County Climber Summer 2018

County Climber

Summer 2018

Magazine of the Northumbrian Mountaineering Club

CLUB NEWS GUIDEBOOK UPDATE MEETS REPORTS CREAG MEAGAIDH IGLACIER GUIDING IN ICELAND

THE OLD MAN OF HOY COUNTY CLASSICS 24HR CHALLENGE THE BOB GRAHAM ROUND ‘CLIMBERS’: A BOOK REVIEW GROUND FALL, ON-SIGHT FRENCH SPORT CLIMBING: ORPIERRE

CONTENTS About the Northumbrian Mountaineering Club The NMC is a meeting point for climbers, fell walkers and mountaineers of all abilities.

Our activities centre on rock-climbing and bouldering in summer, snow and ice climbing in winter and hill-walking in both.

Meets are held regularly throughout the year.

The NMC is not, however, a commercial organization and does not provide instructional courses directly.

REGULARS

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EL PRESIDENTE

Customary words of wisdom from the man at the helm

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EDITORIAL

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WEDNESDAY & SUMMER WEEKEND MEETS

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A preview of the articles in this issue

A look forward at what’s coming up on our events calendar. Get your diaries ready.

MEET REPORTS CLUB NEWS

Notes on the sustainability of County climbing, meet responsiblities, and an update on guidebook development

Copyright Edited and produced by John Spencer and Ian Birtwistle The contents of this magazine are copyright and may not be reproduced without permission of the NMC. The views expressed in the magazine are not necessarily those of the Editor or the NMC.

Cover Shot: Joe Spoor highballing Klondyke Wall (E2 5c), Bowden Doors Photo : Russell Lovatt

Background: The New Members’ Meet posse, Great Langdale, May 2017 Photo : Oliver Grady

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FEATURES

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ONE OLD MAN & THREE OLD GITS. A fiftieth anniversary ascent of the Old Man of Hoy

‘CLIMBERS’ BY M JOHN HARRISON Grace Curtis reviews this classic, award winning novel

ORPIERRE SPORT CLIMBING. Our man on the ground, Mr Quin, sings the praises of yet another French sport climbing venue

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A SHORT WALK TO CREAG MEAGAIDH

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IF IT WASN’T FOR THE LAST MINUTE.....

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Martin Cooper waxes lyrical about a winter outing on this iconic mountain

Tim Rodgers describes his succesful Bob Graham Round

GLACIER GUIDING IN ICELAND

Chris Haworth on what he did after he decided to

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24 HOUR COUNTY CLASSIC CHALLENGE

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GROUND FALL, ON-SIGHT

John Haxon and pals take on the challenge of climbing as many classic Coonty climbs as possible in a 24 hour period

Felix Larrieu reflects on his strategy for advancing through the grades

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Jim Rigg on ‘Sombre Heros’ (WI5), Ceillac, Ecrins (Photo: John Spencer)

NMC Meets

Join the NMC

The NMC Members’ handbook (available to all members) and the NMC website list the dates and locations of all meets.

This magazine lists the meets arranged for the next few months.

You can subscribe online which is easier and faster. More information is available at: thenmc.org.uk

Non-members are always welcome to attend meets.

Payment of fees by GoCardlessDirect Debit is preferred; it’s easy to set up, just click here.

Membership Fees • Full £23 • Prospective £15

Photographs by author of article unless otherwise stated.

You can visit our community : WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/GROUPS/THENMC

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and you can visit our official website : WWW.THENMC.ORG.UK

Wall concessions £1 off the standard entry price at: - Sunderland Wall - Durham Climbing Centre - Climb Newcastle * - Newcastle Climbing Centre

*Wednesday nights only

Guidebooks NORTHUMBERLAND BOULDERING

NO NOBLER COUNTY

The definitive and comprehensive guide to climbing in Northumberland – much more useful than ‘the other one’.

The sandstone of Northumberland offers some of the best bouldering in the Country, often in a remote and beautiful setting.

£12.50 to members (RRP £18.95) £2 P&P

£12.50 to members (RRP £19.95) £2 P&P

Celebrating the sport of rock climbing in Northumberland, from first hand accounts of nail-booted ascents in the 1940s to bouldering in the 1990s.

CONTACT: John Earl 0191 236 5922

CONTACT: John Earl 0191 236 5922

NORTHUMBERLAND CLIMBING

£2 to members (while stocks last CONTACT: Martin Cooper 0191 252 5707

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Wednesday night meets

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Weekend meets 10-11 August Nevis and Glencoe Rock Alex MacIntyre Memorial Hut

Meet leader Craig Harrison (07718 926 629 24-27 August

Pembroke Camping Meet Bosherston Meet Leader Radek Florczak (07403 503 550)

14-16 September North Yorkshire Limestone, Clapham Hut

Meet leader to be confirmed 12-13 October Bowderstone Hut, Borrowdale Meet leader Martin Cooper (01912 525 707) In the meantime, the winter weekend meets programme is being finalised and details will be publicised in a Newsletter and on Facebook as soon as they are available.

Simlarly, work is under way on a social programme (speakers, ceildih, etc) and will be similarly publicised. Ideas for speakers are always welcome.....contact a Committee member with your suggestion.

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COMMITTEE

El Presidente Steve Blake

J

ohn, as ever will have produced a bumper edition of County Climber and as ever has invited me to pen an introduction. So I am in a position to offer some good news (I believe it to be so) and pose a question.

Firstly the news. This year I attended the BMC AGM at Kendal. If you opened the emails, read our FB page and generally keep a finger on the near-dead pulse of the BMC, you will have been aware that this was (another) important AGM that would determine the way forward for the organisation. The result of the vote was that 92% of the seven thousand or so members who cast a vote decided for Option A – this will see the implementation of Articles of Association that meet the highest standards of governance in sport and allow, though not guarantee, future funding from Sport England.

For a small number of members it has been a fractious and at times acrimonious process.

But this important decision is made and the Council will be able to embark on the implementation of phase two, turning the paper AoA into a functioning bureaucracy.

The AGM also voted in the BMC’s first female President, Lynn Robinson. Lynn is a long standing BMC volunteer and faces a challenging period. I am certain she will do a fine job of pulling the tribe back together. However, everything is not perfect and there will be some organisational poo traps to avoid. Careful stewardship should see the organisation navigate its way through. I look forward to the BMC getting back to its core business of supporting members, clubs and our outdoor environment.

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And so to the question. The Club is in a healthy position, we number around 150 members and while many are ‘dormant’ the majority are still very engaged with the outdoors and opportunities it provides. My question to you all is ‘what do you see as the role of club’?

The Club’s constitution states that the purpose of the Club shall be to encourage all aspects of mountaineering and to safeguard and promote the interests of mountaineers, particularly in Northumberland, Durham and Tyne and Wear. We currently do that by organising meets and social events, facilitating and negotiating access to crags, producing definitive guidebooks for Northumberland, and being the guardians of the unique climbing style that has developed in the county.

The vast majority of this is facilitated by the activities of a small Committee. It can be a complicated and thankless business serving on a Committee, but without one, the club would not exist.

But, you don’t have to be on the Committee to contribute to the functioning of the Club. We would be very grateful if members would step forward and take on the responsibility of organising meets – it really isn’t that complicated and there is plenty of advice to be had. Indeed a ‘Meets Aide Memoire’ is in this edition (see: Club News). If you have an idea for a meet or social event then please bring it forward and if it is viable and cost effective then with your help we will try our best to make it happen. Please get involved, it is your club.

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Meanwhile....look who forgot to bring his harness to the Ravensheugh meet!! (not that lack of harness slowed him down apparently - and just look at those crack gloves!!)

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Craig Harrison

Andrew Shanks

Adrian Wilson

Vice President

General Secretary

Membership Secretary

Felix Larieu Treasurer

John Spencer

Magazine Editor

Committee Members Ciara Barrett-Smith; Megan Denman-Cleaver; Radoslaw Florczak; Peter Hubbard; Camilla Mapstone; Joe McCarty; Claire Robertson; Joe Rudin; Emma Smith

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EDITORIAL

A

s I write this we are still basking in Mediterranean climes, brilliant for climbing and walking, albeit not so good for gardens and allotments! Although I’ve not been able to avail

myself of the glorious weather to visit the high mountain crags, where I have much unfinished business, I have managed to get out a lot into the County. This has mostly been onto Whin Sill, more often than not in the company of the inimitable uber-enthusiast Mr Al Horsfield.

Conditions have been near perfect for Peel and Crag Lough, the drought ensuring that friction is good, the approaches to climbs are through and up dry rather than sodden vegetation and vertical leaf-mould, the grass choking the cracks is parched and easier to garden, and a gentle breeze keeps the midges at bay! We have worked our way through the classics, discovering or rediscovering many esoteric gems along the way. Simply ‘Supeeerrbb’!!

And ‘Supeeerrbb’ is exactly how I would describe the content of this issue of County Climber.

Here’s a preview.

Several months ago John Mountain emailed me with an interesting offer: “Some members of the NMC (well, Rick Barnes actually) have suggested that my trip to climb the Old Man of Hoy last September might be worthy of a mention in the Coonty Climber. Why? You may well ask!

Well, everybody has done it*. Even Bonington at 80! Well, I have actually done it 3 times now.

The first time was with two mates, Snod and Rancid, just two months after the TV extravaganza in 1967. Rance was 17, Snod and I were 21. This was the 4th ascent (if you count the TV extravaganza as a single ascent), probably the first free ascent, and possibly the first up-anddown in a day. The second time was in 2006, with a team of NMC aging superstars who wished to commemorate my 60th birthday – the Smith Brothers, John Earl, Ian Murray and Alec Burns. The ascent last September was a 50th anniversary ascent with Snod and Rance. I think

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it is notable that we are all alive and kicking, let alone able to climb! I should mention that Rance is better known as Terry King, a climber of some considerable repute ‘in his day’, and without whom the 1967 ascent would probably not have happened. Terry had not climbed for 30 years prior to our expedition last September. He ‘enjoyed’ his recent experience so much, that he decided to record his feelings for posterity.”

An offer I obviously could not refuse. And indeed the name Terry King rang loud bells with me, as it may with older readers. A bit of judicious Googling and wading through old magazines and books revealed the facts of the matter. Read his article and little bit about the author on page 34.

On page 50 Grace Curtis, formerly of this parish and now studying creative writing at the University of East Anglia, has written a review of M J Harrison’s 1989 Boardman-Tasker Award winning book ‘Climbers’. She makes the point that there’s not a lot of really good climbing fiction around, but, in her opinion, this novel stands out. I read it at the time it was published and enjoyed it, for all its bleakness, not least because a lot of the story takes place in and around the area in which I cut my teeth as a climber, namely the Lancashire quarries and Peak grit. Reading Grace’s review has made me reach for the book again. See what you think.

Meanwhile, on page 53 roving correspondent Paul Quin describes yet another Continental sport climbing venue, this time Orpierre in France. I’ve never been, and this has certainly whetted my appetite, but, Oh Dear, so many places to visit, so little time!

Martin Cooper follows with a description of a very long but highly memorable day on Creag Meagaidh during the Club’s winter meet at the Raeburn Hut in February.

I’ve never been inclined to run (except for a bus), and in any case for many years wouldn’t really have been able to, due to a combination of back and knee problems.

But I do ‘get’ what running is about, in particular fell-running, and am quite envious of those that indulge. However, even if was I able, when it comes to the more competitive, ‘hardcore’ end of the spectrum I’m not sure I’d have the patience or tenacity to train, let alone compete! Tim Rodgers is clearly made of different stuff and decided have a look at the Bob Graham Round. The title of his article is taken from the phrase ‘If it wasn’t for the last minute, nothing would ever get done’, a maxim that prevailed throughout my career (and, come to think of it, most areas of the rest of my life as well!).

What would you do if you became hacked off with your PhD, losing interest in the subject matter and with a supervisor who was helpful, if not obstructive? Well, one option might be to sack it and head off to Iceland to become a Glacier Guide. Which is exactly what Chris Haworth did, as he tells us on page 70.

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One glorious midsummer’s day John Haxon and friends embarked on a ‘County Classics 24 Hour Challenge’. Starting at Crag Lough, and blessed with perfect conditions, over the next 23 hours 52 minutes (‘if it wasn’t for the last eight minutes....’!!) they ticked off 18 routes (two short of their target), visited six crags, saw sunset from Simonside and sunrise at Bowden and had a generally great time. Read all about it on page 77.

Finally, in a thoughtful piece, Félix Larrieu reflects on his progress through the grades over the past couple of seasons, clocking up some air-miles en route.

Well, I don’t know about you, but I reckon that’s a pretty good hall of articles, reflecting, along with the meet reports, the enthusiastic, energetic diversity of the Club. Enjoy!

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A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY

After one splendid evening at Peel Crag, I posted the picture on the right on Facebook, showing Al Horsfield leading ‘Kamikaze Sex Pilot (E2 5c). Quick as a flash John Dalrymple posted the photo on the left, with the following comments: ‘From June, 1968. One of my regular University climbing partners, Bill Clark, from the vet department. His dad founded Sheriffs Highway Vets. That’s my peg hammer. It was raining so we did this and, for some reason, Tiger’s Chimney . My log notes - “In the rain, all very gripping”.

The route was then known as ‘Tiger’s Folly’ and is described in the 1964 Northumberland Guide thus: ‘Tiger’s Folly, 60 feet, A2. Artificial. Goes directly up the wall to the left of the overhang.’ The FA of Kamikaze Sex Pilot which follows more or less the same line, was by Callum Phillips and Steve Lude sometime in the 1980s. Kamikaze Sex Pilots was an all-female band active briefly in the early 80s with such memorable tunes as ‘Sharon’s been deflowered and defoliated.’!

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Meets Reports The meets programme, the glue that holds the Club together, appears to be Alive and Kicking!

The winter meets were fully subscribed and the generally excellent weather and conditions enabled lots of adventure (and occasional excitement.... thinking John Vaughan clocking up some air miles on South Pipe Direct on Creag Meagaidh...).

The CIC meet over Easter weekend probably takes the biscuit for conditions which, by all accounts, were Alpine, and many classics were ticked off. The Club received a bit of a wristslap from the CIC after the Lagangarbh weekend in February.

Due to a misunderstanding, a heater had inadvertently been left on after the hut was vacated by Club members on the Sunday afternoon. Fortunately another party took up occupation the next day so nothing came of it. Nonetheless, a reminder of our collective (ie not just the meet leader’s) responsibilities when using huts.

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Top: The east ridge of Beinn a Chaorainn Left: Ian B and Ciara on Staghorn Gully Above: Emma, Dr Joe, Dr Phil and Mr Vaughan on Binnein Shuas

The summer Wednesday night meets started with a bit of a whimper due to variable weather, but once the Mediterranean conditions kicked in there’s been no holding back! The NMC Facebook Chat page usually sparks up on Monday or Tuesday as folk start asking about lifts, arrangements, midge risk, and so on. Come the day a flotilla of vehicles from far and wide descends upon the designated venue in the late afternoon, and fun and games ensue. Later, or more usually the next day, photos and comments appear on FB. The summer weekend meets have been similarly blessed with fabulous weather, and in consequence good turnouts.

There is no system or routine for gathering reports of meets, although there is usually some record of who attended and what got done on Facebook. Meanwhile Ciara Barrett has been diligently reposting photos on the NMC Chat page. Notwithstanding, below are a few selections from winter and summer meets. Thanks to the authors and photgraphers.

CIC Easter 2018

Richard Pow outside the CIC Hut looking like he owns the place!

Underneath ‘Gremlins’ (VI,6). Coire na Ciste, Ben Nevis 15

Photos from the CIC Meet Left: Phil and Joe on the summit plateau Below left: Joe McCarty on White Line Below right: Mark Riley looking butch

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Corby’s, 18th April “Great meet last Wednesday, lots of us feeling a bit rusty getting on trad for the first time this year but great to be out on real rock complaining about the heat!

There were multiple ascents of the Plonka as usual by Sarah, Ian and Luke, with Sarah also doing Overunder with Annie (Rose) and Luke with Joe. Joe and Craig led

Nuts Wall whilst Ian and Joe both led Misrepresentation. Craig also led is his own combination Scotsman’s/Overunder with Annie following. Josh ticked off the classics Sunshine Superman and Audacity but he had to pay the price of bringing up a second, third and fourth up Sunshine! Steve and Bronwen made easy work of Ken’s Caper and Tiger Feet among others. Whilst we were all trying to remember how to use gear and set up belays Josephine and co went in search of the bouldering. I’m afraid I missed what Sam and Hugh and Carolyn and Mike were up to but they seemed busy! We climbed until dusk as usual and because it’s still early in the season we had plenty of time for some post-climbing pints in the Village Inn and even made it home before midnight - more days like this please!” Ciara Barrett

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Two accounts of the day meet in Borrowdale, June 24th “Day One. You have to accept the fact, it’s a long way from the North East to Borrowdale in Cumbria. With a little forward planning, it’s just about possible to manage two consecutive days climbing in the Lake District from where we live. We had to start the planning stage in February. We had to get up extra early just two days after the longest day of the year. We had to book places in a hut. We had to exchange quite a few text messages. Oh, and we had to let Lucian do Dexter Wall. But we pulled it off.

Joking apart, this was a brilliant meet, made even better by the amazing weather.

Saturday took us to Grey Crag, Buttermere, where Lucian, Kellie and Martin met up with Carolyn and Mike. Between us we did Harrow Buttress, Mitre Buttress Direct, Oxford and Cambridge and Dexter Wall (VS 5a). On this last route Mike went for the calm, quiet approach, Kellie managed some expletives on the crux moves, Carolyn shared her feelings with the whole valley and Lucian bellowed at the top of his voice as he overcame the final difficulties. He has a loud voice. Martin took the photographs.

Back in the valley at the Fell and Rock Hut Lucian cooked steak long into the night and Fiona arrived fresh from trying out shiny new gear at Shepherds Crag just as Lucian served up the meat. Fiona is a vegetarian. It had been a long day but we were happy and we thought that there was a reasonable chance of some more climbing the next day.

Day Two: the main meet was at Quayfoot Buttress and Black Crag. Apologies everyone but having been at a perfectly dry mountain crag in good weather, we couldn’t resist more of the same and headed for Raven Crag and Glaciated Slab in Combe Ghyll. Corvus was dispatched in the sun, Fiona enjoying some leading and Kellie overcoming her ‘nemesis’ - on her last ascent of the route she sustained ankle injuries and had to finish the route and walk out in great pain. No problems this time. Thanks for sunbathing for an hour while we finished the route, Lucian.

Lucian about to bellow on ‘Dexter Wall’ (VS 4c) (Photo: Martin Cooper)

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A suggestion for next year – a whole weekend Borrowdale Meet? It is possible.”

Martin Cooper “Those who ventured into the ‘wettest place in England’ on Sunday 24th June for the ‘Lakes Day Meet’ were rewarded with the most wonderful hot and sunny weather. In all, ten members and one dog took advantage of the sunshine with three climbing on both days with an overnight stay (see Martin’s account).

Grey Crags, Raven Crag, Woden’s Face and Black Crag were all scenes of activity.

At Black Crag, as I was setting off on the first pitch of Troutdale Pinnacle, none other than our esteemed President revealed something so shocking, I was disturbed for the remainder of the climb and si8mply have to share it with you....Here goes: in the 1970s, he soloed the route stark naked, wearing only a pair of rock boots and a bandana! His wife, made it clear to the assembled membership that this was before she met him. Members (ahem, Editor) can make of this Top: A motley crew in foregathered Quayfoot car park what they will, but he’ll Bottom: The Editor on Troutdale Pinnacle Superdirect certainly get my vote at (HVS, 5a) the next AGM. Cups of tea were served at the Climbers Club Hut in Grange at the end of a wonderful day out on the crag.”

Paul Quin

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The photos on this and the previous page were taken by Martin Cooper on the day before the June Borrowdale meet.

Opposite page Top left: Kellie Davis on ‘Oxford and Cambridge Direct’ (Severe), Grey Crag Top right: Haystacks reflected in Buttermere Bottom left: Mike Frost and Carolyn Horrocks on ‘Dexter Wall’ (VS 4c), Grey Crag Bottom right: Kellie and Lucian at the belay This page Top: Pillar from Grey Crag Bottom: Scafell from Grey Crag

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The President’s Meal Meet, Langdale, July 6-8th “The Club Dinner (aka President’s Meal) weekend never disappoints. Over the years, as a sociable as well as serious mountaineering club, we’ve ceilidhed in Belford, staggered back to the Bowderstone Hut from ‘The Borrowdale’, and more recently enjoyed the tarns, crags and hostelries of Langdale. This year’s meet saw 26 members assemble at the Ravencrag Hut behind the ‘ODG’ for what will be remembered as the ‘Mountains High, Rivers Dry’ meet.

For some, adventures commenced immediately on arrival on the Friday evening.

After rapid ascents of ‘Elevation’ and ‘Revelation’ on Raven Crag, Icelandic-bearded Chris, red-haired Joe and myself were coiling ropes and preparing to descend in the last half hour of proper daylight, when we spotted the party of Craig, Megan and James commencing the four-pitch classic Severe ‘Centipede’. On enquiry we discovered that they intended to ‘speed climb’ the route before darkness fell, thus had between them less than one, ie zero head-torches. They accepted mine, ‘just in case’, which was good for it enabled concerned Club members to track their progress, first up, and later off the crag until we all gave up and went to bed before 1am. Thankfully they were found soundly and safely sleeping in the hut the following morning.

On this hot and cloudless Saturday, Megan ‘going strong for the top’ on ‘Centipede... parties headed to Gimmer, White with headtorch Ghyll, Pavey and Long Scar. The latter saw Bronwen and Steve Blake climb no fewer than 8 routes, whilst Steve composed his after-dinner speech!. On Pavey the ‘all girls’ team of Megan (in the groove from her nighttime lead of Centipede)and Überschnell led Steph, new to trad climbing, up her first multi-pitch route, ‘Coati’, a supposedly 3 star VS that Über, with characteristic Germanic frankness, later described as ‘a bit crap’ (recall Al Horsfield, please, for a coaching in ‘enthusi-

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asm’ here!).

The Gimmer teams included Robin and Annie on ‘Asterisk’, Kizzy and Ian on ‘NW Arete’, and multiple others on the main crag resulting in a massive queue for the abseil shared with Lakeland locals. Mark, of Wanneys Climbing Club, and I climbed

Queue for the abseil, Gimmer

Bronwen Blake on Holly Tree Direct

“Gimmer String’, conjoining the two long 4c pitches before the exposed and fingery 5b crack pitch to the summit. We opted for a second route, ‘Introduction’ (MVS), which provided most enjoyable climbing, but it meant we missed the Club mass skinny-dip in Stickle Tarn. This was unfortunate as the water supply to the hut had dried up, and a shower before dinner was not an option! However, the presidential white van produced kettlefulls of Tyne tap water for strip-off washes before party frocks and waistcoats were donned for the 7 o’clock kick-off in the ODG. And no-one was late off the crag!

The meal was eaten, the ale was flowing, and the president rose to speak. Steve entertained and cautioned, quoting Edward Whymper and relating a recent personal experience, admitting that, even after 40 years on the crag, navigation and ropework are never to be taken for granted if a safe and accident-free outcome is to be

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ensured. The delivery of Steve’s speech, with several pregnant pauses to allow the audience to take in the consequences of the last action and anticipate the inevitable consequences, reminded me of Gerard Hoffnung’s brilliant rendition of ‘The Bricklayer’s Lament’ (see: https:// www.youtube.com/ watch?v=LOy2GuaP8Mo) which story also, interestingly, involves questionable ropework, ascending and falling, absence of what we now call ‘Health and Safety’ and, therefore, inevitable injury!

El Presidente and his minders

After dinner we retired to the resident’s lounge of the ‘Old’, and once the paying residents realised the size of our party and obligingly retired, we could sprawl our well-exercised bodies in the depths of cushioned sofas as if we belonged there.

Sunday provided another rainless day to enjoy the natural playground of crag and fell. Some parties opted for the classic mountain routes of ‘Ledge and Groove (VD) first climbed in 1945, and ‘Bowfell Buttress’ (VD) climbed in 1902. Others were tempted by the shorter walk-ins and single-pitch climbing on Long Scar and Black Crag on Wrynose Fell. I still craved a tarn swim so headed to Pavey to share leads with Mark on the brilliant vertical ballet-balancing route ‘Golden Slipper’ (HVS) followed by the challenging 5b pitches of ‘Capella’, each completely earning their 3 star notations. The discerning reader may wonder if I recorded these climbs in the wrong order, but, no, we ascended Jack’s Rake to climb the upper route first, then descended to climb the lower route....to avoid queuing for ‘Capella’. Thankfully Stickle Tarn was still welcoming sweaty climbers for a deliciously refreshing swim, indeed after this weekend perhaps a more apt acronym for the Club should be NMASDC, the Northumbrian Mountaineering and Skinny Dipping Club!

One final element of no doubt oft-to-be recounted Club folklore concerns a lesson learnt by Mr Craig Harrison, Vice President of the Club who, readers may recall, left

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his headtorch out of his Friday evening sac to save weight. On tidying up the hut on Sunday, a giant watermelon lay unclaimed on the kitchen table. ‘Friends’ of Craig who were climbing with him that day decided to secrete the extra kilos of fruit in his sac, which he duly lugged up to the crag without noticing!

Stats for the weekend: ten crags visited: Raven, Gimmer, Pavey Ark, White Ghyll, Long Scar, Black Crag, Bowfell Buttress, Kettle, Bram Crag Quarry and Castle Rock (south crag).

Attendees: Josephs Rudin and McCarty, Luke Bray, Radek Florczak, Tim Hakim, Kellie Davis, Sarah ‘Überschnell’ Follmann, Edgaras Kozubovskij, Craig Harrison, Ian Birtwistle, Have melon, will travel!

Ciara Barrett, Carolyn Horrocks, Michael Frost, Alice Barton, Chris ‘The Icelandic’ Haworth, Stephanie Lai, Adrian Wilson, Steve and Bronwen Blake, Camilla Mapstone, Mark Anstiss, James Myers, Lewis Preston, Robin Sillem, Megan Denman-Cleaver, and Annie Barrett.

Finally, thanks to Doctor Joe (Rudin) for coordinating, and all for participating in a very fine meet.” Lewis Preston

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Full marks to Ciara and Annie (and the photographer!) for showing up for a washout meet at Bowden in May

(Photo: Ian Birtwistle)

Err.....

Caption competition anybody?

Paul Quin and Monika Suszek at Stanage Edge

The intrepid team who slogged it up to Sandy Crag at the end of June

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Kyloe, July 18th Above: Sam Cartwright on ‘Wasted Time’ (E1 5b) Top right: ‘Christmas Tree Arête’’ (VDiff) Right: Alice leading ‘Slab and Wall’ (VS 4c) (Photos: Russell Lovett)

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Club News A REMINDER ABOUT THE SUSTAINABILITY OF CLIMBING IN THE COUNTY We are now well into the season and it is worth taking the opportunity to reiterate a few points about the sustainability of cragging and bouldering in the County. Much of this is common sense, Country Code stuff but needs regular reinforcement.

Parking At Kyloe Out when you park bear in mind that some very wide agricultural vehicles use that road. Please make sure that you don’t obstruct it with bad parking and park in a way that allows others to park. Also The LH verge north of the gate is solid and wide enough to get several cars on.

At Kyloe In don’t park in the area near the gate, it opens outwards and can be blocked by bad parking. Scottish Woodlands do carry out forestry work at weekends. The gate needs to be clear.

At Back Bowden park well away from the gate as large trailers need space to swing in and it is accessed at weekends. There are several places south of the gate where you can park off the road, the additional walk is minimal.

CRAG USE Whenever we visit a sandstone crag we have an impact. Our crags are possibly the most delicate in the country and need to be treated gently. It is important that we minimise our impact. So…..

- Don’t climb on damp sandstone; it is weaker, and prone to breakage and accelerated wear and tear - Clean your shoes. Mud and particles on the soles contribute to polishing the holds. Develop good footwork - Think carefully about gear placements, cams and thin sandstone flakes are not a good combination, they break…….and so might you.

- Also think very carefully before setting up top-ropes on sandstone crags; in general they are not durable enough to support that kind of use. Top-roping can draw folks into trying stuff that’s simply too hard for them and it’s the rock that suffers. If you do set up a toprope, make sure you use a static rope for the anchor, extend it over the edge and use an edge/rope protector. Don’t contemplate doing it on the softer crags such as Corby’s or the softer sections of other crags.

Similarly bouldering can put enormous pressure on popular problems. ‘Child’s Play’ and 28

‘Vienna’ point to what the future might bring and it is not pretty. If the problem is too hard to be done in good style then walk away, and come back to it when you are stronger. Brush gently (the crimp on ‘Purely Belter’ just keeps getting bigger!) and clean up, remove excess chalk and tick marks Some farmers will get alarmed by lamping as it’s a new practise. If you are approached then politely explain what you are doing. If the venue isn’t on access land and you are asked to stop and leave, then do so.

Dogs If you don’t have good control of your dog then don’t take it to the crag. Note that dogs aren’t always allowed on access land. Check the RAD and Open Access maps for any restrictions that are in force.

Camping etc The Club cannot condone people camping or biviying, with or without a campfire, at the crags. If you decide you’re going to whatever, be discrete, but better still ask permission!’

RUNNING A CLUB MEET The Club organises a series of meets and events through the year. These are often organised by Committee Members, but need not be. Indeed the Committee would be grateful if members would step forward and take some of this load. At the end of this piece there is a simple guide to organising a meet, or other event. It isn’t particularly difficult and can be an opportunity to get trip to a venue you’ve always wanted. Please read it and think about contributing to the conduct of the club.

In regard to Club meets: • The club does not compel people to climb together; however, while we don’t dictate who climbs with who, the purpose of a Club meet is twofold, both to climb, and to engage with other members both at the crag and afterwards. We encourage people to mix and climb safely as best we can, sharing experience and knowledge.

• If someone doesn’t have a partner, then invite them into your team, be prepared to mix and match so that everyone has a worthwhile trip.

• If there is an odd number on the meet, then don’t expect one team to balance it out over the weekend. Be flexible and considerate, offer to help out.

• On hut meets cleaning the hut, and disposing of rubbish are not ‘meet leader’ responsibilities. Please step forward and help to ensure any facilities we use are left in good order, clean and secure.

• If the meet leader asks you to help with something then please do it.

• At times we will share facilities with members of the host club. They are generous in letting others use a hut that is precious to them. Please be courteous and

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treat them and the facilities with respect.

For a Club to function, people have to be competent, personable and polite with each other. As individuals we may think we are these all these things, but that isn’t necessarily how others see us. If you want people to climb with you then please keep this in mind, particularly until you know the individuals you are interacting with.

Climbers are a pretty tolerant bunch, but in the event an individual’s conduct or behaviour brings the Club or sport into disrepute then the Committee can refuse or revoke membership.

Having got that out of the way, the reward is that long term friendships, with like-minded people can develop.

Meet Leader Checklist You have an idea for a meet, both the venue and possible date(s).....

1. Propose it to the Committee and ensure the dates don’t conflict with the existing calendar.

2. Check availability/proximity and costs of huts/campsites.

3. Book hut.

4. Advertise meet. If this is an additional meet then use social media i.e. NMC Chat on Facebook or a mailshot via mailchimp.

5. Start taking bookings and account for spaces. Note preferred method of contact 6. Keep a ‘reserve’ list - it is not uncommon for people who have booked to drop out at the last minute 7. Contact folk in the days before the meet, clarifying access, times of arrival, arrangements for keys etc 8. Enable/facilitate car sharing.

9. Find out who’s doing what with who and where..

10. Although you are not responsible for others’ actions, it is useful, if not to ‘count them out’, then certainly to ‘count them in again’ 11. During the meet encourage folks to mix.

12. Read and follow any hut instructions and ensure the facilities, whether hut or sampsite, are left in good order.

13. Pen a meet report for NMC Chat on Facebook and/or County Climber.

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UPDATE ON THE SELECTED GUIDE As many will know, the NMC, represented by Steve Blake, John Spencer and Mike Arnold, is part of the ‘Wired Guides’ cooperative, currently working on production of a selected guide to northern England. To be titled ‘Northern Rock’ (yes, we know....), this ambitious and eclectic guide will cover Lancashire, Yorkshire grit and limestone, as well as the North Yorks Moors and coast, and of course Northumberland.

For your information, the cooperative represents voluntary (as opposed to purely commercial) guidebook producers, historically the local climbing clubs, and under the Wired banner, to quote the website, we ‘share their collective knowledge, skill and enthusiasm to take the information they have spent so long creating and use it in new and creative ways.’

The two guides to emerge so far from the group are the Lakes and Pembroke selected guides, which most will agree are superb publications. The bar has been set high!

In addition to trad routes, the guide will also include bouldering lines when these are present in the selected sector.

The crags to be covered in the Coonty section are: Bowden and Back Bowden; Kyloe In and Out; Corby’s; Caller; Callerhues; The Stell, Great Wanney; Howlerhirst Crag and Quarry; High Crag; Simonside and Ravensheugh; Sandy Crag and Boulders; Crag Lough and Peel; East Woodburn; and Curtis. However as we have been allocated a specific number of pages, and probably have too much material as it stands, some of the listed locations might not make the final cut.

The key to producing topo-based guides is of course the quality of the crag shots, and a lot of work has gone into this involving Steve Blake, Russell Lovett and others. High quality, eye-catching action shots will also be needed, so get snapping folks!( A quick thank you to those who have already submitted photos) A few points of guidance: no bum shots; images with climbers wearing brightly coloured clothing are preferred; as high resolution as possible. Send photos to Steve Blake at: nmcguidebook@gmail.com To give you an idea what it will look like, Pete Stirling, the graphic designer on the project, has kindly knocked up the specimen page (note this is not the final version, so please don’t get all editorial on us!)

Intended publication date is 2019.

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One Old Man and Three Old Gits Terry King

S

ome people go quiet when they get scared. Others make a noise. I hadn’t been climbing for over thirty years but I had agreed, in a moment of rash enthusiasm, to return to The Old Man of Hoy and do a fiftieth anniversary ascent with the same two guys I had done it with back then. At the start of the first real difficulty, an exposed traverse, I had gone completely silent.

If I didn’t move quickly my strength would simply run out but trying to persuade myself to commit to the traverse wasn’t going well. Every time I pushed my right foot out towards the foothold I needed to stand on, it came straight back to me, making no attempt to stay Snod and Terry on the ferry there. I used to glide easily over this sort of ground, mind and body working in effortless cooperation. Now my foot had a will of its own and between my ears was a hiss like an undetected gas leak.

In 1967 I was seventeen, John and Dave, always known as Gobbo and Snod, were twenty one and we had roared up to Orkneys on motorbikes. Driven by the certainty of youth and honed by years of hard practice on the gritstone crags around our home town of Sheffield we did a very early ascent of the Old Man, which had only been climbed for the first time one year earlier. For three youngsters with no track record of that kind of undertaking it had been a bold stroke.

As we came together to do it again and drove the long miles north, we wondered at the audacity of our younger selves and tried to recall whose idea it had been in the first place. None of us could remember but we did have to stop for a pee at regular intervals. Snod and I hobbled around to restore some mobility to our bad hips and Gobbo did exercises for a stiff neck, a sort of repetitive nodding that had the smack

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Terry starting up pitch1

1967

Terry on (in?) the crack

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of a malfunctioning robot with grey hair and varifocal specs.

These were the septuagenarian superheroes who were going to be my guides.

They had kept climbing in all the intervening years and now, in their retirement, with more free time, they were going really well. I hadn’t been out for three decades. The only preparation I had managed was couple of days on Hen Cloud where we did a few VS’s which I found pretty taxing but Snod was adamant that there wasn’t going to be anything harder on The Old Man. “You’ll be fine...” he kept saying “you’ll be fine...” and Gobbo said the same when I spoke to him on the phone and quizzed him about the level of difficulty. “You’ll be fine...you’ve kept really fit...you’ll fly up it...don’t worry.”

“You’ll be fine...” I tried to convince myself as I stalled on the traverse, “don’t worry...” Some chance.

We had all been saying that it didn’t matter if we didn’t get up it second time round. The whole trip would be worth it just for old time’s sake and there was no point in taking chances if conditions weren’t right. I was encouraged by this. Icy tendrils of morbid anticipation had been snaking around my guts for a while and they had increased no end when we glimpsed the totem pole of rock that is the Old Man of Hoy as the ferry from the mainland sailed right passed it.

My anxiety levels took another leap when the weather forecast, which had consistently predicted high winds and rain, suddenly offered us a one day window of opportunity. We took the ferry to the tiny Island of Hoy, ready for an early start.

There’s a bothy at Rackwick Bay, the jumping off point for the walk over the moors to the Old Man. We had been told that it was basic but there were a few mats to sleep on and a stove, so we could make tea.

The scattered collection of low cottages at Rackwick Bay would score highly in a competition for the most remote settlement in Britain. The wind and the ominous clouds that hugged the cliff tops and skidded across the horizon only added to the desolate atmosphere. But it wasn’t all poetic landscapes. The stove turned out to be the relic of an old wood burner but there was no wood and we hadn’t brought any matches.

I didn’t sleep much. A thin mat on a stone floor made my hip hurt if I lay on my right side. If I lay on my left side my bad shoulder hurt and if I lay on my back, thinking about the coming dawn, it forced me to turn over and the whole cycle started again. A quick carton of juice and some chocolate biscuits passed for

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breakfast. The wind was still very strong and I was harbouring a secret hope that this would be enough to scupper our chances of even making a start.

The most remote settlement in Britain? The Rackwick Bay Hostel

Snod was not so easily deterred. He was beginning to display symptoms of the kind of grizzly determination that

can blind itself to anything but the goal. As we trudged over the moors towards the cliff top where the descent to the base of The Old Man starts, we saw a stream cascading over the edge and down to the sea hundreds of feet below. Except it wasn’t cascading down. It was being blown straight upwards by the wind. Blown vertically into the air. This was surely the signal that further progress could only be judged as reckless.

“Wow...” I said “look at that!” Neither of them answered, they were slightly ahead of me on the path, maybe the wind was snatching my words away. “Look at that! “ I tried again, louder. Still no response so I yelled at the top of my voice. “Can you not see that!” Snod looked back over his landward shoulder so that he couldn’t see the water careering skywards.

“You what?” He beamed, his hair blowing wildly in the gale, “this wind should be drying it out nicely eh?” I knew the drill. There was a time when I too could pretend to see no ships. That was then.

The descent from the cliff top, down steep grass that was wet and muddy, above almost vertical drops to the sea, with the wind tearing at us at every step was pretty scary. Snod shot up the first pitch and I followed. It wasn’t hard climbing but the rock was damp and sandy. Gobbo came up to join us and Snod set off to examine the traverse, out of sight around a corner, which leads to an overhanging crack, the crux of the whole route. If it was still damp then this would be a golden opportunity for an early return to base. He was surely going to be as good as his word and take no chances.

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Left: “Which way round does this bllody thing go?” - gearing up Below: Terry leaving the crack

2017

Left: Snod and Terry snuggling up in the crux chimney

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The Old Man of Hoy East Face (Original Route), 130m, E1,5b (photo courtesy of http://outdoorchics.com/book-review-the-blind-man-of-hoy/)

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“It’s shit,” he called back, “there’s sand all over the holds...it’s like a beach.” Choirs of angels began to trumpet in my head. One straightforward abseil from here and we’d be back on the ground. Bingo. But while I was luxuriating in the comfort of retreat and already composing the text home saying I was safe and sound but sadly failed due to atrocious conditions, I became aware of Gobbo yelling above the gusts of wind.

“Nice one does the you look to dawn on had actually traverse and “What does like?” Gobbo

Snod! What crack above like?” It began me that Snod got across the my heart sank. the crack look shouted again.

“Shit...” came the almost inaudible reply but soon he was moving again and all contact was lost in the flapping wind.

There was nothing to be seen or heard of him except the rope snaking slowly out as he climbed higher and higher up the crack.

Then it was my turn.

I had to get across that traverse. I had to move. I didn’t have the reserves of strength I used to have and if I didn’t climb without a pause my meagre ration would be used up before I’d even started. I tried to coax my foot towards the foothold again but it felt as if I was trying to balance an empty shoe, tied to a trouser leg full of billiard balls, on a small, sloping, slightly damp shelf that was also covered in a thin layer of sandy granules. Two days’ practice on Hen Cloud felt hopelessly inadequate.

The traverse tiptoed above huge overhangs with nothing between the soles of my feet and the rocky seashore way below. The giddy air seemed to swirl like an invisible whirlpool dragging me towards it and my foot came straight back again. I kept telling myself to calm down but the only voice I could hear properly belonged to the doctor I had seen a few months earlier.

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“I’ve got the results of your hip Xray.” His words replayed in the back of my mind.

“Yes.” I had agreed at the time. No surprise so far, that was why I had been called to the appointment. “There is virtually complete loss of the anterior aspect of the right hip joint...mmm” he fiddled with his computer mouse and appeared to be trying to remember, as he shot furtive glances back at me, whether I had managed to get into the surgery under my own steam or someone had wheeled me there.

“Well...let’s start at the beginning...how far can you actually walk?” “I can run...I go running.” “You run!” he barked, as though I had confessed to heavy drinking shortly after a liver transplant. “Yes.” “You go running?” Later he admitted that they did recommend gentle exercise for arthritis but it was clear he didn’t mean the kind of exertion that I was in the middle of. He went on to offer a hip replacement, which I thought was a bit melodramatic at the time, but the prospect of my hip just ceasing to function suddenly felt very real.

Fear can pack a lot of impressions into a fleeting moment. I seemed to spend an age at the beginning of that traverse but the stream of doubts and internal debate lasted no more than a second or two before instinct took over and I was moving. A part of me that had lain dormant for over thirty years materialised like a genie from a bottle and took control. The holds weren’t bad but they were damp and sandy and it felt precarious but the other me unlocked the puzzle of how to climb it and all I did was repeat to myself, keep moving, don’t stop, keep moving, don’t stop.

Then came the overhanging crack above it. There were footholds on the side walls to bridge onto; they were still damp and sandy but at least there was always a crack of some kind and anyone brought up on gritstone will always feel secure with a hand jammed into a crack no matter how long the absence. Holding my weight on the jams hurt an awful lot more than I remembered as the protecting callouses on the back of my knuckles, the result of years of climbing in all weathers on forbidding gritstone outcrops, had faded a long time ago.

Although my hands had gone soft the genie hadn’t and I was making good progress.

By following the subconscious dictates that rose from somewhere deep inside me and repeating over and over, keep moving, don’t stop, I gained height steadily.

The pitch went on for longer than I was expecting and by the time I arrived at the tiny stance where Snod was belayed I was breathing hard and the fingers of my left hand were starting to get cramp but I had made it. He was sitting down, squashed into the back of a small triangular niche trying to keep out of the wind.

“Great lead Snod,” I said as I joined him, “really good lead.” He looked happy, with a wizened grin on his face, as if he was watching the world go by from the entrance to a little cave with a jolly greeting for anyone who passed by. He had good reason to be pleased.

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Summit shots in 1967 42

In 1967 he had been the last to set off up the crack. We had planned to haul a sack but before Snod could attach it, the haul rope somehow came free and flew out into space. So he followed up the crack with the sack on his back until a chockstone he was pulling on came out and the weight of the sack yanked him off backwards.

Gobbo had held him while he got back onto the rock but even after fifty years the memory still rankled and the grim determination to lead that pitch, despite the weather, despite the conditions, had been brewing for all that time.

I wondered if there was any chance that he might now feel sufficiently vindicated to be thinking, as I was, that an immediate retreat, direct from there, was actually the most sensible option available to us. The crack had been damp but the next section was going to be out and out wet because it wasn’t as steep. Surely the pair of them would see sense. When we were all three reunited, it quickly became clear, without a word having to be said, that the daredevil pensioners had got the bit between their teeth and nothing was going to stop them.

It was ‘Berlin or Bust’ and I was with them for the ride whether I liked it or not.

Gobbo collected the gear from Snod and set off with purpose. The cherished possibility of an early return to the chocolate biscuits, waiting for us below, vanished as he disappeared from sight. If my ability to climb had mysteriously come back at the beginning of the traverse, then the knack of keeping a lid on rampant anxiety during the periods of waiting was as far from my grasp as the biscuits were.

There were no rescue facilities here, no phone signal, nothing to fall back on. There was no way of getting out of trouble except what we could effect by ourselves. We were on our own. I used to enjoy that kind of commitment. I used to like the feeling of being out on a limb, of being where the currency of everyday life had no value, of having to rely your own resources. Now I could see very clearly why Snod’s Mum had always taken a much gloomier view of the potential hazards.

“You’ll brek yer silly necks,” was her constant refrain as she flapped around trying to do six things at once and Billy the budgie chirped away in the background and Snod and his Dad shouted “What’s up Billy?” in unison before his Mum chimed in once again with, “You’ll brek yer silly necks...you will...you’ll brek your silly necks.” Maybe her pet prediction could yet prove to be uncannily near the mark. Just half a century out.

You would never have guessed from his Dad’s quiet, slightly retiring manner that he’d been a soldier in the deserts of North Africa, fought through Italy and then across France and beyond. Our parents never mentioned the interruption to their

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own young lives but were happy for us to enjoy the freedoms they had won.

Before - two cairns

And we did. We ran wild across the moors and hills that were no more than a bus ride away.

We hitchhiked, we walked, we carried everything we needed on our backs, we bivouacked in caves and under boulders below the crags where we climbed.

Snod was the first to get a car and we would hurtle down Borrowdale with two or three of us standing on the running boards on each side, hanging onto the grab bars on the roof, leaning out on the corners, like motorised yachtsmen, helping to drag it around the bends while the opposite side leant in.

I don’t suppose you would get away with that now. I don’t think many people sleep in the caves that we used to either, they’re probably at a gym, or on a climbing wall. A few days earlier we had visited a sports centre in Kirkwall, on the main island, hoping to while away a few hours on their climbing wall as we waited for the weather to clear, but they wouldn’t allow us to use it because we hadn’t done their safety assessment.

Where was health and safety now as Gobbo inched further and further away from the solid ground that I yearned for? I should have done an assessment for this, a refresher course in how to be shit scared without showing it. The hardest part of the climbing was probably over but what was more unsettling, even though we were only half way up, was the nagging prospect of the startling abseils we would have to negotiate on the way back down.

The rope went tight and I began to climb. I couldn’t hear Gobbo or see him but I followed anyway, diagonally to the right across a series of brittle ledges where the rock was green and loose, interspersed with wet sloping sections where the holds were at times almost sludgey. It was another really good lead. Long, loose, insecure and, under the conditions, really testing. Gobbo was belayed at the

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base of the final right-angled corner below the summit.

It was the only place on the whole climb that was actually sheltered from the howling wind.

When Snod arrived he took over the lead again and battled his way to the top. When he got there he sat After - three cairns down to belay and didn’t move from that position until it was his turn to start down. I found the final corner much harder than I was expecting, perhaps because the cramp in my hands was gradually getting worse. My index and middle fingers kept locking and twisting around each other as if I was crossing my fingers in hope.

On the final section of the crack it opens out and you can see right through to the other side of the Old Man. The wind was gusting loudly through the gap and as I clambered onto the summit it got louder still. I sat down next to Snod and like him I didn’t move. Gobbo was braver, he strode around, oblivious to the wind, taking photos. Fifty years ago we had bathed in glorious sunshine and seemed to spend hours up there. We built a cairn, inscribed our names onto a slab of sandstone and waved at the ferry as it came in close and gave three toots on the horn. I don’t remember being the slightest bit concerned about the descent.

Now we were grimacing into the teeth of a gale and I couldn’t think about anything else. I couldn’t wait to get on with our escape even though the thought of actually submitting my weight to the rope made my stomach lurch. It was a hell of a place to relearn how to abseil after a thirty year gap. Gobbo was in charge of getting us down. He reached the bottom of the first stage with no fuss. I shut my eyes, metaphorically, and committed myself to a slow, cautious, descent, worried that the cramp in my hand would prevent me from gripping the rope tight enough to stop it from sliding too quickly through the descendeur and I would lose control.

The second half of the abseil slanted diagonally to the left. Pushing across on

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Summit and abseil shots 2017

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the wet rock was worrying but my hand was still holding up as I got down to where Gobbo was waiting. There remained a chasm of a drop below but we were on our way. Snod arrived and we set about retrieving the ropes. I held my breath. What if they jammed and we were stuck there. What if we dropped them and had no way of getting back down. Together we hauled on the rope like press-ganged sailors and slowly, inch by inch, the knot came towards us and the ropes came tumbling down with no mishap.

Compared to 1967 this should have been a piece of cake. We had no descendeurs then, no friction belay plates, no harnesses. We tied the rope directly to our waists, we belayed around the waist with an extra twist around our arms and Gobbo had negotiated these intimidating abseils in the classic style by wrapping the rope around his body. Snod and I were thoroughly modern: we used a long sling to improvise a sit harness fastened together with a karabiner. We passed the rope through the karabiner, then over our shoulders and off we went into the void without a care in the world. If only I felt as self-assured now, festooned with all the advantages that modern technology could provide.

Gobbo started down again. Another diagonal slant but it was harder to push sideways without skidding. We all had worrying moments and skinned our shins when we were dragged back towards the fall line of the rope but we made it to the top of the difficult crack. We pulled on the ropes once more. As the knot moved slowly and the final abseil was being prepared I might have started to believe that safety beckoned. But this was the section that had been alarming me most. The ropes now hung free down the bulging crack and plunged into space over the huge overhangs below.

The whole of this abseil would be hanging free, twisting and spinning on the rope.

Gobbo took a long time to get to the bottom which did nothing for my peace of mind. When my turn came I began gingerly. Only a few feet down and my feet were no longer touching the rock. I didn’t like this sensation even when I was climbing regularly but now, as I swung further and further out into thin air, I urgently needed something to take my mind off the gut-wrenching exposure.

Without consciously choosing to do it I found myself reciting a nursery rhyme.

“One, two, buckle my shoe...” I whispered as I dangled in the abyss, hoping that my hand wouldn’t get cramp and lose the capacity to grip, “three, four, knock on the door...” as the rope spun me around like a spider on a silken thread, “five, six...” but all of a sudden, before I got anywhere near nine ten, a big fat hen, I forgot how to count. The ability to remember what came after six just vanished into the aether and I was left wide eyed and opened mouthed, suspended in a vacuum, expecting

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the screaming to start at any moment. An easier mantra saved the day.

“Here we go...here we go...here we go...” I kept mindlessly repeating, over and over in the back of my head as the floor slowly got nearer and I landed with a gentle bump. A wave of relief gushed through me. I was down. I’d done it. I’d done it! We’d done it. Well, actually, Dave and John had done it and I was dragged along in their wake. Well done boys, you did really well and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Homeward bound

Not one tiny bit of it. Not one moment. I was willing you on from the beginning, you know I was, of course I was, urging you upwards, every step of the way. Honest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Old Man of Hoy The first ascent of the East Face Original Route was by Rusty Baillie, Chris Bonington, Tom Patey in 1966. Bonington and Patey repeated the route on TV for the famous live broadcast in July 1967, said to have been viewed by 15 million people (including the Editor!). Two other routes were climbed on the same day (‘South Face’ (E2 5b) Joe Brown and Ian McNaught Davies, and ‘SE Arete (A4) Pete Crew and Dougal Haston). Another live TV broadcast took place in 1984, starring a new generation of top climbers (Murray Hamilton, Pete Whillance and Tut Braithwaite) and there are now eight routes on the stack

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Terry King et al’s ascent was probably the 4th ascent of the East Face route, and probably the first free ascent as well as the first up and down in a day. There are now 8 routes on the stack. It’s only been around for about 250 years, the crack and chimney that splits it is slowly widening, and if you want to climb it you’d be better off doing it sooner rather than later!

About the author Described as ‘always bold and driven’ Terry King was at the forefront of British climbing and mountaineering in the late 1970s, both home and away, Domestically he was notably active in the Peak District, for example with the FA of ‘Regent Street’ (E2 5c) at Millstone, and early repeats of Drummond’s Stanage test piece ‘Archangel’ (E2 5b) and ‘Fern Hill’ (E2 5c) at Cratcliffe. In Scotland he did the FWA of ‘Indicator Wall’ (V, 4) and the 2nd WA of ‘Slav Route’ (VI,5) to name a few ascents.

In the Alps he was one half of ‘one of the most talented British partnerships of the era’, the other being Gordon Smith. Stand-out achievements include the first British ascent of ‘The Shroud’ on the Grandes Jorasses in 1975, which he wrote up in an article in ‘Mountain’ magazine, later reprinted in ‘Games Climbers Play’, and the 2nd ascent of the ‘Grand West Couloir’ on the Aiguille du Plan, as well as very fast ascents of the north faces of Les Droites and Les Courtes.

In the higher ranges he was on a Polish-British expedition to the Hindu Kush where he climbed with the legendary Andreij Zawada, and he made an unsuccessful Alpine-style attempt on the North Face of Nanda Devi in 1978.

He gave up climbing in the early 80s to concentrate on his acting career, eventually specialising as a stage fight director for plays, opera and musicals. In this role he has achieived considerable acclaim, working over the years with the Royal Opera, National Theatre, Royal Shakespeare Company, and many smaller companies, on stage and screen.

Terry, deep in thought 49

‘Climbers’ by M John Harrison A book review Grace Curtis

I

t’s time to face facts: there is hardly any good fiction about climbing. In fact, there is something of a deficit. I’m not just talking about books, either: films, comics, plays, the lot. The few stories that are good are inevitably true, and thus hindered by a need to either be respectful to the people involved at the cost of all that could be dubbed ‘juicy’. Of course, they are still worth telling – I recently discovered that a retired mountaineer with a two hour slide show can tell a story more riveting than anything Hollywood ever managed to cook up – but still, the gap remains.

Perhaps one of the reasons we don’t like to acknowledge this deficit is because it hints at two uncomfortable truths. 1) That most good climbers make bad writers, and 2) most good writers make bad climbers.

The first point may sound harsh, but really, it’s a complement to the sport.

In the same way a person coming off hallucinogens can’t describe what happened to them except in the broadest of sweeps, I’ve often found myself struggling to articulate my own (extremely tame) forays into climbing. Words like ‘awkward’ or ‘exposed’ might evoke for me a particular sense of toe-clenching terror, ‘juggy’ as euphoric relief, but that’s only because I have a physical memory associated with them. To a non-climber they are as good as meaningless.

I’ve also had the chance to meet a fair few professional writers during my time at university. And while they do come in all shapes and sizes, I must admit there is a tendency towards self-absorption, indoorsyness, and supreme coffee snobbery, sins which do not easily lend themselves to the pursuit of rock climbing. I’m starting to suspect that it is no coincidence the main literary hubs in the UK happen to be the flat bits.

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Thank God, then, for M John Harrison.

After writing successful sci-fi for well over a decade, he turned his attention to realist fiction with the 1989 novel ‘Climbers’, a novel inspired by his own forays into rock climbing. There is a lot that sets Climbers apart from other climbing literature, the bulk of which is hinted at by the title. Harrison forgoes a typical story of success or disaster to instead focus on the day-to-day lives of ordinary climbers.

Most of the book is spent on a series of loosely connected character profiles in which Harrison finds understated humour in the self-absorbed eccentrics the protagonist Mike surrounds himself with.

There’s Gaz, a neurotic butcher with unusual dress sense; Normal, an ill-named hyperactive shopkeeper who can’t seem to stop lying; or Sakey, a tremendously gifted climber, but painfully awkward Climbing on Stanage (Photo: Radek Florczak) and with a tendency to forget every climb he’s ever done. The comedy is off-beat but never mean spirited. Rather than make us feel superior to his creations, Harrison seems more to suggest that the whole world is populated by weirdos: wives, children, grandparents, everyone comes with their own quaint backstory and strange set of habits which are explored in short, oddly absorbing vignettes.

Our protagonist is no exception. Bored and alienated in London, Mike throws himself into climbing less as an escape and more as a way to indulge his own flaws, isolating himself in mind and body through the solitary pursuit of ever harder climbs. The only thing he has in common with the people he observes is loneliness.

Indeed, loneliness is perhaps the overarching theme of the whole book. It is a very British type of loneliness, too; an unobtrusive but constant presence, a sort of numbing background static. While I do take issue with the grim way Harrison paints his landscapes (Hadrian’s Wall gets a particularly rough serving) the intention is clearly thematic, even if he does wind up making the northern countryside sound like a sort of Mad Max with heather. The book is a subversion of the typical pastoral self-discovery narrative; there is no secret garden waiting in the Peak District to

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heal a lonely London soul. For all his observing, Mike never really connects with the people around him, and a tragedy which strikes in the book’s second half only hammers home just how deep this emotional chasm goes. Not only are we incapable of understanding each other; Harrison suggests we do not want to be understood.

The only respite, for characters and readers alike, is the climbing. It is in these brief sections that the book comes truly alive. Harrison’s prose is positively electric, building tension up until you can almost feel your muscles aching and your fingers popping off one by one. The bewildering rush of both failure and success are captured in all their heady glory, puncturing the restless suburban drudgery so well that, despite how dangerous and often ill-advised these excursions are, you find yourself willing along with Mike for the boring life stuff to be over just so you can get back to the climbing.

Therein lies the paradox of ‘Climbers’. Though I originally picked it up to indulge my own Northumbrian homesickness, the book by the end had me wondering what I was really longing for. Are we doing something noble and fulfilling when we climb, or are we just running away?

Harrison has no interest in easy answers. Indeed, he resists the comfort of any kind of closure, ending the book on an abrupt and ambiguous note. While other adventure stories posture and moralize, ‘Climbers’ forces us to draw our own conclusions – and reckon with the possibility that there may not be a conclusion at all.

It may be frustratingly pessimistic at times, but ‘Climbers’ is a book that lingers: it’s touching, uncomfortable, and it deserves to be read.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Boardman-Tasker Prize for Mountain Literature Established in 1983 to commemorate the lives of Peter Boardman and Joe Tasker, who died on the NE Ridge of Everest in 1982, the prize is awarded annually “to the author or authors of the best literary work, whether fiction, non-fiction, drama or poetry, the central theme of which is concerned with the mountain environment.”

In the 34 years since the first award, there have been 37 prizes (two were awarded the first year, 1984, also in 1991 and 2005). No works of poetry or drama have attracted a prize, and only 5 works of fiction, whereas ten awards have been given for biographies. Three authors have won the prize twice: Jim Perrin for ‘Menlove’ and ‘The Villain’; Paul Pritchard for ‘Deep Play’ and ‘The Totem Pole’; and Andy Kirkpatrick for ‘Psychovertical’ and ‘Cold Wars’.

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Orpierre Sport Climbing March 2018 Paul Quin

I

n March 2018 NMC members Paul Quin and Graham Williams were joined in Manchester

by CC member Tony Sawyer and friends John and Maggie Stockdale for a flight to Nice on their way to a sport climbing trip at Orpierre.

Orpierre, in the Baronnies Provençales Regional National Park, nestles next to the snowcapped mountains of the southern French Alps and is a 100 mile, four hour drive north from Nice. Climbing is centred around Orpierre Village which has a history linked to the Princes of

Orange during a prosperous period in the Middle Ages. The village has a medieval feel, with its small alleyways or ‘drailles’ covered paths and pretty flowered squares, and was once a centre of zinc and copper mining. There’s plenty of gîte-style accommodation for small parties and groups, B&Bs, a good campsite, two climbing shops, a climbing school, cafes and restaurants, and a good general store/boulangerie.

The best thing about Orpierre is that it sits right at the foot of some spectacular cliffs so you can access almost all the sectors on foot from the village with the nearest just 10 minutes’ walk away. Other sectors which are slightly further out of the village are easily accessed by well signposted, good hardcore roads which gain the climber a lot of height. Orpierre calls itself a ‘climber’s village’ and its clear that they put a tremendous amount of effort into signage, the local guidebook, environmental protection and, in particular, safety. Every year they have a big programme of inspection and rock stabilisation, led by the Mayor’s Office, and because we were there early season, some sectors were closed for works in readiness for 53

the 2018 climbing year ahead.

There are 8 main sectors which range from slabs and steep walls to caves and huge multi-pitch walls. These are also divided into sub-sectors. The sectors face in subtly different directions, but predominantly east to south-east, with a couple facing north. By far the most impressive is the massive pillar of the Quiquillon (pronounced ‘Kik-ion’) whose west and south east faces are divided by an impressive soaring pillar and arête. The 170 metre classic ‘Diedre Sud’ follows the arête on its south east flank and at 7 pitches up to 5c is one of the longest routes in the valley.

Team members climbed at the following sectors: Chateau This was one of the first areas to be developed and has a pleasant path leading up from the village taking only 10 minutes. There are Chateau Sectors on the left, Belleric at the end classic routes from 4 to 8c+ on slabs, steep walls and caves. The best routes are in the range 5a to 7c, with a small number of routes harder than this. The crag faces east so is in the sun until early afternoon. It is best thought of as eight sub-sectors: Les Racines du Ciel; L’etrangleur; Mission Impossible; Hurlement; Anticlinal; Le Mur; Les Dalles and La Plage. If you go you should take time to visit the delightful little ravine of La Plage where there are a number of easy angled routes in a picturesque setting right by a waterfall and a good place for a summer dip.

Le Belleric Le Belleric faces Sector Cascade, is obvious from the village, and gets most of the sun throughout the day, so is great at cool times of year. The routes vary from steep fingery slabs at its left end, by the Cascade (Cote Cascade), with routes

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Above: Walking in to Sector Le Belleric Right: Graham leading at Le Belleric Below: Slab climbingat Sector Chateau

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from 5c to 6c+, to the right hand side Cote Mines which has great routes which can be done as single pitch or in some cases two and three pitches on both slabs and steep walls.

L’Ascle Sector L’Ascle lies to the north-east of the village and is accessible from the L’Adrech car park just a short drive out of the main village on the left. The Ascle Pillar faces south east and looks across a large wooded gully to Sector Adrech. A pleasant 20 minute walk from the car park through woodland brings you to the foot of the pillar. Team members completed the excellent classic 90 metre 5 pitch ‘Le Maitre de la Danse’ (5b) and the superb 90 metre 4 pitch ‘Little Big Wall’ (6c) both of which finish at the top where there is an easy descent path back to the foot of the pillar.

Quiquillon The enormous expanse of the Quiquillon provides spectacular climbing on its west face, and on its south east face where there are 3 sub-sectors.

The huge 170 metre west face has 9 multi-pitch The Quiquillon routes, the longest being the six pitch ‘Promenade Digestive’ at 7b. There are some shorter routes on the south east face in sub-sectors Mur Bleu and Mur Jaune, some with second pitch extensions. On sub-sector Ramier there are single pitch routes with two and three extensions but the big routes are on the next sub-sector along, Face Sud Est. Two teams of two completed superb multi-pitch routes on the Quiquillon. One team completed the magnificent classic ‘Diedre Sud’ which has 7 pitches no harder than 5c. The guidebook describes the climber encountering all sorts of climbing from cracks to corners, stratified steep walls and water pockets. The second team completed the superb 8 pitch ‘La Jungle en Folie’ at 5c on Face Sud Est, the

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final pitch of which is 6a+ or A0, although this pitch can be avoided on the left at

Maggie on 7 pitch ‘Diedre Sud’ a tough 5c. However team members reported that some of the rock was unstable on this alternative finish. Descent from the Quiquillon is either by a set-up abseil down the south east face or a walk along the crest to an easy descent from the top of Sector Ascle.

Baume Rousse near Chateauneuf de-Chabre The team did attempt to climb on the extraordinary rock formation at the town of Sisteron some 30 minutes away from Orpierre but there was a strong, bitterly cold wind blowing so retreat to the adjacent climbing shop ‘The Blue Light’ was called for. The owner suggested the Baume Rousse crag which turned out to be in a completely different weather system although only 20 minutes away. Baume Rousse is the warmest crag in the Buech Valley and certainly lived up to its name as we climbed in t-shirts and needed sun cream. Good routes on steep short walls of ochre and grey/blue limestone with superb views and only a short stroll from the road.

There are also four other excellent crag areas with sub-sectors in the Orpierre definitive guidebook all within reasonably short driving distances and of course the interesting crags at Sisteron.

Other Sectors We didn’t climb on any of the following sectors but I’ve included them to give readers an idea of the extent of the opportunities on offer. The details are gleaned

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from UKC and the local guidebook.

Le Puy: The crag, to the south west of Orpierre, is closest to the village and faces virtually north.

It is in shade in summer, and stays dry in rain. In its lower half, to the first lowering point, there are a number of routes from 5c to 6b+. The climbing is different to other areas in that it is a little brittle, and there are some sharp holds. The second half of the climbs take the routes to their full height of just under 40 metres and are excellent, with grades up to 7c+.

Quatre Heures: South and south east facing, Quatre Heures is so named because the farmTop: Graham and Tony on pitch 2, ‘La Jungle en Folie’ ers in the Adrech Bottom: Tony on pitch 8, ‘La Jungle en Folie’ Valley below would tell the time when the rock was in shade i.e. at 4 o’clock. It has four sub-sectors with grades ranging from 3c to 7a some with second pitch extensions. These crags are best approached from the L’Adrech car park so are only about 10 to 15 walking time. They house a great selection of 4s, 5s and some 6s, virtually all slabby. They get plenty of sun, but there is shade at the base in the trees, and if as a family you

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want to introduce someone to leading there are incredibly well bolted 3s and 4s.

L’Adrech: L’Adrech has 3 sub-sectors, the first two facing south and the third facing east. This obvious large triangle of rock has some of the best laid-back multi-pitch routes around, from 5c to 6c, all being on slabs, all reasonably protected. These receive traffic, but are not polished so give a great day out. This wall faces straight into the sun from first thing in the morning until mid- afternoon. Descent is by following a short cable to the abseil point, which is 35 meters, so a 70 metre rope may not get you down completely.

Les Blaches: Les Blanches has 6 south and south-east facing sub-sectors which are popular mainly during Easter and August. There is a great selection of routes predominantly 4c to 6c, with all angles, from slabs which may have an odd polished hold. The areas to the right of this have a great selection of 6as and 6bs, leading to higher grade routes, the best being 7a up to 8a+ on the area furthest right called Paroi Jaune.

Summary: So, what about Orpierre?

We were in Orpierre towards the end of March when there were still pockets of snow on the ground. However we had four and a half sunny climbing days although the air was cold at times, especially when the breeze made itself known. On the whole we climbed in mid-weight, windproof clothing and used belay jackets when not actually climbing. The majority of rock encountered was very good with the odd bit of polish here and there and all the sectors that we visited had excellent routes across the grades. The multi-pitch routes completed were superb with fantastic views of the picturesque village and valley below with snow-capped mountains in the distance.

At popular times Orpierre will get quite busy but there are plenty of sectors and plenty of routes to choose from. There’s also mountain walking to be had and via ferratas not far away. A 70 metre rope and a maximum of 20 quickdraws will get you up most of the routes and I think that the team members would all agree that Orpierre is a great climbing venue in beautiful scenery. The approach and descent paths are all well-made and well signposted and there’s lots of wildlife to spot including wild boar, none of which were seen but some eaten.

Orpierre is an excellent, impressive and easily accessed climbing area. The routes are a little stiffer than Kalymnos but the rock is sound and the bolting and lower-offs are of high quality.

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Paul Leading the traverse on the 5 pitch classic ‘Le Maitre De La Danse’

Useful links https://www.ukclimbing.com/articles/destinations/orpierre-7086 http://www.orpierre.fr Le Nouveau Blue Light Mountain Shop 29 Rue Du Commandant Wilmart, 04200 Sisteron, France 0033 (0)4 86 72 94 83, 0033 (0)7 77 03 94 42

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A Short Walk to Creag Meagaidh

I

Martin Cooper

t was probably the Stephen Venables lecture that did it, a tale of immense bravery against the odds on an unclimbed face on the world’s highest mountain. Then a story of ultimate lethargy; taking a whole day to brew tea and almost forgetting to descend at all.

Yes, that was the inspiration. But the hero of this tale is Dan, although I worry about Dan. He would be such an easy target for a Russian spy.

The Scottish Highlands are an enigma. Weeks go by with no mountains in sight at all, merely low cloud and mizzle. Then, like the proverbial Number 10 bus, suddenly here they are all at once, plastered in snow under an azure sky. It was the final weekend of February and the forecast was excellent, perfect conditions at last. Perfect conditions in a pretty amazing winter. Furthermore, Dan was happy to drive. It was a pity that we drove past the hut in the dark before parking on the ice rink outside.

Seeing as we were not doing the hardest route on the mountain, it seemed apposite to let everyone else get at the kitchen first. Even so, 5.45am was an early enough start. After all, we were intending to return from Creag Meagaidh on the same day that we had set off and John had The walk in to Coire Ardair assured us it was a short walk-in. Dan, bless his cotton socks, had hardly slept and he offered me a welcome cup of tea as I staggered around sorting my gear. Soon we were away down the glen, just as the first rays of sun were illuminating the lower peaks.

The walk was short, by Scottish standards, and soon we glimpsed first sight of Meagaidh, festooned with snow, looking like some enormous fairy tale castle atop a panoply of, long, steep gully lines that made the tips of my crampon points twitch in anticipation. Our route was well to the left, easy-angled to start with but steepening towards the crest of the mountain. I suspected that we weren’t doing a new route. Dan strode onwards, his eyes fixed on 61

the foot of our gully. Fortunately, I warned him just in time of the snow-covered frozen lochan immediately ahead, skilfully averting an early morning icy swim, or worse. There was worse as we geared up, Dan suddenly asking what I thought of the developing conflict in Syria. After some mumbled response I politely suggested that we postpone a full discussion on the Middle East until later, hefting our ice axes instead and tying in to the rope. There was serious work to be done.

The gully, which incidentally bears the same name as the hut where we had slept, towered three hundred and sixty metres above us and was magnificent. It wasn’t steep but the snow was deep, built up high on the side walls of the gully. With a

small rack of rock gear and three ice screws we had assumed that rock belays would be the thing. Instead, finding rock was the thing. Dan belayed first, on his ice axe. I led the next pitch, taking a while to get into this snow and ice thing. It was a while since I had done a winter route. Easy angled felt like steep. Later, much later, I was well into this steep snow slope thing. For now, I wanted a nut placement and, on the stretch of the rope, found one.

Dan’s next pitch crossed the gully to the far wall, no rock in sight. “Try one of these,” I suggested, passing Dan the ice screws. What I didn’t tell him was that they

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had been clipped to my rack for a considerable number of outings without actually being used. Nor did I tell him where they were from....Russia. Way back in the 1980s, when a contingent of British climbers had visited Russia under the auspices of the BMC in order to discuss climbing competitions (thinly disguised cover for a more sinister purpose), my contact had discovered that Russian climbers were unable to come by modern rock shoes with ‘sticky’ rubber. A deal was struck whereby a pair of Boreal Fires was dispatched to Moscow in exchange for some titanium ice screws. I am not able to divulge how the ice screws came into my possession. Suffice to say that I did a rough calculation and decided that it was less risky to work with teenagers on the books of the youth offending team in Newcastle than to enter the employment of the KGB. It was close, mind.

Dan, all innocence and bravura, found a steep icy bulge, unclipped one of the ice screws, examined it carefully and then licked the end of it. He licked it! Dan, I shrieked inside my head, do you know what Novochok tastes like? How could I tell him what I had long since suspected? Did he not know not to put anything Russian in his mouth? My mind spiralled. If he has been poisoned, will the deadly nerve agent take effect before we are out of this gully? How many pitches have we left to do? When is it dark? Will we need to expel all Russian diplomats from Scotland?

Just then five young climbers soloed past us, each with only one axe. So, we were not on the Kangshung Face after all. Should be safe then. I said nothing.

Pitch followed pitch, some belays in the gully wall, some with the ice screws. Then, late in the afternoon, Dan pointed upwards towards what looked like the top of the gully and suggested I might finish the route with the next pitch. I knew the Russian word for ‘foreshortening’. Dan clearly didn’t. Perhaps the nerve agent was taking effect. An hour and a half and five pitches later, Dan set up what was probably belay number twelve and, at last I headed for the top. We had been in the gully for seven hours. There was no cornice to speak of. It was six o’clock and I was happy. I knew we would be at the top of The Window before it was completely dark. Five minutes later I was very happy as I clambered out onto the summit plateau of Creag Meagaidh into a glorious, pink sunset, the distant peaks of Aonach Mor and Aonach Beag silhouetted against the sinking sun. What a day!

Now for the night, or some of it. (Phil was a bit cheeky, asking what we wanted for breakfast when we returned to the hut at ten o’clock). The descent was easy, passing a group snow-holing in The Window, slithering back down on soft, deep snow by moonlight into the corrie. Here we were rewarded by the sight of the mighty buttresses soaring above us in the dark, with moonlight casting shadows on the snow and stars shining above. How do you spell awesome? We would be late back to the hut but we didn’t care. We would finish on the same day that we had set off. We had

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‘.....into a glorious, pink sunset’ enjoyed an incredible, unforgettable day in the mountains. It had been a short walk in. It was a bloody long walk out.

To Dan, a big thank you. This was a day I won’t forget. I saw him on the Langdale Meet in April. He’s made a remarkable recovery. To the rest of you, a recommendation. Raeburn’s Gully may be the easiest line on the mountain but it is well worth doing. Only a short walk.

Meanwhile, back at the hut........

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If It Wasn’t For The Last Minute......

Tim Rodgers

T

he Bob Graham Round is a fell-running challenge in the English Lake District. The challenge is to visit 42 named summits on a 66 mile circuit that starts and finishes at the Moot Hall in Keswick. It is not a race, except against the clock, but has to be completed within 24 hours. The round comprises 5 legs: Keswick to Threlkeld over Skiddaw, Great Calva and Blencathra; Threlkeld to Dunmail Raise over the Helvellyn range; Dunmail Raise to Wasdale over the central Lakeland fells including Scafell Pike; Wasdale to Honister Pass over the Wasdale skyline including Pillar and Great Gable; and finally Honister Pass to Keswick over the Robinson group, then 5 miles of road to finish.

The round was first completed in 1932

by Bob Graham at age forty two, hence the 42 summits. The Round is reckoned to have a height gain of 27,000 ft (8,000 metres).

I had aspired to do the BG for a long time but was put off by the stories of years of training and potentially having to give up climbing. Those who read my last County Climber article ‘Stumbling through the Alps’ (Winter 2016) may recall I suffered from some serious knee issues a couple of years ago so it was not looking like a feasible proposition. That is, until I started seeing the UK’s leading fell running physio Denise Park. Very quickly my knees were sorted. Denise thought my mountain fitness from climbing could be a big help, I just needed to start running training. I was surprised to learn that she thought for me a 6 months training plan would suffice. That would also include one climbing session a week, so I was happy.

Training outside in winter is hard mentally and this winter was particularly tough due to the weather. Blizzard conditions, Simonside, Cheviots, in the dark, after work, round and round the Town Moor, up and down steps. It all felt hard.

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As Spring finally came I started doing reconnaissance legs and my first impression was that the course was much harder than I had expected. Descend Hall Fells ridge in 30 mins? No problem. But after having already done 3 hours of effort my quads were burnt out at the bottom. Over the next few weeks however my body began to become conditioned to the terrain. I started finding little BG paths to take as shortcuts. It began to come together. In May I was feeling very fit and the weather had been consistently settled for weeks. Time to go for it.

I would attempt the round with my friend David Forster and whilst we had thought about trying to get support for the legs, that never materialised so I was looking at carrying a bag with my own water and food for each leg with supplies stashed at Threlkeld and David’s friend and his family (the Staffords) meeting us with our supplies at Dunmail Raise and Wasdale. We chose to do the round clockwise and the start time was 2am which would hopefully make it feel similar to an alpine start.

We set off from Moot Hall on a warm night, the forecast was dry all day but breezy.

There had been gale force winds the day before so I was a little apprehensive. On the top of Skiddaw my concerns were fully realised. 50mph winds and fighting to stay upright.

The thought of this all day would be intolerable. I carried on over the summit and as we dropped off Before, 2am, Moot Hall, Keswick (author on the left) the back six headtorches appeared coming towards us. Anticlockwise BG’ers! This was obviously a sign. They were a supported group but it made me think if they can do it I can.

We carried on down and over Great Calva enjoying the sunrise. The wind seemed to be isolated to the high tops, which was a relief. Hall’s Fell ridge on Blencathra was very windy but not quite as bad as Skiddaw, but more importantly it was dry, so we descended quickly to reach our supplies in Threlkeld in good time. The wind was

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south-easterly so the second leg was all hard work. Eating became much harder and I soon regretted bringing so much solid food. Nevertheless we arrived at Dunmail Raise on time and fuelled up with yoghurt, bananas, and rice pudding.

The sun was up now so lots of water was essential. I had already drunk 5 So far, so good - calories and fluids at Dunmail Raise litres over the first two legs. Fifteen minutes rest was just enough time to eat, drink and put on the Factor 30, and I was heading off up Steel Fell laden with supplies for the long third leg.

The wind had eased considerably which made it feel a lot warmer so by the time I had reached Esk Pike I was out of water. The next fill-up opportunity was Wasdale.

I was feeling very dehydrated by the time I reached Broad Stand. The scramble is a bit awkward but went okay, however I was not banking on finding a cragfast person who had got off route calling for help! David assisted her by scrambling across to where she was standing on a ledge and hauling her up. Good deed done but it cost us 10 minutes. By the time I had got down to Wasdale I was extremely dry and 25 minutes down on time.

Ideally I would have liked to spend longer at Wasdale but it was a quick stop to drink as much water as possible and eat more. There would be no further supplies for us on the route so everything was packed in bags to last until the end. My body reacted well to rehydration and food and I felt strong heading up the steep ascent of Yewbarrow. The fells on Leg 4 passed by in a bit of haze but I was still feeling good up until my water ran out once more before Kirk Fell. All the ascents so far had felt okay but I really struggled with Kirk Fell and Great Gable. It was late evening and the wind had started to pick up again. A case of head down and dig deep. Despite the hardship we had managed to pull back 15 minutes of time.

Nightfall came as we descended off Great Gable which made navigating to Honister

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slate mine harder than it should have been. By this time I was very dehydrated. We had previously scoped out a place to fill up with water at Honister but when I got to the stream it was completely dry. For the first time that day I thought I was going to fail. I needed water urgently.

There were a couLast stop in Wasdale, the going getting tougher ple of headtorches in the car park next to a car. A last resort plea to some strangers for a drink of water. Time for some good luck - it was fellow NMCer John Armstrong who had been climbing on Gable and a water bottle was provided!

Dale Head, Hindscarth and Robinson all passed in a haze but without dropping any more time. I now knew that the final 5 miles on the road into Keswick would need to be done quickly. On reaching the road I was suffering badly from dehydration. No option here - this section had to be run in order to make up the time. In hindsight I should have detoured off the road to the river to fill up but it seemed too much of a hassle. Consequently I was barely able to see straight on the road section. Running in a straight line was also proving quite difficult so I was being guided by David’s walking poles!

I find it difficult to put into words how hard I found that stretch but on reaching Portinscale I was overcome by a massive wave of After - back at The Moot Hall 68

adrenalin. Endorphins were firing big time. The belief was back and the time looked good! The final mile became more of a sprint. Soon Keswick Moot Hall came into view. Don’t look at the watch, just run! And then it was over. The time? 23 hours 56 minutes. Four minutes to spare. Timed to perfection some might say! No fanfare, no clapping, just a drunken Geordie asking us “What d’yeez think yer deeing, like?”

I just laughed, I couldn’t possibly explain to him what we had just gone through.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Some fun facts about the Bob Graham Round Bob Graham (1989 - 1966) was a Keswick guesthouse owner; he completed ‘his round’ in 1932 in 23h 39m.

The record for the fastest round was held by local hardman Billy Bland (13h 53m) for an incredible 38 years from 1982 until Spanish legend Killian Jornet knocked an hour off it (12h 52m) just as we were about to publish; the female record is held by Jasmin Paris (15h 24m, 2016). The fastest time for a winter round is currently 18h 18m, held by Jim Mann (2013).

By the by, the record for the greatest number of Lakeland peaks traversed within a 24 hour period is 77, held by Mark Hartell.

The NMC has several other Bob Graham completers besides Tim, including John Vaughan (1988) and Lewis Preston (1989).

Walking the Bob Graham is an increasingly popular challenge, usually undertaken over 4 or 5 days; several commercial companies now cater for that particular market.

For those who achieve a sub-24 hour Round, membership of the Bob Graham Club awaits. However, the attempt must satisfy the following requirements: the attempt should be registered beforehand; the contender must be accompanied at all times by at least one witness; and after a successful attempt a detailed report must be submitted within 1 month, including the time recorded at each summit and at the beginning and end of each rest period, the names of all helpers both on the fellsand at road-crossings and a general account of the attempt.

For more information see: http://www.bobgrahamclub.org.uk/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Graham_Round

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Glacier Guiding in Iceland

I

Chris Haworth

have very mixed feelings about summer 2017. On the one hand, I was able to get out climbing and biking with friends more than ever before. On the other, I was working behind a desk doing something that I knew I did not enjoy, and it was making me miserable.

The full extent of how unhappy my work was making me was something I would not realise until months later, but for one reason or another I struggle to think of another time in my life when I was as unhappy, despite all the great opportunities I was getting to do the things I enjoy outside of work. It was the culmination of several years of frustration of knowing that my work was something I did not enjoy, and the resignation of what I already knew but didn’t want to admit – that I could not see myself doing this for my whole life.

And so it was that one evening after a particularly bad day and an especially frustrating meeting with my supervisor I sent off an application for a job I had seen advertised on the UKC forums some months prior. It was a quick application and as much an exercise in venting frustration and making myself feel better as it was a serious attempt to secure a job, little more than a couple of paragraphs of hastily written text typed into an email client. The job was as an ice climbing and glacier guide in the south of Iceland, a country I had visited several years earlier for a few days. I then promptly forgot all about it for the next few weeks, thinking nothing more of it. I felt a little better that I had made some vague effort to change my situation, but expected nothing to come of it particularly since there were no current job openings at the company.

I was surprised, therefore, when I got an email into my inbox some time later inviting me to have a Skype interview. Immediately after the interview I knew I was going to be offered a position – the interviewers had spent almost half the interview talking about all the cool things to do in Iceland in an obvious effort to persuade me to work for them having quickly established that I was the sort of candidate they were after. When the offer was emailed to me a few days later I knew I had to make a decision quickly – they wanted people to start almost immediately. I remembered how I had respected friends of mine in the past who had made the decision to quit their jobs to pursue a career they really wanted and decided that I 70

wanted to give it a try too. So I agreed to take the job, with the caveat that I needed more than a week to get my life in the UK sorted before flying to Iceland!

On arrival in Keflavik airport my new boss told me and the other new starters that The terminal face of one of Vatnajökull’s many outlet glaciers we would be camping in a remote part of the far eastern part of the country for the first few nights while we were trained, before relocating to another part of the island where we would be based while working. The Skatafell National Park in southeast Iceland is an incredibly beautiful place, where vast plains of black sand stretch to the coast several miles to the south, before giving way suddenly and spectacularly to huge glaciers nestled in valleys beneath mountains towering 2000 metres above. These glaciers spill down from the Vatnajökull icecap: covering an area of 8,100 square kilometres and with an average ice thickness of 400m this is Europe’s largest icecap by volume and covers nearly 10% of the country. Needless to say it is worth visiting for anyone interested in mountains, and for climbers it is an intriguing area as Iceland’s small population means that there are many unclimbed peaks and routes.

After training we were transferred to the small town of Hvolsvöllur on the south coast, about an hour and a half’s drive from the capital Reykjavik. An otherwise unremarkable small town, it is elevated by the view on a clear day to Eyjafjallajökull, the volcano which famously erupted in 2010. Standing at nearly 1700m tall this mountain is the highest in the area and dominates the skyline. Four other volcanoes are visible from the small hill in town, including Hekla, an extremely active volcano that was once thought to the entrance to hell, and Katla, a particularly large one – it’s overdue by several decades and will make Eyjafjallajökull seem small by comparison when it finally does erupt!

Work as a glacier guide consists of meeting and greeting guests, equipping them with their equipment (crampons, ice axes, harnesses, helmets), before giving a short brief and walking them to the glacier, Solheimajökull (“Home of the sun glacier”). Because

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Above: The famous black sand beach near Vik Right: Hekla - the entrance to hell

The summit plateau of Eyjafjallajรถkull on a bluebird day

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An unusual view of the famous Jökulsarlon glacier lagoon

I was quickly signed off as an ice climbing guide, I often take people climbing and this is my favourite part of the job. We sometimes lower guests on a rope into deep crevasses and moulins on the glacier, and I relish providing an experience they would not be able to have without me. The job is a mixture of actual guiding, i.e. keeping people safe on a glacier, educating guests on the

mechanics of glaciers, their influence on the landscape and the impact on them of climate change, and entertaining with jokes and stories. Working with people from all parts of the world allows for interesting and varied conversations, and meeting new people every day is what makes the job fun long after the actual work itself becomes mundane. And this is the problem with a job such as this – that even a glacier can become overly familiar after long enough, much like an office. We run the same one or two types of trip most days, so the variety can be lacking, and for this reason I am approaching a time when I will make my return to the UK. The options for post work and days off activities are good in Iceland. During the long winter months there is skiing, both on piste and touring, and lots of frozen waterfalls to be climbed. Many of these have never been climbed before and I had the opportunity to contribute to some new routing this winter, most notably on a 6 pitch WI3+/4 gully route that was dubbed “Cod Wars” as it was climbed by two local Icelandic climbers accompanied by me and another guide from the UK! I also had an excellent long weekend of ski touring along the northern coast, a part of the country that reminded me of Scotland. In the summer time there is some rock climbing, although the young and volcanic nature of the country does not lend itself well to good quality rock for climbing so the crags tend to be pretty loose and a little sketchy. It’s commonplace to have to trundle large blocks on every cragging session!

There are some good experiences to be had though, particularly the rock spire known as Ingimundur, perched high on the cliffs of the southern coast above the

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Above: Abseiling into a deep moulin on Solheimajökull for a day’s ice climbing Left: Climbing on Solheimajökull

Right: More climbing on Solheimajökull Right lower: Svinafellsjökull, a popular TV and movie filming location (Game of Thrones, Interstellar, James Bond)

Above: The second pitch of “Cod Wars” in good condition

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main road. Although the offerings on this spire are single pitch, it’s a mission just to get to it, scrambling up and along a complex series of rock and grass ledges to reach the base. And of course the advantage of living near glaciers is that there is ice climbing available every month of the year, although it is best in the winter months when there is bullet Ski touring hard blue ice to climb – in the summer this tends to turn to sun-crusted, aerated white ice that provides little challenge. Nevertheless the glaciers provide an entertaining playground and a decent substitute for an indoor climbing wall, the nearest of which is otherwise an hour and a half’s drive away in Reykjavik.

And of course there are plenty of hills and mountains to be climbed, including the volcanoes themselves – the summit of Eyjafjallajökull in particular provides some incredible vistas over the whole of south Iceland on a good day.

For the last few months living and working in this small sub-Arctic country has provided me with a great many experiences and memories which I am hugely grateful for, as well as giving me the opportunity and time to think about where I want to go in future. I will be returning to the UK in September, and I look forward to returning to Scotland, the Lake District, and of course the crags of Northumberland and catching up with the many friends I haven’t had a chance to see since I left Newcastle. I hope you all enjoy the photos of this beautiful part of the world!

Looking down towards the town of Siglufjörður, nestled amongst the mountains of the Troll Peninsula

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Top: A large ice cave, locally known as “Treasure Island” Above right: Dan exploring another ice cave Above left: Yet another ice cave, this one inside Solheimajökull

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Photos by Oliver Grady (where indicated), otherwise by Chris Haworth and Dan Pocock

County Classics 24hr Challenge John Haxon

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came up with the idea for a 24-hour Northumberland climbing challenge during a winter indoor training session while discussing possible trip ideas and goals for the following year with my climbing buddies. The usual suspects were mentioned: Scotland, the Peaks and North Wales. We also considered completing all the ‘Classic Rock’ routes in the Lake District over a weekend. It was after this latter suggestion that the idea of climbing the Northumberland classics over a 24-hour period sparked in my mind – which everyone seemed up for.

Walking in to Crag Lough at the start of the challenge

When I started looking into it, I couldn’t find a definitive list of classics but further research revealed that there were quite a few routes that could be contenders. I decided to select only Diff-VS routes and used a combination of first

ascent dates, number of ‘stars’ and frequency of ascents to come up with the list of 45 routes at 18 crags. I also included routes that lie in impressive or iconic locations (e.g.

The Drake Stone).

After discussing the list with the team who were to join me on the challenge (seven of us in all), we decided 20 routes would be a good target, and that we would try to visit Crag Lough, Peel, Great Wanney, Simonside, Bowden Doors and Kyloe Out, dropping in at other crags if time allowed.

In terms of ‘rules’ for the challenge, I decided to keep them simple. Firstly, the routes are to be climbed either by leading or second by top-rope. Secondly, the official time starts at the moment you leave the ground on your first route, and finishes when you’re standing on the top of your last route - providing it’s within the 24-hour window. If you

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happen to be part way up a route when your time elapses, unfortunately that route won’t count towards your total. As for the date for our challenge, we picked the first weekend after the summer solstice to maximise the available daylight.

8:55am (Saturday) - Crag Lough On the sunny morning of Saturday 23rd June, we all met at Crag Lough. As these routes were the longest on our list, we figured that it would be the best crag to start.

At 8:55am, I set off on ‘Main Wall’.

Becky Hetherington heading up Main Wall

I always forget how big ‘Main Wall’ is – and the top section certainly grabs your attention. We climbed as pairs and threes and steadily ticked off the routes. The trio I climbed with followed ‘Main Wall’ with ‘Jezebel’, ‘Tarzan’, ‘Hadrian’s Buttress’ and the imposing ‘Pinnacle Face’.

1:00pm (Saturday) - Peel As we had spent a large chunk of time on Crag Lough, we decided only to tick off ‘Sunset’ on Peel, which took no time at all. Sunset’s a great route with varied climbing and a must for anyone visiting the crag. We left Peel around 2pm and set off for Great Wanney.

3:30pm (Saturday) - Great Wanney By 3:30pm we had walked into Great Wanney and I was heading up ‘Boundary Corner’. Although only V.Diff, if you’re not particularly

John Haxon on ‘Hadrian’s Buttress’ 79

Left: the team beneath ‘Sunset’, Peel Crag Middle: Walking in to Great Wanney Bottom: ‘Idiot’s Delight’, climbers John Lambert & Becky Hetherington

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The team moving up Innominate Crack and Flake Corner on Simonside

flexible you may find the high right foot half way up quite tricky. By now, we were well into the groove and quickly completed ‘Jacob’s Ladder’, ‘Main Wall’ and ‘Idiot’s Delight’.

The latter is one of my favourite routes where the traverse out to the arête is wonderfully exposed.

Once everyone had finished, we packed up

and walked to the cars, arriving back at 6pm.

7:30pm (Saturday) - Simonside By the time we arrived at Simonside the strong wind that had been a constant throughout the day had dropped almost completely. We resumed climbing at 8:25pm, but as we started to feel the effects of a long day’s climbing, our pace dropped and only three routes were ticked off: ‘Innominate Crack’, ‘Flake Corner’ and ‘Great Chimney’. That said, we were pleased to find the rock was in really good condition and still loved the climbing. Before setting back to the car park we took a few moments to enjoy the sunset.

At this stage, we had ticked 13 routes and visited four crags and needed a pit stop. On our way to Bowden we headed for the service station just outside of Alnwick for something to eat. We arrived at Bowden around 1am and settled down for a few hours’ sleep in our cars. Four hours later, we had pulled ourselves out of ‘bed’ and walked to the crag – raring to go (kind of!).

5:20am (Sunday) - Bowden Doors Great Chimney, Simonside, climbers John Lamber & Tony Shorter

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Sunset from Simonside By 6am we had ticked off ‘Russet Groove’, ‘Grovel Groove’ and ‘Black & Tan’.

‘Grovel Groove’ is one of those routes very deserving of its name; although the moves are awkward, they make for exciting climbing. With time getting on, we decided to head for Kyloe Out to ensure we had time to fit in a few routes at the 6th crag.

8:00am (Sunday) - Kyloe Out Before we knew it, it was 8am. We walked into Kyloe, leaving us less than an hour

Waking up at Bowden left to complete our challenge. We quickly racked up, picked two routes from the list and aimed to get everyone up before our 8.55am deadline. With time against us, and now fully awake, I blasted up ‘Flake Crack’, and then belayed the group up after me, before jogging back to the bottom to ascend ‘Christmas Tree Arête’.

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Above and right: early morning scenes at Bowden Doors Below: On ‘Black and Tan’ (Severe 4c)

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I left the ground on my final route at 8:47am and was the last one in our party to top out.

As I stood at the top of ‘Christmas Tree Arête’, my watch clicked over to 8:52am and that was that, we had done it! In just under 24-hours we had visited 6 crags and ticked off 18 routes, falling just short of our 20 target. We took a few photos and congratulated each other before heading back down the descent.

Timing is everything! The author tops out on Christmas I was a bit disappointed Tree Arête, Kyloe Out that the challenge was over and I think everyone felt the same. We immediately started talking about what we would do differently next time, and how to streamline the whole to process to increase our total tally. Despite being exhausted, we had all loved our 24-hour Northumbrian adventure and, as we walked back to the cars, it struck us that we’re incredibly lucky to live in such a fantastic county.

Four of the Challenge team at Kyloe L-R: John Haxon, The dramatic landscape Darran Boak, Becky Hetherington, John Lambert we had experienced during the challenge is at times breathtaking, which – because we live here – we can sometimes take for granted.

From watching the sun setting behind the Cheviot Hills at Simonside, to watching it rise behind Holy Island and the North East coast, it had truly been an excellent day – and one we will definitely be repeating!

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(Photos by John Haxon, Becky Hetherington and John Lambert) Postcript When John posted something about the Challenge on Facebook, Carl Halliday, another NE climber, responded thus: “Good stuff John! 20 years ago this August Roger Malone and I climbed a classic route on every major crag in the Northumberland guidebook over a weekend (48hrs). It was an incredible dash around the county involving three bivis (Peel, Callerheughs & Back Bowden). We started early at Crag Lough on the Saturday morning and finished by popping a bottle of champagne at the top of Audacity as the sun set on the Sunday. Memory highlights include running between and ticking routes at Simonside, Ravensheugh and Sandy Crag. Henhole, Linshields, getting hot-aches early in the morning climbing Callerhues Crack and unzipping my bivibag early on the Sunday at Back Bowden, looking up at the Arches and then climbing it 10 minutes later, while our support team (Paul Graham and Peter Malone) fried some bacon and made coffee below! Your post has brought back some happy memories! I’ll dig out our route and tick list if anyone would like to do it themselves/compare with the 24hr challenge list. I’ve done it twice.

The first time was with Ken Rawlinson (of Phoenix Mountaineering) in the early 90s. On both occasions we raised quite a bit of money for charity.”

Further investigation revealed a couple of other ‘Coonty challenges’ reported over the years: *As discussed in the last issue of County Climber Andy Birtwistle soloed 50 Extremes in a day in 1992, a pretty impressive achievement. More recently he climbed ‘Sixty at 60’ with Tommy Smith, not all Extremes but still pretty impressive! *In 2012 myself, Jim Rigg and Johnny Hall did the Kyloe (Out)HVS’s along with a couple of easier warm-up and warm-down routes; OK there were only 13 HVS routes to climb, but it felt quite a tough day.

Doubtless there will be others. If anyone has undertaken or knows of other similar climbing challenges in the County please let us know........

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Ground Fall, On-Sight

Working through the grades Félix Larrieu

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started climbing when I arrived in England a few years back and I had no idea back then what ‘Trad’ was, or that it even existed. After a short year indoors I was dragged outside and seconded my first ever trad climb, ‘Man Friday’ (VS,4c) at Corby’s. Later that evening I attempted to second ‘Sunshine Superman’ (HVS,5a) but couldn’t pass the crux, too tiring, too different; what a great game though.

DISCOVERING My father, born in the French Pyrenees, was a mountaineer most of his teens, eventually giving it up after settling in Paris in his mid-20s. Although we’ve never shared climbing, he’s always told me stories of “mentors”, pitons, hammock bivvying mid-route, and friends taken by the mountains.

Trad climbing brought me a bit of this familiar mountain story smell and the feeling of seriousness. However, times have changed and with the easier access to climbing for everyone, the harder it is to find this “mentor figure”. I was lucky, thanks to the NMC, to find people who would take me on climbs and spare some time teaching me how to tie a clove hitch or how to set a nut; but soon enough I felt the urge to get on the sharp end.

Since gear has become more affordable, info and skills virtuThe author hanging around in the French Alps ally limitless online and a phys(Photo: Pavel Peev) ical/technical fitness quickly achieved indoors, I believe people spend much less time seconding and building an overall experience. They start to lead very quickly, teaming up with similarly experienced partners, i.e. very fresh leaders. This can also be speeded up by the fact that training indoor coupled with a reasonable level of fitness makes you quickly find VS fairly easy to second. It is how86

ever not guaranteed to give access to anyone around leading more than HVS. I believe one tends to alternate between a conservative and a riskier approach along the path of improvement until an equilibrium is found. This directly depends on level of experience and risk managment.

DEVELOPMENT Back to my own experience, I’d spent a year mainly seconding and getting some leads under my belt, mainly VSs, HSs on more impressive rocks and a few HVSs. Those first leads were definitely completed with “beginner’s luck” as some leads were rather sketchy. It took me more than a year to repeat some of those climbs! That was the “riskier approach”.

The realisation of how dangerous this can be has coincided with establishing a climbing partnership with someone without outdoor experience. This automatically propelled me “leader” with all the responsibilities this entails, without the possibility to share it. I entered the “conservative approach”.

First Leaning Groove (HVS, 5a), Bowden Doors (Photo: David Nash)

I lost my naïvety, realising that this is at times a scary game, especially on Northumbrian sandstone. Jugs became crimps as soon as the gear reached my knees and I couldn’t feel comfortable with less than half my foot on the hold. Routes were enjoyable but the whole climb would suddenly tense up when the holds got smaller or the gear sparser. The difficulty of the moves themselves weren’t an issue but rather a feeling of insecurity given by smaller and less positive holds.

I quickly reached the VS stage being mainly limited by my ability to be confident on gear as well as being swift in placing it. I’ve always thought that the only difference between VS and HVS was the lack of rests. Most VSs tend to have a tricky section between rests and breaks whereas HVSs are usually more sustained, forcing the leader to be quicker at placing gear as hanging around is not an option

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any more. However, I found that placing gear in a comfortable position wasn’t an issue. I had to go on more sustained terrain to improve my gear placement, terrain that I would fear to tackle because of my lack of efficiency. Catch 22.

Towards the end of summer 2016, I decided it was time to push through HVS as I knew I had the capacity for it. On a nice day, we’d chosen Bowden Doors as our destination. Starting with the classic ‘The Scoop’ (VS,4c) as a warm-up, the first HVS to be tackled was ‘Long Crack’ (5a). This was a fair fight towards the top where some awkward bridging isrequired. My second declared it her worst climb to date!

My second chosen HVS was ‘First Leaning Groove’ (5a). The initial section, you establish yourself on top of the flake, a good nut set in the top of it. Some slots on the left crack don’t feel like taking good gear; I placed a micro-cam (Wild Country Zero 5) which I didn’t really rate but carried on. I got to the stage just below the horizontal crack where I hoped to put some decent gear in. The move felt committing, the holds quite small, and I faffed around for a while not sure what the best move to do was. I eventually pulled myself up, not committing to the break and halfway through the move tried reversing it looking for the smeary foothold I had come from. I knew it a fraction of a second before it happened, the fall.

A black screen and a hard knock on the back of my head later, I was aware of lying on the floor, eyes still closed. A couple of nearby climbers rushed towards us and helped out. After a mental check, my whole body assessed, I gently recovered from my first on-sight ground-fall.

A few minutes later, we tried to recall the event, what had happened during the fall and what led to it. It turned out the micro-cam partially held the fall but popped when I swung out. The nut below at the flake

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Bouldering at Shaftoe (Photo: Craig Harrison)

then caught me. I spun in the air, hitting my belayer on the way and landed on my back on the rope stretch, hitting my head, the only conscious feeling I had. Glad I wore my helmet.

What led to the ground fall was a succession of mistakes, caused by inexperience.

The first mistake was to save gear for the following section. On the left crack I thought I could fit a large cam but worried I might need it for the top break. I went for the micro-cam on a slot slightly above instead. The second mistake was combined with the third; I decided to continue knowing that the gear was poor and would likely not hold a fall. With poor gear I neither retreated nor committed, I pulled myself to the break and stopped halfway. The final mistake was to freak out when I decided to reverse the move, scratching my feet desperately looking for the smear. Independently, I don’t think any of these mistakes would have led to the ground fall, but combined it did.

Although physically unscathed by the ground fall, both my partner and I were fairly shaken by the event. A weekend in Pembroke a few days later didn’t help our confidence! It was time to reflect on what happened and use the experience for improvement.

BUILD-UP Following the summer, climbing days getting less often, it was a good time to review the year and how to engage the next step.

We’ve got some good bouldering in Northumberland and this is often viewed as a great way to train for and enhance trad. I never shared that idea as my limitation when climbing on gear had never been a technical one. As such, bouldering didn’t really helped but sport climbing did. A short month after the fall, we spent a couple of days down in Yorkshire clipping Yorkshire sport - Moughton Nab (Photo: Gavin Wye) bolts and it felt great. The feeling of being on the sharp end is there, the feeling of falling as well but the fear and the potential outcome of trad climbing reduced. It’s great to build confidence on the lead, above the gear and especially on 89

smaller holds. It teaches you that footholds don’t need to be ledge-like to be secure and that small handholds are fine too. It also allows you to cast a new eye on grades. A 6a sport climb is likely to be within my warm-up climbs. However E1, technically akin to a 6a sport, holds much more weight and tends to be my “pushing the grade” climb on a good day. Merging the two styles allows to improve difficulty on lead and put trad grades in perspective.

Feeling confident on rock is one thing. However this relies on “confidence”, a very volatile feeling. I’ve heard a lot of “I feel confident at the moment”, “I climb well”, “I feel good with my gear placement”, “I feel strong”, “I’m in a good cycle” and so on. All of those statements reward good climbing performances and achievements.

The common point though is that they rely on “the moment”, the confidence. Once that moment is gone, so are the upper grades. Injury, bad weather, bad fall, winter season and we’re back to Stage 1, a couple of grades lower. The harder grades feeling intimidating again, with the need to “warm up” for several months to get back to last year’s high point.

I’ve tried to put the emphases on protection, the gear and rope system. Building confidence into the climber is essential, as discussed above, but confidence in the system is perhaps more essential when climbing on gear as this is more reliable.

No more tired/injured/hungover/too much beach time, pick your excuse. After two full trad seasons, I fell at only one occasion, trying the second pitch of ‘Coldstream Corner’ (HVS,5a) at Kyloe. I had a solid hex slotted in the crack on the first steep part before the final groove. I didn’t have any doubts on this placement and after having tried and fallen off the moves 6 or 7 times, I couldn’t pull myself any more, too tired. At that point in time, I had trust in the system and so was happy to push forward.

Post ground-fall I went back to the basics on gear placements. The internet is a great source of knowledge and lots of good tips and advice can be found. Within lots of reads, I found one of Kirkpatrick’s blog posts amongst the most useful. The basic principle is what I’d called an “instant assessment”: select gear, place it, test it, assess it and forget about it. More of a sport climbing approach where the bolt is not suddenly a source of doubt once above it. It is assessed when clipped, rusty or not, and then forgotten (the fall may not be though!).

The next step covers what I had identified directly as one of my mistakes, namely don’t go further unless the gear is assessed as ‘good’. Give yourself a margin of error if only a poor placement is found, and allow few more moves to find the next good placement. If failure to do so, there are two outcomes, retreat or commit.

If you commit, you effectively become the protection. Recently I read Steve Mc-

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Clure’s book ‘Beyond Limits’.

He follows a similar system with more of a “continuous assessment” approach of gear placements. He rates the gear placement between 1 and 5 − 1 being psychological gear and 5 bolt-like.

If it’s a 5, there is no rational reason to not fully commit.

If it’s a 3, he might consider where his previous protection is and what rating it has before continuing. A bad ledge below a good piece may also drop the rating from 5 to 4 or 3. And so on.

In order to get a feel for this and not really wanting to take lead falls on purpose, I set up some practice falls on gear. The first destination was ‘Devil’s Edge’ (HVS, 5a) at Kyloe. Perfect for a midheight first runner, a shallow cam, with a clear landRiders on the Storm (HVS 5a), Stennis Head, ing. Boulder pad in place, I Pembroke climbed up to the cam placement and placed the said cam. The crack is quite shallow and as such was rating the cam as not fully trustworthy. I would have easily seen it slip before it could bite the rock. I started testing it by resting on the gear. It held. I bounced on my harness.

Still attached to the wall. Climbed at the cam’s level and fell. It still hasn’t moved.

I climbed a bit higher than the gear and dropped again. Still solid. What I had assessed as poor gear proved to be good enough to catch a modest fall. That had the double effect to also bump up my confidence onto other cam placements that I would rate great or excellent! I planned on doing a similar test on a nut but I’d always had more confidence into nuts than cams anyway so didn’t get to try that one out (voluntarily!).

After not too long, having climbed few HVSs, I decided to go for my first E1, ‘Whit’s

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End Direct‘ (5b) at Gimmer Crag. To increase my feeling of safety, I placed gear pretty much two by two, double safe. On the first tricky slab sequence, I placed a size 3 or 4 nut, and swiftly added a cam above it. I climbed the thin sequence and near the big handhold, I got suddenly scared and started down-climbing. On such a slab that was a silly idea and I inevitably took a fall. A decent length and a gentle catch later, I looked up and saw the cam peacefully holding me, the same I had tested in Kyloe. Back on the wall, I passed the section with ease, finally topping out with sore feet. All 14 or so quickdraws and much of my rack placed, I had scaled my first E1, taken on the way my first real fall since ‘Coldstream Corner’. I felt ready for more!

THOUGHTS ON TRAD Most of us are familiar with the motto “you need to fall to improve” and yet it proves difficult to put it in practice.”The leader never falls”, the old-time mantra, still rings true for a lot of people. Although most of us would agree that this mantra belongs to the older days, it still remains fairly ingrained in lots of climbers’ head, especially those operating at mid-grades. I was recently discussing with a friend who took few falls trying an E2. As he discussed this with another climber, that person replied “at least you’re honest about it” as if it was a thing to hide.

Why does falling have to carry such shades of shame? As with most decisions in trad, falling should be part of the assessment. Coming off happily on a “no fall” zone being an obvious bad decision and ultimately a big mistake. Although counter-intuitive, routes also become safer the harder they get; walls are often steeper, less ledgy, allowing for clearer falls. This may not hold true on very hard and bold routes though!

The idea of on-sighting or not sending a route clean can also have a huge impact on our relationship and ultimately achieving our goals in climbing. On-sighting has a high status and should be seen as a treat for the special climbs as opposed to being the norm. One might find too many worthwhile climbs to save for an onsight, but how many others can someone realistically just try to climb? I’m in a different position to someone local to an area with no prospective of moving. Every time I go somewhere, I’ve got a thought in the back of my head that tells me “I might never come back here”. “Saving” for the future is therefore somewhat absent from my mind. But regardless, you might stop climbing, you might get injured and lose grades, you might even become way stronger than the climb, so the on-sight would not mean much anymore. So why wait? I’d rather remember of my years of climbing when I tried and fought this climb than remember how good it was to save it for the future (yet to come).

A SEASON OR SO LATER Since the ground fall, in June 2016, I have, by the end of the 2017 season managed to climb several E1s on sandstone, limestone sea cliffs, grit, and our local 92

Whin Sill. Some were managed on-sight, some had seen previous top-rope tries, some starts were “bouldered”, some were with rests and others with falls, some were interrupted by the weather, some were 40+ m long, others as short as 15m, some hard and others soft. Every try made me more impatient to get onto the next one, bringing the grade down to my level.

After the winter season, in spring 2018, trad was back. I had a small feeling of doubt, would I be able to apply the principles worked on in the past season?

It turned out yes. By the beginning of April, I had climbed a few E1s and managed my first E2, ‘Vector’, at Tremadog, followed by few more, and a whipper on ‘Daddy Cool’(E2 5c)!. I can’t say that all fear or nervousness is gone, trad is a mind game after all! Mixing sport climbing has also really helped as after climbing on a thin 7a, most E2s will feel juggy!

So fellow climbers, just ditch all the pressure and get on with it.

And do yourself a favour, scrap the “on-sight saver” card.

The author on ‘L’Horla’ (E1 5b), Curbar, apparently about to clock up some air-miles (Photo: Joe Spoor) 93

Have you sent us a ‘postcard’ yet?

EVERYONE HAS SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT, WHATEVER THEIR LEVEL OF EXPERIENCE AND ALL CONTRIBUTIONS TO COUNTY CLIMBER ARE WELCOME!

Whether about rock-climbing (trad or sport), bouldering, winter climbing or hill-walking, or indeed anything to do with ‘the great outdoors’, especially Northumberland. Contributions from new members are particularly welcome.

It doesn’t have to be a ‘story’ either, so for example a report about a visit to a new location, or a new take on an old one would fit the bill. Reviews of guides or books, films or festivals are welcome. From time to time people submit mainly photographs (see below) accompanied by only the briefest of text, and these can be published as a ‘photo-essay’. And don’t limit yourself to prose in responding to your inner muse - poems are also welcome.

The Editor would be happy to discuss ideas for articles, comment on rough drafts, or work with you to produce the finished article. You could even send us a real postcard if you wanted!

Regarding photographs, please send as high a resolution as possible, although photos, depending on format, may need to be resized. If you are using other peoples’ photos in your article, please ensure you have sought permission.

Please contact the Editor at and/or send submission to: john.spencer@ncl.ac.uk 94

Joe McCarty on the Forbes ArĂŞte (AD), Aiguille du Chardonnet (photo: Phil Behan)

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