crampons with all the grace of a drunk on a bouncy castle.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SRrh3DHM2-wxli9cQW2u-vrjC8928_m_SIuD-qi-6dCfinC7M2oghCqDo34f8_1eV-SOAHCSxCx9L5zZ4jGqH-Tm5MQCY_6llsWwON3piIhasoSlAGcJmSvLtkuQFcg9CZv4sJX9Pwk/s640/blogger-image-2133947519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SRrh3DHM2-wxli9cQW2u-vrjC8928_m_SIuD-qi-6dCfinC7M2oghCqDo34f8_1eV-SOAHCSxCx9L5zZ4jGqH-Tm5MQCY_6llsWwON3piIhasoSlAGcJmSvLtkuQFcg9CZv4sJX9Pwk/s640/blogger-image-2133947519.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sneachda in rare good weather</div></div><div><br></div><div>So we just about manage something in Coire Sneachda. A hurricane blasts across the Cairngorm plateau. Icicles form in my beard. So much suffering for a couple of pitches of climbing. However the weather forecast is looking good, so we decide to head over to Skye to have a play in the Cuillins. Pat arrives, having done the whole drive up on his tod. We immediately ask him to drive us to the nearest pub. Evening stroll towards Sgurr nan Gillean. It's a beautiful clear night so we decide to bivy beneath the mountain.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEt3XYhKHqNLkmn1vQHmlWXS9rYv7AZ24kK3nUH4nr6cuRG8SaT75P_fmyWDwOyoxTC_IOzT_MCoiOc0U8YzWRL1qYROo1emKRDjx5mrR3zNRW-dRFfJmRzEFUxjj-fGcT4sf1FbTgv4o/s640/blogger-image-568498436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEt3XYhKHqNLkmn1vQHmlWXS9rYv7AZ24kK3nUH4nr6cuRG8SaT75P_fmyWDwOyoxTC_IOzT_MCoiOc0U8YzWRL1qYROo1emKRDjx5mrR3zNRW-dRFfJmRzEFUxjj-fGcT4sf1FbTgv4o/s640/blogger-image-568498436.jpg"></a></div>Looking up at the peak from near the bivy spot</div><div><br></div><div>This seems a great idea for about ten minutes, then we just lie there in the darkness freezing our tits off. It's so cold we get going before dawn, and wander up the initial slopes to a shoulder. From here we improvise a way up the peak, soloing up neve slopes with the occasional steep ice pitch. Soloing on shit ice with the massive drop snapping beneath our heels, what joy.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_l114TDXMUm_hWD0McbScHhNW1PW9PiR3FrU19ZWi0fNx4W73GfIdz3j_Eu50Sw9zLSddaOU0lpJ4TQvQ_7G0obj7IkZOhbCqURAGadEKj2Op4IGtYxFcFQ5ns63zop_tJBoENThDGE/s640/blogger-image--2107926200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_l114TDXMUm_hWD0McbScHhNW1PW9PiR3FrU19ZWi0fNx4W73GfIdz3j_Eu50Sw9zLSddaOU0lpJ4TQvQ_7G0obj7IkZOhbCqURAGadEKj2Op4IGtYxFcFQ5ns63zop_tJBoENThDGE/s640/blogger-image--2107926200.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sgurr nan Gillean on the left. I have no idea what we climbed</div></div><div><br></div><div>Eventually we top out on a ridge but it's blowing a hoolie, visibility is rubbish, and we have absolutely no idea where we are. So we make a series of abseils from the pinnacle until we can escape down an easy snow slope. It's not really a proper route, but a fun little adventure, and we name it Cucumber West - after the time honoured navigational tradition that if you throw a cucumber at a sheep it will always run to the west. That's a stonewall fucking fact that is.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviiQjWN3Hlt828cFaSdahQjWIdjcqJPxWswfcn4zdD44GM6vQ5ID62MrolpJRy3uF7DXM96QUtqOaJ1MECzMz-X3fnUeThpRYfMINVFEp1TzAjQOi5_KOp4x793kMPE26zv8urf4J8R8/s640/blogger-image--401999250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviiQjWN3Hlt828cFaSdahQjWIdjcqJPxWswfcn4zdD44GM6vQ5ID62MrolpJRy3uF7DXM96QUtqOaJ1MECzMz-X3fnUeThpRYfMINVFEp1TzAjQOi5_KOp4x793kMPE26zv8urf4J8R8/s640/blogger-image--401999250.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The slopes we descended, ridge in the background. Still no idea what's going on</div></div><div><br></div><div>Back to the Cairngorms. We spend a day soloing gullies in Coire Sneachda. It takes us about 15 minutes to climb a route that would take hours if you were using ropes. The soloing bug that I picked up on my last Alps trip is worming deeper and deeper into my brain.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH05RrZfWESWBFoHkfZE8U9k7x4VMzHgvhgn2js42P3dp3-hGbKHpAgdnWLze1HVLQXdeZB_j5UoFb1JCwqyom6_qhebsNBNFoARpPdXbr8_GxfELYLz63b_5JfGavrTooPlN2eIBQqUE/s640/blogger-image-1022908900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH05RrZfWESWBFoHkfZE8U9k7x4VMzHgvhgn2js42P3dp3-hGbKHpAgdnWLze1HVLQXdeZB_j5UoFb1JCwqyom6_qhebsNBNFoARpPdXbr8_GxfELYLz63b_5JfGavrTooPlN2eIBQqUE/s640/blogger-image-1022908900.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Soloing Spiral Gully</div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcmOGjmQosifpHLGIQF_S6fAhNJU5d0aqtgKfz_2vwVD_A4NQSaFE07Dxz-GdSltHCUWSyLGx6K4MGlKi3QB6bTLwVZScW9rkom-EBkY7V6iMtvA1hGAiHkqFY3d97BlixCBcDlsMSXDU/s640/blogger-image-846319966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcmOGjmQosifpHLGIQF_S6fAhNJU5d0aqtgKfz_2vwVD_A4NQSaFE07Dxz-GdSltHCUWSyLGx6K4MGlKi3QB6bTLwVZScW9rkom-EBkY7V6iMtvA1hGAiHkqFY3d97BlixCBcDlsMSXDU/s640/blogger-image-846319966.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Digging snow pits in Sneachda</div></div><div><br></div><div>The next day Pat and I climb the mega classic Fingers Ridge. I've wanted to do this one for years, and it's fucking brilliant. Quick jolly up snow then three awesome mixed pitches, up steep blocky ground, chimneys, corners, there's even the odd bit of gear. I lead up the exposed ridge crest towards the famous finger pinnacles, utterly appalled when I realise you have to do a no hands bridge between the bastard things. I sort of fall onto the left one, sobbing hysterically as my axes skate ineffectively off brittle rime ice. This dumps me at the foot of a completely plastered slab, the crux of the whole route, and it's fucking desperate. I spent long minutes balancing on tiny edges on my front points, hacking away at the ice to find the next placements. A series of one hand one foot rock overs finally spits me out onto the top of the slab, bellyflopping onto a ledge like fat person struggling out of a swimming pool, and from there an easy wander leads to the top.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqNKRSVB1E_NbpOT_5VMNSMQWwhnzRbCxvNETZDNVAcRRYsPxd61ET6NTjyxg0k98GWFHpc37XSxSxiG6ub70OjhBKPlBrbch9SIulmnIDV7NK7GCOYJw_JFHMsA7DYfKd3ARlAg0iV84/s640/blogger-image--1899667229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqNKRSVB1E_NbpOT_5VMNSMQWwhnzRbCxvNETZDNVAcRRYsPxd61ET6NTjyxg0k98GWFHpc37XSxSxiG6ub70OjhBKPlBrbch9SIulmnIDV7NK7GCOYJw_JFHMsA7DYfKd3ARlAg0iV84/s640/blogger-image--1899667229.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You can see the fingers poking up on the right skyline</div></div><div><br></div><div>We've got time for one more big one, so it's south towards Glencoe. But on the way we catch sight of the massive north face of Ben Nevis, looming above everything, perfect blue skies, and it's just irresistible. We stop in Fort Bill instead, arsehole of the north west, and get ready. There's a bad vibe about the Ben this year, climbers still missing somewhere on its flanks, and we're all shitting ourselves in the car park. Except Staples, who is sitting this one out with a bad ankle, and will instead spend the time wanking in the car and hopelessly chasing local girls on Tinder. Midnight comes, no sleep, and we begin the 2 hour trudge up to the CIC hut. Here we sort out our gear and jolly up a gully to the Douglas Gap. A fun pitch leads us onto the crest of the ridge, then we take the rope off again and solo off into the night. It's calm and clear and the snow conditions are perfect.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gOCaeqGxUZ__xwooELWCvXDpptMZEFdndxEFeIyVKX7EIK-vEoykQUhhSdsT97-h1DJeA0IiB7HTzJMJuCuRQeBJqkHZl9QNoscT5qamCTa8A109OR7RCppMY0YDE2uBa7QjSY4b5-s/s640/blogger-image-333890853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gOCaeqGxUZ__xwooELWCvXDpptMZEFdndxEFeIyVKX7EIK-vEoykQUhhSdsT97-h1DJeA0IiB7HTzJMJuCuRQeBJqkHZl9QNoscT5qamCTa8A109OR7RCppMY0YDE2uBa7QjSY4b5-s/s640/blogger-image-333890853.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Tower Ridge is the obvious buttress in the Center of the face</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXhYsuV_lMalzsYHXanyNBXjDWLq_I_QKSg1xOTWlAbW3Zv9UqqdQdTFjudCM-b6QoiiHO6_KzbuyMH07v0nSuC2xyL0HYuFmbvhtV_-ijy3KdYkfiXzZTnZGHgbsdwvK_HMJ4QU564I/s640/blogger-image-2049353008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXhYsuV_lMalzsYHXanyNBXjDWLq_I_QKSg1xOTWlAbW3Zv9UqqdQdTFjudCM-b6QoiiHO6_KzbuyMH07v0nSuC2xyL0HYuFmbvhtV_-ijy3KdYkfiXzZTnZGHgbsdwvK_HMJ4QU564I/s640/blogger-image-2049353008.jpg"></a></div>Soloing up easy terrain</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We briefly rope up for a tricky step on the Little Tower, soloing everything else by torchlight, climbing mixed ground and icy runnels between the rock. Soon enough we reach the Eastern Traverse. This is meant to be one of the cruxes of the route so we decide to pitch it. Unnecessarily, it turns out, as it's nothing more than an exposed shuffle along a boot-wide ledge of snow. Piss easy. We're across in minutes, and then I take over the lead, racing up the Great Tower to gain the crest once more. Now comes the final obstacle - Tower Gap. A notch cut into the ridge, guarding access to the easy finishing slopes. So Cam leads into it, brings me over, then I lead out the other side. Pat follows after and we're done. It's exposed and a bit precarious, but easy enough in the current conditions. A final glory romp up more perfect snow and we're on top. The whole route takes us maybe 5 hours. By doing Tower Ridge mostly at night we avoid the queues it is otherwise notorious for.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimI0NI2rAeUMh-rA4gBGXJvPMUzecxcW7S3zrzxxv1xHUENeIEsixgZi38sA8IApuGskgN-1qrg5Wl9rsEHMye0xKzuXu_DZDL-qHTIFkQG2mgYiwA3_EmqgNRL5hCil5mZpnHSHA-qHI/s640/blogger-image-760688544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimI0NI2rAeUMh-rA4gBGXJvPMUzecxcW7S3zrzxxv1xHUENeIEsixgZi38sA8IApuGskgN-1qrg5Wl9rsEHMye0xKzuXu_DZDL-qHTIFkQG2mgYiwA3_EmqgNRL5hCil5mZpnHSHA-qHI/s640/blogger-image-760688544.jpg"></a></div>The belay at the top of the Great Tower</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-volX4iMsZ2rQunBbmz8sWdvOoF8ADbDcYbkuHqbsEdErABW0f9vGe29n2YP6UtPzbq1GI_Ocsec20u3x6bwkbPLcFOwO1m20DJWiF-pCLIy94v0m3As0ipNVJUXNw8UQ3HMK3uyjkg/s640/blogger-image-1777718706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-volX4iMsZ2rQunBbmz8sWdvOoF8ADbDcYbkuHqbsEdErABW0f9vGe29n2YP6UtPzbq1GI_Ocsec20u3x6bwkbPLcFOwO1m20DJWiF-pCLIy94v0m3As0ipNVJUXNw8UQ3HMK3uyjkg/s640/blogger-image-1777718706.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The sun rises over the summit of Ben Nevis</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We plod over to the summit trig point, amazed by the lack of wind. Snow covered mountains lay before us for miles and miles in every direction. One of those rare perfect days that makes Scottish winter climbing so incredible. We decide to traverse the Carn Mor Dearg Arête to finish the day off in style, watching in smug satisfaction as climbers swarm over the ridge like ants, bottlenecks everywhere. Serves the lazy sods right. We're back at the car eleven and a half hours after leaving.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj44bwYsEKvk3cmYSS0hWeYp3xnZZi4wtk8mCz3KAnyjKLxHN6mppm1Kc_07GOEIiBStDXGeH6d5YXsHg6EWPrTg57uUHlBd9fPirBI2ixsjyieCoOQ6khIDmabQYkgC2QedD69SeyTjMo/s640/blogger-image--725130790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj44bwYsEKvk3cmYSS0hWeYp3xnZZi4wtk8mCz3KAnyjKLxHN6mppm1Kc_07GOEIiBStDXGeH6d5YXsHg6EWPrTg57uUHlBd9fPirBI2ixsjyieCoOQ6khIDmabQYkgC2QedD69SeyTjMo/s640/blogger-image--725130790.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Arriving on top after my best route in Scotland yet</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsMwEl2oeaihS1bW9L5BQIgPs2oV9iZ-8g2baXzZ1feyJOmVw48asb6KQhhvyUl3JRXcB25NKevRDjgtE7er9vAruSRTpd-AITaRor6SYFa7UsgzYYkwFFN_eUFotli02MRaUIMM5ZPo/s640/blogger-image--1196442264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsMwEl2oeaihS1bW9L5BQIgPs2oV9iZ-8g2baXzZ1feyJOmVw48asb6KQhhvyUl3JRXcB25NKevRDjgtE7er9vAruSRTpd-AITaRor6SYFa7UsgzYYkwFFN_eUFotli02MRaUIMM5ZPo/s640/blogger-image--1196442264.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At the summit trig point</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Back down in Fort Bill we catch up with Captain Pissytrousers and head over to Glencoe and the Clachaig Inn. Here we drink more fine whisky and celebrate an awesome Highlands road trip. Good times.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewbavMNNm2Z8ZHkSelVYMDL0ATduhLaaNu4uYkHbrRC1OPzRE9fPfU2Tp-Ft622RZBKbznkTC6IlENLl6lIqsi8Ay9lNkW6hGqmktv7_kjUJekuZHN2LYWWNHDw5z2SIV_q8GZeGo3FE/s640/blogger-image-488530475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewbavMNNm2Z8ZHkSelVYMDL0ATduhLaaNu4uYkHbrRC1OPzRE9fPfU2Tp-Ft622RZBKbznkTC6IlENLl6lIqsi8Ay9lNkW6hGqmktv7_kjUJekuZHN2LYWWNHDw5z2SIV_q8GZeGo3FE/s640/blogger-image-488530475.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Tugger, the Glorious Leader, Captain Pissytrousers and Offwidth Dangle-Prussik outside the Clachaig, job done</div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-9772412231464925502016-01-01T12:43:00.001-08:002016-01-01T13:37:19.690-08:00Quick Jolly in the DolliesChrist I'm shit at this. My feet skid around on polished limestone, the last peg is miles below me now. It's not even that steep and my arms are already shagged. It's bastard cold as well. With numb hands I haul my way up a series of flat holds to reach a ledge and a nice shiny bolted belay. I clip in and slump onto the ropes. The next pitch is the crux but that's Rich's bloody problem, not mine. Thank fuck for that...<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysnAJr-v9Pk11qighakn5nYRx73ztzdixm3VRNEn86c7sryeZ35sE11bnUZ1N61zgZRedCushmgc9QA6tmjBgykUA9AKJJ930pMt1l4liEL-CUBaZHFewcGf73QqgkqpKT7RKo7JLJ4U/s640/blogger-image-375421010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysnAJr-v9Pk11qighakn5nYRx73ztzdixm3VRNEn86c7sryeZ35sE11bnUZ1N61zgZRedCushmgc9QA6tmjBgykUA9AKJJ930pMt1l4liEL-CUBaZHFewcGf73QqgkqpKT7RKo7JLJ4U/s640/blogger-image-375421010.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking up to the Cinque Torri</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZCmIW3ijpS17NzznpI2tKw9xMBWqHhODOtEwlT4-KiuOYdK7fCxfhT8ve82OfT9saKJYISVvneN3v6mXpEmTE0H9NdXu3Z_Rs09Y9qH7MDOMC3L5ILvkk_Tr1uaqNq6uVzZA71V4q1w/s640/blogger-image-447781775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZCmIW3ijpS17NzznpI2tKw9xMBWqHhODOtEwlT4-KiuOYdK7fCxfhT8ve82OfT9saKJYISVvneN3v6mXpEmTE0H9NdXu3Z_Rs09Y9qH7MDOMC3L5ILvkk_Tr1uaqNq6uVzZA71V4q1w/s640/blogger-image-447781775.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Torre Grande - we climbed it via the sunlit face</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We're climbing a pinnacle called Torre Grande, part of the Cinque Torri group in the Dolomites. Despite the sun it's absolutely freezing. Cold, in the mountains, in December - who knew? Rich reaches the belay. Have you given me the fucking crux pitch, he asks, and I smirk and hand him the rack. He traverses along a footrail to a weakness in the looming overhang, stuffs in some gear, grunts and struggles his way up shiny crap holds and disappears from view.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOsO9hj85ttgvoH5eqQuVIzx_G-X6UhoLhl0Igq8hHP4UMEBxseNDIbrYsdIwFjey22Yvbn0CwPAzBgAJ3npdslD0FeIkuu34xSxiBbuFDQ7v-_IJFkssgjIdBDrEDyJA7jNT4Y2u79E/s640/blogger-image-226814252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOsO9hj85ttgvoH5eqQuVIzx_G-X6UhoLhl0Igq8hHP4UMEBxseNDIbrYsdIwFjey22Yvbn0CwPAzBgAJ3npdslD0FeIkuu34xSxiBbuFDQ7v-_IJFkssgjIdBDrEDyJA7jNT4Y2u79E/s640/blogger-image-226814252.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rich tackling the crux pitch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The climbing is pretty much easy to the top now. We swing leads up blocky ground and slabs, one tricky move that I shamelessly dog on a rusty old peg. What happened to the guy who was jollying up E1s all summer, who's this fat tosser who can barely climb stairs without gasping for breath?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVFJELpJtHqGaSvjCwofnITOB3N1o2M1B9riddL7gMU0gQNJYvaGHfy-ffMWkZ8xbsx7dEo2uhWqa1EbV5BLk3zZudOX2hIysX5cwvxFLONVLPByuh5S4HUsixXZtoVSgGRgtoxhQgavQ/s640/blogger-image--1828668469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVFJELpJtHqGaSvjCwofnITOB3N1o2M1B9riddL7gMU0gQNJYvaGHfy-ffMWkZ8xbsx7dEo2uhWqa1EbV5BLk3zZudOX2hIysX5cwvxFLONVLPByuh5S4HUsixXZtoVSgGRgtoxhQgavQ/s640/blogger-image--1828668469.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nice easy pitch for me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14Tx56G4LR5gksgqD907s8K4ouM5w__xpWjThdBefQkmaqByBG8AB53-HPj3EjXWBzgeNCHyCydY5BLFVlKy-y7rWSRSKy35ToIjiNZFusWR256YLoqJkNOtwLAZf09iPOUR8xQ-jAzk/s640/blogger-image-2139295260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14Tx56G4LR5gksgqD907s8K4ouM5w__xpWjThdBefQkmaqByBG8AB53-HPj3EjXWBzgeNCHyCydY5BLFVlKy-y7rWSRSKy35ToIjiNZFusWR256YLoqJkNOtwLAZf09iPOUR8xQ-jAzk/s640/blogger-image-2139295260.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Following slabby ground to the summit</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeT8DRDG9QTDVwJNPPo2SIaNotEybq_qZGVsaLgjFO03yayawjms-MsnKsLOrWniqDtvb0OCHeKjacNatURP3y2ax5LtDSKvZby52D60NbO3EMoGWy9R5Rhudvm_UGTh6PbmsVD3_6NwM/s640/blogger-image-617267740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeT8DRDG9QTDVwJNPPo2SIaNotEybq_qZGVsaLgjFO03yayawjms-MsnKsLOrWniqDtvb0OCHeKjacNatURP3y2ax5LtDSKvZby52D60NbO3EMoGWy9R5Rhudvm_UGTh6PbmsVD3_6NwM/s640/blogger-image-617267740.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rich on the last bit</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We soon reach the awesomely exposed summit, a small flat plateau surrounded by sheer drops on all sides. After taking some photos we begin the first of three abseils down the other side of the tower to reach the bottom again. It's still early in the day so we decide to tackle another pinnacle while we're here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRHPTFLm2LX5H4-Gfo7M4djILpp8bNov9TagdGCLkgYCcmGTsmQaAily8F0jcObiZ17YJP7XyCQfyPNyuJPhRfo-c0V6NOFElzh__4v2ELW_SfGxwZ70wyvUAQEkIrcuEQBeThR8ucCc/s640/blogger-image--1039106148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRHPTFLm2LX5H4-Gfo7M4djILpp8bNov9TagdGCLkgYCcmGTsmQaAily8F0jcObiZ17YJP7XyCQfyPNyuJPhRfo-c0V6NOFElzh__4v2ELW_SfGxwZ70wyvUAQEkIrcuEQBeThR8ucCc/s640/blogger-image--1039106148.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On top of Torre Grande</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk66q-slBoGcOkJWZ_I_o34Hprzk-8-cOR8TBv3FfpotI7YANzcqj0qn62FemdbBXrJ55nZXpwRt6KTxvfbY0U06EJQv_S9y56t5RLCdiCFbALWYdKduJIfNdGAMkPDWYKdmyezOtFbRc/s640/blogger-image--707710671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk66q-slBoGcOkJWZ_I_o34Hprzk-8-cOR8TBv3FfpotI7YANzcqj0qn62FemdbBXrJ55nZXpwRt6KTxvfbY0U06EJQv_S9y56t5RLCdiCFbALWYdKduJIfNdGAMkPDWYKdmyezOtFbRc/s640/blogger-image--707710671.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rich carefully abseiling down chossy shite</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We decide to have a go at Torre Lusy, one of the smaller pinnacles that we should be able to get up before the daylight runs out. We climb it in 3 long pitches, mostly following an arête with the odd detour across the adjacent face. Once again I find it nails. Not just physically but mentally, I've been out of the trad game too long, and I'm struggling to commit to moves above gear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7PyhUaoi-OqX61Sj5_GdeAaiU-sZ_ndZ_SfFQsxAgJRHvm3SEK-f32Wr59hjbKCpGxfEGwDdNod3DgyJ5Db7TnunxSlreF3baIWpwb-_1ZAufo0l_4Ol7OLsKRGj5CAXkSAorLfw3Iw/s640/blogger-image--971157464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7PyhUaoi-OqX61Sj5_GdeAaiU-sZ_ndZ_SfFQsxAgJRHvm3SEK-f32Wr59hjbKCpGxfEGwDdNod3DgyJ5Db7TnunxSlreF3baIWpwb-_1ZAufo0l_4Ol7OLsKRGj5CAXkSAorLfw3Iw/s640/blogger-image--971157464.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We climbed Torre Lusy via the obvious arête</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmyUi8OtfXMUsfxtg6rJatPU5VhjLQ4hOcLplZB_mZKkjqg8ggSsen5ju5_JbwIM9m9Ks_p__Lspzqk1FFIL01a7q_nYdUmqNqgNKb-AIcm6tfsWhAqq2MZv-mV1CLUZhhDMhy0JEc67s/s640/blogger-image-480794743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmyUi8OtfXMUsfxtg6rJatPU5VhjLQ4hOcLplZB_mZKkjqg8ggSsen5ju5_JbwIM9m9Ks_p__Lspzqk1FFIL01a7q_nYdUmqNqgNKb-AIcm6tfsWhAqq2MZv-mV1CLUZhhDMhy0JEc67s/s640/blogger-image-480794743.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me leading pitch 2</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitr7h6I7rlGkR8qQwEHmoLfg8GNOIakupVKqVpMS2hfa94yRmitBlyICjxphji2ETNosKWW0MqjkiE2YEEou05gQRXiSaGBrOymhyphenhyphenQCaDB0fgE8Uz0ME-2vsU6_O2qlE3FnifFcEkWVK4/s640/blogger-image-956234444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitr7h6I7rlGkR8qQwEHmoLfg8GNOIakupVKqVpMS2hfa94yRmitBlyICjxphji2ETNosKWW0MqjkiE2YEEou05gQRXiSaGBrOymhyphenhyphenQCaDB0fgE8Uz0ME-2vsU6_O2qlE3FnifFcEkWVK4/s640/blogger-image-956234444.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Suffering horrendous rope drag higher up</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We reach the summit as the light starts to go, and make a completely wild free hanging abseil down an overhanging face. I lower myself over the edge, trying not to think about the ropes sawing and grinding against the sharp rock.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirXfLA8xtbwfVTDLskdg5TQ2-BfE9mkpu_S4TmD_DTc1g8Xc2HhVmLohsy_QuMyPw9Sv5oKqTRlkXvzDUNwT5y0soM6dieuv7EPpsL2K78UCEJeNQOf9zRABfBr2YN9y30YLvofcUHKo/s640/blogger-image-330506994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirXfLA8xtbwfVTDLskdg5TQ2-BfE9mkpu_S4TmD_DTc1g8Xc2HhVmLohsy_QuMyPw9Sv5oKqTRlkXvzDUNwT5y0soM6dieuv7EPpsL2K78UCEJeNQOf9zRABfBr2YN9y30YLvofcUHKo/s640/blogger-image-330506994.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Summit of Torre Lusy, with an awesome looking peak looming in the distance</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Back at the car we eat pasta then bed down for the night. I listen to Rich snore and contemplate smothering him with a pillow. The next day we go for the south face of the Lagazuoi Piccolo, aiming for a 9 or so pitch trad route that goes straight up the massive wall. The first pitch is the crux and this time it's my lead. I follow a long corner crack, steady with loads of gear, 'til I'm perched on tip-toes on top of a narrow spike and staring in horror at the bloody hard move between me and the belay. After several abortive goes I finally manage to grovel my way up a series of rubbish holds, slobbering with terror as I crank on a loose block that nearly detaches, almost sends me plummeting back down again. It feels UK 5a at least, but then I'm crap right now so fuck knows...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_9SjFtHyjsoOsNYuf9iQszCGpeUObMVQMRNH0lMeuP8H4Z2vKD-e4azuGT49tNK8d57zkXAUkHsfPFwmfifuIYzj1t35j2P3cYIfd4KpQbusXqxaZmuWg8QhNaK9Ws4nbw-anw6EZ1c/s640/blogger-image--152411916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_9SjFtHyjsoOsNYuf9iQszCGpeUObMVQMRNH0lMeuP8H4Z2vKD-e4azuGT49tNK8d57zkXAUkHsfPFwmfifuIYzj1t35j2P3cYIfd4KpQbusXqxaZmuWg8QhNaK9Ws4nbw-anw6EZ1c/s640/blogger-image--152411916.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The south face of the Lagazuoi Piccolo</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHT3Z6NRRxuU0zVRcrs9wzVJ2PdRo7zc9p0BUIC6udLEP2faOqBuZmZWH5DpUNBB_BIU2iJNEazbzGGscGhxeKYBk5L3yFdjYM2-VLoxDivoLBN8wA5AFPE0Fz8OUOgXh27Fx8SMCIf4/s640/blogger-image-1680837702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHT3Z6NRRxuU0zVRcrs9wzVJ2PdRo7zc9p0BUIC6udLEP2faOqBuZmZWH5DpUNBB_BIU2iJNEazbzGGscGhxeKYBk5L3yFdjYM2-VLoxDivoLBN8wA5AFPE0Fz8OUOgXh27Fx8SMCIf4/s640/blogger-image-1680837702.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Easy cracks on pitch 2</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The climbing is fairly sustained but fortunately never as hard as that one move. Rich leads a crack system to a funky cave belay then I get the best pitch of the route - traversing out of the cave to a corner crack, then following massive holds across a super exposed hanging slab, an exquisite sea of rock. I enjoy it so much I even forget to feel weak and scared.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpeOvFk6BB8MHNiog1DyB0zNU55GTF4hhNJQdEsSyqwbjr8xvtxJxhKEm_EXQkKLWaboDphaAUHSRTYvR7XHnOjCY8cUoB5IS3Nmxe79Aw26Zt5IwT8wJdFIg9BqYboN3rUjnAl0eUvo/s640/blogger-image--1031861563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpeOvFk6BB8MHNiog1DyB0zNU55GTF4hhNJQdEsSyqwbjr8xvtxJxhKEm_EXQkKLWaboDphaAUHSRTYvR7XHnOjCY8cUoB5IS3Nmxe79Aw26Zt5IwT8wJdFIg9BqYboN3rUjnAl0eUvo/s640/blogger-image--1031861563.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Belay in the cave</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkv377HicSaMElamcA3Az4Y-iLOUwfPAzTc1DvLZl_1zgHe-1UZvwNcFHvMnQK4Ocy8Qd9ComS0c7Jbfs3SZvN2lz3g55VpgzLFyJCzszXGQNcCG_FP-e4O1dxIY4PpN8NJ-hy83572g/s640/blogger-image-39365817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkv377HicSaMElamcA3Az4Y-iLOUwfPAzTc1DvLZl_1zgHe-1UZvwNcFHvMnQK4Ocy8Qd9ComS0c7Jbfs3SZvN2lz3g55VpgzLFyJCzszXGQNcCG_FP-e4O1dxIY4PpN8NJ-hy83572g/s640/blogger-image-39365817.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rich following the mega slab pitch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBvli-DUDJG-kZXVcIwpsReWlKodb30_DGbbH6VmLZ07onmvBFSdMdistFr9fpfCwpjvMIgpRRsWiTliWLst6IVQY_nRhwt7WMXfYx4-dOx9dt0GO4kkXGrFsmZ148bdNqimbOcZ_vfs/s640/blogger-image--1688680771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBvli-DUDJG-kZXVcIwpsReWlKodb30_DGbbH6VmLZ07onmvBFSdMdistFr9fpfCwpjvMIgpRRsWiTliWLst6IVQY_nRhwt7WMXfYx4-dOx9dt0GO4kkXGrFsmZ148bdNqimbOcZ_vfs/s640/blogger-image--1688680771.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Piss easy bit before the second crux section</div></div><br></div>Two easy slab pitches brings us to a ledge system below the final headwall. Rich does a great job leading the second crux pitch, a grovelly wet chimney full of loose blocks and vegetation. He just about manages to squeeze through the final constriction, then it's my turn to struggle up the damn thing. Two more easy pitches and we're on top of the face. Still some way below the actual summit of the peak but this is where the route finishes, and in any case darkness is creeping in. We descend via a cool suspension bridge to more pasta and another night in the car.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJwTwY_zo0KkLR0Bp68hilJ8MhK4_dkJ9wJgzTxs9DscxF2ctnc1lGC70IVUPTU30ZfkYAoPTdlgj80qeXuo5lw6HpuCX_7rM0HIMrgzkQzQjPZ6hjhgLnYyV6uhrBBCjbuGWR-fWzXA/s640/blogger-image--53419646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJwTwY_zo0KkLR0Bp68hilJ8MhK4_dkJ9wJgzTxs9DscxF2ctnc1lGC70IVUPTU30ZfkYAoPTdlgj80qeXuo5lw6HpuCX_7rM0HIMrgzkQzQjPZ6hjhgLnYyV6uhrBBCjbuGWR-fWzXA/s640/blogger-image--53419646.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The headwall of the south face</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGXy9frtURtrX17IW6KOSGZIqcIjAhNEsDoAZJXjW4KzO0Huu7KcRl1Zlv7_wvE44-1OpCJV3ocaFLK7mzejLLnTZgohMWN3mLiIHwLJVLmUhdekuSP5AIcnZXWwjq4hnh4MH50WzrFs/s640/blogger-image--125904685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGXy9frtURtrX17IW6KOSGZIqcIjAhNEsDoAZJXjW4KzO0Huu7KcRl1Zlv7_wvE44-1OpCJV3ocaFLK7mzejLLnTZgohMWN3mLiIHwLJVLmUhdekuSP5AIcnZXWwjq4hnh4MH50WzrFs/s640/blogger-image--125904685.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Bastard chimney crack thing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOXXxgBTH6_V2VZmmukoMeNb-dKViASsLMhx9hGsaX_-s3WHh1sL5mwnAoulptjKEKdn-4T5zQV1bZW-YcvewYDhl3qg-GhDihB6WrRegfhhBLxrGJACAflnv275rnPIckk3qpiJL9amc/s640/blogger-image-236257601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOXXxgBTH6_V2VZmmukoMeNb-dKViASsLMhx9hGsaX_-s3WHh1sL5mwnAoulptjKEKdn-4T5zQV1bZW-YcvewYDhl3qg-GhDihB6WrRegfhhBLxrGJACAflnv275rnPIckk3qpiJL9amc/s640/blogger-image-236257601.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The view from the top of the route</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTFwqN1EOn_wqxy566POw8FP7TPEZJaaTbfyUI2RgumY6U6ht6XYWIwn-IUq08G4Hv90WakT3tCmZZVWzcDMX-HtchCKvepvCE-NkRyxVnVOdDMdWKHwLa4wjvaV5K1Z5145nkrZng1g/s640/blogger-image--1390320055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTFwqN1EOn_wqxy566POw8FP7TPEZJaaTbfyUI2RgumY6U6ht6XYWIwn-IUq08G4Hv90WakT3tCmZZVWzcDMX-HtchCKvepvCE-NkRyxVnVOdDMdWKHwLa4wjvaV5K1Z5145nkrZng1g/s640/blogger-image--1390320055.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On the descent</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We're both feeling a bit more comfortable with the rock and climbing style now, so we decide to step up the difficulty a bit. There's a super classic route that climbs a jagged arête up a peak called Torre Piccola di Falzarego. Every pitch is brilliant. Rich leads up a sustained bridging corner then, after getting lost and fannying around for an hour, I climb a vague crack system that eventually leads into a good old chimney, which I wedge and curse my way up. The rock is so polished I can hardly look at it in sunlight, but the gear's good enough that I'm not too bothered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGPqASGuTGSalfjWCME4KBcixdyYuEra7prEjNSRbsIjOO8DTu0I5Hj-Qfj4Sc8lg3fqBArTpG58c-A7KOJ9H052cy7JX11kZe8qZp6VD6fo6GCYXfubJKoMpDLF6V4CEUAqjoB5iEr0/s640/blogger-image--779103133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGPqASGuTGSalfjWCME4KBcixdyYuEra7prEjNSRbsIjOO8DTu0I5Hj-Qfj4Sc8lg3fqBArTpG58c-A7KOJ9H052cy7JX11kZe8qZp6VD6fo6GCYXfubJKoMpDLF6V4CEUAqjoB5iEr0/s640/blogger-image--779103133.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The razor-like arête of Torre Piccola di Falzarego</div></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPuyLhJvzs3Z206jSVPLRxicx8I61jkAR2Yjn9z9EpvDuKDQ6MHkPJA3MkomNGzWZWnMG6m6tid0fRQGzWIyOM-btuWF4VAvoDK6yFGJXX9n38iSduBERSo7sVUoXQFzeni4Le3AVvJM/s640/blogger-image-947195080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPuyLhJvzs3Z206jSVPLRxicx8I61jkAR2Yjn9z9EpvDuKDQ6MHkPJA3MkomNGzWZWnMG6m6tid0fRQGzWIyOM-btuWF4VAvoDK6yFGJXX9n38iSduBERSo7sVUoXQFzeni4Le3AVvJM/s640/blogger-image-947195080.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rich on the corner of pitch 1</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbTA8bad8U_SbrlthzT-2o9GJQ7GLFcIQjGmhFtkKC68RQbnA_OjzY2dPiMdUt48KUTyEl97SpqWJR3lneq25HxUvSp0zN7dW7QyeA8k-eWRLVauJDC3P3DWpbwgafkU3FrTmwLt2sLU/s640/blogger-image--633752722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbTA8bad8U_SbrlthzT-2o9GJQ7GLFcIQjGmhFtkKC68RQbnA_OjzY2dPiMdUt48KUTyEl97SpqWJR3lneq25HxUvSp0zN7dW7QyeA8k-eWRLVauJDC3P3DWpbwgafkU3FrTmwLt2sLU/s640/blogger-image--633752722.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A somewhat exposed hanging belay at the top of the second pitch</div><br></div>Rich leads another tough pitch, then the arête seems to lie back before us, leaving three fantastic easy pitches to the summit. We climb up juggy rock, fixed threads for gear, racing against the sun which is fast setting in the west. It's warm enough to climb in t-shirts today, but the moment the sun goes it will be freezing cold, time for down jackets and gloves.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSbOuYw-KA835vhieOlARxt_fCrr9lfF_bl_CD694CQF4Zmb8RhPhGJ4huPLiAW8X0Z4aqwFEPRGDmqBNI5udwPW54sixdPiU-Jksf6Ubk2-X9lZsCbWy2bMaX3YNjk7NWT2NHPxCTVY/s640/blogger-image-590428468.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSbOuYw-KA835vhieOlARxt_fCrr9lfF_bl_CD694CQF4Zmb8RhPhGJ4huPLiAW8X0Z4aqwFEPRGDmqBNI5udwPW54sixdPiU-Jksf6Ubk2-X9lZsCbWy2bMaX3YNjk7NWT2NHPxCTVY/s640/blogger-image-590428468.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The glorious final arête</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdbJbyAjE3vCUL9xmdfJKfsNSEwaiU8AdnYhzBG86r9LyCjuRU-oEhf-ke4ck9rawf8zzElmh_Gg-bpNXmGYv-R0qHCuC5SbPvCDP9R6PN-XqDyRxpPSC1QTkSYt0TrICH_k0lecApXM/s640/blogger-image--1772772119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdbJbyAjE3vCUL9xmdfJKfsNSEwaiU8AdnYhzBG86r9LyCjuRU-oEhf-ke4ck9rawf8zzElmh_Gg-bpNXmGYv-R0qHCuC5SbPvCDP9R6PN-XqDyRxpPSC1QTkSYt0TrICH_k0lecApXM/s640/blogger-image--1772772119.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Brilliant exposed climbing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We reach the summit just as the sun dips behind another mountain and the temperature rapidly drops. Two abseils take us into the descent gully, which we skid and scramble our way down by headtorch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirqMxH7lmcBRiiANoX9S5wtLdW3DooZexVR0MyRFIQ9mRJSDi_tr69uQIz_2ATr-n9BgzCNozzYPgHXNm-Mx_nSW2F5K2KkCSx4RtQ_FFxORvZmP4IoggugX9MNJ8JDO3L7DhN_ht7fo/s640/blogger-image--225944567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirqMxH7lmcBRiiANoX9S5wtLdW3DooZexVR0MyRFIQ9mRJSDi_tr69uQIz_2ATr-n9BgzCNozzYPgHXNm-Mx_nSW2F5K2KkCSx4RtQ_FFxORvZmP4IoggugX9MNJ8JDO3L7DhN_ht7fo/s640/blogger-image--225944567.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On the summit at sunset</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Unfortunately the next day the universe decides to bugger us royally up the arse, and we have to cut the trip short and return home early. I can't be bothered to rant about it here, so I will instead just summarise the whole thing in two short words;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">FUCK SHITALY.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-6518132295214941912015-10-18T11:47:00.001-07:002015-10-18T11:52:27.466-07:00Baggy PointLast time I went to Baggy Point I dismissed it as 'the chossiest pile of wank I've ever seen'. Two years later I'm still haunted by nightmares of the second pitch of the route 'Kinkyboots', where I didn't just find myself thinking I'd die, I actually wished for it. Just to end the vegetated guillotine flake horror of the final slab. <div><br></div><div>Against my better judgement I recently went back there to do a couple routes on the massive Long Rock Slab, and actually ended up having an awesome time. Here's a few photos of the day...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZb7rSB9eVmQSl-B5uiPKVJnsoCRraxegSOl77X8OEVdErCB44cyK2fWwjJhRLDBJALMkxkK3ZwlUB-0OgpNsqjDtYoqJc7pAH35qO4rlUpqUzUMdvkw_HxUnWHFDDE7_ACZSD6oSrF3g/s640/blogger-image-1321028972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZb7rSB9eVmQSl-B5uiPKVJnsoCRraxegSOl77X8OEVdErCB44cyK2fWwjJhRLDBJALMkxkK3ZwlUB-0OgpNsqjDtYoqJc7pAH35qO4rlUpqUzUMdvkw_HxUnWHFDDE7_ACZSD6oSrF3g/s640/blogger-image-1321028972.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sketchy approach 'path' to the Long Rock</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgTAbj_3dmBkYAT5mn9PIHQWZRbPYujkb3Mkzhuhu7Km8CF_AXYdalPZlPSWgPgMZbnCHDGAEDfoFubYj3Ix-RoKYYi23ThU7HARo98A6uQr1tNK62vEzKFv_V31SzAPK74Bb_DEZCbk/s640/blogger-image--1101899748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgTAbj_3dmBkYAT5mn9PIHQWZRbPYujkb3Mkzhuhu7Km8CF_AXYdalPZlPSWgPgMZbnCHDGAEDfoFubYj3Ix-RoKYYi23ThU7HARo98A6uQr1tNK62vEzKFv_V31SzAPK74Bb_DEZCbk/s640/blogger-image--1101899748.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The rope was just short enough to not quite reach past the really scary bit</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwQvHLL8yir_Lr3YLGFRvvqNiwID0OJQAR3h_fRcwbt_4MbCbSdY5ONDX9TF6I9ElBkiShs11rXif6tSLLBUFJLKE_kl32dziI2Yc2hFlC3cBkFCPI45eqYOtzftv8XXFWGRLIoYt8D4/s640/blogger-image-399899855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwQvHLL8yir_Lr3YLGFRvvqNiwID0OJQAR3h_fRcwbt_4MbCbSdY5ONDX9TF6I9ElBkiShs11rXif6tSLLBUFJLKE_kl32dziI2Yc2hFlC3cBkFCPI45eqYOtzftv8XXFWGRLIoYt8D4/s640/blogger-image-399899855.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">More bloody slabs</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6aG6yVR5kHM9uvPhKQtlsvn8Vns1UB4s07uknVHa60OKVyKnistd0Eg3DbXlY4g6lYKC3bruM2OLR8TVzCXMViGegNYK1YFw3xVQnMpEF6Rgqv4h7YNi6vO7PFzV5gaKR3endFupFG1U/s640/blogger-image--1415939888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6aG6yVR5kHM9uvPhKQtlsvn8Vns1UB4s07uknVHa60OKVyKnistd0Eg3DbXlY4g6lYKC3bruM2OLR8TVzCXMViGegNYK1YFw3xVQnMpEF6Rgqv4h7YNi6vO7PFzV5gaKR3endFupFG1U/s640/blogger-image--1415939888.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The awesome Long Rock</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgERCgWzdmORB1dqM20W0U-XcSdSDWkKY4jYqBZ4w5-9DIvZkqPY68KXP_PZ-iFuvFLE3gbholVdqVZHmQ3juXGEHV7HUaVFauTAlfDurdC0AYObC4T5GtSq-PwBHXLLDLFHUGxg6gDg/s640/blogger-image--684540144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgERCgWzdmORB1dqM20W0U-XcSdSDWkKY4jYqBZ4w5-9DIvZkqPY68KXP_PZ-iFuvFLE3gbholVdqVZHmQ3juXGEHV7HUaVFauTAlfDurdC0AYObC4T5GtSq-PwBHXLLDLFHUGxg6gDg/s640/blogger-image--684540144.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">45m abseil to the ledge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lVfV737CDjqr40xOCoSX0TzWGGjeGuQ4nbJ7li8Tn_Zk0HFdzXl6H8yd0QJngu0Ya0PVX5D4EEerExR88OqIW6xqb-F6IX1MjRKXzCtwKyNc0Vj4PIyxWaHqxkc1SmYqleQbVXv5NUg/s640/blogger-image-893316778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lVfV737CDjqr40xOCoSX0TzWGGjeGuQ4nbJ7li8Tn_Zk0HFdzXl6H8yd0QJngu0Ya0PVX5D4EEerExR88OqIW6xqb-F6IX1MjRKXzCtwKyNc0Vj4PIyxWaHqxkc1SmYqleQbVXv5NUg/s640/blogger-image-893316778.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Funky ab in</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNKjJgypom1cVsOvpobPrUrZFmx634DdjPu9SeEaJeW-0ePBVw-8Y9dpQrfDDptMtOHoLAKT18inDuqDPxOkp9uLJReoEfxpk6uwQ6tgEJWAHFhao_nRjI2um53Pu3MOMn28NPbZ78EA/s640/blogger-image--1466280282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNKjJgypom1cVsOvpobPrUrZFmx634DdjPu9SeEaJeW-0ePBVw-8Y9dpQrfDDptMtOHoLAKT18inDuqDPxOkp9uLJReoEfxpk6uwQ6tgEJWAHFhao_nRjI2um53Pu3MOMn28NPbZ78EA/s640/blogger-image--1466280282.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me leading Shangri-la</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh64iLYNtYY8JMFKPahCwFY5v0RwunAIZ0tNLhhNLJRjqIPWgUwYno8O-_SBM9sRbe3Y5wABngud9Zt6AN_KljgCXMzF0DTTBEESgstaDgTpq4n5m_cwHCxml1goO4KuzUVITZPUoCL6SQ/s640/blogger-image--853881479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh64iLYNtYY8JMFKPahCwFY5v0RwunAIZ0tNLhhNLJRjqIPWgUwYno8O-_SBM9sRbe3Y5wABngud9Zt6AN_KljgCXMzF0DTTBEESgstaDgTpq4n5m_cwHCxml1goO4KuzUVITZPUoCL6SQ/s640/blogger-image--853881479.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back down the route from the belay</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwzJ0-77RgLJ3LnA9kz7PplEoeA833NWyZ2pmmw9PQMmuphn_m70tmh16-72SGbrDNOTGO9DVOHxVT3ZsBgLDJimNgS0je6WfvsyUb3ME5XyEA3kBvOLfopP4CyKbllgWDCQ5zM5YYAo/s640/blogger-image--147440674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwzJ0-77RgLJ3LnA9kz7PplEoeA833NWyZ2pmmw9PQMmuphn_m70tmh16-72SGbrDNOTGO9DVOHxVT3ZsBgLDJimNgS0je6WfvsyUb3ME5XyEA3kBvOLfopP4CyKbllgWDCQ5zM5YYAo/s640/blogger-image--147440674.jpg"></a></div>Pat seconding the fluffy but still brilliant upper crack</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqahlrD03pogCKyJq9ZOyAKMvMtIK9I7BRU6GMG2r3V2CutXDfIymNP0DG0d_-F21tcQJ8ZoRGclY-wtQ3NxkpaSGUVJQLS7apAZqk7dOLk3YJjcGFhkW4TLqqtGYs68B911TmrvP-QiI/s640/blogger-image-41101374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqahlrD03pogCKyJq9ZOyAKMvMtIK9I7BRU6GMG2r3V2CutXDfIymNP0DG0d_-F21tcQJ8ZoRGclY-wtQ3NxkpaSGUVJQLS7apAZqk7dOLk3YJjcGFhkW4TLqqtGYs68B911TmrvP-QiI/s640/blogger-image-41101374.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Posing on the finishing blocks</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3RjFhZvxikFELBE2ock3O5dLqXBg4gADqyWNRDoiNQmbEQpW2e-y1UKq6XibPx_FjdLKG1SW0smrTHd03PYt2AEAb-PeDJSk2rlDG6JQXO2ELTYrYODIBWz5eAgiGxh-phFrUmnYAhm0/s640/blogger-image-1144274491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3RjFhZvxikFELBE2ock3O5dLqXBg4gADqyWNRDoiNQmbEQpW2e-y1UKq6XibPx_FjdLKG1SW0smrTHd03PYt2AEAb-PeDJSk2rlDG6JQXO2ELTYrYODIBWz5eAgiGxh-phFrUmnYAhm0/s640/blogger-image-1144274491.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The mega crack line of Lost Horizon</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDVaE8ZEcQEx1GZ3l3vv32I2Ai_esv-CMChCz94x2kURaBQXJ-QWLsYJUGBePQH9jBpEx7KK5NMTFFA-70JktLEtM88At3FAApf2fufgmMSXXcptMLPwyh5G5B5k4eGMykjxDWfRJx30/s640/blogger-image--632046169.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDVaE8ZEcQEx1GZ3l3vv32I2Ai_esv-CMChCz94x2kURaBQXJ-QWLsYJUGBePQH9jBpEx7KK5NMTFFA-70JktLEtM88At3FAApf2fufgmMSXXcptMLPwyh5G5B5k4eGMykjxDWfRJx30/s640/blogger-image--632046169.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat psyched for the big lead</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMk56WSPZC35UzBxNikruMjwNkxs2b9y15plWrkGSoSdK3EnsKItLk5vLUtLLhQB2MhNRaCY00zO1F_07gZ12gnhULmWOxsJQ2iuJ8_AqcuF-K1IwSis_TfLy4AU3sjSTIjGHkhBAb64/s640/blogger-image--1121648508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMk56WSPZC35UzBxNikruMjwNkxs2b9y15plWrkGSoSdK3EnsKItLk5vLUtLLhQB2MhNRaCY00zO1F_07gZ12gnhULmWOxsJQ2iuJ8_AqcuF-K1IwSis_TfLy4AU3sjSTIjGHkhBAb64/s640/blogger-image--1121648508.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat shitting himself</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0qRmu02wTDTGPmgQhgkzwGSFGk2iNK0qgISuUzOgQTbSIzYV3-h1ol0mEnf6nxpZpGsANa9fxZoLLcny_j_9UVwuCZHkUVTLMUaWfUv8UYvReRBLEMUMsxOopWqWMvfHp2n2juPMKi8/s640/blogger-image--176285747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0qRmu02wTDTGPmgQhgkzwGSFGk2iNK0qgISuUzOgQTbSIzYV3-h1ol0mEnf6nxpZpGsANa9fxZoLLcny_j_9UVwuCZHkUVTLMUaWfUv8UYvReRBLEMUMsxOopWqWMvfHp2n2juPMKi8/s640/blogger-image--176285747.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat shitting himself</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs20XjK2DxiC5EVsMqcxZIZQiSjYhkB0KtVBV_4Kz9ObdiJaVv6xVa0kv4uOVCTq-VGpvuLiBdUAD1YG0_HsRgQY6h_vrU98nbV5h5nMUdaaDYB7lM5ZG50WSd-BHnaTpBmYhphxMAm_M/s640/blogger-image-733348992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs20XjK2DxiC5EVsMqcxZIZQiSjYhkB0KtVBV_4Kz9ObdiJaVv6xVa0kv4uOVCTq-VGpvuLiBdUAD1YG0_HsRgQY6h_vrU98nbV5h5nMUdaaDYB7lM5ZG50WSd-BHnaTpBmYhphxMAm_M/s640/blogger-image-733348992.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat shitting himself</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLHDC9UiYbyi5fO_b8libsMnRK5kTpaphRtZdnzh5DCTppmtIYTz3G5JEls6KrWqAdg9fdQ5gvvfXLZqledmlC6_uEvdMGMoah6Q6PvS0v5wRq72ivek3Y3_eP7HAOb1jeiDANIlA528/s640/blogger-image--945444104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLHDC9UiYbyi5fO_b8libsMnRK5kTpaphRtZdnzh5DCTppmtIYTz3G5JEls6KrWqAdg9fdQ5gvvfXLZqledmlC6_uEvdMGMoah6Q6PvS0v5wRq72ivek3Y3_eP7HAOb1jeiDANIlA528/s640/blogger-image--945444104.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Finally at the top (but still probably shitting himself)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSREVxLOGVx8l2VuAnCmdpG96OfenwO74LOuYSXWJXHaIUcNlZVENTwY_Pf6MJz0091PNImR5OkWKM0jG_fGCLMStQuifk4vCQen_-PcytOV4FZ-WeUQHuGcH_QM4pYLWScmReCZoQ97g/s640/blogger-image-363536522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSREVxLOGVx8l2VuAnCmdpG96OfenwO74LOuYSXWJXHaIUcNlZVENTwY_Pf6MJz0091PNImR5OkWKM0jG_fGCLMStQuifk4vCQen_-PcytOV4FZ-WeUQHuGcH_QM4pYLWScmReCZoQ97g/s640/blogger-image-363536522.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Long old pitch</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3r8jlOIstuqQJMhN76vTD0ESIkQYrWFkkmUpgvDK5XP2EYfN4-rW0sraOcPCEQ7CfwN6RaAD9IVkw395oludh_lHtyJHpQL3Ggd5UTfqn2FiWlQLatNOLiI__0ptWGyjRMux2_WrkCZs/s640/blogger-image-158583595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3r8jlOIstuqQJMhN76vTD0ESIkQYrWFkkmUpgvDK5XP2EYfN4-rW0sraOcPCEQ7CfwN6RaAD9IVkw395oludh_lHtyJHpQL3Ggd5UTfqn2FiWlQLatNOLiI__0ptWGyjRMux2_WrkCZs/s640/blogger-image-158583595.jpg"></a></div>Me seconding just before the sustained foot wedge section</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqEEa9pT5BXcrBr2yGrLrR2LpgwqXEo3LZpQLDrmxrx27Zi_dvDVVrQ66GvPkNN_ra5ybPfYZ1T6YU2YjxCRlrlOE7O25E88zVSzQEs6MBIGVnIGCx9qVVgBCPP2E9b16ivklDEkgXrD0/s640/blogger-image-1063549504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqEEa9pT5BXcrBr2yGrLrR2LpgwqXEo3LZpQLDrmxrx27Zi_dvDVVrQ66GvPkNN_ra5ybPfYZ1T6YU2YjxCRlrlOE7O25E88zVSzQEs6MBIGVnIGCx9qVVgBCPP2E9b16ivklDEkgXrD0/s640/blogger-image-1063549504.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Spike belay at the top</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdY3HBkSsK_A24Xx7NldCQN5BstCaqTCWjYpySxZHNUZLq0swHSd-qr7W8B3mKB_YorxFOnsztXwxQ-pm-bnTuoGBMWFA9h5uOuh3gj4L2B1oCXUh4QX2UBemhzafvFqXE552jQx45faQ/s640/blogger-image--1733259768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdY3HBkSsK_A24Xx7NldCQN5BstCaqTCWjYpySxZHNUZLq0swHSd-qr7W8B3mKB_YorxFOnsztXwxQ-pm-bnTuoGBMWFA9h5uOuh3gj4L2B1oCXUh4QX2UBemhzafvFqXE552jQx45faQ/s640/blogger-image--1733259768.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back towards the promontory from Woolacombe</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-24261761539415781032015-09-30T23:11:00.001-07:002015-10-02T23:36:16.529-07:00LLiweddThree tired, grumpy blokes bickering and moaning their way up the biggest mountain face in Wales...<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTAOGZJ9zXntMpNajzPrdQxMW7iBxZBEGG3uncn4qFI5nVSjuHhE2WHOLWjFWVdmB8G5KcvXBoYZXtCQzku7Q3MloIwLzDd03eCFY1xHu3mfxGGn6zY9uHjhCcUxQ_mYS77K79NC8l1AY/s640/blogger-image-1162527453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTAOGZJ9zXntMpNajzPrdQxMW7iBxZBEGG3uncn4qFI5nVSjuHhE2WHOLWjFWVdmB8G5KcvXBoYZXtCQzku7Q3MloIwLzDd03eCFY1xHu3mfxGGn6zY9uHjhCcUxQ_mYS77K79NC8l1AY/s640/blogger-image-1162527453.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The north face of LLiwedd</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RLBCsXumJhqQTq_vt_a6CMk6gWr7OGhLw2ZoDTOJc_eoQqG1OgihyS6zsCBaNjH_aJVxlbvRcuc07DovMToBukaLUXY9DEQpEM03ZIjKE5KiVZZrLpVFlhjUPcW_vIpqmI-Gf3xrk0g/s640/blogger-image-1551842168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RLBCsXumJhqQTq_vt_a6CMk6gWr7OGhLw2ZoDTOJc_eoQqG1OgihyS6zsCBaNjH_aJVxlbvRcuc07DovMToBukaLUXY9DEQpEM03ZIjKE5KiVZZrLpVFlhjUPcW_vIpqmI-Gf3xrk0g/s640/blogger-image-1551842168.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Shit hot climbing team</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples, Rich and I all slept in our cars the night before, then wearily slogged up the road from the Cromlech layby to Pen-y-Pass. Because fuck paying a tenner for parking. We then briefly joined the masses swarming up the Miner's Track before cutting off round the other side of the lake and wading through bogs and scree slopes towards the bottom of the crag.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy1qYPITvtf7gUHbCFToZVX5qBsumagRm-o7_eFOFLjqVCSbYamgVUQ8JeZb1vjErY2BEQTYhxkyIr1APDIJxfD34t7Nh2C_1eyUcizipaeSn-GZhDhmfWIRYeioHVjWkedTuLXixvJBU/s640/blogger-image-750380242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy1qYPITvtf7gUHbCFToZVX5qBsumagRm-o7_eFOFLjqVCSbYamgVUQ8JeZb1vjErY2BEQTYhxkyIr1APDIJxfD34t7Nh2C_1eyUcizipaeSn-GZhDhmfWIRYeioHVjWkedTuLXixvJBU/s640/blogger-image-750380242.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The start of 300m of rambling, vegetated choss</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I led the first pitch. It was soaking wet, utterly miserable, and I wondered if it was going to be like this all the way to the summit. If so the other bastards could lead the rest of it. I'd already done this route a couple years ago, although my memory of it proved to be slightly less than completely useless.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLdK92vEspj8Ik5GXhTD1hOhlJzv8Lp2_3ibBJ2uNaC14niYHUsMYW3xFT1DGW9xCErP-LEbSxUv6icaoHTnC8MVjN4l3c2lfvsmkHb2aWbdvjGPQWp1B1IyadAkZZWneTTIL2VXF8Aw/s640/blogger-image--2107728260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLdK92vEspj8Ik5GXhTD1hOhlJzv8Lp2_3ibBJ2uNaC14niYHUsMYW3xFT1DGW9xCErP-LEbSxUv6icaoHTnC8MVjN4l3c2lfvsmkHb2aWbdvjGPQWp1B1IyadAkZZWneTTIL2VXF8Aw/s640/blogger-image--2107728260.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Gardening my way up pitch 1</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNjlP8klDkE7-1RPgk0naGOVpUbQ6qBvKaYZJhTobyxgxNGJasPcsdLVrPfhU1HkbAb64f-qsll6dXUOkiTtsjLxs312TK8Nju1cWygC5tvbq9vCpnpyYXO4Jyd6g8OW6PThh9XKJPCw/s640/blogger-image--2100717719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNjlP8klDkE7-1RPgk0naGOVpUbQ6qBvKaYZJhTobyxgxNGJasPcsdLVrPfhU1HkbAb64f-qsll6dXUOkiTtsjLxs312TK8Nju1cWygC5tvbq9vCpnpyYXO4Jyd6g8OW6PThh9XKJPCw/s640/blogger-image--2100717719.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Only 11 pitches more to go, then we can just drink whiskey in the layby...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples led the next pitch, a vague rising traverse with bugger all gear, and belayed in the wrong place. We think. The route finding was very confusing, everything looked the same. We hung off a spike of rock, squinting at the guidebook, arguing about where to go next. Rich was next to lead so we just shoved the gear at him and told him it was his bloody problem.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwlhug75uEX8Hs1wPfoljCv4Wpx8gXbAFWT7G7o5_rKy-dwGGDg648JbDMt1pEUKgqIx4ZGSbaiAdSyNt46cW2Fwgx3Kn7-0tGaUejOoqy2VMr83iVOltrxWHMccXmeDnlMmZZoR8B3zI/s640/blogger-image--1943355294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwlhug75uEX8Hs1wPfoljCv4Wpx8gXbAFWT7G7o5_rKy-dwGGDg648JbDMt1pEUKgqIx4ZGSbaiAdSyNt46cW2Fwgx3Kn7-0tGaUejOoqy2VMr83iVOltrxWHMccXmeDnlMmZZoR8B3zI/s640/blogger-image--1943355294.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pitch 2</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Mw5rVo4ypGh2BwYYTVJXnjFV0ogQG58p3zdCexbnHZijDveq5XJREGMP1AoZM8B1XsPQ2ea-4-0q2LoHU-q20rhyfre6Kyhey_0V2kj4p2mYiPaMXtNYxyU6HZdth3jdGL1Xi5_gktM/s640/blogger-image-502547253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Mw5rVo4ypGh2BwYYTVJXnjFV0ogQG58p3zdCexbnHZijDveq5XJREGMP1AoZM8B1XsPQ2ea-4-0q2LoHU-q20rhyfre6Kyhey_0V2kj4p2mYiPaMXtNYxyU6HZdth3jdGL1Xi5_gktM/s640/blogger-image-502547253.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fat Git Morris goes the wrong way on pitch 3</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rich climbed up to a band of quartzy rock, where we told him to go right. So he went left. Apparently the rock was loose the way the guidebook said. It was loose his way as well, but at least the climbing was harder and the protection worse.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6K6suPx-VCyIq9XEGY_JFh4CmEAEXK2QwdKbYDl7Ht_ZzPTo7CEgTtkYFGk4puaA3Hourlx434-ZXWys9IWKizkPaEOKwaCCrweuLi0gwcSae0oCBFJwym1R4Uido-C8EeYn7QYz33M/s640/blogger-image--1087827441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6K6suPx-VCyIq9XEGY_JFh4CmEAEXK2QwdKbYDl7Ht_ZzPTo7CEgTtkYFGk4puaA3Hourlx434-ZXWys9IWKizkPaEOKwaCCrweuLi0gwcSae0oCBFJwym1R4Uido-C8EeYn7QYz33M/s640/blogger-image--1087827441.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hanging belay god knows where</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTv-vP5TIsGexP7tfiaogjUP6MX-4mvLf56tL5OlMaEXpSnGGZewshViy_sEuGi9_9dQMVe8ehiI_XgMlU24lTaGHvR3APqCXQdyM40P2DPrC1UTgA2F9b3cFK64Wwfo6_vtS2R-WeH1I/s640/blogger-image--2105771670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTv-vP5TIsGexP7tfiaogjUP6MX-4mvLf56tL5OlMaEXpSnGGZewshViy_sEuGi9_9dQMVe8ehiI_XgMlU24lTaGHvR3APqCXQdyM40P2DPrC1UTgA2F9b3cFK64Wwfo6_vtS2R-WeH1I/s640/blogger-image--2105771670.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back down the approach valley</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The face was now more broken above us. Our target was a big ledge system about halfway up, and as long as we reached this it didn't really matter how we got there. So I ran out a full 60m rope length up easy climbing and belayed below the start of a section called the Red Wall. Here the climbing would get harder and harder all the way to the top. Wonderful.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCu1Q9SH3aUy6LBDkKMkmZfQeXYOTtHkj-Y_1lyImF7qDVgRUJ8gxNNSwYms0Bw5QdHY1KIUVGJGAkopxNmcYZrXEOwPjFk9F7Q71Zp4foUAOXzfuDWUjZAoPac56dRmwdCmMY2LLg-_8/s640/blogger-image--1579112816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCu1Q9SH3aUy6LBDkKMkmZfQeXYOTtHkj-Y_1lyImF7qDVgRUJ8gxNNSwYms0Bw5QdHY1KIUVGJGAkopxNmcYZrXEOwPjFk9F7Q71Zp4foUAOXzfuDWUjZAoPac56dRmwdCmMY2LLg-_8/s640/blogger-image--1579112816.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Belay at the base of Red Wall</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples led the next bit, which was probably the second hardest section of the whole route. We followed a series of small foot edges up a slabby rib, hands clutching ineffectively at the absence of holds. I slipped off like the sack of shit I am, and only just managed to catch myself on a crappy hold, much to the other pricks amusement. We regrouped on a very constricted ledge, encouraging each other with a never ending stream of childish, sarcastic abuse. The team behind us probably thought us a right pack of obnoxious twats.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA7uFlAGQUYkAkhHspP6uDxOYanfURK6oah76GeEBR8iQgnZ0-RLNKQpYqsDr0egVdMLinxgVycFcqbXFFFpxK_LllZlSlP7JHr0RrXuevYM-C-jsu47cey6IQtxZMKzQorIV0rZ-R4Gw/s640/blogger-image-32502235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA7uFlAGQUYkAkhHspP6uDxOYanfURK6oah76GeEBR8iQgnZ0-RLNKQpYqsDr0egVdMLinxgVycFcqbXFFFpxK_LllZlSlP7JHr0RrXuevYM-C-jsu47cey6IQtxZMKzQorIV0rZ-R4Gw/s640/blogger-image-32502235.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples leading Red Wall</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4REkAzl_Zd6RfiSAyAH-sEMKruYXqpVzR_s_X-52Nl_kBwz0wMVxhy62hqxtRy1s5UVECLxEiYxEEgwPJSsPxB4ZAsrUAe_42DUgwSmY1nl9SBPakaNM85HOYlbn8POQu75g-Pw3vm4Q/s640/blogger-image-273018141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4REkAzl_Zd6RfiSAyAH-sEMKruYXqpVzR_s_X-52Nl_kBwz0wMVxhy62hqxtRy1s5UVECLxEiYxEEgwPJSsPxB4ZAsrUAe_42DUgwSmY1nl9SBPakaNM85HOYlbn8POQu75g-Pw3vm4Q/s640/blogger-image-273018141.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Making a moderately tricky move look completely nails</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rich led the next bit, then I took off up this slabby arête, running out another 60m pitch to reach a belay below the final, hardest part of the whole climb, a tricky slab with lots of tiny little edges and not much gear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaRZ0cpbTOcJiCwZ2Cqnjgt5PhSKdGH4jv-uE5duuubnHODb2gyN-lXGtdoxIW0zTHUsrzessoNN24BlvEbQHLmChyiFSxch_RfiBmX9SRlisSPJyw_wsOrSy3HW42sUljkmkRKqb_YI/s640/blogger-image-1411772417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaRZ0cpbTOcJiCwZ2Cqnjgt5PhSKdGH4jv-uE5duuubnHODb2gyN-lXGtdoxIW0zTHUsrzessoNN24BlvEbQHLmChyiFSxch_RfiBmX9SRlisSPJyw_wsOrSy3HW42sUljkmkRKqb_YI/s640/blogger-image-1411772417.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Me following Rich's final lead</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1doqM20N7dxJ3lq2Uc5y3Y56_oVL03ENXw1Fk8xlLdj0Lk8JUKpFajRakmZ7N5af54GDXgud9D6m4an0LswY1EJniT6V5vemnOU3vv3ihVL8p8_46r-rOyRGv-DENGlTvDxOziQUQeE/s640/blogger-image-484773756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1doqM20N7dxJ3lq2Uc5y3Y56_oVL03ENXw1Fk8xlLdj0Lk8JUKpFajRakmZ7N5af54GDXgud9D6m4an0LswY1EJniT6V5vemnOU3vv3ihVL8p8_46r-rOyRGv-DENGlTvDxOziQUQeE/s640/blogger-image-484773756.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fun slab pitch near the top</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples once again set off on lead, Rich and I being a pair of weak, spineless cowards, and soon he found himself perched on some disconcertingly small footholds some way above his last runner. Some final insecure moves led him to the top, us bastards on the ledge taking the piss the whole time. I'm surprised he didn't just untie the ropes, chuck them down, and leave us to it. I probably would've done.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-azZWEiKEfXjxb0AZsr06oqEij1khNO2JPx63gJO5a9qYue8uu99J8KRR2F5dMzrvLWnIwF5s9o_WgPg-YaN5omYI05cHdeYiC9B_zqAiA4oIgZi1Z5LlNmptfcI_rB2pCWNoJzAGLw/s640/blogger-image-828935013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-azZWEiKEfXjxb0AZsr06oqEij1khNO2JPx63gJO5a9qYue8uu99J8KRR2F5dMzrvLWnIwF5s9o_WgPg-YaN5omYI05cHdeYiC9B_zqAiA4oIgZi1Z5LlNmptfcI_rB2pCWNoJzAGLw/s640/blogger-image-828935013.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just as Staples reaches the hard bit, we strike up a jolly discussion about his sister</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRU_mTa8ocPnS6T7bTYMAG3dQCzhjzfA4jZ1sljM2Jj_c7tuy-ycfR2-q39L7kKViF_yolbeHK936Vl6onuZ3ySJh_WDXZVhxb1EWiDSnFoorHwY1DYogiGyniaHKvGL8uHO4KKoaZDsc/s640/blogger-image--723619646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRU_mTa8ocPnS6T7bTYMAG3dQCzhjzfA4jZ1sljM2Jj_c7tuy-ycfR2-q39L7kKViF_yolbeHK936Vl6onuZ3ySJh_WDXZVhxb1EWiDSnFoorHwY1DYogiGyniaHKvGL8uHO4KKoaZDsc/s640/blogger-image--723619646.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking towards the summit of Snowdon from the top of LLiwedd</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Soon enough we were all on top, stuffing our gear back into packs and beginning the long trudge back to the car. At one point Rich became so overwhelmed with laughter he had to sit down for several minutes, wheezing and slobbering like an old dog being put down. I can't even remember what we were talking about. Wanking I think.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahnFG-7y4yMdast6tlnGHfGx0rAIoeVdUxnY4Hbl9_iBTgWaOi58FNWeB9uQavzxDYHdnu477ElYRnxQXA8NY87JTsuhesmF8c5zZIrkGrI14f-WfYknPJcDPlrDsTbLnLjPdVATsIO0/s640/blogger-image-1668130549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahnFG-7y4yMdast6tlnGHfGx0rAIoeVdUxnY4Hbl9_iBTgWaOi58FNWeB9uQavzxDYHdnu477ElYRnxQXA8NY87JTsuhesmF8c5zZIrkGrI14f-WfYknPJcDPlrDsTbLnLjPdVATsIO0/s640/blogger-image-1668130549.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thank fuck that's over, now where's the nearest pub?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6pyiO0HfloQUVanJaqtJEv0p5KkgXHeX5hK9YHAorX8Vb64sXgg_Yh-59asd30GzaEvFO1SzRIUbkL-3rFRb-lUm62Z6yYihQ39OnC9yDABtkChO3juRZuyUmcm0HBDzSOBHcYQaDDQ/s640/blogger-image--32306593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6pyiO0HfloQUVanJaqtJEv0p5KkgXHeX5hK9YHAorX8Vb64sXgg_Yh-59asd30GzaEvFO1SzRIUbkL-3rFRb-lUm62Z6yYihQ39OnC9yDABtkChO3juRZuyUmcm0HBDzSOBHcYQaDDQ/s640/blogger-image--32306593.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">FISTING! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And on that note....</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-34866338899515899862015-08-09T02:15:00.001-07:002015-08-09T10:14:54.835-07:00Re-writing Yorkshire Climbing History<div>A couple of quick highlights from my recent Yorkshire road trip. In each case I found the guidebook descriptions to be completely wrong, and have made the relevant adjustments below. You're welcome.</div><div><b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></b></div><div><b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Great Western HVS 5a - Almscliff</b></div><div><br></div><div>One of the all-time classic routes of the country. The guidebook will tell you to climb the obvious corner crack, hand traverse the horizontal break into a niche, then finish up the exposed right hand crack to the top. This is wrong. What you must actually do is this;</div><div><br></div><div>Climb the corner crack, as per the guide, then at it's top place a nut. Fail to adequately extend this runner because rope drag is fun. Then, commit to the hand traverse and get pumped fiddling around with a cam placement. Continue scuttling sideways to where an obvious line of huge jugs lead up into the beckoning niche. Ignore this unsporting cop out. Instead you must continue traversing leftwards, on ever-worsening holds and foot smears, into the horrendously overhanging jamming crack of Western Front (E3).</div><div><br></div><div>Gaze rightward in horror at the now distant cam that is your last piece of protection. Note the ground crunching pendulum fall you will take when your knackered arms eventually give up and let go. Shriek hysterically at your belayer. This is his fault. It's the guidebooks fault. It's everyone's fault but yours. With the very last bit of strength you have, wedge in a cam, any cam, and slump onto it. By now your bitter tears should be cascading nicely down the rock to the ground below. Lower off, sulk, then climb the route correctly. Belly flop onto the summit a broken shell of a man. Congratulations, you've just ticked a classic!</div><div><br></div><div><b>The Diedre E2 5b - Kilnsey</b></div><div><br></div><div>A compelling and traditional route, tackling the striking corner line. The easiest climb on the crag. The guidebook will tell you it is soft for the grade. In the same way that water is technically 'soft', right up to the moment you fall hundreds of feet onto it, and explode into lots of little red pieces.</div><div><br></div><div>Pitch 1, 5a. Climb the corner via a series of hollow blocks that have no visible attachment to the cliff itself. Protection is placed behind these blocks. Falling off will inevitably cause the whole lot to come tumbling down with you underneath. Every hold that looks good from below will be terrible, and every hold that looks terrible in fact does not exist. When the corner steepens, make irreversible moves onto the vegetated right hand wall. Spend a long time getting desperately pumped gardening for holds you will never find. The various flowers and tufts of grass will poke you repeatedly in the face until your every orifice is dribbling mucus. Blinded by hayfeaver make the final grovelling moves to what the guidebook hilariously refers to as 'a ledge'.</div><div><br></div><div>Discover that the ledge in question is an inch wide foot rail on an otherwise vertical rock face. Here you must build a hanging belay. Spend a good hour poking wires into flared seams and cracks behind loose blocks, resisting the growing urge to get your belayer to phone for a helicopter. When you eventually find something vaguely solid you will have no choice but to trust your full weight upon it. Should this fail, see the previous comment regarding an avalanche of plummeting rock with<i> </i>in-situ climber.</div><div><br></div><div>You are now dangling helplessly from an equalised cluster of directional pieces. Bring up your second into this unfolding nightmare. </div><div><br></div><div>Pitch 2, 5b. The hard bit. You will not be able to see the leader once he has cleared the initial bulge. Blindly feed out rope and hope he doesn't fall off. Once he reaches the top it is your turn. Dismantle the belay and climb up to a steep corner. Ignore the obvious stack of juggy blocks because they all move, and will all detach from the cliff and hit you in the face should you so much as breathe upon them. Instead burrow upwards on the absence of holds into a hanging tree. Get scratched to ribbons as you prune your way higher. Here a steep crack leads around an overhang, the first of many cruxes. Commit to a desperate layback sequence, get stuck, pull every muscle in your left arm, then fall off. Dangle in space kicking the rock and saying the word 'cunt' over and over again.</div><div><br></div><div>Eventually pull through to a good hold, and contemplate a desperate rising traverse left to reach a tree. Execute the hardest boulder problem known to man to reach said tree, and discover the final and most evil test of them all. You must now traverse back right to regain the corner. However there is no protection against a pendulum fall, thus cocking it up will result in you catapulting into the right hand wall of the corner and probably breaking all your ribs. Burrow deeper into the foliage of your haven. Consider starting a new life as a tree dwelling creature, living off rainwater and bark.</div><div><br></div><div>Here your climbing partner must either mollycoddle or shame you into committing to the traverse. A series of nerve-shattering moves on holds that will never be good enough may lead you at last to the sanctuary of the corner. Finish easily to finally reach the top, beset with agony and mental trauma. Give up climbing and/or kill yourself. </div><div><br></div><div><b>Every single fucking route on the crag - Malham Cove</b></div><div><br></div><div>Polished to buggery, upside-down holds, and it's all way too fucking difficult anyway. Go to the pub instead you useless fat shit.</div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-38433726713879864532015-07-26T13:16:00.001-07:002015-07-27T10:00:47.678-07:00The RoachesI'm going to fucking smash it this trip. Yeah I was climbing like a sack of shite in Wales last weekend, but that was then, and when has anything good ever happened in Wales anyway? Nah this is going to be awesome, it's gritstone. I'm great on gritstone. I only fell off Flying Buttress Direct once.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju47Tr0mKgTo-pNp1pFTKQVCJj22g1iaSF6bueJXZLwp7aui7iNKV_iYPRu7npkACU3gjqluioK9E0883NimdiCkdCYtdj73wHQ-xKFhfzo1H2nrFCRAXUgzWMbEWk2AJ-fLQ1F2RKjUY/s640/blogger-image-1086225953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju47Tr0mKgTo-pNp1pFTKQVCJj22g1iaSF6bueJXZLwp7aui7iNKV_iYPRu7npkACU3gjqluioK9E0883NimdiCkdCYtdj73wHQ-xKFhfzo1H2nrFCRAXUgzWMbEWk2AJ-fLQ1F2RKjUY/s640/blogger-image-1086225953.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">International Climbing Superstars</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Crawling down the M6 in heavy rain and traffic, god I wish all these pricks would just fuck off and let us get to the crag already. Pat's driving, I'm knocking back the beers. Finally we arrive at the Roaches. After bunging all the gear in the hut and meeting all the others we hike round the crag to check out some routes by headtorch. Elegy. Commander Energy. E2s. I was a million miles away from E2 in Wales, but like I said, who gives a shit about that? Raining all the fucking time. It never rains in the Peak District does it? I'm a bit pissed now. I tell everyone that I'll be leading all these nails hard routes tomorrow, I'm sure they're well impressed, and rightly so. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Back to the hut, more beers, fucking hell I can't wait...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSA49B4dx9FjhsBK7csJ-dARfcepYH5bTC71NGo676wg82gaZVMxfb5hnA8pnov4jkT3je2nGuW_Daa4hs3p3hEvExDIanbV_lhwTzBifAG0QjxejrKgyZGor9eOBrQhTr2abExBPz5Q/s640/blogger-image-817670171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSA49B4dx9FjhsBK7csJ-dARfcepYH5bTC71NGo676wg82gaZVMxfb5hnA8pnov4jkT3je2nGuW_Daa4hs3p3hEvExDIanbV_lhwTzBifAG0QjxejrKgyZGor9eOBrQhTr2abExBPz5Q/s640/blogger-image-817670171.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat leading Black and Tans</div><br></div>Bright and early next morning, I'm not hungover, result! Quick brew, pack the kit and off we go to the Upper Tier, because Lower still looks like a giant sneezed all over it. But Christ all these hard routes look really steep now. It must be a trick of the light, I'm still going to fucking own them all. But maybe I should just warm up on a few easy ones first. Because, you know. We fly up a couple of Severes and I feel alright, so I raise the game, step it up to Hard Severe. It actually feels a bit tricky but I get there in the end. Nothing's gonna stop me today.</div><div><br></div><div>Now it's Pats turn. He wants to lead the Sloth, that massive roof crack that I did last year. With my totally non-selective memory I tell him it was completely piss, I basically could've soloed the bloody thing if I was that bothered about it.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEuXXrTtaXVhdkSjpwc0EUffXYah1HGCq3YdrFJ_lxf4q122n4cSihp33w9M1C91agWWYaMnAoRBj3rDoC1XXfVykp4e8TkTST-fWq_VHA827h3Uy9wsJt28ICZ4BRR6eDeIQCS7lQP0/s640/blogger-image--266858536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEuXXrTtaXVhdkSjpwc0EUffXYah1HGCq3YdrFJ_lxf4q122n4cSihp33w9M1C91agWWYaMnAoRBj3rDoC1XXfVykp4e8TkTST-fWq_VHA827h3Uy9wsJt28ICZ4BRR6eDeIQCS7lQP0/s640/blogger-image--266858536.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sorting the gear before committing to flakey overhanging madness</div><br></div><div>So he climbs up to the roof and chucks a sling around that big block, down to the resting ledge, up down up down, I'm falling asleep down here on the deck. I could've done it 10 times by now. Finally Pat mans up and commits to the roof, cranks round to the lip, places a hex. He tries to get a hand jam, fails, and then falls off. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWisefbaUmUiqW0-1vOEfkU7MzKSySZvfMRYOXbVVrIPtrLj4-kKCX0iWgeeE7MEoZbIHX0CLbgtCWzIemyMSQ4YwKFQNToehbIwr0gloTjoSAjOWsJdqyxXiIOBrae33diW_N7AJPhRk/s640/blogger-image-1506126777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWisefbaUmUiqW0-1vOEfkU7MzKSySZvfMRYOXbVVrIPtrLj4-kKCX0iWgeeE7MEoZbIHX0CLbgtCWzIemyMSQ4YwKFQNToehbIwr0gloTjoSAjOWsJdqyxXiIOBrae33diW_N7AJPhRk/s640/blogger-image-1506126777.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat searches in vain for the 'massive fucking jug' I sort of remember being there</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7uo4Te_Kkl0UmX02XIT9XIMSoJXTm3QFRUbuz-CFLUJGn0gz5sw5GFQy3wkuSGuUneCspyqFYzLFzNNCeTWkXpjrgnszWDHDn3S5MsDfvBnKijK2IMz9I2-wEVZjU2OJ5opdKSq6Pn8E/s640/blogger-image-1304406715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7uo4Te_Kkl0UmX02XIT9XIMSoJXTm3QFRUbuz-CFLUJGn0gz5sw5GFQy3wkuSGuUneCspyqFYzLFzNNCeTWkXpjrgnszWDHDn3S5MsDfvBnKijK2IMz9I2-wEVZjU2OJ5opdKSq6Pn8E/s640/blogger-image-1304406715.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There's the bastard</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But he nuts up, eventually sinks the jam and pulls through, and at last it's my turn to climb. I might do it no feet just for a laugh, seeing as I'm seconding and all that. But when I get under the roof it's actually really fucking scary, I'm shitting myself. So I keep my feet well on, swinging desperately from hold to hold. Jolly up to the lip, quick hand jam, reach up and bang, it's in the bag. That's what I told Pat but I CAN'T GET THE FUCKING HAND JAM RIGHT. I'm hanging upside down, strength leaking away, weakly slapping at the rock and slobbering everywhere. I sort of manage it in the end but still, fuck me, that was horrible. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's my turn to lead an HVS now so I do Saul's Crack. I find this one fucking hard work as well. It's obvious that I need a full days climbing before I can lead some E2s, so tomorrow I will get straight on them and show everyone how it's done. Tomorrow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY48RBIrw-4t6C7MG6dLOu5Lf70l35IIBpOZS_t8W8eNUqTLww7YAuc5ZQwN5rQxKa1cdSb_-X7Zbz4KAU_ZezT-9nTiO3dHFE-aZ9x_fq0l02TxDkXArSdm53np-yvXRU6HEAnn1o1aA/s640/blogger-image--1140215330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY48RBIrw-4t6C7MG6dLOu5Lf70l35IIBpOZS_t8W8eNUqTLww7YAuc5ZQwN5rQxKa1cdSb_-X7Zbz4KAU_ZezT-9nTiO3dHFE-aZ9x_fq0l02TxDkXArSdm53np-yvXRU6HEAnn1o1aA/s640/blogger-image--1140215330.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Some lump of rock called Valkyrie, apparently</div><br></div>It's early evening now and Pat wants to do Valkyrie. I've already done this one as well but seeing as I'm just training for tomorrow I think why the fuck not, be generous, and so off we go. I decide to lead pitch 1 because don't tell anyone but I led the second pitch last time and it was actually really hard, a proper brown trouser job, so...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAO3-USPbUg5-anqMQsqwkGB-NfX43g0f-Qc0HXumlDY_-xgYx6K-pdfbaF0FZDjJ-y8CVUW_zBjPN-JzYP6qIklzoyauhzSfDyd3bAP5aV6dhziAiUgYq9NHMQa4gIRzwV4reDBJ2wBg/s640/blogger-image--990017346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAO3-USPbUg5-anqMQsqwkGB-NfX43g0f-Qc0HXumlDY_-xgYx6K-pdfbaF0FZDjJ-y8CVUW_zBjPN-JzYP6qIklzoyauhzSfDyd3bAP5aV6dhziAiUgYq9NHMQa4gIRzwV4reDBJ2wBg/s640/blogger-image--990017346.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The horrible awkward crack of pitch 1</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDt03tItSBKQEwwCgQWg7KyRP6uYpnW8s8ldCHNeKOap3spNx1fBqwxqeSfJjf7KTqRusTMfvCHWzqyhdLlR4zgdP6jSQOudBjpAVOj3qfgoL-NnE-d90e8iSjLWogFoeCZkHeJ_pReA/s640/blogger-image--1600548115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDt03tItSBKQEwwCgQWg7KyRP6uYpnW8s8ldCHNeKOap3spNx1fBqwxqeSfJjf7KTqRusTMfvCHWzqyhdLlR4zgdP6jSQOudBjpAVOj3qfgoL-NnE-d90e8iSjLWogFoeCZkHeJ_pReA/s640/blogger-image--1600548115.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hand traverse higher up. I climb in this pose all the time, and you never see me move, you just blink and I'm somewhere else...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I struggle up the smeggy initial crack. It's because this route is too easy for me to properly engage with, it's not worth applying my talent to. Hand traverse some flakes into a trench belay by a massive tooth of rock, up comes Pat. He doesn't look too happy with what is still to come.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfl47yJb57F4DtISZurc80eIdwwcRv4aVignGV3Ht6LVJM54qOh2x9eSCJXlsOuSg_IM8KOvJQcDsMI30cZVujaZcAkdgM5zmUBw-80fEPuxwze7qkWmLZPeIPtKZ23W-SavSibfswk8o/s640/blogger-image-585749770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfl47yJb57F4DtISZurc80eIdwwcRv4aVignGV3Ht6LVJM54qOh2x9eSCJXlsOuSg_IM8KOvJQcDsMI30cZVujaZcAkdgM5zmUBw-80fEPuxwze7qkWmLZPeIPtKZ23W-SavSibfswk8o/s640/blogger-image-585749770.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Guess who's about to lead the scary pitch</div><br></div>Well that's his problem isn't it. This route is kind of unique I suppose, in that the hardest bit is downclimbing, not up. Pat grovels up to the top of the tooth and starts going back down the other side. I don't think he's enjoying himself very much. I know this because he's shrieking hysterically every step of the way. I pay out the ropes and just enjoy the view.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqvXG-8L9XRrKk31cAZo2IKhdMiTb6kEbrUEpCikiXwhyphenhyphenL8aKZfDZwONMx-FKYV1vdEtwnRCblItHEQqVOL7bnPsomL6Vo1Ihq2ltPu9ijSv8UE76jGXPOgvrL7U7Wymx8s2pVOwHbs_4/s640/blogger-image-1811191959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqvXG-8L9XRrKk31cAZo2IKhdMiTb6kEbrUEpCikiXwhyphenhyphenL8aKZfDZwONMx-FKYV1vdEtwnRCblItHEQqVOL7bnPsomL6Vo1Ihq2ltPu9ijSv8UE76jGXPOgvrL7U7Wymx8s2pVOwHbs_4/s640/blogger-image-1811191959.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking out from the ledge, flailing leader just out of shot</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat reaches the bottom of the tooth and says he can't find the hidden foothold that makes it piss. What the hell. I found it easily when I did it. Still, he manages to do the tricky rockover move onto the front face of the buttress, and then finishes up the easy slab to the summit. Now it's my turn. I strip the belay and gain the top of the tooth, then start the downclimbing. God it's actually really fucking hard. I wedge the left side of my body into the crack, right side hanging uselessly. My feet scrabble in vain for purchase. There's claret everywhere. I'm in agony. This isn't VS, it's E5, it's all gone tits up...I cannot, for the fucking life of me, find the hidden foothold.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I bet it's fallen off. That must be what's happened. My foot thrashes around in space, finding nothing. I scream to Pat for a tight rope. A crowd of people watch in amusement, I wish they would all drop dead. I eventually find the hidden bloody foothold and burst into tears.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgagiMht3l5FHMkQPGR9I40C3l7v201L-9HDsGuG24ETpiMB0GwEA3WSFdnZdUj4glBAZfCFjpNjvCuHlUjbpNcHJr5Am0MhT5ZHkvrWHEKwNt4lkaFmGI15BXcUXlM1Fhiflkr9eGQ078/s640/blogger-image-2052787566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgagiMht3l5FHMkQPGR9I40C3l7v201L-9HDsGuG24ETpiMB0GwEA3WSFdnZdUj4glBAZfCFjpNjvCuHlUjbpNcHJr5Am0MhT5ZHkvrWHEKwNt4lkaFmGI15BXcUXlM1Fhiflkr9eGQ078/s640/blogger-image-2052787566.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Found the fucking stupid fucker</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5GMSP6cZAiqGc2IfqXfFa2cS4WcUtVKaGESlC28PXOBhmVeTxtPEg4f8A29OA2V4ZpQShu4HtBeCgcb_sysVHFpZLH90aXlpeA6WcCtFrXKlh5cQOYPsRQxp4nV5HcO6GOx_Bvr9GAs/s640/blogger-image-1683550530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5GMSP6cZAiqGc2IfqXfFa2cS4WcUtVKaGESlC28PXOBhmVeTxtPEg4f8A29OA2V4ZpQShu4HtBeCgcb_sysVHFpZLH90aXlpeA6WcCtFrXKlh5cQOYPsRQxp4nV5HcO6GOx_Bvr9GAs/s640/blogger-image-1683550530.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The well protected final slab</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div>I mince up the rest of the pitch leaving a nice trail of blood all over the route. At the summit Pat and I just sit there shivering and muttering, comparing battle scars. I tell him we must've gone the wrong way and done an E5 instead. We fuck off to the pub and more beer. I reckon I'll be fine for some really hard stuff tomorrow though, it's not like you have to downclimb hidden footholds on every fucking route here, right? I'll be a new man in the morning. Now whose round is it?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25Tv9PJXPDaXENPnE6d6ET4SWmJUr3ZBkzd7RluCj2GJ3_u0r7AqFu_sPmY4vqtbWdoXL737oOqg80Wia5GXYQuHl5X1ZK7LISDy7X0kLYYK3xYWJO3ILVqTjMugjOpUL6yAbqUPJZC0/s640/blogger-image--1367434644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25Tv9PJXPDaXENPnE6d6ET4SWmJUr3ZBkzd7RluCj2GJ3_u0r7AqFu_sPmY4vqtbWdoXL737oOqg80Wia5GXYQuHl5X1ZK7LISDy7X0kLYYK3xYWJO3ILVqTjMugjOpUL6yAbqUPJZC0/s640/blogger-image--1367434644.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pat leading in the freezing wind</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Tomorrow comes. I'm not feeling so good now. But I have to try something hard anyway, it's what I'm here for. The forecast is wank so we get started early, knocking out a couple of easy routes, ominous clouds rolling in across the moors. The wind blows, it's freezing cold now. I read through the guidebook, hands numb, Elegy or Commander Energy. Fucking hell, I've got to do at least one of them, I've got to try-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It starts pissing it down. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thank fuck for that.</div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-75572791835008507012015-07-23T16:22:00.001-07:002015-07-26T07:56:28.204-07:00Main WallI wake up in a car in the Cromlech layby, the wind howling and the sky filled with ominous black clouds. But it's not raining. Fuck me it's actually not raining, this is as good as it gets in the bloody Pass. Staples and I lurch into action, knackered from bugger all sleep, stuffing gear into packs and stumbling towards a crag called Cyrn Las. It's high and north facing, it never sees the sun. My logic is that if it's horrible everywhere in the Pass we may as well be on a crag that's horrible all the time. Plus there's a super classic route called Main Wall somewhere up there...<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXRApC_8leSBPmgq0fTbYuItatF4APnoPjO7zzWSPU97xHf7bRADFKWEtzEv0hkQ-D_Ji6mJ8IcepjSOv_Msg5vQWZ0oeduP9QZvA481l4fUy8m2_RCEbjOwQ1iA51Dw12wJ0W0Rn0I8/s640/blogger-image-1018282857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXRApC_8leSBPmgq0fTbYuItatF4APnoPjO7zzWSPU97xHf7bRADFKWEtzEv0hkQ-D_Ji6mJ8IcepjSOv_Msg5vQWZ0oeduP9QZvA481l4fUy8m2_RCEbjOwQ1iA51Dw12wJ0W0Rn0I8/s640/blogger-image-1018282857.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Main Wall goes up the really wet bit in the middle, of course</div><br></div><div>God I'm unfit. The walk up kills me. We gear up and scramble to the base of a somewhat damp slab that apparently we're supposed to climb. Staples takes the lead...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKYumCTLMZ1BNdy75lAO-Q8IavWDQ0oWhCVG2eqpkuosA1zyaLeID2Z_QCee_UfdUGqw7qZ0e7bzWATCowqKm0RIDgT5GgJ6M84xKVDZchVFW7yqUgcMyLAY8d17eZ8qufFcgr3Zykw4/s640/blogger-image--96532470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKYumCTLMZ1BNdy75lAO-Q8IavWDQ0oWhCVG2eqpkuosA1zyaLeID2Z_QCee_UfdUGqw7qZ0e7bzWATCowqKm0RIDgT5GgJ6M84xKVDZchVFW7yqUgcMyLAY8d17eZ8qufFcgr3Zykw4/s640/blogger-image--96532470.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">David 'everything that kills me makes me feel alive' Staples about to sack off pitch 1</div><br></div><div>He fumbles around at the wet holds, walks back and forth along the ledge for a while, then eventually gives up. I'm taking the piss the whole time. What a fucking pussy. So I grab the rack and have a go, christ it's hard, and immediately I begin a shameful grovel off to the right up a sort of waterfall. Staples justifiably tells me what a hypocritical prick I am. Easy but hilariously wet climbing sees me reach a belay on a spike. Staples then leads a short traverse to a hanging belay on another spike, and we hope that now that's all over we can actually start climbing this bloody thing...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeHYhPrRnUt4pPpc-ayYZKWvJbUOS_JfR_CnWN7SDwzT3_ZNMnaZLpGzQq9pfbw8bABUB0cj46-bQt7atPHtU6l5a2lYp3sgHeTJxR_lKTbHh_Pk-PgCy_MMEKHyHO_L200cvtvmkXEU/s640/blogger-image-1460734820.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeHYhPrRnUt4pPpc-ayYZKWvJbUOS_JfR_CnWN7SDwzT3_ZNMnaZLpGzQq9pfbw8bABUB0cj46-bQt7atPHtU6l5a2lYp3sgHeTJxR_lKTbHh_Pk-PgCy_MMEKHyHO_L200cvtvmkXEU/s640/blogger-image-1460734820.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples looking psyched for what's to come</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6z9bhDlBcWNDWeBMrU7e8y-aWCCq1_8emVGy2rTWlbswgrSqwcNLw8eqxHGeExRgSr7rvyizR2DepgZQvK3-jTpam39aiWEL1COgKCHQb9RbVYLJUib_weijJaZ5GuQOfqHEfzS9pAo/s640/blogger-image-1297457624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6z9bhDlBcWNDWeBMrU7e8y-aWCCq1_8emVGy2rTWlbswgrSqwcNLw8eqxHGeExRgSr7rvyizR2DepgZQvK3-jTpam39aiWEL1COgKCHQb9RbVYLJUib_weijJaZ5GuQOfqHEfzS9pAo/s640/blogger-image-1297457624.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just follow the vertical stream</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next pitch is wetter than a mermaids twat. I make a hard traverse along an ice rink foot-rail to a decent sling runner, then into a disgusting corner chimney crack bastard thing. A vast and delicate ecosystem of slime greets me. I sling a block, squirm my way higher, skidding all over the place. There are no holds. Well there's loads, but they've all got enough water to flood the Sahara running down them. I aid off a nut, slippery hand jams, power screaming as I mince onto yet another godforsaken underwater ledge...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUyYBitgosqMPldo5hriTpp8ypsTvlhPBgsAVP3mOuG8Ae3RXCXjQe7GLHn-_pzrQBPIBzrTZEcL0Ox14d-60eLHqEUV0TW_MVHkuBDoVLOUr-NP8g4UIza7BU0KUsX9USAE_4R6SeCXo/s640/blogger-image-1001118283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUyYBitgosqMPldo5hriTpp8ypsTvlhPBgsAVP3mOuG8Ae3RXCXjQe7GLHn-_pzrQBPIBzrTZEcL0Ox14d-60eLHqEUV0TW_MVHkuBDoVLOUr-NP8g4UIza7BU0KUsX9USAE_4R6SeCXo/s640/blogger-image-1001118283.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Main Wall holding a gun to my head and saying SMILE BITCH</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples has a great time seconding the pitch. We hang off the belay and gaze about the grey expanse of the Pass with thousand yard stares. It's fucking cold up here. Very very occasionally the sun pokes out from the mass of death clouds, just to remind us how cold it is without it...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7wXhv1u1cQcXb1wDpKdMjrlxbpfSwtx6BL4nAIZ8LkJv95N_LLk7_6sRP80lcsiPagXqoy8lyEHxoK8hFNEND3HfEC-sArJi0S90dftjM-Wb0dTcd8r8YOYXQnan4doZaoYk0P3EFX8/s640/blogger-image--675860936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7wXhv1u1cQcXb1wDpKdMjrlxbpfSwtx6BL4nAIZ8LkJv95N_LLk7_6sRP80lcsiPagXqoy8lyEHxoK8hFNEND3HfEC-sArJi0S90dftjM-Wb0dTcd8r8YOYXQnan4doZaoYk0P3EFX8/s640/blogger-image--675860936.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Another wet pitch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At least it's getting a bit drier now. The next pitch is easy enough, it leads to a massive ledge. However there are no decent anchors, so it takes Staples a while to fiddle in and equalise a load of shite, and I'm slowly getting hypothermic at the belay, waving my arms around like a complete spanner. I finally shiver my way up to Staples and tell him I'm giving up climbing...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhwKU05wOISmGQ-Tv8rEcQLB7cpNTfG_fwS4APBcMPJYlcpka63TTCefSHm9Izcog6Dg81A2eBzFFoqhoIE5wWK9cc7jJ43tYu98xStX0pJ5xbuM0B2stvQT__KKltwJYaLZILihuPfE/s640/blogger-image--2121591555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhwKU05wOISmGQ-Tv8rEcQLB7cpNTfG_fwS4APBcMPJYlcpka63TTCefSHm9Izcog6Dg81A2eBzFFoqhoIE5wWK9cc7jJ43tYu98xStX0pJ5xbuM0B2stvQT__KKltwJYaLZILihuPfE/s640/blogger-image--2121591555.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Setting out on the second 4b pitch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKGLgaakIp7TC3Iucwh25xul2mnEPxtYwgoS8eg1jxO0cVP9GHV5gVnN_r_nQADXtvjugxJ1LV98pEoxSAraRRo9FFOkioMC-W_ZE4OIr7s5y3Zf9LT0YYjzpaDHgukg2SN5hieVyDgE/s640/blogger-image-1988222455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKGLgaakIp7TC3Iucwh25xul2mnEPxtYwgoS8eg1jxO0cVP9GHV5gVnN_r_nQADXtvjugxJ1LV98pEoxSAraRRo9FFOkioMC-W_ZE4OIr7s5y3Zf9LT0YYjzpaDHgukg2SN5hieVyDgE/s640/blogger-image-1988222455.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At this point every hold either moved, or moved</div><br></div></div>After this pointless hissy fit I rack up and strike out towards a pinnacle. For no apparent reason the rock suddenly decides to massively deteriorate in quality, and it now feels like I'm playing Jenga for infinite stakes. I gibber into a notch in the rock and onto a steep arête. My god the holds are massive, and sort of attached to something. I'm actually enjoying myself again, I run it out for fun up to the next belay and bring up Staples for the main event...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The penultimate pitch is fucking amazing, you climb across this hanging slab to a knife edge arête, and the exposure is insane, everything dropping away to the valley far below...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqeYF0Rw2D-HBzj53mV-txoqdCUODHAW3STULyTKsgK3-srHMzGAtKEiG-qG-HmXii5ZbxeGUEP6_8Y7BKqlD4FHk_xtujQ0vwTnATAAlcVry4n5i17Hpf7grHR7mTvBpoSK-YiOPZ3-w/s640/blogger-image-1590348631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqeYF0Rw2D-HBzj53mV-txoqdCUODHAW3STULyTKsgK3-srHMzGAtKEiG-qG-HmXii5ZbxeGUEP6_8Y7BKqlD4FHk_xtujQ0vwTnATAAlcVry4n5i17Hpf7grHR7mTvBpoSK-YiOPZ3-w/s640/blogger-image-1590348631.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The money pitch of Main Wall</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrol-7g6MAyopBbmrUTRMKj8I10JGZSGktQuur3qbPLcrXCYgRcXAOb-P5Xyq_JrEuugHUGUi6Ili9ZEfCyvBYJSVfNC4J_a3xPbgocppZgDeVoNBLHgRQ3B6y8iYVXUwYLIeB5c1vCzE/s640/blogger-image--360425671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrol-7g6MAyopBbmrUTRMKj8I10JGZSGktQuur3qbPLcrXCYgRcXAOb-P5Xyq_JrEuugHUGUi6Ili9ZEfCyvBYJSVfNC4J_a3xPbgocppZgDeVoNBLHgRQ3B6y8iYVXUwYLIeB5c1vCzE/s640/blogger-image--360425671.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Gaining the super exposed arête</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjquhRRgvU5Ge4CF4aRhiGZQbI8Y-gzKRy5ahbRsJRqTuLr5S02mDIAMKkxgzXbHvsJjj6FD7Hvpr8b-wuDKnnUvn3j5IjZ75FYERsSk1fB70G4M-XKLEjrLjuD_tgHPsbaj26foWFOKM/s640/blogger-image-1409760618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjquhRRgvU5Ge4CF4aRhiGZQbI8Y-gzKRy5ahbRsJRqTuLr5S02mDIAMKkxgzXbHvsJjj6FD7Hvpr8b-wuDKnnUvn3j5IjZ75FYERsSk1fB70G4M-XKLEjrLjuD_tgHPsbaj26foWFOKM/s640/blogger-image-1409760618.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just about making up for the soaking horror of...pretty much the rest of the route</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Staples leads the pitch, loving every move, and I follow slowly, wanting to enjoy the position as much as possible. It transforms the route from a grotty piece of shit to a grotty piece of shit with one good bit near the top. Stick that in the next guidebook.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMvdWq0RQAZrJiEl5bc0wKKnmjQfKqpL58z0-yYDNqoM1BC6yMJP3E5zztOK3Q9ATMWm7B6RBZortVSvE8MuPMBm-Kf6zLttAiOlKVxO_DMu2OjiNGIoBkn54OujmLGoCnu3D0cXeUZ4/s640/blogger-image--1506381420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMvdWq0RQAZrJiEl5bc0wKKnmjQfKqpL58z0-yYDNqoM1BC6yMJP3E5zztOK3Q9ATMWm7B6RBZortVSvE8MuPMBm-Kf6zLttAiOlKVxO_DMu2OjiNGIoBkn54OujmLGoCnu3D0cXeUZ4/s640/blogger-image--1506381420.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Can we go to the fucking pub now?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi020wICKVFMdR37jsNhNC3YaIWEpHt0PDJPObas7xXnnNtTD1-bpgo4s8paepDmTbADbNhIfUsGVyV8uCQ4_89PYpVSNnASIQRSuyXNG39DgareWU3nthYwRkEPSOJqB2wchMkTQ54Yi8/s640/blogger-image-849452291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi020wICKVFMdR37jsNhNC3YaIWEpHt0PDJPObas7xXnnNtTD1-bpgo4s8paepDmTbADbNhIfUsGVyV8uCQ4_89PYpVSNnASIQRSuyXNG39DgareWU3nthYwRkEPSOJqB2wchMkTQ54Yi8/s640/blogger-image-849452291.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-91483083428692881222015-05-07T04:24:00.001-07:002015-05-09T02:37:21.680-07:00Getting buggered by Billy Pigg<div>This is a post I never got round to finishing a couple years back. I recently found it again, and thought I might as well do something with it. It pretty much explains why I mainly sport climb now! No pictures I'm afraid, I was far too busy trying not to die...</div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Billy Pigg - E1 5b, 4c ** 'A great introduction into the art of roof thuggery'</i></div><div><br></div><div>Oh god, why?</div><div><br></div><div>This question is frequently running through my mind before, during, and after my 'ascent' of this Swanage roof testpiece. Being a weak, skinny, slab crawling, mountain lurking coward, the purpose of climbing a 2 meter horizontal roof on a crumbling sea cliff is utterly obscure to me. I simply cannot fathom a reason why anyone would chose to do it, unless they are being held at gunpoint. And even then I'd probably just take the bullet.</div><div><br></div><div>But I am climbing with Luke, and Luke, unlike me, is a good climber. Luke deliberately seeks out climbs like Billy Pigg to test his indoor wall-honed strength and technique. I am merely the poor sod who happens to be around to second him. So we abseil into the ominous vertical cheese of Boulder Ruckle and scramble along the bits that have already fallen off to the bottom of the route.</div><div><br></div><div>The roof looks horrifying. Like 'The Sloth' only much steeper and with no visible holds. I fight an urge to walk into the sea. Luke flakes out the ropes, grinning in anticipation of the struggle to come. He then says something like "Well, I'll just jolly up in one pitch and belay on the stakes at the top, eh!", to which I violently protest, terrified at the thought of having to tackle that roof with my belayer far, far out of ear shot. He'll never get the ropes tight enough. Never.</div><div><br></div><div>So Luke grudgingly consents to cramp his style for the sake of this quivering mess of a second, and off he goes. The initial wall is steady, VSish, with plenty of gear behind the usual wobbly Swanage blocks. Soon enough he is under the roof, clipping the complicated matrix of fixed gear no doubt abandoned by panicking seconds such as myself. He then places a bit more, has a fumble at the holds in the roof, and announces they are "fucking shit."</div><div><br></div><div>How, I wonder, can something so horizontal have fucking shit holds and still be 5b? </div><div><br></div><div>Luke, an E3 leader lest we forget, searches a bit more but apparently finds nothing better, and so just cuts loose onto what is there and dangles for some time in a state of perplexion. Any second I expect him to execute a stylish, ninja-like heel hook sequence and race up to the belay ledge above. But he doesn't. Instead he slumps downwards, grabbing at the fixed gear, pendulums back under the roof again, while I grip the ropes white-knuckled and have a quiet but profound panic attack.</div><div><br></div><div>Apparently it is nails, then. Who fucking knew?</div><div><br></div><div>Luke's one attempt is enough to convince him of the futility of trying to free climb (I have long since accepted this), so instead he welds in a few more wires, attaches some slings as stirrups, and aids his way through the crux and onto the ledge above. I immediately start worrying about how I am going to get said wires out again while simultaneously using them as vital points of aid and dangling upside down. All too soon he has built a belay - of the '15 pieces but they're all crap' variety - and then it is my turn to get shafted by the route.</div><div><br></div><div>I climb a series of wobbling holds to the roof and focus on getting the quickdraws off the fixed gear, making a very deliberate effort to ignore what is looming right above my head. I arrange some gear on my harness. I chalk up. I rearrange the gear on my harness. I chalk up some more. I make double bloody sure I have my prussiks to hand. Every now again my helmet brushes against the roof, and I give an involuntary whimper...</div><div><br></div><div>But I know, deep down, that I cannot postpone the innevitable, and so I look out in horror, see the gently swaying aid sling hanging from the lip absolutely fucking miles away. I fumble at the holds. They are indeed shit. Grovelling on slippery jams yields nothing. The rope tugs impatiently at my waist. What the hell am I supposed to do?</div><div><br></div><div>In the end I surrender all hope, just launch myself at the sling with clawed hands, miss it completely, swing out into space, plummeting downwards, all my weight about to be abruptly transferred onto the rubbish belay above...</div><div><br></div><div>The feeling of rushing through the air; all those wasted moments of my life, dreams I will never achieve, the hopelessness of it all-</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">My harness pulls tight. Pain. I open my eyes.</font></div><div><br></div><div>Amazingly I am still alive. I can't quite decide whether or not this is a good thing. Dangling in space I grab the sling and commence to climb it hand over hand, shrieking 'TAKE!' over and over again. Slowly I winch myself up level with the aid nut and somehow manage to gain a position of vague balance, stabbing at the blasted thing with a nut key until it comes out. At the belay I take what is left of the rack and gibber my way up the chossy VS second pitch to the top, weeping softly all the while. Finally I negotiate the typical 'cutting steps with a nut key' Ruckle top out, and reach the rusty belay stake, a broken, sobbing mess of a man...</div><div><br></div><div>I have since read other accounts of this climb, and it seems that roughly half the people who do it are able to find a huge jug in the roof. The other half, like us of course, either improvise a desperate sequence on terrible holds and jams, or just dog the shit out of it. So where is the mythical jug then, this holy grail of holds? I've decided it must be like that bit at the end of Indiana Jones: The Last Crusade, where Harrison Ford walks over the invisible bridge - you just have to believe it's there. We faithless scum did not, and were punished accordingly. My brain tricks me into remembering a ghostly, emaciated voice whispering in my ear as I hung screaming and pleading beneath that awful bloody roof;</div><div><br></div><div>"You have chosen...poorly..."</div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-62426722167987571522015-03-11T20:02:00.001-07:002015-03-26T08:48:57.071-07:00Mitre Peak<div>I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">only went to Milford Sound so I wouldn't feel guilty about not going there. The plan was to stay a night, do a cruise down the fiord, then bugger off again. However, the moment I saw the spectacular Mitre Peak I began to wonder about climbing it. I asked around a few places and found out it was rarely done (only 20 ascents per year according to one local) but reasonably straightforward - mostly bushwhacking with a scramble along a jagged, exposed crest to finish. The only thing I needed to organise was a boat to take me to the start because you can't get there on foot. All this really appealed to me, a perfect mini adventure, and I got planning straight away. It wasn't so much the climbing I was interested in, as there was very little, rather the variety of terrain that stood between me and the top.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4ZxBd2RqI0VADro6YOsetyVxECR5W6miKcWska3sFf5zajNU9fX29gfOI6J9F-zA92K3zfucTCoHULCO5BQTxX4KWOJLYvt8wgnf3oduGdzbi-vvlRc8IbJ9-dfMOR_0uJB0Zbba6bs/s640/blogger-image--1685019235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4ZxBd2RqI0VADro6YOsetyVxECR5W6miKcWska3sFf5zajNU9fX29gfOI6J9F-zA92K3zfucTCoHULCO5BQTxX4KWOJLYvt8wgnf3oduGdzbi-vvlRc8IbJ9-dfMOR_0uJB0Zbba6bs/s640/blogger-image--1685019235.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Mitre Peak</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xe_1Cu5GuBF7ABojGrITmBejjWd9egrOJoENvAXjrdUhr91akOPY5EIj0D51BHWiltx6zaNPu2SaLaS1ZwDfBgAGJl8E8fzDogW1LNTxynftuRBvdKKyYi5__BYEkKQp59H7b63JXdY/s640/blogger-image-730303763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xe_1Cu5GuBF7ABojGrITmBejjWd9egrOJoENvAXjrdUhr91akOPY5EIj0D51BHWiltx6zaNPu2SaLaS1ZwDfBgAGJl8E8fzDogW1LNTxynftuRBvdKKyYi5__BYEkKQp59H7b63JXdY/s640/blogger-image-730303763.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The route to the summit climbs the obvious ridgeline all the way</div></div></span></div><div><br></div><div>Mitre Peak is on all the postcards of Milford Sound. My shite pictures here do it no justice at all. It is a classically beautiful mountain, rising steeply from the fiord, lower flanks covered with trees and bush, then twisting into a tapered rocky ridge to the summit. To me it looked otherworldly, so different to the peaks of Britain and Europe that I'm used to.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDzsO4X_boOZhnlZSzRAnd_c2L01NT2cz6Gh-jRb27Gjb1q4ubX9NV2xkFlq55ekLfdtOKmHcl12ZUSEW0yerLhp8OeyMfk38jqiyddXybVkZ6FsyVmAG1e3cb4ycZeXQ_tO2XTfFHLUQ/s640/blogger-image-487126287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDzsO4X_boOZhnlZSzRAnd_c2L01NT2cz6Gh-jRb27Gjb1q4ubX9NV2xkFlq55ekLfdtOKmHcl12ZUSEW0yerLhp8OeyMfk38jqiyddXybVkZ6FsyVmAG1e3cb4ycZeXQ_tO2XTfFHLUQ/s640/blogger-image-487126287.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The boat ride in</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk633H3B_5UcsGbjjF1Rlcod9AFuLjUdTr5oLzxbHAXLX1TYV18y1eTnzg-FmrENVHedViaT5IUEPUaqqa4fs0kUiR0kKN98lXq7UeWZK_4sm9wFXbW2OLyrjxjOO9YHjax9NykLlwRc/s640/blogger-image-257960562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk633H3B_5UcsGbjjF1Rlcod9AFuLjUdTr5oLzxbHAXLX1TYV18y1eTnzg-FmrENVHedViaT5IUEPUaqqa4fs0kUiR0kKN98lXq7UeWZK_4sm9wFXbW2OLyrjxjOO9YHjax9NykLlwRc/s640/blogger-image-257960562.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Blissfully unaware of the horror that awaits...</div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9wM6fMhrQcSCnaN7ROe0X-88kYIWNNIxleRy3UVV9cXNmdHlAhPagjUHuvue90XsUPIdtBusmYMFp6QRTR5JEpzdV1WszoR8t-kd-gpU3yQpCRQwpwK3tYE_kfauoUDJOhtayMiyRAdY/s640/blogger-image-2056129308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9wM6fMhrQcSCnaN7ROe0X-88kYIWNNIxleRy3UVV9cXNmdHlAhPagjUHuvue90XsUPIdtBusmYMFp6QRTR5JEpzdV1WszoR8t-kd-gpU3yQpCRQwpwK3tYE_kfauoUDJOhtayMiyRAdY/s640/blogger-image-2056129308.jpg"></a></div>It's a long swim back if things go tits up...</div><div><br></div><div>Early in the morning a guy called Rosco took me across the Sound, dropped me off at the base of the peak, disappeared again. I was alone on the mountain, cut off from everyone by the dark waters of the fiord - awesome! A vague trail vanished into heavy bush and off I went. It was bushwhacking all the way, fighting through trees, hauling myself up the steep slopes on roots and vines. A machete would have honestly been quite useful. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1xQlG64W_MyCws6rU-PJ-j5FKa9gThHPAH3AKRnqfI889RTdqm4nMfn5iNb1rPP0fFhhIUe4zjo4qoaQPoXdVkwdOHw7O8yhGcGs4Fa7ps6Ty6IDp1jNJFAN-VuaprSkrwZv-rcHnIE/s640/blogger-image--112849420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1xQlG64W_MyCws6rU-PJ-j5FKa9gThHPAH3AKRnqfI889RTdqm4nMfn5iNb1rPP0fFhhIUe4zjo4qoaQPoXdVkwdOHw7O8yhGcGs4Fa7ps6Ty6IDp1jNJFAN-VuaprSkrwZv-rcHnIE/s640/blogger-image--112849420.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The incredibly promising start of the trail</div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZQwrPEl_18WlLK0sRf9jeZoEyQ-ZlPdjlRYMiwcNGeCUr8CbLi7y0oaMSMldC5R74fWZ9QbJmmjNUn4yQoZLEoRagwOE4pTMjLGrFHXbSGEzhN07O322rjvnB969G8hpaCGaQOsI50c/s640/blogger-image-61126218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZQwrPEl_18WlLK0sRf9jeZoEyQ-ZlPdjlRYMiwcNGeCUr8CbLi7y0oaMSMldC5R74fWZ9QbJmmjNUn4yQoZLEoRagwOE4pTMjLGrFHXbSGEzhN07O322rjvnB969G8hpaCGaQOsI50c/s640/blogger-image-61126218.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Typical terrain on the Mitre Peak 'path'</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTFHcL4Cvu-qVw1J8PlOPzechaszPqGBfeOL7TqzZM5FcF-pjs7rb2Y9fsyxeczZffNu0SkGPeJamGEnwY_gLDudFGtHAxWG5rhH7PU25oskgzoGAkeHI-xQcz-unHjCy7MjWSKjpz_A/s640/blogger-image-875738979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTFHcL4Cvu-qVw1J8PlOPzechaszPqGBfeOL7TqzZM5FcF-pjs7rb2Y9fsyxeczZffNu0SkGPeJamGEnwY_gLDudFGtHAxWG5rhH7PU25oskgzoGAkeHI-xQcz-unHjCy7MjWSKjpz_A/s640/blogger-image-875738979.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">David Gainor is not in the jungle, David Gainor is the jungle</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Eventually I crested the first peak of the ridge and saw what awaited me. It seemed rather promising, less steep than before and through scrubby sub-alpine terrain rather than dense jungle. I was wrong, of course.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1I4m1jvY8fGBOUZdoPdA766td1boS7rQYFqOgGbKlJgcj2V4bsY6KyDmz4R9ld2Y2TvijEOvVYMAm_oB4a_MNwuoAi66pxqg6jyQ3oEl0sn2E-U3kLiCVH14EZjbsqjI0Rck14QNqZn4/s640/blogger-image--989396606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1I4m1jvY8fGBOUZdoPdA766td1boS7rQYFqOgGbKlJgcj2V4bsY6KyDmz4R9ld2Y2TvijEOvVYMAm_oB4a_MNwuoAi66pxqg6jyQ3oEl0sn2E-U3kLiCVH14EZjbsqjI0Rck14QNqZn4/s640/blogger-image--989396606.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Misleading view towards the summit ridge</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGADfXvg4YVuW12NwNInrrq59Sv_r5bmnUDyq4FzYVp5CD89Apwsg7Qf9wc5lP_B1A_8ORan9gb54vmS7gLbsDsQshCz2MEIlRrCsvieXIbM_jlWCZBQQcVssN1pJ_-MO-RwI_4qxAe3s/s640/blogger-image-1023977914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGADfXvg4YVuW12NwNInrrq59Sv_r5bmnUDyq4FzYVp5CD89Apwsg7Qf9wc5lP_B1A_8ORan9gb54vmS7gLbsDsQshCz2MEIlRrCsvieXIbM_jlWCZBQQcVssN1pJ_-MO-RwI_4qxAe3s/s640/blogger-image-1023977914.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back down the ridge towards the first peak</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The easy going terrain almost immediately turned back into the bush I knew and hated. The extremely vague trail wound all over the place, crossing fallen tree trunks, around random crags, losing and gaining height without any apparent logic. After a while I realised I had been descending for ages, and when it eventually plateaued out I saw to my dismay that I'd just traversed over another sub peak of the ridge, and would have to gain all that height back again. Stupid fucking mountain...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShyphenhyphenoJMEn5whZGU57C009PQMt_1mepNcGKtrekDa_6cLsU0wooLzZOcp1K74VAzp74CI87SXQhVKflHfpohIF7eX-RAtl8LVCTwm5jjP2BM63Xw02RTtM2tW2nUHOLpoTxzV_U7YkO9zI/s640/blogger-image--1748450359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShyphenhyphenoJMEn5whZGU57C009PQMt_1mepNcGKtrekDa_6cLsU0wooLzZOcp1K74VAzp74CI87SXQhVKflHfpohIF7eX-RAtl8LVCTwm5jjP2BM63Xw02RTtM2tW2nUHOLpoTxzV_U7YkO9zI/s640/blogger-image--1748450359.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Some awesome peaks to the east, with the annoying sub-peak of wasted energy on the left</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Still, as I continued hacking my way through the jungle, the trees began to thin out, and I could see more and more of my surroundings. There were mountains everywhere, summits piercing the clouds, massive rock faces dropping down into the fiords way below...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtcG9Hf1CI-7GXkjSzCPSx85s6sZmARDImpc3RX7m9DPdQo0LgYlZocShhtNUNXzMGPfucR6ZOKlY4LWx1xTXfcEKqQuhFSI_lI82CzJRMNHc9zFaSPxt9TOrMqypoc3Fy29ewS1oQh0/s640/blogger-image--1364853459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtcG9Hf1CI-7GXkjSzCPSx85s6sZmARDImpc3RX7m9DPdQo0LgYlZocShhtNUNXzMGPfucR6ZOKlY4LWx1xTXfcEKqQuhFSI_lI82CzJRMNHc9zFaSPxt9TOrMqypoc3Fy29ewS1oQh0/s640/blogger-image--1364853459.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sweet looking ridge the valley over</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6uLpiiplktseSrCt1ucMKQ3gISEHuMiLimFpqfuDdbKsxXwSOAkQfcY2LD_3bOXMKIKwEpbN-i73F7TSdDl6aXiH6cB6aQJs1D69KGLtmSft4vquHAAwXyx9F-uhWmBBIte9qO9kgzwA/s640/blogger-image--1952358744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6uLpiiplktseSrCt1ucMKQ3gISEHuMiLimFpqfuDdbKsxXwSOAkQfcY2LD_3bOXMKIKwEpbN-i73F7TSdDl6aXiH6cB6aQJs1D69KGLtmSft4vquHAAwXyx9F-uhWmBBIte9qO9kgzwA/s640/blogger-image--1952358744.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Milford Sound and more peaks to the west</div></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After another hour or so I crested yet another wooded peak, and emerged onto a flat, grassy plateau. Here I rested awhile, admiring the views, then dumped most of my gear so I could make a quick dash to the summit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9dccW6LaiWyMJEcbhmS_r2AEo1Ys6ztKuYqNXQDknEGSt82evtKMEGJzhJDkU92-PvR8d-2UHn9RI0IibG9CYvbMPh5FgyEkNGUasoUH9HwlfMyaTsUx0LX5k2W6Qb04QZZobYvir-Q4/s640/blogger-image-40280967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9dccW6LaiWyMJEcbhmS_r2AEo1Ys6ztKuYqNXQDknEGSt82evtKMEGJzhJDkU92-PvR8d-2UHn9RI0IibG9CYvbMPh5FgyEkNGUasoUH9HwlfMyaTsUx0LX5k2W6Qb04QZZobYvir-Q4/s640/blogger-image-40280967.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The final sub-peak before the summit ridge</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4VWLFfS8KNFhrfq-EnTU9ql6KPyTLB3j8hIeKaxOfiOSLlge1ZfDQ7UcOSYvkudT7qzx-LAKtKigKecmZB6aewmD2kMN59Ih7QXf0zwyhho8qyhVjsOU3LqRVAXGMW6TdtL2u6BNnKP4/s640/blogger-image--2136207566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4VWLFfS8KNFhrfq-EnTU9ql6KPyTLB3j8hIeKaxOfiOSLlge1ZfDQ7UcOSYvkudT7qzx-LAKtKigKecmZB6aewmD2kMN59Ih7QXf0zwyhho8qyhVjsOU3LqRVAXGMW6TdtL2u6BNnKP4/s640/blogger-image--2136207566.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The beginning of the summit ridge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Without the weight of all my bivy gear I made faster progress, hauling my way up the steep ridge by grabbing handfuls of grass and tree roots - somewhat unnerving with massive drops on either side. Soon I was on the rock and scrambling my way along the crest no worries. Kind of like the Remarkables I was hoping for some tougher climbing but it never came. Still, there would be plenty of challenges to come...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLo9svzKshCxpszs8YM5dQu31zcxdF3w4QzbYd81jXClguWFPoDWjNtG_1vMWv9OGnbFkenOEQqMs0o-J9w7mra4yTnJsPm-lslN6c2tFMfqlcSragxMNcXnhP2Qmz7gBfBGRnUekQ1U/s640/blogger-image-1179188495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLo9svzKshCxpszs8YM5dQu31zcxdF3w4QzbYd81jXClguWFPoDWjNtG_1vMWv9OGnbFkenOEQqMs0o-J9w7mra4yTnJsPm-lslN6c2tFMfqlcSragxMNcXnhP2Qmz7gBfBGRnUekQ1U/s640/blogger-image-1179188495.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Steepening of the ridge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyhOlcPD0uiTPwx84H0YSJ9jO-NnTX5t1f0uCKtNqVMQfNweeSC-p0CBxtPgUc4I1-aZq0EhMMC0CJJfR8nEAD1XKcQxqMwmYNmHrGYvnWTG6W1eiZ3H3Ck43zt_TgejsLgQQ1FEW9-c/s640/blogger-image--1871339702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyhOlcPD0uiTPwx84H0YSJ9jO-NnTX5t1f0uCKtNqVMQfNweeSC-p0CBxtPgUc4I1-aZq0EhMMC0CJJfR8nEAD1XKcQxqMwmYNmHrGYvnWTG6W1eiZ3H3Ck43zt_TgejsLgQQ1FEW9-c/s640/blogger-image--1871339702.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back to the start of the ridge, a lot further than I realised on the way up</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIR8ceWf_-HLSH9CW5898jc-kxj0wLDFH-HaeM6oM0AhFKlr23VmAgqbJs6vxLak_0oyzo6p_D-Jee1J1OhwJ8QrFxPGozABZugNbb5UCet917xepdS0xNZSHH6bNlKhmBbszO3beK6n8/s640/blogger-image--1254152772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIR8ceWf_-HLSH9CW5898jc-kxj0wLDFH-HaeM6oM0AhFKlr23VmAgqbJs6vxLak_0oyzo6p_D-Jee1J1OhwJ8QrFxPGozABZugNbb5UCet917xepdS0xNZSHH6bNlKhmBbszO3beK6n8/s640/blogger-image--1254152772.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Trickier section of the ridge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipuWQtfKg43pTN6o3RfL8oj5qckQB0I_lo-6LwZcvBig1Oq4Bro60854D4nmPsI6uneS_SvyfAEkLwoYYj-kD83E3_EilRBw1zo0ZydbshDFqRSI1oA66VHf_iryxcNZnrO68Txp7NCu4/s640/blogger-image-367058997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipuWQtfKg43pTN6o3RfL8oj5qckQB0I_lo-6LwZcvBig1Oq4Bro60854D4nmPsI6uneS_SvyfAEkLwoYYj-kD83E3_EilRBw1zo0ZydbshDFqRSI1oA66VHf_iryxcNZnrO68Txp7NCu4/s640/blogger-image-367058997.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Don't think this can be called a deep water solo...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As I gained height it got cloudier, and the peaks and valleys beyond were obscured from me one by one. I pretty much stuck to the crest, trying to find the steeper, cleaner bits of rock in the hope of doing a bit more proper climbing that way. The rock reminded me of the stuff in the Welsh mountains, loads of thin flakes that gave good if slightly dubious handholds. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YsqjTCA5MZIp1ylrvCL9rlesj-h1eH8BtEfsZVAqR91uUAS2KGv-61_lu42bkpTZPRWkh-8g6nyxSHVvqD4nw0u8YpxjbJTDcWEQzxBCo35r835wsPP11A84dWSs33DrSFL53yBPYAs/s640/blogger-image-574800204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YsqjTCA5MZIp1ylrvCL9rlesj-h1eH8BtEfsZVAqR91uUAS2KGv-61_lu42bkpTZPRWkh-8g6nyxSHVvqD4nw0u8YpxjbJTDcWEQzxBCo35r835wsPP11A84dWSs33DrSFL53yBPYAs/s640/blogger-image-574800204.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The ridge disappearing beneath me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigL6kuZme7HvgKO2RmU6EvTN3yINi4n5tjBGgU6sH64OsgEtjvVmFqlGIHuGKnSNt9WjNMQHgyhGp2O6HCdPCu3fwXgAuEXmyBBkOqLsD41bQFTVVoh3EnzO36iJZx52xBMCXmNJ7QDe8/s640/blogger-image-1713190694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigL6kuZme7HvgKO2RmU6EvTN3yINi4n5tjBGgU6sH64OsgEtjvVmFqlGIHuGKnSNt9WjNMQHgyhGp2O6HCdPCu3fwXgAuEXmyBBkOqLsD41bQFTVVoh3EnzO36iJZx52xBMCXmNJ7QDe8/s640/blogger-image-1713190694.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Peaks vanishing into the mist</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I was getting a bit tired now, and although the ridge was flattening, there was an irrititating series of false summits that I had to keep climbing up and back down the other side again. At last there was a steeper slab which was pretty fun to climb, then a short scramble up a gully to the summit. It had taken me exactly 5 hours to get there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy__SzQxtQTKGEXru4A3AHnWAG7MeOk7LvBqvv6KPLM9Guv7e2zURtpPXDcqzi0eka1Prrzw7FWXq6iQ6gPkpSCK0Dzy0gDZ0SyArvRdhhV7aoyC9rugUdyOgjzHn01CMoVAKH0V8Koks/s640/blogger-image-639261763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy__SzQxtQTKGEXru4A3AHnWAG7MeOk7LvBqvv6KPLM9Guv7e2zURtpPXDcqzi0eka1Prrzw7FWXq6iQ6gPkpSCK0Dzy0gDZ0SyArvRdhhV7aoyC9rugUdyOgjzHn01CMoVAKH0V8Koks/s640/blogger-image-639261763.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The final step, climbed by some good old fashioned boot jamming</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi77zP2GD2yKlb12HjAKSnc2zYrjvLTTtvZ9ZDot4CwmDx2hdpgT7HaaLzfEkt2frNWaoGsKRiVPxNa1bYXAb52SZAnVl-FZ_BViEK-QjRTpebFwuGCnn01IgqJ06xDJc-J4xYhXR2gOs/s640/blogger-image-1152555337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi77zP2GD2yKlb12HjAKSnc2zYrjvLTTtvZ9ZDot4CwmDx2hdpgT7HaaLzfEkt2frNWaoGsKRiVPxNa1bYXAb52SZAnVl-FZ_BViEK-QjRTpebFwuGCnn01IgqJ06xDJc-J4xYhXR2gOs/s640/blogger-image-1152555337.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The fleeting view I got from the top</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfuS4ccWph-r7wk6q1bqmmsp8ZWI6_N5MXZQl3nvanzD5lmYm2npemlAQpsaMeZBplFuKmXXhDAPd5l01JIoobbPUiGiW4AyB3tJfnsh3ycyd5jWt5zd86bM5qf_XhvjHCweIe4x4HWhk/s640/blogger-image-525953987.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfuS4ccWph-r7wk6q1bqmmsp8ZWI6_N5MXZQl3nvanzD5lmYm2npemlAQpsaMeZBplFuKmXXhDAPd5l01JIoobbPUiGiW4AyB3tJfnsh3ycyd5jWt5zd86bM5qf_XhvjHCweIe4x4HWhk/s640/blogger-image-525953987.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Summit of Mitre Peak</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I slept for a while on a flat boulder then started back down again. The ridge was tougher in reverse, I often found myself trying to downclimb piles of choss with my feet skidding all over the place. There was a steeper slab that had an abseil anchor at the top, but of course I had no rope, so down the near-vertical scree I went instead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-rSKYGiChsHi6DVlKR8eZaMuu8i28ZnG2Ch-N-nIsLMHUVvLdgDdU7xXnnksVJmncVm35ILdzl3av7R7flIdN7170nh_WQXH4yaZnLWqhESgikGoFx9x_okZcrvOgqv6RZnhx5kvBw_I/s640/blogger-image-207773107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-rSKYGiChsHi6DVlKR8eZaMuu8i28ZnG2Ch-N-nIsLMHUVvLdgDdU7xXnnksVJmncVm35ILdzl3av7R7flIdN7170nh_WQXH4yaZnLWqhESgikGoFx9x_okZcrvOgqv6RZnhx5kvBw_I/s640/blogger-image-207773107.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Scrabbling my way down choss, Milford Sound just poking out of the mist below</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7-MH-pnp2GZ9cWipUL_nnTWvxrN5U9aT0eRlESNDANy0iNIQhcvCJogz_rMWGJOxcooy0uiajzh4HqISAtgrrUACTFaiPkGwtFZq60-qFTrTLjyRoZGPr5ssVCQTHLYrY02w9Uo8fx4/s640/blogger-image--1345043550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7-MH-pnp2GZ9cWipUL_nnTWvxrN5U9aT0eRlESNDANy0iNIQhcvCJogz_rMWGJOxcooy0uiajzh4HqISAtgrrUACTFaiPkGwtFZq60-qFTrTLjyRoZGPr5ssVCQTHLYrY02w9Uo8fx4/s640/blogger-image--1345043550.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Unfortunately the summit never cleared of cloud, but the views got better the more I descended</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5WV3tyMTM6N84sf47dIsDijTLM9LUlNEquxGR5Aj7K9mgXeV6Yx-x0XaMB69eFwWYX_yPGXUNYB13LqLW7lk2cBZZhavwLT5gH-DgTxZ955tsEKSfwlzzlFY2vBYz2jJWQAjA8mUKofc/s640/blogger-image-16359794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5WV3tyMTM6N84sf47dIsDijTLM9LUlNEquxGR5Aj7K9mgXeV6Yx-x0XaMB69eFwWYX_yPGXUNYB13LqLW7lk2cBZZhavwLT5gH-DgTxZ955tsEKSfwlzzlFY2vBYz2jJWQAjA8mUKofc/s640/blogger-image-16359794.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Some of the highest peaks of the Darren Mountains coming into view</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Soon enough I reached my gear dump and began to settle down for the night. However I still had a couple hours daylight remaining, so I decided instead to carry on a bit further, reasoning I would have less work to do the next day. This turned out to be a very good call. I was pretty knackered by this point, but managed to drag myself over the annoying sub peak, and all the way back to the top of the first bump of the ridge. I reckoned on only having an hour or so to do the following morning before reaching the pick up point. Exhausted, I ate some food and wriggled into my sleeping bag.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I slept maybe an hour or so before it started raining. Just a light drizzle to begin with, and I hoped it would soon blow over. After all the forecast was an improving one, with the next day supposed to be even better. But it didn't stop. It carried on, getting heavier and heavier, until it was absolutely pissing it down. Sometime around midnight my waterproof bivy bag gave up the ghost, and I could feel my sleeping bag getting soaked, becoming freezing cold. There was nothing I could do but suffer it out until it got light again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And suffer I did...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJM2xB522teO6xVyNPtk5AlyVbfL4-Hz0b1A9Fj5CuKOyExTV55J74xx4UzR7gpyaJHdHetNXEQns7BgdQ2qfKELhyfw1aJrAs3d8QkCzICy8Zcs2_auz4E4X2yor_3jUPEfCU2uaNNvo/s640/blogger-image-1500620557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJM2xB522teO6xVyNPtk5AlyVbfL4-Hz0b1A9Fj5CuKOyExTV55J74xx4UzR7gpyaJHdHetNXEQns7BgdQ2qfKELhyfw1aJrAs3d8QkCzICy8Zcs2_auz4E4X2yor_3jUPEfCU2uaNNvo/s640/blogger-image-1500620557.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The bivy where I spent the longest night of my life</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">By the time morning finally came I was utterly drenched and miserable, shivering away, teeth chattering. I'd spent the last few hours in a kneeling position because it seemed marginally less cold than lying down, and sleep was out of the question anyway. The bivy bag was drawn tight into a small breathing hole around my mouth, and water streamed in, down my face, into my sleeping bag. It was a relief to struggle out of the bloody thing and get going again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I stumbled back down the trail, trying hard to not get lost in the bush. Rain lashed down from the canopy above, I skidded onto my arse every few steps, tumbling down tree roots and crashing through piles of rotting logs on the forest floor. At one point though, as I blundered along the track, a kiwi appeared from the bush right next to me. It sort of waddled around a bit, looking very confused, then disappeared back again. As even most New Zealanders never see one in the wild I felt very lucky - it almost made the long, hellish hours of the night worthwhile...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My luck must've changed by that point, because although I completely lost the trail, I managed to force a way down anyway, and soon reached a river, where it was a simple task of following it back to the Sound and the pick-up point. I radioed one of Rosco's blokes and 5 minutes later his boat materialised out of the lashing rain, and I gratefully climbed aboard. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What an adventurous couple of days it had been. As we powered back down the Sound, rain and wind lashing the water until it foamed and spat, I did not look back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Never a-fucking-gain.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-5888758755634462502015-02-13T16:32:00.001-08:002015-02-13T16:32:27.993-08:00The Traverse of the Remarkables<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Arriving in Queenstown got me pretty psyched to do some climbing again, and the pinnacled ridge of the Remarkables was the most obvious target. I asked around some outdoor gear shops in town and found out there was indeed a route that included all the main summits, called the Grand Traverse; it was hard enough to be fun (ie not just walking), but not so hard that I needed a rope for any of it. Perfect!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5LCXmFJtZmF_i0wL__q8o2sux9MiNyqemXoSqU7lTa-uuNUGwGaDJPtnUlVYPlEtiMUpkc4rpgMfcL70Wp-cblFFAHluA_9GzhS1-1i-tE7UcaQ5Gk2nM5DdcH8TTvJ7YOa276EGLtQ/s640/blogger-image--29534350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5LCXmFJtZmF_i0wL__q8o2sux9MiNyqemXoSqU7lTa-uuNUGwGaDJPtnUlVYPlEtiMUpkc4rpgMfcL70Wp-cblFFAHluA_9GzhS1-1i-tE7UcaQ5Gk2nM5DdcH8TTvJ7YOa276EGLtQ/s640/blogger-image--29534350.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Remarkables at sunset. The Grand Traverse follows the highest part of the ridge just left of centre</div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So early in the morning I started making my way up the long winding road to the Remarkables ski station. Fortunately a labourer very kindly let me jump in the back of his truck, saving me 9km of tedious uphill plodding. I then followed a track under a chairlift and over a spur to gain the start of the ridge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQPJouQlv4qWDZzoMFG8XyOYL6fPO_b8kze1ctEVUXEX3l5CmOzXyuAG9m5WKoFby35UJ1FwLRMpVKXJRFVOry8PprdRF9PlmqLEvG5smICTW2soLu_k8OYt2myGM1qtg-4dpAOf0Qlg/s640/blogger-image-1335101966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQPJouQlv4qWDZzoMFG8XyOYL6fPO_b8kze1ctEVUXEX3l5CmOzXyuAG9m5WKoFby35UJ1FwLRMpVKXJRFVOry8PprdRF9PlmqLEvG5smICTW2soLu_k8OYt2myGM1qtg-4dpAOf0Qlg/s640/blogger-image-1335101966.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Beautiful early morning cloud-inversion over the Queenstown valley</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9NFzjdLYU9glPWytRJUxQ9nskHjzwebhc7twLQCJOE9aUVOaIwFhhxZncW_Y6TBNqcBJUOZ9fuuG6IgPHdj7GrUlnt9LPoHKjpH4cVV7gnF6ZbiM4N-fDXYrj6QCfkk61P99BHJjSyTI/s640/blogger-image--1458792244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9NFzjdLYU9glPWytRJUxQ9nskHjzwebhc7twLQCJOE9aUVOaIwFhhxZncW_Y6TBNqcBJUOZ9fuuG6IgPHdj7GrUlnt9LPoHKjpH4cVV7gnF6ZbiM4N-fDXYrj6QCfkk61P99BHJjSyTI/s640/blogger-image--1458792244.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Still there an hour or so later</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDadHx5UMstHdRLaxtbN4JNL0uk2pTjpZrvf4rXoROx8k1qN-ggKy3RY5lzIIee5AB8ALobyiQJq-tjQ1H7r6DhnGmmsPsjNEY5Z43gPvGyBMEDp9kos5B-9xjPhhxhqPxB8MGM6nAHCA/s640/blogger-image-321280737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDadHx5UMstHdRLaxtbN4JNL0uk2pTjpZrvf4rXoROx8k1qN-ggKy3RY5lzIIee5AB8ALobyiQJq-tjQ1H7r6DhnGmmsPsjNEY5Z43gPvGyBMEDp9kos5B-9xjPhhxhqPxB8MGM6nAHCA/s640/blogger-image-321280737.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The track up from the ski station</div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fi9FZZtXwpvX2EGyGnozC_aWmkRM41LTnvP8U4Z6gBH-HG8PevZmQF5yKH4PUhOC83-Q7SzkvDcB8DQfuM6-DlmUSdZuGu4ZQeguF0JFeWBUxRqDHwYkI-mi-YryACTdXxd199BmUkA/s640/blogger-image--1393976529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fi9FZZtXwpvX2EGyGnozC_aWmkRM41LTnvP8U4Z6gBH-HG8PevZmQF5yKH4PUhOC83-Q7SzkvDcB8DQfuM6-DlmUSdZuGu4ZQeguF0JFeWBUxRqDHwYkI-mi-YryACTdXxd199BmUkA/s640/blogger-image--1393976529.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking towards the main peaks from the start of the route</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I got going, following a rising traverse on the eastern side of the ridge just below the crest. I was a bit out of practice, moving awkwardly at first, trying to get used to the feeling of climbing solo again. But it was mostly pretty easy, just shuffling around on ledges and lines of weakness, the odd steeper bit on massive blocky holds. The crest itself looked wild in places - pinnacles rising up like fangs from some great jawline of stone - kind of tempting, but not without a rope or any real climbing talent...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihG-qQ8kgYNOCCYpBM0tWcZzewe4xzkJR79SLzdLUxEATlQ-ev2fpXG8ulgwDLiL0q1FeeJ_kZ-sRCo2qRU21oyaQwqThaEyOXo171MkJNJ8BVVb71AEq61djzPPH2q751svxmqR2KBb4/s640/blogger-image--1281949773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihG-qQ8kgYNOCCYpBM0tWcZzewe4xzkJR79SLzdLUxEATlQ-ev2fpXG8ulgwDLiL0q1FeeJ_kZ-sRCo2qRU21oyaQwqThaEyOXo171MkJNJ8BVVb71AEq61djzPPH2q751svxmqR2KBb4/s640/blogger-image--1281949773.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Traversing around the pinnacles on the way to the summit of Double Cone</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqaCN9BLrOgyciZ3uK5t3gPl8moVLdZYyCTShdSrDrBvt-5u9tVLHw3GbcnKW8d2jBvGxIrPccUXcuBp7fhwZsZajxNO0VAFTaHgtqekOUd5zFSjbuRgkuoC4L3Hvl5ajuaM42JJNST98/s640/blogger-image-761408788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqaCN9BLrOgyciZ3uK5t3gPl8moVLdZYyCTShdSrDrBvt-5u9tVLHw3GbcnKW8d2jBvGxIrPccUXcuBp7fhwZsZajxNO0VAFTaHgtqekOUd5zFSjbuRgkuoC4L3Hvl5ajuaM42JJNST98/s640/blogger-image-761408788.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back towards the first minor peak of the ridge, with the Southern Alps on the far skyline</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxwyCE1B0GSsEpEt4x3DW30JZmFyA-RiIgX-J1KGmA9xKh035OKxtQWQ_vntpOlJSpTvO0M6QKlAVOlgK25KR-DG35_3oO_SlJBX_k4O2oZWyjwPI90I0KLg5sas_PctnQDGWBbtjI2Rg/s640/blogger-image-454830658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxwyCE1B0GSsEpEt4x3DW30JZmFyA-RiIgX-J1KGmA9xKh035OKxtQWQ_vntpOlJSpTvO0M6QKlAVOlgK25KR-DG35_3oO_SlJBX_k4O2oZWyjwPI90I0KLg5sas_PctnQDGWBbtjI2Rg/s640/blogger-image-454830658.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nearly on top of Double Cone, with Single Cone, the highest point of the Remarkables, just behind</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Reaching the summit of Double Cone was meant to be the hardest part of the route, but I didn't notice anything too bad. I just followed my nose really, weaving through the steeper sections, anxious not to get stuck somewhere with no way up or back down. The exposure was mild but fairly constant. By this point I was flowing along nicely, moving effortlessly from hold to hold, and soon reached the top of Double Cone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif65aFyOPsaHSTdea_8Hgve3u0NSFXYVxRPLa28PgwwqEq9ypArYr0Yn1Ls60APolIKTiJlkVpNDZyfbtsfGkIUQsUTG41rZspS3IzOoE9r_tWuUNsgB1WBPYmtBODByZGEYK7mSxmnR8/s640/blogger-image-344795119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif65aFyOPsaHSTdea_8Hgve3u0NSFXYVxRPLa28PgwwqEq9ypArYr0Yn1Ls60APolIKTiJlkVpNDZyfbtsfGkIUQsUTG41rZspS3IzOoE9r_tWuUNsgB1WBPYmtBODByZGEYK7mSxmnR8/s640/blogger-image-344795119.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The fore-peak of Double Cone</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAv76GTmz-A4hkNMvG1Je-cPixBwhDQ6Ascx-IQlIJ5tvQcMNQWXJTMIwKWzzr1-AzFc6pX0NlCRep43G7wM13KfRS2vEdnFaRjmOqjJ_6m-1_ztFL5ihgA1ONfyf6z1RM4kmTbc6Nh0/s640/blogger-image--1744481036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAv76GTmz-A4hkNMvG1Je-cPixBwhDQ6Ascx-IQlIJ5tvQcMNQWXJTMIwKWzzr1-AzFc6pX0NlCRep43G7wM13KfRS2vEdnFaRjmOqjJ_6m-1_ztFL5ihgA1ONfyf6z1RM4kmTbc6Nh0/s640/blogger-image--1744481036.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Obligatory summit selfie</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9PlQr-YRkHnCVfZ32Y28Df0ct0qZsaz5KjwyXTOwfqajI5GaWwr9wPygJL-Udt7oLrlxzXOLiK4nTI0aUE6-L-e8CEGWUc0qTalxgzBaixp-IVIBifKK4T5fgbfPvoUwVlNmcaEYRzk/s640/blogger-image--1282809612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9PlQr-YRkHnCVfZ32Y28Df0ct0qZsaz5KjwyXTOwfqajI5GaWwr9wPygJL-Udt7oLrlxzXOLiK4nTI0aUE6-L-e8CEGWUc0qTalxgzBaixp-IVIBifKK4T5fgbfPvoUwVlNmcaEYRzk/s640/blogger-image--1282809612.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">More mountains to the east</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLOp5QBqDY7a6fNPLh2UeeCM2atwTujtGhNmw17Wi1ec3xq3LRgeek68qrYufqUPRQEgVYr9RKrH2XoigrIfr3jjPck2z_p6mrhJHEQUyrYnLhwXjLuqAYxSN1Vwv2G0H-QuLL_NDL8c/s640/blogger-image-2133795606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLOp5QBqDY7a6fNPLh2UeeCM2atwTujtGhNmw17Wi1ec3xq3LRgeek68qrYufqUPRQEgVYr9RKrH2XoigrIfr3jjPck2z_p6mrhJHEQUyrYnLhwXjLuqAYxSN1Vwv2G0H-QuLL_NDL8c/s640/blogger-image-2133795606.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next section of the traverse, to Single Cone</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">From the summit I downclimbed an awkward section to a col between the two peaks, at the head of a large rent in the rock called the Grand Couloir. A steep wall reared up in front of me, initially looking pretty tough, until I got closer and saw a line of massive flakes leapfrogging each other to a ledge above. Good stuff! This was easily the most fun climbing of the route, and over way too soon. It was also the hardest part, maybe just squeaking into the Diff grade, I'm not sure. I swung around on massive handholds, slapping my feet anywhere, having an awesome time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtO-QK7Rxk_UQlc5CVHT3yvLWtI3gSOe1p9YmFlDG73tdD-2t5m9xkwzVcT7ZkSwtGL-Jo6JztccDLC3KBhe4s-eN-ugwAIEBwUrxF8H9XXTSVUiGHbFBKsAOiAznXsyScLBgUx4CBy0/s640/blogger-image-1868343468.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtO-QK7Rxk_UQlc5CVHT3yvLWtI3gSOe1p9YmFlDG73tdD-2t5m9xkwzVcT7ZkSwtGL-Jo6JztccDLC3KBhe4s-eN-ugwAIEBwUrxF8H9XXTSVUiGHbFBKsAOiAznXsyScLBgUx4CBy0/s640/blogger-image-1868343468.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back at Double Cone </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The route then took a rising traverse across a blank looking slab. I wondered how the hell I was supposed to climb it, until once again I got close, and saw a foot-ledge running the whole way across, which I shuffled my way along without any trouble. This was all a bit easy to be honest, I had been hoping for some more challenging climbing. Still, the views were fantastic, and I soon clambered my way up the ridge to reach the top of Single Cone, the highest point of the Remarkables, around 2300m I think.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAq3VGr45QUyfPBrQWl8G0d5o0s9GxbkDWStUl_xzSn_GdHrlk1qXKr5iUSMnSWVRnDDEoRjZUZyY5vCfejXEbKn_PQYCu0CMq3YWuB3jQiC8Aoq1Xsk3CWxzB9yRIy3Km5Al6E5PPDfQ/s640/blogger-image-216365181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAq3VGr45QUyfPBrQWl8G0d5o0s9GxbkDWStUl_xzSn_GdHrlk1qXKr5iUSMnSWVRnDDEoRjZUZyY5vCfejXEbKn_PQYCu0CMq3YWuB3jQiC8Aoq1Xsk3CWxzB9yRIy3Km5Al6E5PPDfQ/s640/blogger-image-216365181.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Summit of the Remarkables</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYoYrefdJEwX8wTc0qsfBGOZr_HJQgwPXsv9GUDNASSwORIYTtroq2mvAEKnidOtonVHG957tfC3PvzyIZd00ZhOG1UBgyoIu2SDllr2AD0s2VasHw5Hl1g4vJyf-TsXb5MX_tPHOdkA/s640/blogger-image--1607014133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYoYrefdJEwX8wTc0qsfBGOZr_HJQgwPXsv9GUDNASSwORIYTtroq2mvAEKnidOtonVHG957tfC3PvzyIZd00ZhOG1UBgyoIu2SDllr2AD0s2VasHw5Hl1g4vJyf-TsXb5MX_tPHOdkA/s640/blogger-image--1607014133.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The chossy looking remainder of the ridge, which the Grand Traverse doesn't follow</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">From the top of the peak I followed the ridge south and reached an obvious couloir. Here there were abseil stations all the way down, which made me a bit apprehensive - should I have brought a rope for this? The couloir was a bit grovelly, filled with powdery snow and loose rock, but I took my time and got down it no worries.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EhJ8a23Gpg4vFbCfCPfazUl0SEQa6Sg1bJ59HQ40-JeVzSo2PB_JYZUudP8v2iMJv-48kkOFl_3vCMRDAjKsgJwMgN0wtGt2lEVdOSbdL_RJFAKaPwOURKH8JkIU8tqh5CRwLOBh_lA/s640/blogger-image-1862839443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EhJ8a23Gpg4vFbCfCPfazUl0SEQa6Sg1bJ59HQ40-JeVzSo2PB_JYZUudP8v2iMJv-48kkOFl_3vCMRDAjKsgJwMgN0wtGt2lEVdOSbdL_RJFAKaPwOURKH8JkIU8tqh5CRwLOBh_lA/s640/blogger-image-1862839443.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The descent couloir is the obvious fault running down from the centre of the photo</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">From there I ambled down a badly marked trail, and skidded down scree and steep grass into a valley. I hoped for a track to follow, but alas, I had to make do with ankle breaking rocks and tussocks of grass instead. Eventually the going got easier, and I jogged down a track through the bush to get back to the main road, where I managed to hitch back to town soon after.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-6Zd5hU2eTtCAFVgwuROdL3nPBwO7gnMYSWXF15Q4zH8O7mNXbJgGawmZcE4ZPanYqW_1m70bCRi-Rm874LjIQSlcRsBe3AJDcabC1dUHdbAciidzBbewP7AEkjobVEcavHdmyloapQ/s640/blogger-image--717430685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-6Zd5hU2eTtCAFVgwuROdL3nPBwO7gnMYSWXF15Q4zH8O7mNXbJgGawmZcE4ZPanYqW_1m70bCRi-Rm874LjIQSlcRsBe3AJDcabC1dUHdbAciidzBbewP7AEkjobVEcavHdmyloapQ/s640/blogger-image--717430685.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Single Cone from the valley of crippling despair</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOPp_Knmn3iJ01NBmtAoClMU-hO864oPXQT2EykwR6jlNpeHckpmiQdjx3BkAVKoTvRHhnd4q2ZGkDx3vPaqAFF2kdwCgI8CHS2TuFUlSBFmAhQ2rScO9iCAfxBW1poo8xf3pwouskM8/s640/blogger-image-385268878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOPp_Knmn3iJ01NBmtAoClMU-hO864oPXQT2EykwR6jlNpeHckpmiQdjx3BkAVKoTvRHhnd4q2ZGkDx3vPaqAFF2kdwCgI8CHS2TuFUlSBFmAhQ2rScO9iCAfxBW1poo8xf3pwouskM8/s640/blogger-image-385268878.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This was far harder than anything on the climb, I shit you not</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Although it was perhaps a bit too easy, the Grand Traverse was an awesome day out in the hills, with some amazing scenery to enjoy along the way. It's good to be climbing in the mountains again.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505255635325954921.post-19925512091480488032014-09-18T04:09:00.001-07:002014-09-22T09:51:05.462-07:00Dartmoor JollyStaples and I arrived at Haytor just as the sun was going down. In the dying light we ambled up to the crag, soloed a few VDiffs, did a bit of bouldering. Then, seeing as this was most definitely a jolly, and not a serious climbing trip, we went back to the car park and got hammered. Some time and many beers later Pat turned up, and we all staggered off to the tor again to check out some routes for the next day. I had my eye on the classic Aviation. E1 in the book, but from my drunken headtorch perspective it looked 'absolutely piss'.<br />
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In the morning, crippled by a stinking hangover, I fumbled my way up Raven Gully, appalled by just how difficult it was. Long moments passed where I could do nothing but stare in confusion at the holds, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do with them. Some horrific contortions up a chimney finally saw me to the top, and I peered out across the misty expanse of Dartmoor with bleary eyes, bringing the other now-not-so-jolly-boys up, fighting back vomit and wishing I was dead. Staples then had a go at the neighboring route Honeymoon Corner, climbing the initial wall like an old man whose stairlift has broken. He sighed and groaned with every move.<br />
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After spending a while fiddling a hex in ("Put a cam in yer nonce") he celebrated its placement by slumping onto the rope and lowering off. So I had a go, and just about managed to grovel my way up a godawful wide, holdless crack onto a beckoning ledge, where I wanted nothing more than to pass out into merciful, dribbling unconsciousness. Things were not very promising for Aviation, which incidentally, in the cold light of day, was suddenly looking a thousand times harder and scarier than before.<br />
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Who knew?<br />
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But Staples at least was determined to sort himself out, and he grabbed the rack to lead Levitation; bold, delicate climbing up slabby flakes with a lot less gear than you want. Seconding, I tried the direct start and couldn't get close even with a tight rope. My god it was nails, same tech grade as Aviation, and any lingering trace of last night's pissed-up confidence disappeared altogether. Tail between my legs I lowered off and climbed the standard route, a bloody good lead by Staples under the circumstances. Pat - who hadn't climbed outside since August last year - came up last and avoided the tenuous crux move by dynoing for a jug and smashing his knees into the unyielding granite of Haytor.<br />
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Afterwards the three of us were staggering around and moaning like zombies, a likely team indeed to tackle an E1.
It was all going so very very well...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissP8V-Qj4DlWuyVDtxQRM3M5fERu6WiFs9SH9Id2IfV5BZzVH8S7hJvcky3kLV1WzUFq8ZWAga6euAMHrlVqgCue-4f2CasI3Q2J_2_ctHBn7EPsHoxI-JzjP5SN25XeLYVYYuzMajdI/s1600/aviation2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissP8V-Qj4DlWuyVDtxQRM3M5fERu6WiFs9SH9Id2IfV5BZzVH8S7hJvcky3kLV1WzUFq8ZWAga6euAMHrlVqgCue-4f2CasI3Q2J_2_ctHBn7EPsHoxI-JzjP5SN25XeLYVYYuzMajdI/s1600/aviation2.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Yep, piece of piss, just like I said...</div>
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No more excuses. Now it was my lead again and I couldn't bear putting it off any longer, so I tied in and got on Aviation. Up a sort of pillar then the first crux getting into a steep flake-crack. I pulled on some jams, laybacked up the flake, it was amazingly straightforward. The route was never really strenuous after that; more technically sustained. I minced across the traverse, edging crystals, skipped the hanging belay and carrried on. Up to the weird drainpipe feature, eyeing up the following run-out, insecure moves off edges and smears. I found that to be the crux, psychologically at least. A final hard move off a crimp saw me to the top of the runnel and easy slabs beyond.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiziVUsjqxiZNPdSJu3Ph-qQ0UJSUR5RUmpL4DiV8BD5Him3_ZhWE206Ju9IevbuG6cGQ9cSov-pgUNiNcnSGwCU-NWt5i_rwor1SKQyYvPvBTgsLrfCfgrUX8dokRMhA59Za1wZMgu_Wg/s1600/aviation1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiziVUsjqxiZNPdSJu3Ph-qQ0UJSUR5RUmpL4DiV8BD5Him3_ZhWE206Ju9IevbuG6cGQ9cSov-pgUNiNcnSGwCU-NWt5i_rwor1SKQyYvPvBTgsLrfCfgrUX8dokRMhA59Za1wZMgu_Wg/s1600/aviation1.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Staples wrestling with the first crux</div>
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Staples made a valiant effort to follow but had to bail at the traverse because of crippling pain in his hands. So it was down to poor old Pat to finish the job, which he managed in fine style; I'd never heard anyone power-scream their way across delicate footwork climbing before. After that we jumped in the car and ended the day with some bouldering and easy soloing at Houndtor, then a welcome pint at the Plume and Feathers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG38F_B_NB6yxVTiYU87RpjvFGRewNJXuRjdeeo7nooP8LhqZy8JYMMcasDMZD2x86ateBqkc-JQNX4daXdtAPbUOuVkKqXZXWOrcPqAVPd9wChaBeklo4QcZmoixGI8irnllRCzp3sRM/s1600/houndtor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG38F_B_NB6yxVTiYU87RpjvFGRewNJXuRjdeeo7nooP8LhqZy8JYMMcasDMZD2x86ateBqkc-JQNX4daXdtAPbUOuVkKqXZXWOrcPqAVPd9wChaBeklo4QcZmoixGI8irnllRCzp3sRM/s1600/houndtor.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Approaching Houndtor</div>
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Pat had to leave that evening so the next day it was just me and Staples at the Dewerstone. We did a couple of fun multipitch VDiffs then it was time for my other main target of the trip - Climber's Club Direct. Two pitches of steep jamming up cracks and corners, one of those wonderful 'not hard just bloody hard work' classics that you just know is going to kick the shit out of you. And it was with some trepidation that I racked up and set off up the horrendously polished initial wall. This led to a roof that was cleaved by a perfect hand crack. I'd heard it was the toughest part of the route but I found it OK - chuck in some jams, pull hard, feet up and done.<br />
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I must've mentally relaxed a bit too much after that because the rest of the route felt absolutely nails. I spent ages getting pumped trying to go directly up the crack to a beckoning sapling, before realising there was an obvious and easy step right onto a slabby flake. Sustained bridging up the continuation corner, past a roof, led me to the belay. I'd planned on doing it in one pitch but I'd used all my big gear and there was an off-width looming above. So Staples struggled his way to my stance and then off I went again. I placed the daddy-cam in the base of the off-width then grovelled up to and over the capping roof on monster jugs - awesome!<br />
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Here a widening crack shot straight up to the top, and I ignored the tempting easy traverse off left and got stuck in. Feet scrabbling I locked-off a horizontal jam, tried to wedge myself in, couldn't, almost got spat off instead. I could feel myself slipping away, losing strength, and in desperation I threw in a careless fist and heaved for the top. With a flailing hand I grabbed at a thank god chockstone and gibbered my way to safety, a broken, sobbing mess of a man.<br />
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Staples just laybacked it the cheating bastard.<br />
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Knackered at the top</div>
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After that we did the fantastic Route B; mega steep for VDiff but on huge jugs all the way, incredible exposure snapping beneath my feet. Finally I soloed a fun route called Colonel's Arete, then we called it good and went to the pub. Most likely my last West Country trip for quite a while and it was awesome to achieve two such long-standing ambitions.<br />
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Great stuff.David S Gainorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000093603499158159noreply@blogger.com0