English man in Font

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.

Whilst in Magic I met a nice German kid called Tobi, with a camera. He snapped a few shots of me falling off, so I thought I’d share them;

Yes, I managed to fall off after this point. That was about the most Magic thing that occurred on this trip!

I just made this very short clip about Kjugekull for my friend that I went with, then I decided that I may as well post it on here so you can have a tiny glimpse of the area. This isn’t supposed to be a bouldering video, or anything other than what it is.I don’t know the names/grades of any problems so there are none in the video. The problem at the end is very good though and the sitstart is also fun (but uses a sharp hold!).

http://www.vimeo.com/1609959

Enjoy.

I arrived at Neil’s house and immediately drove down to Buthiers to get up close and personal with some wonderful sandstone. Just touching the grippy, dry, sandstone under my tips made me happy. It really made me feel good, which is probably very strange in the eyes of some people, but I really love climbing here in the forest. I’ve always wanted to try Big Bang, 8A+, but I’ve never seen it dry so I thought that it might be a good bet for the middle of summer. Not even after weeks of dry weather was it dry! There must be some sort of water channel down half of it from some shrubbery up above because one of the holds was wet, green, and beyond recovery. I wasn’t too bothered though because I was more psyched to go riding!

We headed out to a place we found whilst scouting a potential new crag up near Ballancourt sur Essone. It turns out we’d been the butt of an april fools, but after coming across an amazing set of trails we are the ones having the last laugh! There are some huge gaps, huge jumps, huge transfers, wall rides, berms, and a half built northshore section. It’s clear that a group of people have put in a lot of work to build it and it shows so well after riding it. The transitions are so smooth and it’s really well thought out. We got some footage and Neil put together a very short clip of some of the stuff. What really struck me though, is the amount of fun I had. It pretty much rained for the few hours we were there, sometimes light, sometimes heavy, but constant. I was out in the rain, having fun jumping around on a bike. It felt like a completely different world from that of climbing. The battles were completely different, first mental, then skillful. Basically it was about trusting the fact that I used to be able to ride a bike quite proficiently some years ago and then not hitting the brakes on the run in’s. It felt good to just have fun without the pressure of the send… and I’d definitely ride a lot more if there was somewhere so good near my home. In many ways this just reminded me that climbing is something I love but it’s not the be all and end all. Some people have told me they couldn’t live without climbing but I’m quite sure that I could. Life wouldn’t be as good because, even without climbing hard, I do love climbing but it would go on and I’d do something else. Riding today was fun. Here is Neil’s video of the day;

http://www.vimeo.com/1594494

It goes without saying that the gaps look tiny in the video, but one of them was actually quite large, probably about 10-12ft from the top of the take off to the top of the landing. Some of the drops were also quite large, but it all looks paltry in the video. This made me realise that when you see guys going big on video it means they are going REALLY BIG in real life!

In order to try and capitalize on my final day in the wood, we headed out somewhat earlier to have a whole day at the rocks. I guess my logic was that more time at the rocks woudl translate into getting more done. It was very flawed logic, as I spent ages warming up and doing nothing, then decided to have a go on Jack’s Broken Heart, in order to finish it off. My fingers were aching a lot whilst warming up, and my skin was on fire, but I figured it would be a one go affair. I’d pretty much done it the other day but dabbed the boulder beneath it at the end, so I knew I could do it, but needed one go to seal the deal. We went over, I cleaned the holds, chalked up, and set off. I knew it was going to hurt my skin, but I’d told myself to fight through it. Before I set off I reminded myself of all the beasts in the world crushing hard blocs, trying desperately to grab on to any piece of inspiration I could. I got to the crux, which is seating the heelhook well, and my body was stronger than my mind. Both hands just let go from the pain in my fingertips. I couldn’t push through… it was too much. With that, I knew I wasn’t going to do it and accepted the fact. I felt pretty lame, because I was having to walk away (again) from something that was clearly within my ability, but that I’d failed to do. It’s not a nice feeling to be honest but one that I can deal with. It’s hardly the end of the world. I just didn’t to stop climbing though… I felt like trying more stuff, but I knew I couldn’t deal with any sort of sharp hold. With that in mind, I headed over to Voigas. Last year, I’d failed to do the first move after many, many goes. As I wrote previously, I knew I was in better shape this year, but obviously not climbing well, so I didn’t know what to expect. Within a few goes I’d done the first move without a problem, and it was so unexpected that when I went for the jump move to the finishing jug my foot popped off! Unbelievable. That sums up my climbing this year in Magic Wood. Amateur. Feet should never fall off 1cm sized holds. It’s lame. Anyway, I knew it was on, so I set the camera up and starting trying again. A few goes later I latched the first move again, set up for the jump, leaped, but managed to miss the finger sized crack/jug! I just floated past it and my fingers simply missed completely. More punter behaviour! I was rather shocked that I’d managed to jump and not get my fingers in the hold, to the point that I would have bet that I would not drop that move. I’m glad I didn’t. After this, I started trying again, but with the pouring rain and the disappearance of the sun the first hold very quickly turned into a big black greaseball and I couldn’t hold on. I accepted the fact that I’d just puntered this problem and I packed up. I was once again disappointed in myself for not being able to execute when it was called for. The whole idea of a thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters sprang to mind… Clearly given enough goes on a problem I will certainly succeed in the end, but my ability to execute well on a given go is very poor. This is why I’m a punter at rock climbing.

I then started thinking about why this occurred in the hope of finding the solution and then implementing it. Although I didn’t find a clear solution (apart from simply becoming a better climber - which is not a solution in itself), I did find some answers when reading Lorenzo’s blog. Basically, I went to Magic Wood this year because it was hugely convenient to do so. Neil had an apartment, there would be food, a hot shower, and rock climbing. It’s an attractive proposal, but as most of you know, my heart was in Branson, under Radja. Desire is the motivating factor for me, and I desire that boulder problem so much, but there is nothing i desire in Magic Wood. There are a couple of things that I wanted to clean up, but nothing that I was madly psyched for. Once again I didn’t feel happy when I was completing boulder problems… and this was because there was nothing I truly desired. Why did I go? I suppose it was a mistake in some ways. I should have stayed at branson, slept in the dirt, eaten stale bread, crapped in the woods, washed in the river, and put all my energy into Radja. Failure from that wouldn’t have been bad, it would have been a joy because I’d have been chasing a dream. It’s a shame I didn’t realise all this three weeks ago, but it’s great that I’ve realised it all now. Whilst driving from Magic Wood to font I was listening to some Jay-Z (who is really great) and I heard this song lyric which tied in wonderfully with what I was thinking;

“But I will not lose, for even in defeat
There’s a valuable lesson learned, so it evens it up for me”

- Blueprint 2

I had two rest days with the intention of having good skin today so I could go and crush Jack’s Broken Heart. My only concern was the state of my shoulders, as they are constantly aching and even pouring the water out of kettle is painful. But it’s a pain that’s not at all magnified from climbing. I’m sitting here typing this after a session on the rocks and my shoulders feel no worse for it. I have a strange suspicion that it might be the bed I’m sleeping on, as this has made a difference in the past. Anyway, I went to the rocks with the intention of climbing if I felt alright. After a bit of warming up on Bruno Block (where Neil crushed Supernova) we went up to Jack’s Broken Heart. I had a couple of goes but fell at the usual place when my heel popped off, but then my fourth go was more successful and I was through the crux move and on the way to the top… until my foot popped and I dabbed the boulder underneath it. I continued for another couple of moves, but I knew the dab was a bit sketchy, so I just dropped off. Unfortunately, my skin had had enough by that point! I pulled on one more time to do the top out but I was finished by then. My skin was screaming. Not too bad a session, I managed 4/5 goes! I think this is why it takes me more than one session to get things done, even though in reality the total go count is rather small. But this is an area that needs improvement. Being able to climb well and also very quickly is something that I don’t do, because I don’t place enough importance on it. I think I will start thinking about it more though, and concentrating on getting things done quickly and efficiently. It’s a waste of time spending multiple days on something that I could have done in 1 session if I’d climbed more efficiently or moved better. I’ll definitely work on it.

I have decided not to return to Martigny because shoulders are one of the things that need to be very strong for Radja. I’m fairly disappointed about this but this is the way the cookie crumbles. I’m going to try and return in September for 10-14 days with the hope of getting it done, but we’ll see how that pans out. I’ve got to get my head down in the books for my exams in October so if I don’t manage to come back in September it will have to wait until October 14^th! The most important thing is that I remain motivated, focused, and dedicated to getting it done. I don’t want to relinquish this goal even though it’s a fairly lofty one for my climbing so far. I’ll be leaving Magic wood in a few days, so I’m going to finish off Jack’s Broken Heart then try to have a quick tick session on some other things along with getting a bit more footage from Magic Wood to put in the archive. Sunday I’m going riding in a crazy looking place in font, so I’ll hopefully hang on to the bars long enough to get some funny footage which I’ll post up next week when I’m back in the UK.

If yesterday was a micro session in preparation for today’s send fest, then today’s session was a pico session! I ‘d planned to go up and do Jack’s Broken Heart then move on to something else, but that wasn’t what magic wood had in store for me. After a slightly longer warm up, maybe 15-20 minutes, I had a go. I got to the heel hook move, after which the problem is in the bag, but my heel fell off because I hadn’t placed it well enough. My skin was already hurting, but I knew it was only a matter of the heel staying on for one go and it was in the bag. My next go was unsuccessful for the same reason, so I then changed shoes in the hope that it would give me the edge. It didn’t, my third go resulted in failure and that was it. My skin was screaming, to the point where I just couldn’t pull on again. Even I was dismayed by this abysmal performance. I hate being held back by my skin, but it’s a feature of rock climbing that I have very little choice over. I’ve whinged about it before, but this is one of the things I was alluding to when I was saying that climbing can’t take all the energy I have to give. I did try to go and climb on slopers afterwards, but even they were too much for my weak skin. It is frustrating in many ways because I enjoy rock climbing more than I enjoy resting, but I appreciate that resting is also an important part of rock climbing. I think I just need more and more time on rock to try and improve my skin as much as I can. When I come off the back of training for weeks on end on my board, it’s foolish to expect my skin to hold up well on rock. I just need to find the optimal balance of training and climbing to nurture good skin so when I go away it’s not the thing that is holding me back. That or find some secret magic formula! Tomorrow is now scheduled as another rest day, in the hope that my skin is ready for an assault on Tuesday. Then I want to leave to go back to the Martigny area for a few days before having to return to the UK. I just want to have another session on Radja and also a go on Permanent Midnight because it is one of the best things I’ve seen.

I feel like 2007 was a year of failure for me in Magic Wood, but 2008 is more the year of punterdom. I’m simply not climbing well, even though I feel strong, stronger than last year. That is why this year isn’t a year of failure, it’s a year of punterdom.

My shoulders are also absolutely killing me today. They really aren’t in good shape and if they’re not better by Wednesday I think it will be a waste of time going back to Martigny, which is a real shitter. Damn my weak body!