English man in Font

It’s been rather silent on the blog front and for this I apologise. Living in a small house with 7 people doesn’t leave much time to sit back, collect my thoughts, and pen it down in exquisite prose. I guess I’ve also been lazy. Not much has been going down.

I spent a session trying Boogalagga, 8B, with Ty. He managed to do all the moves and then executed it from bottom to top. It was quite impressive actually. Once he knew he could do the moves he knew he could do the problem. That’s no different from me, you, or anyone else. But the difference came when he took that knowledge and smashed through any psychological barriers to reach the top. That was something that came as a revelation to me. I usually do the moves, then spend more sessions trying the individual moves, making absolutely sure I can do them in isolation to the point where they feel easy and then I embark on the send. This means I take ages to do anything. Seeing Ty go into crush mode and send Boogalagga reminded me of Toby Benham. He was the same and that was why he did so many “hard” grit routes. He would work the moves on a top rope, know he could do them, and then simply go for it. He had no barriers in his mind and thus no barriers in his climbing. Toby was someone who I thought climbed exceptionally close to his potential, and I have a lot of respect for that as I think that is what makes someone a good rock climber. I took inspiration from this revelation and decided to try and put it into practice. Unfortunately it didn’t work out with Boogalagga as the first move is quite hard and I didn’t manage to do it. I put it down to thin skin though, as I wasn’t even planning on climbing but was easily coaxed by such an attractive and hard problem. I’ll certainly be going back to do it and I think I can do it which is promising. I was rather worried that it would be too hard but I don’t think it’s impossible for me. I think it’s something that might take some work but it’s certainly worth the effort as it’s a hard and proud line.

In between sessions of rock climbing we’ve been playing a lot of ping pong and the level has been increasing. I might even post up a video of the greatest shots but now that I’m writing such a thing I think it’s verging on ridiculous, so don’t hold your breath. Needless to say, we’re punters of the pong world, probably somewhere around the V5 level but we’re improving day by day. I think by the end of this trip we might reach V7 or V8 but I really don’t know. Si is probably somewhere around that level at the moment and destroy is an understatement when I’ve played him. It’s been brutal. I doubt I’ll beat him by the end of the holiday but it’s a good goal to have, and it’s great to have a good player around to learn from.

I’ve also spent a day up at Brione. Vecchia Leone was a big goal for this trip and today I had the opportunity to try it, but for some reason I didn’t take it. Tyler had shown me another 8B called Amber which, although petite, was on amazing rock and had some absolutely gorgeous holds. It’s a Dave Graham problem (the man has been everywhere and done everything) and features no small holds, only bad holds and great compression moves. So whilst Si and Sander went to try Vecchia I opted out and went to try Amber on my own. I’ve been thinking about the reasons for my rebuttal of Vecchia, and I think it might come down to the fact that I want it too much. I think maybe I need to let go of wanting it so much and just go there to climb it. Perhaps those two things are the same but perhaps not. I am fairly certain that I am able to climb Vecchia so at some point I’m going to relax my desire and go there to try and do it. No pressure. Before I walked down to Amber, Doylo asked me what my goal was. He asked if I just wanted to do all the moves and I replied that I wanted to do better than that. I was being slightly facetious because I would be happy to do the moves but perhaps not happy enough. I set off on my own, feet trampling the fallen leaves, with my thoughts focused on my expectations of the next hour or two. What did I really expect? What did I really want? I just wanted to feel like I was climbing well, like I was climbing close to my potential ability. That would leave me happy, even if I didn’t manage to do any moves! I arrived, felt happy to be there, admired the sunshine on the snowy mountaintops, unfurled my pad, and set about work. I cleaned the holds and set up for my flash go. It’s always worth a go… needless to say I didn’t do it. In fact, I fell on the first move. Undeterred (obviously) I set about working the moves. The first move was tricky and I had a few goes but didn’t manage it. I then moved on to the second and had success. Then the third, then the fourth, then the fifth, until I got to a long move off a gorgeous sloper. I failed on it about 20 times and wasn’t sure why. My foot was slipping off a huge hold and I wasn’t reaching the hold. My foot wasn’t pulling me in enough. It was a classic case of a foot needing to be used as a hand and I was flailing. I changed shoes from Dragons to V10’s (old style)… and boom. I did the move. Thinking it was only a psychological boost and in reality I’d done the move because I’d tried it 21 times, I tried again in my V10 and did it again. Had I simply got the measure of the move? Perhaps. Whatever the reason, I didn’t fall off that move again (nor did I change out of my V10). I did the last couple of moves which feature a blind slap as the penultimate move and then decided I should go into crush mode. I could do the moves and so I could do the problem. It’s just a matter of execution. I fell a few times on the starting move which is a tricky move into a backhand, but then I managed to latch it and was on. Not for long. A foot slip saw me on the pad again. Damn it. This wasn’t the crush mode I had envisaged. Still undeterred (always undeterred!) I tried again and did the first move, then the second, then the third. The third move is a very cool cutloose move where you have to jump your foot onto a high foothold. I wasn’t strong enough to take the swing so what I had to do was hit the foothold whilst my body was still on the outswing, so my foot was pushing me up into the handholds as I reached the zenith of my swing. It’s a joyous move. I made it through that move and was on the upper moves. I felt alright, but was perhaps a bit nervous and I certainly wasn’t climbing it as smoothly as I’d done the individual moves, which resulted in me falling at the long move from a sloper. Damn it. I felt like it might have been possible but I was on the pad once again. My feeling wasn’t wrong though as I was definitely capable of doing this problem and that go had confirmed it. I had some more goes and made it to the slopers a few times but my right hand or left hand would slip off unexpectedly. My skin wasn’t getting any better and so I faced the choice of going all out and trying to do it this session or being wise and saving my skin, safe in the knowledge that I’d put in a good session. I battled my ego which wanted to keep going in the hope that I could do it in a session, which would be a huge achievement for me, but in the end my rationale won and I took my boots off. Amber is a great problem and I’m keen to go back and do it. I’m sure that I will do it. In fact, I’m certain. I think it’s likely I’ll do it in another session, but if not, I’m sure that I’ll do it before leaving. I walked down to the car as the night closed in and I was feeling good. I’d gotten what I’d wanted from the session. I’d climbed well and in reality I’d exceeded my expectations, but as always the goalposts got moved when I realised they were getting too close.

Now it’s raining again and I’m resting. On my mind is the question of how long I shall remain out here and what I really want to do. So far my ticklist isn’t long, only containing 3 problems, but depending on my form it may extend to 4 problems. Doing 3 of them would be amazing for me and doing 4 would be incredible. The future path is unknown but if I can climb well, rest well, eat well, and keep enjoying my rock climbing then I think anything is possible.

ps. Apologies is the text size/font has gone funny. I don’t know what happened and I’m in no position to fix it at the moment.

The rain came and it poured over the Rhone valley, day after day. Eventually I ran out of days and the final morning we awoke to see blue skies. Was I being gifted a final chance, a possibility to go and achieve my goal at the last possible moment? My shoulders were sore even though I’d spent the previous 3 days stretching and chilling out watching movies, but if good weather was out there I would soon forget that and go all out. Upon arrival at Branson things looks promising but close inspection of the holds revealed some wet holds. One of the crucial holds was wet at the back and the sit start holds were also wet but I wasn’t yet ended. I tried to dry the important hold off so I could at least try the crux sequence a bit. Whilst cleaning it I kept touching it to assess its dryness and then I suddenly touched upon something I may once have known but certainly didn’t have it at the accessible part of my memory. Suddenly my fingers slotted in to a part of the hold that felt slightly better than all of the rest. My ring finger was gripping on something that I hadn’t experienced before, but it felt better. I wasn’t sure if I was just going crazy so I dried it off as best as I could and warmed up while it dried a little. The water kept seeping through but a bit of tissue (cave tactics) absorbed some of the moisture. I pulled on and suddenly felt alright in the position. I was reaching up into the undercut far, far, far more comfortably. This new hand position, or perhaps finger placement was changing everything. How could I have spent 2 sessions on this only a few days ago and not noticed this obvious beta? I didn’t know if I was simply feeling stronger on the day or I really was gripping it differently, but whatever the reason I felt better and it came as a great relief.

I’d arrived in Martigny confident I could do Radja. I spent 2 sessions literally not doing one move on Radja and then 3 days watching movies. I couldn’t understand why I’d arrived confident and then got shut down so hard. My mental state wasn’t great but being down is certainly not being out. The bottom of the well is a sign that says nothing is impossible.  Having had this final session and had a sudden progress boost was really good for my mental state. I’d arrived confident, had a dip, but would be leaving confident again. It’s a shame all this confidence exists when I’m not at the boulder problem.

I fled from Martigny, first driving to Bergamo to drop Sara off and then onward to Cresciano to take my place in a house of big numbers. I was arriving at a house where everyone had climbed 8B or above (bar Doylo, 8A+, who is certainly worthy of the honorary 8B club) and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would it be a melting pot of psyche and power, or a fragmented struggle for recognition? I guess it’s still too early to know for sure, but first signs are really positive. As I wrote in my previous post, I’m sick of the bitching, and so I want to be part of a positive group of people who all want each other to succeed. So far this seems to be the case amongst us.

I’ve only had one day out climbing thus far which was spent up at Brione. The rock up there is second to none and in my opinion is the highest form that granite can achieve. There is no better granite which I have seen or climbed upon and I hold it in equal estimation to the great rock of Fontainebleau. We started off in the meadow as Doylo had his sights firmly set on crushing Molunk, 7C, which he should have done first go, but ended up doing an hour later. I filmed a few of the better set warm up problems and then Brick and I moved over to join the crowd at Molunk. Tyler put his shoes on to show us a slightly different sequence which I was thankful for because everyone else seemed to be using a taller man’s method. Brick and I flashed it using different sequences, Fred ascended it uttering many strange English phrases involving things I can’t repeat, and then Doyle did it for the team. Success! I wanted to film the highball slab called Black Mirror, 6B+, so I quickly nipped down there and did it a couple of times. It’s a very cool looking slab and has only one tricky move which is fall off able. It’s easy though and if you’re in Brione you should enjoy the off vertical walk.

We moved on to check out the main meat, Vecchia Leone but the wall was saturated. It was a shame because I was well warmed up and felt ready to do battle but mother nature had a different plan. What do you do when you can’t try a 5 star 8B? Simply find another 5 star problem down the road. The beauty of residing in a land that has so much good rock! I took the team down to Limited Edition, 7C+, which I’d seen a year ago but hadn’t tried. I’d been immensely impressed by the double arête/ramp feature and longed to climb it. The first move is an amazing flick/jump and then you bosh up left hand, right hand, left hand until you find yourself at a committing move to the top.

Tyler led the way, committing and then successfully toping out. Perhaps it was the mental boost of seeing success that helped but I managed to drag myself to the top moves, committed, and was toping out.

But then a small hand slip on a dirty hold led to a small foot slip which led to a small hip slip and I was suddenly in a rather uncomfortable position. I wasn’t about to fall off but I was in a tricky spot which my position on the rock being very untenable. I didn’t have much purchase with my hands or my feet and my knee was certainly glued to the rock but in the heart raising moment I reached out and grabbed a branch of a tree that was nearby. I was relieved not to have pitched off backwards over the heads of my spotters into the abyss below, but I was disappointed that I couldn’t get my game together enough to calm myself down and then finish the rock over move without grabbing a branch. I wanted to get footage of the problem from various angles so set the camera up in another position and climbed the low moves again, then moves the camera and climbed the high moves again (after giving the top a good clean). I feel fairly honest in my appraisal that my initial hand slip was due to leaves, pine needles, and dirt rather than me going to jelly because I was topping out. I’m sure I don’t have some topping out disease! With that in the bag and footage looking good we headed home.

The house that big numbers built is looking good for psyche. It’s nice to climb with other people for a change and even better to climb with people who are obviously good rock climbers. Climbing with Tyler is also very useful for me for several reasons. It’s pretty much guaranteed that he will be able to do any move I can do, and so if I’m struggling and he proceeds to crush it, it gives me motivation on many levels. It’s not a case of wanting to compete or trying to keep up, it’s more a case of seeing someone else succeed brings things down from the plane of meta impossible to the very real plane of possible. That takes the mental edge off and then it comes down to executing the moves. Tyler has a good understanding of his movement so when he gives out beta it’s actually useful, rather than something like “pull a bit harder you weak bastard”. I’m hopeful that in the coming weeks I can fulfil my goals and complete my very short ticklist, although I did hear that a very strong climber spent 3 days on Boogalagga without doing it, which is a bit dismaying. I’ll just go and give it my best, every day for many days, and what I’ll have in the end will be good regardless of ascent or not.

[Photos Courtesy of Fred Moix Photography and Tyler Landman Photography]

The rain in font didn’t relent and after 48 hours of constant meteo france/swiss monitoring we decided to chance it by driving south to Martigny. The special warm wind called Foehn had been predicted and local Fred Moix told me that good conditions would be in store. We arrived a little too late on Friday evening so I missed an opportunity to climb in perfect conditions. Upon arrival at Branson it was cool, the wind was warm, but unfortunately it was far too dark. I was still optimistic for the weekend ahead.

We managed to get the key of a local climbing wall and spent the night there which was definitely more comfortable than either the car or the bouldering pads. Saturday morning was spent trying to find an open shop because (obviously) November 1^st is some national holiday (All Saints day – not the band, I don’t think), but eventually we settled somewhere to drink coffee and munch pain au chocolat. Early afternoon we headed to the crag but temps were still a little warm. It was about 13C which was nice for sitting in the sun and getting nourished by free radicals, but not great for crushing. The wind wasn’t blowing all that much but driven by psych I warmed up. After far too short a warm up I decided to get involved in the main meat, the reason I’d driven nearly 6 hours south, Radja. I last tried it with Danny and Sam in August and I’d felt surprisingly good on it. I’d made good progress, good enough to think that I could probably get it done with another visit. Perhaps that confidence was proving to be a thorn in my side, but I spent an hour failing to do a single move. I couldn’t remember the subtle body positions, or rather I thought I could remember them but my body didn’t seem to be in them. I felt a million miles away from doing the crux moves. I was a bit disheartened and to make matter worse after about 45 mins I put a hole in my tip. But not the usual tip. For perhaps the first time ever I had ripped a chunk of skin off my right thumb! This goes to show how much you have to use your thumbs on this problem. I taped over it and persisted, trying to find that subtle position that clicks and enables you to enter the next phase, which is finding enough power to actually do the moves. By the end of the session I’d somewhat remembered that you need to get your body much higher, pushing with your left hand into your right shoulder, then twisting your hips slightly inwards so you can reach up to the undercut. My very last goes saw me finally reaching into the undercut but by this point my shoulders were aching, and all this after about 1h20m of goes. I was done. The problem is too hard for me to try much more than that. The evening was spent eating Pizza and sitting in a bar listening to the locals talk about various boulder problems and boulderers (all in French). I understood enough to know that no matter where you go climbers talk about the same things, which problems are really harder than the other and why certain climbers are crushers! All pretty funny…

Radja is a complicated beast. My hardcore failure left me with some time to reflect about why this had happened. I thought about why I was having such a dismal time and simultaneously thought about how Tyler and Graham had both crushed it in a session. I think that Radja requires a pre-requisite amount of basic strength/power. You either have it or you don’t have it. If you think that Graham is a skinny waif without power/strength then you are sorely mistaken. If you don’t have this level of strength you simply won’t be able to do the moves. If your shoulder isn’t stable enough, or your back not powerful enough, you will only fail. You can’t find a way around it, you simply need a certain level of power. Essentially it’s quite a basic problem, even though all the locals will tell you it’s hugely subtle, and point to which grain of the rock you need to put a certain part of your toe on, or draw an arc in 3D space through which your hips must travel if you want to do the move. But all these things are ancillary; you must first have the strength/power to execute. No amount of technique or trickery will help if you don’t have the power. I think it’s something like needing a power level of 73 (on some undetermined scale). If you have 70 then you might just be able to do the moves if you find the absolute perfect technique, but to execute this on the link becomes unlikely. If you have 73 then you will have to use good technique to actually send the problem. If you have 80 or 90 then you can overpower the beast and crush it quickly. But this level of power is certainly world class and not many people have it so mere mortals like myself need to train to reach a power level of 75 and then make a concerted effort to climb with excellent technique.

Sunday we awoke in the climbing wall to feel a rather warm breeze and upon walking out of the door we were greeted by a lovely summer’s day. Whilst lovely if you are on holiday in Tuscany, it’s not so lovely when you’re trying to climb at your limit. It was even warmer than Saturday, with the car registering 15C in the morning and going on to 20C at lunchtime. I decided to learn from yesterdays lessons and not start climbing until about 5pm so I would get the best of the conditions. I arrived at the crag with Fred and he pointed to a particular car asking if I knew who it was to which I replied with a somewhat obvious no. He said it was Bernd Zangerl and obviously I was immediately excited by the prospect of meeting a beast but also seeing him try Radja. We went down, said hello, and decided that conditions weren’t good so we’d wait for it to go dark and then do a lantern session. Great! A lantern session on Radja with Zangerl!  I don’t get star struck, but I have a lot of respect for these top climbers because I think I have an understanding of the hard work it takes to get there. I respect that, a lot. Bernd had come alone, driving 6 hours to come and try Radja, and I respect that dedication. However, the lantern session wasn’t all that was taking place as another local, Pedro, was sat under the block playing a didgeridoo! It was a nice scene actually, with the soothing, rhythmic pace of the didgeridoo acting as a perfect accompaniment. As darkness descended I warmed up trying to actually get my shoulders and back properly warmed up this time and didn’t feel too bad. I was sore from Saturday but I felt in better shape, and walking down to Radja I thought (once again) that I had a good chance. My first goes felt much better than my best goes on Saturday. My body position was immediately better  and I reached up into the undercut with much more ease. I put three fingers in the undercut, rolled my wrist upwards to get the thumb catch, and just as I started to move up I greased off. Damn it. Even worse was that I now had a matching hole in my left thumb. It wasn’t bleeding but it was down to the final layer of skin and so I had no choice but to tape it up. I had tape on both thumbs and, for a problem that requires a lot of thumb action, this wasn’t ideal. In fact, my goes went rapidly downhill from there. Bernd had a try and made it up into the undercut and looked very strong, but something didn’t quite go as it should and he slipped off. Conditions weren’t good but he was crushing. I also realised that he was doing it with a different left foot hold and he explained that it was perhaps slightly harder but by utilising it your left foot was much less likely to slip off. Obviously I wanted to have a go using it and it didn’t take much of an effort to realise quite how much harder it was. Essentially he was using a smear and he was able to do so because he is way, way, way stronger than me. He could hold the shoulder position far more comfortably, and furthermore he was only using 3 fingers on the undercut, taking it as an open handed hold. I don’t want to sound like I’m bumming him, but I am. The guy is very strong and it was inspiring to see. His skin was sacking it and so he taped up for one more go but that didn’t help things and he stepped off. Chances are his skin will be better on Monday, conditions will be better on Monday, and I have no doubt he’ll crush it. As for me, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I have a hole in each thumb and my back/shoulders are sore. I’m taking a rest day today, hoping that the rain will stay away and I’ll be back there trying it again tomorrow. If it doesn’t happen in the next few days I’ll just have to come back again. But I’m not thinking about that yet, I’m thinking only about trying to succeed.

The more I travel the more I meet people and the more I hear about bitchiness, about people who don’t like certain other people. There are a variety of reasons for why people don’t like other people, and it’s a fact of life that not everyone is going to get on really well with everyone else, but in climbing people really seem to take a dislike to one another. Perhaps it’s because they are all so passionate about rock climbing and this is what they have disagreements about, but I think it’s a bad way to be. In my mind, it would be better if everyone could act as a positive support for everyone else and encourage them to improve, adapt, and push things forward. That probably sounds far too idealistic but I’m sure things could be more like that than they currently are. The one theme that unites all the top climbers I meet is their love for rock climbing. They just want to go out and climb. They don’t really care about 8a.nu, internet chat, magazine reports or chatting BS about climbing, they just love rock climbing. They couldn’t care less if they never reported anything else they did or if no one knew what they had climbed, because they really only do it for themselves. I’m sure there are exceptions to this, but for the most part people choose this lifestyle because it’s what they love. I also think the general public are too quick to judge the achievements of the top guys without really knowing or understanding anything about them. This is also a great shame because I’m sure if people were to know these guys personally they would have a completely different opinion.  I’m not guilt free, I realise that I’ve been part of this in the past, but it’s something I realised was a bad mistake and have tried to learn from the mistake. I’m not judging anyone or trying to make moral statements about anyone’s opinion. I just want to encourage everyone, avoid slagging people off, try to remain positive and continue to love rock climbing. I hope that everyone else can do the same because loving rock climbing is the glue that binds us all together.

I woke up this morning expecting to leave for Martigny but the weather forecast was at the very wet end of the spectrum but font was offering me blue skies and cool temps (and dry rock later in the day). I couldn’t possibly leave my love and risk missing that magical feeling of skin gripping on to nothing sandstone holds, only fused to the rock by magic and determination. With the plan changed I then started the complicated process of deciding where to go.

Why is it so complicated? Not because I simply want to try so many different things and have psyche for everything, but because I wanted a certain psychological result from my day out climbing. I wanted to leave the crag feeling good about my climbing. This might sound like a strange thing to want from a day out, but I believe that at the beginning of any rock climbing trip it’s important to get into the flow of things. A confidence, a self belief, needs to be built up and it’s the foundation of this building is success. Having victories, however minor, add to the foundations and set you up for great things. Anyone who spends the first two weeks failing will not only be sacked but their mental state will be setup for failure and not success. So I wasn’t being greedy with what I wanted to climb, but I had a specific intention for what I wanted to get out of my day climbing. I’d spent the previous 2 days on rock just enjoying myself, doing easy problems and putting no pressure on myself. Today I wanted to take advantage of the cool temps and try something a bit harder, but I didn’t want to go and fail on a single hard move. I was trying to balance this with the things on my mental tick list, and in the end all of the things I want to actually do possess the property that I may go there and simply fail. I created a short list of Hip Hop, 8A/+, Kheops, 8B, and Gecko, 8A+/B. I’d tried Kheops earlier in the year, Hip Hop I’m not sure I’ve tried but might have done years ago, and Gecko I’d tried about 18 months ago with Danny. The common theme was that I’d not had any success with any of them. I was somewhat apprehensive about going to any of them because I really didn’t want to get shut down and leave the crag feeling a bit crushed about my climbing. After Sara spent a while at Isatis refamiliarising herself with rock climbing after 3 months in India, I reached the decision I was dreading. I chose what I think is probably the hardest, Gecko.

I’d seen Dave Graham trying the sit start to this problem a number of years ago, and back then he was saying it would be forests first 8C if it got done, but unfortunately he didn’t succeed. When it did get climbed from the sit start it was ONLY given 8B+. Certainly it’s regarded as a hard boulder problem and because I’d seen Graham on it years ago I’d always fancied giving it a go. I tried it briefly when I was with Danny last year but in the 30 mins I spent on it I only managed one move, the first, and only managed it once. It certainly shut me down. I didn’t have any expectations as I walked in to the crag today, apart from the expectation of myself to try hard and to not get sacked. I warmed up, feeling alright but not amazing, and when we moved to the Gecko block there were a few locals trying les beaux quartiers, 8A, and le clown, 8A. I dumped my pads, set my stuff up, and had my first go. I nearly did the first move and it felt easy. Immediately I was shocked, intrigued, and the feeling was positive. A few goes later I’d done the second move and then the third move. Only one move to go and I was at the jug.

Gecko is, to me, a near perfect boulder problem. Certainly some of the moves are getting close to perfect as the holds are so bad and the only way you can do it is by, you guessed it, sticking to the rock like a Gecko. It’s a perfect name too as you really do climb the first moves like a gecko. For me, this problem has a certain allure to it, much like Partage did. I never really thought I could do it, but longed to be able to do it. I saw it as a benchmark, a standard that was very high and one I desperately wanted to reach but was a little scared to try. It’s special because it’s a hard problem that has no small holds, which is always special, but also because each hold is wonderful in that it fits your hand with a separate space for your thumb to act. It’s hard to explain but I love that style of hold. If you are in font, you should witness this boulder, and look at the first few holds on Gecko. They are wonderful. It’s also a perfect combination of power and subtlety. You really do need good technique to climb this boulder but you also need a very strong grip and a strong body. More perfection.

I was ready to have another go and set off feeling good. The holds felt somewhat grippy, my heels worked well, I did the 3rd move into the undercut, managed the hard foot move, and slapped to the jug. YES! I was on it! A quick message to myself of “don’t fluff up now” and I did the next couple of moves. I had been somewhat foolish by not cleaning the very top as I wasn’t all that worried about either getting there or falling there. But now I was there. Shit. The moves were easy, on their own warranting something like 5+, but the holds were dirty. I put my heel on, starting reaching up to another jug, and then WOOSH! My heel came skidding off the green, my lone arm wasn’t strong enough to grip on, and I helicoptered groundwards fast, missing both my nonplussed spotters and my pads. I’d really jarred myself but was more disappointed that I’d managed to just climb an 8A+/B and then fall off because I hadn’t cleaned the top out thoroughly. Super amateur tactics. Once I’d brushed my shoulders off I was able to stand up and look at what just happened. I was so happy because I knew I’d done this problem even though I couldn’t even remotely consider claiming it. But that doesn’t really matter to me. I’d gone to the crag asking the question of myself “Can I really do Gecko” and I’d answered that with a resounding yes. I was really made up actually, but the fact I was on the ground and not stood on top had left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was both overjoyed and annoyed at the same time, which is a funny combination. I wanted to wash out that bitter taste and so had several more goes but I think my skin was getting thin and with the disappearing of the sun the holds suddenly because a little humid. In the end I had to give up, but I’d managed to get EXACTLY what I wanted from my day at the rocks.

I’d answered my question about Gecko, but also answered a more broad question about what kind of shape I’m in at the moment. I’m not in bad shape and this is good to know. I was worried that I am kind of heavy at the moment and I wasn’t feeling lithe on the rock, but when push came to shove I can do hard moves. I left feeling really good and one of the French dudes even mentioned that in reality I’d done Gecko but summed up the situation by asking if I was coming back tomorrow. The answer is a most definitely. Well, perhaps not tomorrow because my skin is now rather thin, but for sure I’ll be going back on Thursday. What I might do is try the sit start and see what those moves are like, as the sit start would be something I’d love to do at some point in the future. In my opinion it’s one of the best hard problems I’ve ever tried and I’m now sure that I’m climbing well. My fears have been put to rest and I can now concentrate on crushing instead of wondering if I can really crush. Great Days. It feels so good to be back in Font again and in some ways I don’t want to leave but I know that the things awaiting me in Switzerland are equally as good. A rolling stone…

I arrived in font feeling rather under the weather. Too many nights of only 4 hours sleep and lots of driving had left my body in a state of recovery. I probably shouldn’t have gone climbing but how could I come to font and not head out into the forest in search of great problems? I took some painkillers, some throat lozenges, wrapped up warm and headed out. We went to Rocher de la Reine which gets the sun and is a nice crag to open the account with. I didn’t want to go out and try anything in particular, but simply go out and do some climbing. With that in mind we wasted some time on a 7B/+ traverse which was nice but I ended up getting too pumped to do it. Some nice moves though. Then we went up to try a problem called Compression Zip du Fond, 7C+, which would be a 5 star problem if it was 8 foot off the ground. As it is, it’s still good climbing, but a bit lowball which is a shame. The start is a bunch of easy ass dragging moves along a crack and then 2 hard moves to get established into the 7B end sequence. The 2 middle moves are really nice and I climbed various links but didn’t manage the full thing. I was let down a little by my wood skin, which gave me no grip when I got to the end and couldn’t get any purchase, but also let down by a lack of shape. I was getting a bit too pumped on moves that I shouldn’t be getting pumped on, which was confusing me. I made a good enough link to feel like I had done it and so didn’t feel the need to do it from start to finish as I was out for a day of fun climbing and not getting stuck in to a certain problem. With that in mind we headed off to try Hotline, 7C, which was over the ridge, and always in the shade. Hotline is something I’d always wanted to try but I’d never found it dry enough. I was keen to do it and after realising I couldn’t span between the holds like most people do, I found an alternate start sequence. It worked just fine and I got up the small right hand crimp, but then got stopped. Every go it was feeling either damp or greasy and I put that down to my skin. I just couldn’t grip it enough to do the move to the large crimp rail. It was a shame because that was the final move but I kept trying to no avail. Eventually my skin gave out and I called it a day. It’s a great line, a great problem, and one I’ll be going back to finish off. I’d spent a day at the rocks, completed nothing, but felt happy to have got a day’s worth of climbing in. I wasn’t feeling too bad at the end of the day but my throat had certainly seen better times even with the hourly administration of decquacaine.

Today, Sunday, I woke up after many hours of sleep and still felt a bit rough. I once again began the day with some drugs and the will to enjoy the rocks drove me on! Neil wanted to go to Cassepot so off to there we went. We started off with the wonderful Double Axel, 7A+, which climbs up prime rock and is far too short lived. Neil made swift work of it and once again I couldn’t span between the holds we was starting on, but all that meant was that I had to use an alternate sequence. It’s always amazing that the same bit of rock and different sequences that all end up being pretty much the same grade. I found my sequence and despatched within a few goes. It’s such a great problem with the exact type of move I love. Strange leg flick jump moves off wonderful slopers… mmmmmm. It was so good that I decided to have a quick burn on the sit start. I fell with my hand on the top and was happy with that effort so took my shoes off and moved to the next challenge. This weekend wasn’t meant to be about ticking problem but only about my reacquaintance with the rock, so walking away from things like this was altogether easy. We moved to a problem called Cent Pofs et Sans Reproche, 7C, which at first glance looked rather similar to something else i’d done recently. The crux looked like a long lock/throw to a sloper whilst your leg was stuck under a roof… hmmm… Luckily this time there wasn’t any issue with falling off so it was most definitely going to be a throw. The first few goes saw me unable to even grip the start holds, but I soon warmed into it and had it sussed. I shot off a couple of times completely unexpectedly which I attribute to a lack of rock skin, but I knew it was possible. Then one go my skin gripped and I made the crux reach and then rocked over to a nice slopey topout. There’s a video if you follow the link so check it out. Neil has footage which he will probably put online this week. After this I wanted to try the 8A to it’s right, but my skin was weeping and my body was actually feeling a bit sore. It was a reminder that I hadn’t been doing enough climbing in the previous 10 days as I’m usually never sore after climbing! It also acted as a reminder that I needed to do a bit of stretching whilst warming down and spotting Neil!

The two days of climbing in font have been a great reintroduction to the rocks. I feel like I’ve already become much more familiar with my rock skills and my skin, once recovered, will be strong and grippy! I’ve also realised a few things about my training that aren’t necessarily good. My board at home is perfectly formed, but it is very small. This has certain benefits but also certain drawbacks. The moves and problems I do are exceptionally distilled. They involve only 3, 4, or 5 moves, but each move requires maximum effort and maximum skill. This means that I try super hard on every move which is good for training but not good for climbing on rocks. On real boulder problems there is usually only 1 or 2 moves per problem that require maximum strength/power/etc and the other moves can be climbed with much less effort. Climbing efficiently is about only using the required amount of strength for the particular move, so when you do hit the crux you have the required juice left in the tank. More often than not I can do all the moves on most boulder problems, but find that I reach the crux with a lack of power left. This is largely due to my lack of efficient climbing. I often watch the top guys/girls and see how well they move on the rock. They never expend more energy than necessary and always look so fluid. I definitely realised this weekend that I can easily fall into the trap of overpowering moves, leaving me wasted when I hit the crux. Often I have enough strength to be able to overpower easy moves and still do the crux, but when I reach my limit I have to climb efficiently and so this is the perfect time to realise such a lesson. In many ways this is probably the reason I rarely do a hard problem quickly, and find that the days I spend working them are spent refining my energy expenditure on  the easy moves and not simply trying to do the hard moves. I just need to remember all these lessons, apply them, and execute when it counts.

My body finds itself in Belgium. My mind finds itself in a state of readiness to battle. It’s been what feels like a long time coming but I’m finally on the brow of the hill looking down into the battle field. I don’t wish to make it sound epic, but it really is. The last weeks have seen a silence permeate the blogosphere and in reality I had my head in the books trying to cram every last bit of statistic knowledge into each nook and cranny of my brain. This reached it’s zenith on the 13th and 14th when I went and tested my onsight statistic skills against the examination of 2008. I won’t find out whether I reached the glorious heights of success or the depths of failure until December, so in the mean time I’m going to find another battle. My search has thus far led me to Belgium which isn’t so much the first battle ground but the final feast before adorning my body with armour and riding off into the mist.
A quick itinerary looks something like this; I’ll be arriving in font later today and spending 3 days trying to re-find my long lost rock skills. I’ve not been feeling all that good on the rocks recently. My body doesn’t feel young, lithe, and ninja. It feels rough and heavy which is why I need to re-find my skills and I think the forest is a prime place to do so. I’m hoping for a dry weekend with lots of climbing, which should also have a bi-product of prepping my skin for a stint on rock. My current wood skin needs to be shed so I can grow into my rock skin. After 3 days in Font I’ll be heading down to Switzerland to enter the true battlefield. My body is strong at the moment, I’m fairly certain of that, but whether or not my skills are enough is something that I will find out in battle. I certainly won’t fail from lack of trying, lack of perseverance, or lack of desire.

I had an inspiring talk with a good friend of mine the other day and it had a wonderful effect on me of something akin to a laser being refocused to exert maximum power onto a small spot. I feel like my mind has been sharpened and the mind is truly the most powerful muscle we have. I was asking about trying to lose some of my bulk for my trip to Switzerland and he replied “you can’t lose 4kg from your body, but you can lose it in your mind”. When you believe in something and you feel good on the inside, I think the climbing flows naturally into a good state. I don’t want to get all Ron Kauk, but utilising the full power of your mind is probably something that not everyone manages to do, myself included. I’ll certainly be trying hard to remain conscious of this throughout my trip. Utilising the full power of your body is probably more important in the final analysis, but I think these two things definitely go hand in hand. When you are in a good mental state you always find yourself in a good crushing state.

I don’t have anything in particular in England drawing me back so I don’t know how long this trip will go on for. I think it will go on until I complete the things I want to do. The list isn’t long, but completing it would be a great achievement for me. And the beauty of climbing is always in personal achievement. I’m really looking forward to feeling very, very cold upon arrival at the rocks. I’m looking forward to wearing thermals. I’m looking forward to long days fuelled by chocolate and coffee. I’m looking forward to falling asleep from exhaustion. I can’t wait.

Climbing is usually a rather solitary game. The successes are often encompassed by the silence of the forest, or the background hum of a road. The success on a boulder problem does not usually change the sound you can hear, especially for me because I often climb alone (along with leopards). It is normally a piercing scream raised from your own lungs that sends waves throughout the space around you, until they run out of energy, or simply get tired of existing. Who would want screams of joy to last forever and ever? Today was different though. I didn’t hear my own scream. It was much better than that.

I’d wanted to go to Ina’s rock yesterday but lacked anyone to go with, and gave up a solo mission because I decided I was only being foolish trying to do Cornelius with 2 pads and no spotter. It would have been possible, but it would have been a foolish undertaking when I could wait a day and go with Adam and Ben. This morning I woke up without giving my body the 9 hours it had asked for, then asked it to give me what I wanted. I usually operate sub par after a lack of sleep but I couldn’t use that as a sorry excuse for failure or absence so I shot off to the crag to meet the subdued duo. Perhaps the most excited beast was Klem, and he’s a terrier.

Things were looking on the approach as the whole place was looking much drier, and I was hoping this would translate into good conditions on the rock. Unfortunately it wasn’t the case. Warming up on the easy routes on the right hand side felt tricky and the holds felt soapy. But this was a weak excuse and couldn’t be used with any validity until someone had ripped violently off a hold. I wandered who was going to be first! Bransby was being led by Adam, and climbing everything with a rather casual attitude that made me smile. No drama, no over the top screams, nothing but calm, cool headed climbing. It would have been almost soporific if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew the ground he was covering, and also how amazed I was when he invented sequences that looked genuinely foolish, but worked with much aplomb! The guy knows how to climb. Very well. Neither Adam nor I had given Ben any beta for Thumbelina as the plan was for Ben to onsight it. He did. Very casually. He used a completely different sequence for the crux which looked to be a good solution, but not as fun as the way we did it. He then proceeded to casually walk down to the left, where previously Adam had sketched his way wildly down.  Turned out Adam has tried to hand traverse a ledge than Ben decided he could just walk along, and oh how we laughed when we all walked along with ease.

Attention turned to the main meat, Cornelius. As it stood, I hadn’t done the move to the break, but I was sure that if I should do that move, all would be over. Ben and Adam weren’t so sure, but I had faith in my ignorance. Ben had his onsight go and used a genuinely bizarre sequence to get him up to the jug at half height. I was absolutely amazed at every move he did. From what looked like an irrecoverable position, he would somehow pop out of it and into the next move. Once at the jug he had a good long shake out in preparation for the next few moves. Unfortunately, he reached up to the crimp with his left hand, reached back down, and jumped off. As I’ve said previously, the crimp is disappointingly small (relatively speaking to the rest of the jugs on route). Now it was my turn. I knew 100% in my mind that I was capable of doing this thing today, but I wasn’t so sure about translating that meta image to reality. My skin was already rolling off and so I knew I would only have a few goes before my skin would be too soft to pull on the crux crimp. I had two goes, both times attempting to reach up the break, and getting the height, but being too far right and then reversing and jumping off. The rockover move is a strange one, and I’m notoriously bad at turning roofs like this because my hips are so inflexible, so my trailing leg always gets stuck under the roof and I normally overcompensate by pulling harder. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option on this, and I needed to refine my movement. Ben had his second go and using a slightly refined sequence bimbled his way to the jug. After a quick appraisal of the move, he rocked over, grabbed the very edge of the sloper in the break, then gently worked his fingers more leftwards and more onto the hold! As soon as he had it I was sure it was done, but I still scrambled around moving the pads to the other side of the stump. By the time I’d done this (which in my mind was at the speed of light), I looked up to find him at the top! CRUSHED! After returning to the ground victorious, Ben said that it was pretty much over when you do that one long move to the break. Not completely over, but pretty much over. If there was one thing I’d learned very fast is that Ben is not a good beta hound, and when he says it’s practically over, it’s an accurate assesment for his own level. I was still pretty headstrong in that I thought I’d be alright if/when I got there.

I was really happy that Ben had done it. I didn’t have any envy, or any bitterness that he’d done it before me. The challenge still remains, and it always does remain, because the challenge is with the rock. That’s what we all do. We challenge ourselves against the rock, and irregardless if 5 people do it before you or 20, the challenge it presents to you is still the same. I hadn’t lost any motivation to crush it, and in fact I was spurred on by the good vibes floating around base camp. I booted up and set up, grabbed the crimp, pulled hard, rocked over, felt the lip of the sloper underneath my fingertips but then all of a sudden my left thigh cramped up. I couldn’t do anything but retreat and I said goodbye to the hold and moved back down to jump off (in pain). I was a bit miffed because I was SO close, but more concerned about stretching my leg. I didn’t want the same thing to happen on my next go. I guess it cramped because as I was rocking over I was pressing my leg upwards into the roof and obviously contracting the muscle very hard (who knows why). [here is a pic of the point where my leg cramped]

I took my time to stretch it as best I could, then made the critical decision of changing into a vest. Not just any vest, but an 80’s Adidas Power vest (courtesy of Tom Mills). It’s pretty hilarious and you have to see it in real life to appreciate just how fly (read; ridiculous) it really is. I squeeked my boots, chalked up a thousand times, and was getting ready to set off again when I heard the chatter of children. I assumed that maybe it was coming from Alton Towers, but within a minute or two it was getting louder and it was obviously a school class or some outing of kids. They saw the three of us stood there and their chaperones stopped, looking on as if they were preparing to cross a lion cage. Turns out all they wanted to do was come and sit in the cave so their teacher could talk to them about King Ina and great battles that took place in the Churnet. I’d always thought it a rather tranquil place. [the kids]

I wasn’t sure what to do, because I was psyched to have a go, I’d prepared myself, but there was now a throng of children and chaperones. Once they were sat down, quietened down, and listening to their teacher I decided to set off. Why not give them a bit of a show? That notion soon wore off as I reached the jug. Where previously I could hear everything anyone was saying, suddenly my ears closed off, my mind sharpened, and I entered what can only be described as the zone. I pulled as hard as I dared on the crimp, rocked over as far as I dared, and just touched the sloper in the break. I was a bit too commited to reverse the move now but that thought was far removed from my mind anyway. I just kept pulling down with my left hand, wriggling my fingers towards the better bit of the hold. It was getting better, but not much better. Certainly not enough to suddenly feel comfortable. I had 3 fingers on something semi decent, and I had no choice but to press on. All my thoughts were focused on reaching the next hold, nothing else was in my mind. I reached up and found something good for my left hand, moved my foot into the jug, and knew I was good to go now. I had to do a bit of a reshuffle, but I sketched my way to the top. I was sorry that it looked sketchy because I know it’s always worrying for the people you are with, and that’s not nice. As sketchy as it may have appeared I knew that I was in control and I was not going to fall off, so my mind was calm, but clearly my body was doing it’s own thing. I manteled on to the top, turned around, and BOOM! Beneath the route were 20+ kids, several chaperones, and then a burst of applause. It was really very amusing, but a refreshing change from the norm. Obviously the very first they asked was “how are you going to get down?”. How sensible. [a picture of the power vest and the crux move being completed]

The funny thing was that I had no recollection of hearing them move from being sat under the cave to being 20 feet away and stood watching me climb. I don’t know when that took place either. That’s the joy of climbing/bouldering and of highballing in my opinion. You go into the zone. I guess that’s a similar joy that I’ve experienced doing certain grit routes but also experienced doing certain boulder problems. I like that you are so enraptured in the moves that you forget about anything else. There is no room for thinking about your work/uni/family/relationship problems. There is nothing but maximum concentration on the moves. Almost a detachment from all other reality. I like that.

I suppose there is the issue of grade, because people seem more interested in discussing grades than going out and trying these great climbs themselves. I think Cornelius is a 7C highball. This is only my opinion and everyone else is free to have a different one, but this is what describes this piece of climbing most accurately to me. That’s the important bit. It is accurate for me. I’m a boulderer, not a trad climber. Therefore a highball boulder grade makes more sense to me than a route grade. I’ve decided it is a case of tomaydo/tomato. I’m a Wolf.

[all photos copyright Adam Long]

Yesterday I went training in Leicester with the champ. It was far more than a regular session, far more than the physical movement, the grabbing of holds, or the flicking of feet. I had a session that opened my eyes to the breadth of what training is and how it is employed by us all as a tool to improve our climbing.

A while ago I wrote a rather dour post about how I was frustrated with climbing because it could not take all the energy I could give it. I wrote it whilst in Magic Wood, whilst I was feeling frustrated at my bad skin, at my inability to send, at the incessant rain pouring out of the sky. I now feel like those clouds have lifted and the sun is shining down in all it’s glory. I’ve always thought that climbing is an exceptionally complex sport to train for. It’s complex in that it takes so many different variables and meshes them together to create a rather complicated sport. I’ve contrasted it with other more traditional sports like Running, Rowing, Cycling, etc, and thought that the path to greatness in those sports seems far simpler. I don’t wish to say it is any easier, but perhaps simpler. Having that path to follow with only hard work and genetic build limiting where you can go is a very tempting ideology. I looked at climbing at thought that the process in place is not at all similar, ultimately because training your fingers takes a lot of time and a lot of rest. Fingers are the all important link between you and the rock, so attention to their health and their ability is paramount for any climber. I want to train my fingers 8 hours a day, every day, so that they get so strong that no hold would ever be too small. Obviously this is not possible and so I was feeling frustrated that there was a barrier standing in between my desire for hard work and the results that could be obtained. Yesterday’s session opened my eyes though by making me realise the narrowness of such a vision.

Essentially what I wrote whilst in Magic Wood was born from a frustration of not having any guidance in how to train for climbing, or any help for that matter. It was also an excuse born out of laziness, a result of me not being able to truly see the bigger picture. The reality of the situation is that climbing is such a complex thing to train for that I can’t give it my unabated energy because I don’t know how to.

Just because I’m a bit tired from yesterday’s session doesn’t mean that I need to have a rest day. It means I need to figure out what activity I can do today which will fit in with tomorrows training schedule. My skin was still very thin last night, I even had to train most of the session with tape on 1 tip, and today is was no different. It would have been foolish to try and just have another session on my board so I had to think around it. I warmed up with a bit of climbing, did some deadhangs, some pull ups, and then some front levers. It wasn’t a very hard workout but it was something, and that’s what counts.The more you put in, the more you improve, and the more you get out. I can probably do some more core work tonight and still be good for a board session tomorrow.

Climbing isn’t my entire life though. It certainly absorbs a large chunk of me, but it’s not everything. I’m not in a position to only worry about climbing and push all my energy into that. It never will be everything for me, because my mind needs satiating and climbing doesn’t do that. For now, I have 4 weeks left to study for my university finals. I also have 4 weeks to get in shape for my departure from these shores. Days spent studying, training, and most of all being focussed. I don’t want to arrive in Font or Switzerland in bad shape. I don’t want to do badly in my exams. Maybe it’s this build up of pressure that has caused me to realise all this.

Whilst driving back from Leicester I started thinking about what I could improve in my climbing. This was prompted by a discussion we had at the board regarding weight training. I said that I thought there was little point, because I have only ever failed on a boulder problem for one of four reasons; 1. I can’t actually hold on to the holds because they are too small or too slopey. 2. I can’t use the footholds because I don’t have enough tension. 3. I can’t pull hard enough to read between the holds. 4. I couldn’t find the correct position for my body to be in. I didn’t think that doing weight training would help in any of these areas and so I couldn’t understand the purpose or the need behind weight training. Anyway, On the way home I started mentally creating a list of things I could improve in my climbing;

• Finger strength - pocket strength, crimp strength, open hand strength.
• Arm strength
• Core strength
• Body tension
• Footwork
• Flexibility
• Power endurance
• Endurance

Basically, it’s everything. Improving each one of these things is what leads to an overall improvement in my climbing. My old vision of just wanting to go to the school everyday was not a complete vision. It was so limited and that was evident in that I was a severely disabled climber back then. Climbing outdoors much more helped me to improve in many ways, and building my own board also helped me to focus on specific weaknesses. But that time has arrived again. I need a paradigm shift in my approach to training and in my mental attitude to training. I can put more energy into climbing but it will be really hard. I need to do it though, to try and find out what I can achieve. I won’t be happy unless I know I tried my best, my very best, and poured all my energy into this. I’m like that in nearly everything I do. Aiming for the top is just the way I am, for better or for worse. In many ways I wish I did have a personal trainer, or even someone to consult in order to find the best or most efficient ways of training. That’s a luxury many climbers miss and so the game becomes an even harder personal battle. On my wall there is a piece of paper that says;

I’m the athlete. I’m the competition. I’m the distinguished panel of judges.

Maybe I need to add a line; I’m the motivation, the personal trainer, the desire.

Although plans had been laid for loose rock and surf in Wales, Adam’s back had given out and so plans were put on hold. Still keen to get some rock climbing in I attempted to round up some troops and head back to Ina’s Rock in order to finish off Cornelius. Ned and Adam Lincoln (who shall be referred to as Sausage) were game for a session so we met up far too early this morning.

We arrived to see a wonderfully dry crag with no flooding issues, but the lack of wind did have some dire consequences for the pale one. His body was eaten by midges which luckily meant Sausage and I avoided the worst of it. Warming up was the usual affair with a few swings of the arms and a couple of moves on jugs. Then it was straight in to the E5’s at the right side of the crag. Ned and I did the E5 up the rib, whilst Sausage did it up until the last move and then escaped off right! He had it in the bag but the lack of a rope and a bolt must have been playing on his mind. It’s a cool little route and after Ned got back down he set off again with the intention of jumping off to get his head in gear for a bit of highballing. He climbed to the point where his hand was on the top, reversed half a move and then jumped! The guy knows no fear! His balls were suitably inflated and so we moved over to Thumbelina. The boys wanted a demo and I was more than happy to give them one, but I really couldn’t be arsed with topping out and having to go through another epic to get back down. Never the less, I set off and climbed up to 2 moves from the end, then reversed down a bit and jumped off. I figured that was enough beta as the last 2 moves are about v1 so I knew Ned wouldn’t fall off. What I wasn’t sure about was whether he’d just keep climbing and not let fear enter his mind… but I had a sneaky plan for that. He set off and climbed to the move before the crux. He knew exactly where to put his feet and executed the crux move easily. This is where I started talking/shouting at him. I figured if I told him the exact beta for every move he wouldn’t need to think and so he’d press on. I don’t know if it worked or if he just cruised to the top, but he made it look casual. It was cool to see because he only realised how high he was when he got on to the ledge, and had more fear walking along the ledge than actually climbing the route (just like I had). I really want to emphasise the coolness of this line again. It really is great. You (dear reader) should go there and do it. It’s ace. Sausage was moaning about being in sport mode, which was painfully obvious. He had plenty of stamina, plenty of strength, but having spent the past 6 months on bolts his head wasn’t in gear. He did get through the crux of Thumbelina, and was in the exact position that Andy is in the picture above, but then he chose to jump off. I have no doubt he could have waltzed up it, but if fear is rattling around inside your head then it’s not always easy to turn it off and push on. In fact, it’s desperately difficult to do so, and explains why bold onsights or even bold routes don’t get done very often (and usually by a skilled few).

Up next was Cornelius, which is why I’d gone there today. I’d found out that Rob (the FA) had said the bottom is v9 followed by a v6 on top. I think climbing up to the jug above the tree stump is probably about 7B/+ and a fun problem in it’s own right (although it certainly shouldn’t be regarded as it’s own problem!). I had a couple of pre-emptive goes getting to the jug, but then feeling a little too pumped to continue. Personally, I need to be able to get with the tank half full so I can make sure that I don’t slip off on the top. This is the result of having a tree stump beneath you, letting you know that a fall wouldn’t be fun. However, I didn’t want to let fear ruin my attempts, and so set off intent on doing the move to the break. The bottom moves were flowing much more easily and so I was getting to the jug with a bit to spare. The next left hand crimp was, disappointingly, much smaller than I expected. It’s certainly not “small”, but it was smaller than I thought it would be which thwarted my first go as it phased me a little. Next go I got up there, determined not to get phased, grabbed the crimp, put my foot above the roof on a suspect hold that already looks like it’s lost half it’s size, and started to rock over. I was reaching up when I felt the skin on my left hand creeping. The deeper I tried to lock the more my skin was creeping. If my hand had ripped off in this position a fall would have been very uncomfortable, so I came back down and jumped off. My skin was already starting to give out and beginning to roll off. I guess it might have been a bit more humid today and layers of skin were just rolling off. Ned and Sausage had made a couple of attempts, but Ned wasn’t psyched by the stump and Sausage was still thinking about Thumbelina. I’m annoyed to have to complain again about my skin, but that’s life. I called it a day at that.

The tree stump that lies beneath Cornelius was something we’d considered chopping down when we were there on Wednesday, but after reading a thread on UKC regarding the first ascent of the route, I suddenly became acutely aware that if I did chop it down lots of people who had never been there would probably take offence and start chatting shit on the internet. I don’t really understand the current thinking behind leaving the 2ft stump. You can see what used to be there in this picture (look to the left of the spotter);

I read that it got cut down to where it is today because the top of it was all dead, so the dead section was cut back, in a supposed green fingered move. This makes some sense in terms of conservation, but what is the future of this stump and the route Cornelius? The stump lies almost directly below were you’d fall off as you are reaching up the break;

The stump does make a difference to the overall seriousness of the route, as having it there means you have to be much more in control for the move to the break. You can’t slap, miss, and jump off, which is what you would do if you had a flat landing. Logically, the stump is less of a problem in it’s current cut down state than it was previously (as in the photo). Effectively the seriousness was reduced by cutting it down to it’s current state. But it’s a constantly changing externality, unlike some jagged rock beneath a route. The stump is going to grow, if it’s still alive, and within a few years it will be larger. So what then? It will become another hindrance and it will become more serious to attempt to do this problem. Will the grade be affected by a 5ft tree below the route? Of course. But what about the preservation of nature? The question I’m asking myself is if cutting down a 2ft stump is really going to make any difference in the area. My thoughts are that it’s highly unlikely. Cutting it down to ground level will leave a decent landing area, giving more people the opportunity to go and climb this problem. It’s a cool line, with nice climbing, and in my opinion, it would be better if more people could enjoy it. Personally, I’m going to climb the route and I’m not going to chop the stump down, but I certainly wouldn’t mind if someone did. Would I mind if I climbed it with the stump and then someone chopped it down afterwards? Not really. Am I an abhorrent anti-naturist who can’t understand the effect of cutting one stump down? No.I just don’t want to have to personally deal with the consequences of chopping it down.

In effect, I’m doing the exact thing I want to avoid, writing bullshit about an issue that should just be dealt with.  So I’ll stop. I simply think that a nice problem like Cornelius should be enjoyed by more than just the few people who are willing to do it above a stump (for now). In 5 years maybe it will be a much larger tree and then who will be able to enjoy this route? Someone with even more balls?

I’m planning on returning soon to hopefully finish it off. I’m quite sure another session with good skin will see Cornelius in the bag. Once again, I want to affirm the quality of Ina’s Rock. I’m not a particular fan of peak limestone so perhaps I’m overcompensating by recommending these routes, but in my opinion they are far nicer than another session at Rubicon or The Tor.

In order to break the monotony of training and then going on bouldering trips I thought I’d get taken outside my comfort zone. To that end I sent an email to Adam a couple of weeks ago asking him to take me on some adventures, because to be honest, there isn’t a lot of diversity within hard bouldering. Today saw the first day of an excursion into discomfort. It was nice.

Jim, Adam, and I headed to Ina’s rock to have a look at some highballs that people had confused with routes. I’ve never been to this crag and so I had the usual excitement upon first seeing it. It’s a bizarre place, because the lower half of the crag is pretty solid (kind of) sandstone, whereas the top half is a chossy conglomerate that looms overhead threatening to spit fist sized pebbles onto your head. After a brief warm up getting scared, breaking footholds, and feeling like I was free of my comfort zone, we turned our attention to AndiT’s highball called Thumbelina (originally given E7). Adam mentioned that it was unrepeated, but with a route like this it could simply be that no one has come to try it, rather than it being desperately difficult. I think Andi top roped it first before soloing it in the usual headpoint fashion which is a game I’ve partaken in. I’ve never really set out to do anything ground up, so it’s a foreign feeling to me, but not to Adam. He looked fairly comfy, knew the process well, and it wasn’t long before we knew the way through the crux. Having eschewed some ridiculous heelhook above your head beta, we ended up with a really nice pop/barndoor move. It’s worth pointing out that neither Adam or I fell off this route. We’d explore a move, reverse, and then jump off, ad infinitum (well, not quite). It was now simply a matter of committing to the top sequence, which was pushing on for being fairly highball and still uknown territory. We’d figured it out up to about 2/3 height but the finishing track was something that we only had ideas about. It only took Adam one go at the top to find the sequence, grab the holds, and mantle the top to glory. I was so busy arranging the pads (fearing a crumbling hold rather than Adam fluffing it up) that I missed the top sequence entirely and looked up to see him with his hands at the top. Great. Luckily our resident gastronomer has captured it all on SD card so I perused the photo’s for beta. After waiting an eternity for Adam to get down (involving a chossy traverse of death, then a downclimb of Indiana Jones proportions) I set off for my go. Knowing that Adam had cruised the top section was only a semi consolation as he is an experienced rock climber, and an experienced trad climber. I figured I couldn’t be behind in terms of strength, so if it came to it I’d just pull a bit harder. Perhaps not the best tactic on questionable rock, but I was working on the premise that nothing had broken thus far.

It all went down without a hitch. The climbing takes you all the way to the last move which is a long lock to a flat top. It looked a long way up from the ground, and a long way down from the move. By that point I’d gone into autopilot and strengthed through the move with relative ease. It’s a perfect move though to have at the end of a highball. Not hard, but a tiny bit spicey. Overall the route is really good and people should go out and do it. It’s not particularly hard, and something that I’d repeat without much reservation. It’s certainly not beyond the level of the readers of this fine blog.

We did briefly move on and try the line to the left of it, Cornelius. I made alright progress but Adam had done his back in and Jim was talking about getting some more food so we made haste. It’s certainly one I’m knee to go back and do. I’m curious where the crux is because it seems like the lower half is alright, and perhaps the long move to the break will be the crux. I guess that’s the joy of onsight/ground up climbing. You have no idea where it goes next. In a fit of of inspiration today I came up with a horrific analogy of the difference between headpointing and onsighting/ground upping. One is like playing chess with Jim, whilst the other is like taking on Deep Blue in a six game series. It’s strange just how big the difference is, and I’m not planning on going out and doing a lot of onsight climbing, but I can certainly appreciate the difference and have respect for those whove chosen that route. Two completely different facets of the same game. A wonderful game.

When Adam takes a break of stretching and emails me some photo’s I’ll put them on here. Tomorrow we’re off to wales to sample either loose rock or big waves. I have experience in neither, so my comfort zone will remain firmly planted in Derby. Sweet.