English man in Font

I’m back in a domain with easy internet access so I’m going to sum up what’s been going on over the next day or so. I did write a blog entry or two in the past weeks, but when I went to an internet cafe to post them I got distracted and then decided they were eye wateringly boring so I left them on the cutting room floor.

Since being in Innsbruck the weather has been rather wet, so I’ve spent a disproportionate amount of time climbing at the Tivoli wall. I’ve been there 7 times infact, and I was beginning to see a startling trend. Day 1 I met Killian down there, and he’s a 9a climber so I was thinking “First day, first beast”. The second day I went down and there was Jorg, another 9a climber. On day 3 I arrived to see that David “Fuzzy” Lama was getting in some training. I wasn’t sure if he was in the 9a club so I asked and found out he’s done a route graded 8c+/9a. I have no idea why these slash grades exist, but it did serve my purpose of allowing myself to put him in the 9a club. So far I’d been 3 days and met 3 different 9a climbers. I was beginning to wonder how long this would last, as these guys are all local so I’m bound to see them down there regularly. Day 4 came and I arrived to see a fresh batch of beasts. Today I went beyond 9a as cruising up the lead wall was Patxi. I’d not seen him climb before but impressive is an understatement. Day 5 arrived with another Spanish beast, Edu Marin. Now it was 5 days, 5 different 9a climbers. How long could this possibly go on for? Day 6 I was really wondering whether or not this amazing trend would continue, and was shocked but pleased to see that it had. In fact, Day 6 was the biggest beast so far, Adam Ondra. Destined to be perhaps the greatest sport climber to have lived, although with what I see as a horrific climbing style, he was getting his crush on. I was once again impressed. My last session at the gym was Day 7 and I really thought this trend could continue. Is Tivoli a little magic? Does it always have an in situ 9a climber? Day 7 proved me wrong. No 9a climber to be seen anywhere, which was a great disappoint. The spell was broken, but it also marked the end of my climbing at Tivoli as the breaking of the indoor spell suddenly gave rise to a multitude of rock climbing offers.

All these beasts at one wall raises the question as to why? Is Tivoli just the greatest climbing wall in the world? Well, in my opinion, it’s not. There is nothing intrinsically better about it than some of the other walls I’ve visited in my climbing years. The lead wall isn’t the biggest, the steepest, or the most overhanging. The bouldering wall also sets no world records. It’s fairly small, fairly simple, and isn’t particularly systematic. Yet there are so many great climbers using this facility. Given a small lump sum of money, I think I could have built a better bouldering wall (for training) in a warehouse in Derby, but I didn’t do that. So what makes Tivoli great? The climbers. It was very much confirmed to me that it’s not the facility that makes the climber, but the climber that makes the facility. The school didn’t produce any world class boulderers, that’s the bottom line, but the scene there was so healthy that it acted as a huge inspiration to me.  Tivoli is the same. The scene there seems super healthy, which is what is producing great climbers and also attracting wannabe great climbers like myself. I hope it all turns out to be true, as I am writing this all whilst wearing my ultra cool rose tinted spectacles (available now to anyone moving/doing somewhere/thing new!). The answer will probably be abundantly clear in 12 months time.

When I moved to Sheffield I saw a great scene but over time I realised it most definitely had it’s darker corners, and it wasn’t all super fun, so I’m well aware I could simply be super naive about Insbruck right now. However, I’m just going to enjoy it while it lasts, and wait for the day when it possibly turns to Insbrooklyn.

I set off at Monday lunchtime, with the destination for the day being Fontainebleau. The thought of driving all the way to Innsbruck on my own was a little ludicrous so I thought it would be good to stop in Fontainebleau and it meant I could pick up an extra crash pad plus a new car stereo. The car stereo upgrade was beyond welcome as it meant I could listen to my generic audio playing device rather than the radio, and on very long journeys French radio has been known to drive men to madness.

Tuesday lunchtime I was on the road again, with a tank full of gas and a lot of time to think. The drive was estimated to be 8.5 hours and I wasn’t in the mood for blasting it, especially as I had my entire life in the car with me. The thought of my computer being smashed to smitherines in some freak accident was too much to bear, so I set the cruise control to the speed limit plus 12% and made myself as comfortable as possible. The stereo was set to shuffle and it made it’s random choices from the 160Gb of music that it had access to, surprising me with such delights as Queen, Richie Hawtin, and even some 2pac. Certain moments were heightened by the music, especially when Queen’s “I’ve got to break free” came on. This track has accompanied me in many random moments, from dancing in the streets of California to blasting full pelt out of the car park in Hueco, so I added this moment as another in that long list. 125 tracks later I was arriving in Innsbruck, after a quick stop in Switzerland to buy a little something for James and Gaz (answers on a postcard), and the track that was welcoming me into the town was (randomly) some epic string arrangement. I didn’t know what it was, and I couldn’t guess the artist let alone the title, but it was so momentous that I thought I should check. Ian Brown – The World is Yours reprise (orchestral mix). How fitting I thought, how very fitting.

The road here was a long one and in the middle period I was left wandering to myself why I was really doing this? What on earth are the real reasons for such a move? Am I just being foolish and expecting too much? I don’t really harbour any doubts but I was vocalising the demon’s side and it did cause me to raise some questions that I didn’t have answers too. As I left France and drove through Switzerland I was reminded as to the reasons why I love this part of the world so much. Many, many, moons ago a very special girl asked me “Mountain or Beach?”. This was a question I’ll never forget as I thought it determined what kind of person you are. It may well have just been an innocent question, but me being me, I made it into a matter of life and death. I thought so much about it, and in the end I decided there was only one answer; Mountain. I love the mountains, they fill me with inspiration and I never fail to be impressed when I’m amongst them or on top of them (very rarely!). I probably didn’t want to decide mountain back then as I knew she was a beach person, but I couldn’t hide from the truth of the matter! As the first sign for Innsbruck suddenly appeared a wave of excitement washed over me and I had all my answers. The fact I was filled with enthusiasm and had a smile on my face was enough to convince me that I was doing the right thing and I was doing it for the right reasons. It feels good to be here, really good actually. Perhaps this is just the romance of the situation, and given some time it will wear off, but knowing that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it while it lasts. The true measure of what this move means will becoming very apparent in the future when I can look at it with hindsight. In 12 months from now I really wonder how all of this will look…

Now that I’m here I’m open to anything. In fact, I want to ask a big favour of anybody who reads this blog. If you live in or around Innsbruck and wouldn’t mind an extra person tagging along then please drop me an email. I’m keen for everything, and I literally mean everything. I’m happy to go bouldering, sport climbing, aiding, alpining, via ferrata’ing, anything. I want to adventure, I want to discover all the new and cool stuff that’s around here. I’m not all that bothered about grades, I just want to have a bit of an adventure. So, if you’re local or semi local then get it touch (you can do so by emailing unclesomebody at gmail dot com).

I’m hoping that the next blog entry will actually comprise of something to do with climbing, instead of all this waffly pseudo inspirational stuff that seems to be appearing at the moment!

The last few weeks have been spent trying to become an organised person, so that I didn’t arrive at my leaving date with a million things still to do. Unfortunately the attempt at organisation wasn’t quite as successful as I’d hoped, although this is largely due to external factors over which I exert no control.

The biggest concern for me was finding a decent estate car, and I succeeded in that quest over the weekend. The old adage of “it’s it’s not broken, don’t fix it” rang so true, and I’ve ended up replacing my silver 2002 VW Passat with a silver 2003 VW Passat estate. It’s not a radical change, but I know that I’ve got a car which will see me right in my European adventures so I’m happy. The biggest welcome addition is cruise control… which is going to make the long drives a whole lot easier.

Since returning I’ve been getting back into the daily routine of training, and even running! My psyche was full to the brim after not really climbing for 6 weeks, and so when I got back home I wanted nothing more than to eat, sleep, and train. I definitely put a bit of weight on whilst with James and Gaz, so I’m hoping that a few runs per week can see me get back down to a fighting weight sooner rather than later. The other horrific realisation is just how weak I am at the moment. It’s interesting in how it’s become apparent though, as I’m not hugely weaker in every department, only certain specific ones. It was a surprise to find just how weak my arms had become, as I struggled to do anything more than a single one armer. I think this may be down to the redundancy of such a skill within rock climbing, as I’ve spent a long time climbing on rock and not training. In fact, the last time I did any length of concerted training was probably before Switzerland in September last year. I spent the winter in Switzerland and the spring in Font, so my rock climbing skills were utilised above my basic strength skills. I think that may be something to do with it, but I also think that a 6 week stint of work (yes, it was work!) probably has more to do with it.

All this weakness has only had one effect though, which is ultimate motivation. I want to feel powerful again, to feel like I can crush holds whilst seemingly floating between them with grace. The road to such a place isn’t too complicated; it will just take a bit of time, some patience, and plenty of hard work.

The big move to Innsbruck is rapidly approaching and in 12 hours it will become a reality. I think some people thought that this was a bit of a pipe dream when I first mentioned it, but I believe that the only way to make dreams a reality is to stand up and take action. Once that ferry takes me away from these shores, I can’t see a reason or a time when I may want to permanently return. I have this strange feeling that this small move to Austria will be a catalyst for other change, or perhaps I’m just hoping it will be but the end result may well be the same. Self fulfilling prophecies and all that…

I had a really good talk with my man lucozade a few days ago, and he was asking me about what turned it all around in my life plan. A few months ago I was looking towards an end in my climbing life. I wanted to get a couple more blocs done and then I felt like I was finished as I thought I’d peaked in many ways. But time is a great friend, and it’s soothing tick tock made me realise that I’ve not peaked at all. Some people view life as a series of up’s and downs, you ride the wave to the crest, then a downhill will follow, but you need to remember that another wave will follow. I don’t think that’s necessarily true, and I’d like to call my modified wave function of life the Lucibald wave. What really happens is you ride a wave up until it seems to peak, and the feeling is usually one of a plateau in performance. What happens next? You just hop on board another wave and ride it again, so instead of taking any downward movement you just keep moving up! That seems to be a much better way to live and that is how my view on climbing changed. I felt like I’d hit a plateau, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to go downhill, it means I need to raise my game and get on the next wave. That is what this move is all about, it’s about taking the initiative to get on the next wave and do everything in my power to ride it to it’s peak.

Lucozade left me with a nice little message and whilst some readers will no doubt berate it’s simplistic approach to life, others may understand that it’s possible if you dare;

“Whether it’s greener or not is irrelevant. A real man doesn’t follow a road, he goes forth on his own journey and leaves a trail for others”.

As I wrote on my last update, I believe that when you try really hard to make something happen then other forces conspire only to help you. Perhaps I believe this because I am an exceptionally lucky individual, or maybe it’s because I always get stuff done, but whatever the reason it definitely continues to happen.

Flat hunting in Innsbruck is a mini epic with so much competition for so few apartments, but it must be that James and I have a magic charm, trusting faces, or some sort of assuring mannerisms. Whatever it may be, we have been offered every flat we’ve looked at, including many that we didn’t want to live at. The big prize was the super nice flat we viewed before leaving Innsbruck, and whilst we were there we did everything we could to charm the landlady. When we left I was very hopeful, but a little sceptical. Why would she choose foreigners over all the people who already live in Innsbruck? I guess our charm must have worked on some level as she called us on Monday to let us know that we could have the flat! I was a little shocked but very happy as this means the dream is most definitely alive.

I have only to pack my car with my life, which comprises of my computer, my climbing stuff, and my stereo, then hit the road for the long drive to Innsbruck. I’m not sure exactly when this will be taking place, but it’s safe to assume I’ll be spending the summer climbing in Austria. This gives me the opportunity to put some of my new found enthusiasm for route climbing into practice. I have no idea how that’s going to unfurl, but my main goal is to manage to climb something above 10 metres with style, grace, and an abundance of smoothness. Now that I’m at home and the reality of the move is dawning on me it’s becoming a bigger fish than I thought I could fry. I made a random decision that I wanted to move abroad, and then I made a decision that Innsbruck could be the location. Without thinking too much I put that possibility into practice and now I’m seeing the result. Many people want to do this or that but they lack the real determination (or perhaps madness) to go through with it. At the end of the day only one person is in control of your own path, and that is yourself. If you want something to happen then make it happen, without fear of excuses, without fear of consequences, without fear of the unknown. I have no idea what’s going to transpire when I arrive in Innsbruck, but I know that a change will bring a new adventure and that’s enough for me. It’s a case of turning “I want” into “I will”, and that’s how I’m trying to live my life. Some people might think it’s not that simple, but in reality it couldn’t be any simpler. Take care of what you love, and what you love will take care of you…

Other than that I have a whole heap of editing to do. I want to get on top of the font film as I’ve got so much footage of Ty’s rampage through the forest. I’m really hoping that something good can come out of it… If I get my A-game on then perhaps a few previews can leak out over the next few weeks. I’m just hesitant to put something out there that isn’t the best I can achieve. I feel like whilst I was on The North Face roadtrip I was constantly cursed by time and the end result was something which I felt wasn’t to the best of my abilities (or perhaps not as good as I imagined it could be). I guess I’m not (yet) slick enough to do amazing good things in short amounts of time! Practice makes perfect…

As for now, I’m ready to return to a simple life of climbing, training, and sleeping. The good life…

In 2000 I was 18 years old, I’d never been climbing, and I was moving to London to study. It was there I met my first climbing mentor, James Dear. He was the one who infected me with this disease and it’s him that I have to thank for everything that has unfolded in my life as a result of it. It was in the summer of 2001 that James finally took me climbing to the slate quarries of North Wales. It was most definitely a seminal moment of my life, which was spent wandering around in awe muttering little other than “amazing”.

It was in 2002 that I met James a young kid from Matlock named James Pearson, who would become one of my best friends and was the person who I improved alongside for the next few years. We were both super keen for climbing and together we explored the grit crags of the peak district, with James making a name for himself by repeating many of the harder routes. Whilst our lives have been very close since we met our paths have gone slightly differently, but it’s been great to see James go from a boy in Matlock to a man in Manchester, navigating the treacherous but rewarding path that the limelight casts.

In 2003 I was heavily infected, climbing every day of the week that I could, and climbing infiltrated my every thought and action. It was then that I felt the calling of Sheffield, so I packed up my home and found somewhere to live in the city of steel. I walked into a climbing scene as a complete unknown and it was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I can remember what it felt like to go from being an alright climber in the London walls to being an absolute and complete punter in all of the Sheffield ones. Motivation was ridiculously high and I threw myself into it as hard as I could. I can remember the first time I ever went to The School and saw a group of people who were stronger than anything else I’d ever witnessed. The bar was set that night. I had a goal.

By 2006 I’d managed to get a little stronger and I felt like I’d integrated myself into the climbers of Sheffield. It was around that time I met Richard Simpson, who would serve as probably my greatest ever inspiration in terms of being strong, dedicated, and psyched. Never had I met someone as fit, as strong, or as dedicated to training and I immediately saw what was possible if one was able to commit fully to climbing. At that point the bar was reset so severely that I was barely able to see it, but I knew it was up there somewhere!

Not long after I realised that if I wanted to really improve I had to go my own way and so I left Sheffield, returning back home to Derby where I built my own board. Small but perfectly formed it was the place I would spend many nights trying as hard as I could. A point was reached whereby I needed to balance out my strength with my rock climbing skill set and so I started to spend every penny I had to go to places like Fontainebleau and Cresciano, and slowly but surely the scales started to approach an equilibrium. I’d be the first to admit that they’re still not balanced, but I’m always learning! Travelling has the wonderful effect of opening your eyes and mine continued to be peppered with more and more strong climbers. My mind turned from the small confines of the Sheffield scene to the global scene of super strong climbers.

In January 2008 I climbed my first 8B bloc, General Disarray in Brione. That was a huge milestone for me as it was a level which I considered half decent. But satisfaction is so short lived and that feeling of climbing at your limit is addictive. A few months later I did my second 8B bloc, but my first in Fontainebleau. This was also one of the greatest climbing moments for me as it was a reference point which meant a whole lot to me. Fontainebleau is the home of bouldering and for me the most important place to go to test yourself. This was why I returned in 2009 to try and tick my first 8B+ bloc, because I think there is nowhere else as worthy (apart from Radja) to tick your first of such a grade! It’s also why I will be returning later this year to finish Gecko Assis and not fall off with only a move to go. The challenge remains, the motivation remains, and the reward remains.

In 2007/8 I also met Tyler Landman. I can actually remember seeing him and Jeff climb back in 2002 at the Westway climbing wall in London but they were both just young kids then. In 2008 I spent the autumn climbing with Tyler in Switzerland and I became aware of just how phenomenal he was. He has the “magic” that I think all phenomenal climbers have, which is the ability to step up at the right moment and go into crush mode. I watched him climb many hard and amazing lines, but this was almost the warm up act! In 2009 Tyler and I spent nearly 3 months in Font together and what I witnessed was most definitely another level. I learnt so much in terms of climbing and we had a great trip, culminating in perhaps the most important thing, a really good friendship (yes, it may sound a little limp wristed but it’s the truth). Ties that go deeper than simply a shared practice of rock climbing. Tyler is certainly one of (if not) the best boulderers in the world, but he is certainly not the strongest guy out there. What I learned from Tyler is that the right attitude, the right skill set, and a shedload of strength can take you very, very far. He climbed every hard problem in Font and none took him more than a couple of sessions, which only affirmed to me that none of them are near his true limit. He’s bouldered 8C and he’s nowhere near his limit. To me that is such a great and inspiring concept.

I’ve been exceptionally lucky in both my life and my climbing. I’ve somehow met all the right people at all the right times and my motivation has pretty much increased as the days have gone by. The stronger and better I get, the more I want to reach the next step. I’m not complacent and all I want to do is improve in everything that I do. It’s this attitude that spurred me to leave London for Sheffield, and then leave Sheffield for Derby. It’s with that same attitude that I plan to leave Derby (and the UK) for greener pastures. This time the move will (fingers crossed) be to Innsbruck, Austria. It’s home to some of the world’s best climbers, a great training facility, and great rock climbing. Whilst there is no magic in simply moving, the hard work will begin when I get there. I want only one thing, improvement. I am willing to offer only one thing, everything. Hopefully this will be a recipe for success… time will tell…

The worst symptom of not climbing regularly when that is usually all you do is that your skin turns super soft and is essentially useless. You tend not to lose much basic strength, but when it comes time to pull your skin provides an unhelpful frictional coefficient. This bit of knowledge came flooding back to me in isolation when I tried to warm up. After 15 mins or so I realised that if I tried to warm up any further I wouldn’t have any skin left with which to try the problems.

This was my first World Cup and being out of shape left me in a rather odd position. I had no expectations and without expectations or demands of myself I also didn’t have any stress, nerves, jitters, etc. This resulted in me walking out to do my first problem in flip flops. I wasn’t really paying a whole of attention so I came out thinking there was a further 5 mins of isolation but it turns out I was supposed to be stepping up to the plate. After a bit of confusion I was on, but swiftly off. This was the beginning of the end. I was stood in front of a surprisingly large crowd wearing pink lycra and climbing like a man who’d never climbed before. The most bizarre thing was that I wasn’t deflated, embarrassed, upset, etc. I just found it all rather amusing. Lots of people were laughing at the lycra and to be honest I was too! Even the judges couldn’t help a small laugh each time I walked up to a new problem. Unfortunately the climbing went horribly and I failed to do a single problem! After the dust had settled I didn’t need to look up at the scorecard to know what place I was in, but I did anyway. Dead last. Some you win, some you lose! I don’t feel bad about it as this wasn’t a serious event for me. It was a testing of the water, and from my little samp I can safely say that I will return and I will do better. When you finish last the only way is up!

Usually this would cause me a great deal of annoyance but this time it was a funny turn of events. I was in bad shape, had bad skin, and climbed very badly. The positives were that I lost my World Cup virginity, had no nerves, and realised it is possible to be relaxed when in a competition environment. Perhaps it was the power of the lycra!

Being in the world cup scene was incredibly motivating for me. It allowed me to see what all the fuss was about and it allowed me to witness just how well the best guys and girls can climb. I have to say that I was probably most impressed by the women, who climbed with such incredible tenacity, movement, and skill. Being good in a comp environment is something which I’ve never put any energy into, as my sole concern has been trying to climb rocks. I still perceive there to be something intrinsically better about climbing your long term project on the rocks, but I can easily see how appealing it can be to want to put a lot of energy into competition climbing. It’s a new discipline, one which is asking to be mastered, and that’s exciting for me. I’m afflicted with a sickness, and that sickness is wanting to do everything well. Being average is not what I’m in to, so this world cup round motivated me to one day dedicate myself to improving at comp climbing, and returning to avenge my last place.

This whole experience is much the same as my experience with climbing on a rope. It’s something I’m terrible at, but something I’ve become immensely motivated to do. I didn’t choose to neglect sport climbing, I simply slid into a path of dedicated bouldering. I do love the search for the hardest moves, but the feeling of flowing up a big piece of rock is something which I’m learning not only to appreciate but also to desire. I’m not about to give up bouldering, but I am feeling more ready to embrace a rope if the situation is possible, and situations are always possible if you make them possible.

Things I’m learning

Climbing has been a great joy in my life for a long time now. It’s allowed me to visit many amazing places, to meet many kind people, and to push myself fairly hard. Through climbing I’ve learned about myself and also developed myself. It’s a full workout for mind, body, and sometimes soul.

The North Face roadtrip that I’m currently on has been a concentrated version of my 7 years climbing. I’ve been to many new places, met many helpful people, and ultimately been inspired in so many ways. I wasn’t sure how this trip would evolve or what it would ask of me, but I did know that saying yes to such an interesting offer was always the right move. I’m beginning to realise now what an understatement that was. This trip is perhaps just what I needed in so many ways.

For several years I’ve been a boulderer, and the main reason for this was that it was hard to find people who were as psyched as me for climbing and training. This led me to training alone and eventually building my own wall so I could get on with training without any fuss or hassle. Bouldering is something I truly love, with the search for me always being the hardest move and not much else. I’ve often lost interest in a boulder problem once I could do the moves, which is a bad habit so don’t develop it! I still have a great deal of desire for bouldering, but this trip has opened my eyes to just how much is on offer and more importantly just how good sport climbing can be. It’s a weak position to be in if you refuse to do something because you’re not good at it, and this has never been my reason for not going sport climbing. I am certainly terrible when it comes to climbing on a rope, something which I’m not happy about, but I’m now extremely motivated to begin to change that. I don’t want to move to spain and become a sport climber, merely to level out my climbing skills. My original goal which I fulfilled a few years ago was to climb Font 8A, Trad E8, and sport 8a, since which time I’ve raised the bar a little in bouldering so now I feel like the other two are lagging behind.

I’ve never had an aversion to sport climbing, in fact some of my main climbing goals are related to putting on a rope. I’ve always wanted to do routes such as Stonelove, Agincourt, and Hubble. Whilst these are not the best routes in the world they are important to me and I think I’d be a little sad if I never got to try them. However, I’ve now been around Europe and seen some incredible lines which have only served as pure inspiration to get my forearms working on things longer than 8 moves. Apart from the obvious upside to getting a bit fitter there is the wonderful fact that progress will come quickly because I’m starting from such a low base level. I literally have zero fitness and what fitness I may appear to have on a 7b or 7c is only due to the fact that the moves are so easy. I don’t yet have a master plan as to how I’m going to do this as there is still the problem of having someone to train with all the time and finding somewhere suitable to train, but I’m sure the pieces will fall into place (as they always do).

My main goal for the year remains to climb 8B+ bloc but I now have a secondary medium term goal which is getting fit. I want to experience the joy of being able to climb smoothly and efficiently on something big!

The most impressive thing I’ve seen on this trip was Nina Caprez climbing at Voralpsee. Of course it’s impressive to see Gaz and James climbing 8a’s every other day, but they don’t climb as smoothly since they possess the evil known as strength. Gaz is undoubtedly fit, but he is also strong and so he doesn’t need to climb super well to get to the top of these routes. Nina is also strong, but her climbing style is one of exceptional movement. I want to know what it feels like to move that well and to remain calm, peaceful, and in control whilst pushing ever higher. I’ve had one go on a few routes during this trip, either because they were amazing or short and after doing a critical self assessment I can safely say that the word “smooth” has no place in my current climbing style. I’d really like to change that. I don’t want to brute everything and I think to see an improvement in my sport climbing I need to go back and learn how to climb routes. It will inevitably lead to an improvement in my bouldering too, so I’m eager to try and make this change in style. I’m not technically inept, but I’m certain that I have a HUGE amount to learn in the art of climbing well.

For this reason alone this trip has been a huge success. It’s also been a huge success thanks to the fact it’s given me a chance to sample a wide variety of venues, giving me a clear idea of where I’ll be returning to and where I’ll never lay foot again. I’ve spent time with one of my best friends and also got to know Gaz much better, and I’m sure we’ll be going away together again in the near future. All of this whilst also earning some money… what more could I ask for?

[I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but had no time to publish it - my world cup experience is coming soon!]

Since my last blog post things haven’t been sitting eating cake (not all day anyway) but I’ve been caught in a whirlwind of activity. When I got back to the UK I wanted nothing more than to go and try The Ace. It’s pretty much the only thing I want to do in the Peak District and I knew this would be my final chance to have a go before spring and summer brought sunshine and pimms to this land.

I got up there to have a go and conditions were pretty good. A strong wind was blowing and it was rather cold without a down jacket. I finally warmed up, walked over to The Ace, put my pads down and starting brushing the holds… only to feel the pitter patter of raindrops on my hands. I watched the holds begin to get wet and couldn’t believe my luck, but this is what you have to accept when you climb in the UK. It really can change from great to hate in a matter of seconds. That was the end of my first attempt.

I then headed back up there with Adam and conditions weren’t quite as good but I was as keen as ever. I just couldn’t seem to find any purchase on any of the holds which was weird as my skin was feeling rather good. But the ace is a very fickle beast and I’d been here once before in December (the day before leaving for font) and I went from not being to hold on to being able to get to the last move every go in a flash. I tried up until my skin was thin and didn’t have much success. The holds didn’t feel grippy and when that happens there’s nothing you can do.

Days were running out so I got back up there a couple of days later for another attempt and this time things were as bad as ever. It seemed like conditions had passed for the year and in the afternoon the plantation was rammed with bumblies, families, and randoms. I climbed a bit to get moving and warm up the skin but my time management was all out of sync thanks to the change to Daylight Savings Time. I looked to the sky expecting the sun to be on it’s final descent but it was nowhere near and then I realised that I’d mismanaged my warm up. I sat around lounging in the sun and eventually it began to sink whilst the masses began to leave. Once Lee and I had the crag to ourselves I knew it was time to begin serious attempts. The seriousness might have represented my intent but it definitely didn’t represent how well I was doing on it. Lee was pushing me through the moves and without him I could barely hang on. As I said, this boulder problem is so conditions dependent (for me anyway) that there is no way to just overpower it. My skin was being destroyed and all I was hearing from Lee is “be professional, it’s just not the day for it”. I eventually relented and started packing up but then a wave of psyched washed over me and I loudly declared that this couldn’t be the end. I just had to try really hard and harness all of the tai chi power I could. I unfurled the pads and reached towards the chi. I pulled on, did the first move, felt bad but suddenly concentrated on pulling harder, MUCH harder. Then I was able to glide into the second move. A small adjustment of my leg and I was in a position to go for the top. Now to explode… I exploded as much as I could and my hand went firing to the top, but 2 inches before it got there I hit the wall. No amount of psyche could propel me any further and I just fell back into lee’s arms. That was the end of that. I did try to pull on again but I’d used it all up in that go and had nothing. I said my goodbye’s and left, knowing this would be my last attempt on it until Autumn (bar any freak weather systems!).

As for now I’m ultra busy. A few months ago James asked me if I’d be interested in coming along on a roadtrip around Europe to climb the best 8a’s in Europe. Clearly he wasn’t asking me along for the climbing, that is Gaz’s role, but he thought I could receive some budget to film it. At first I was shocked that he thought I could actually ask for some money to film a trip, but after a bit of convincing and the allure of earning some money I was easily swayed. Plus it was a chance to spend some time with James, which is a very rare commodity these days. I remember back in the day how we used to wake up super early and spend our days climbing on the grit. This was way before either of us knew what we were doing but we were super keen. I guess we’ve both come on a little bit.

So now I’m winding my way through Europe and I’m pretty psyched to be honest. It’s much harder than I expected, with very little downtime. I’m either filming, driving, writing blogs, navigating, eating, or very rarely sleeping. We’re barely a week into the trip and already we’ve done over 1500 miles, which is actually a below average week. We’ve only today arrived at another shore and I’m starting to get psyched for both climbing and the whole trip in general. It’s dawning on me about how cool this opportunity is. I’m an adventurous person and so being able to just decide to go somewhere and then go there is so cool. Our trip may be pre planned but there are many places I’ve wanted to go that I’ll be able to tick off. It would be good to do this as a climber rather than a film maker but that’s not possible for a whole number of reasons… 1. I’m in no shape to be trying to climb 8a routes every other day. 2. I have no sponsors, let alone a sponsor that would fund a trip like this. 3. I wouldn’t be getting paid to do it.

I’m regarding this trip as a sampler, like a cheese board. I get to check out so many places across Europe and those which I think are amazing will get a revisit at some point in the future. Those which are clearly below par will be cast to the side and left for dead.

The other thing which has been making this trip seem more and more of a good idea is that I could do with a rest from climbing quite so much. As my font trip drew to a close I was beginning to get an ache in my left elbow, which is something that I’ve never suffered from before. I’m fairly certain it’s Golfers Elbow and I’ve been trying to stretch it or exercise it but the dull pain remains. I can climb on it but I need to warm up through it and I’m sure that’s not a good natural state to be in. I’m hoping that during this trip I can perhaps climb a couple of 8a’s but I’ll only have an hour or two do each one which will make it spicy. The last 8a route I did took me a lot longer than a couple of hours, so I’ll have to hope my fitness levels have at least moved upwards with my strength since a couple of years ago. Then again, if the moves are so easy that you don’t get pumped then what is there to worry about?

If you want to read the blog I’m writing for TNF then click here. I really want to try and update my own blog with my own thoughts but at the moment things seem a little too hectic. I’ll do my best to keep things up to date here as and when I find the time to sit down with some time to myself.

The last few days have been frantic with Ty and I coming up with ideas and then rushing around trying our best to film them. Some worked and some didn’t, but I hope that when you end up seeing them you’ll either laugh or be impressed. Our days have been spent rushing around many crags and my final day was no different.

I’d been saving it all up for one final push at the Gecko. A cold spell was due to arrive on Friday but my last day was Thursday so I had no choice but to try and make the most of it. In order to do that I decided I must wake up when it’s coldest, ie. just before the sun rises. Our normal time of rising is somewhere between 9:30 and 11am so asking my body to wake up at 6:30am then go into crush mode wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. Perhaps by body was ready however as I woke up 1 minute before my alarm was going set to go off. A sign? Was my body really ready for this morning assault? I wasn’t going to take any chances and decided to turn to the dark side… a nice cup of strong coffee. I gave up caffeine a few weeks ago as I decided I was probably addicted so I went cold turkey. It wasn’t very fun and I did have nearly a week of constant headaches, but it just goes to show how we can build up dependencies on certain things without even realising it. I didn’t even drink coffee regularly, but I did drink a fair number of cups of tea per day. I think any sort of reliance of anything physical, emotional, or spiritual is probably a bad thing. Being able to subsist without any particular item should be easy and if it’s not then you are addicted (in my opinion). It was with that that I ended my tea drinking.

This morning however, I rejuvenated my body with coffee and I felt on it! I drove to the crag feeling so super psyched and I think it may have even rubbed off on Tyler as he even managed a conversation, which is quite a feat for him at such a ridiculous hour. The Passat was reporting what seemed implausible temperatures, but when I stepped out of the car at Gecko it suddenly felt all of -3 degrees. Woah. I hadn’t been expecting that and I hadn’t even brought a jacket. No worries, as a brisk walk to the boulder would get me going. We arrived, it all looked dry, I brushed it down, then began to warm up. My skin felt sore, far too sore, but this was my last day. I’d come here with my war face on and I wasn’t going to retreat until I was either dead or close to it (perhaps a slight exaggeration…). Then I set about Gecko. My split along my first joint was immediately painful. I’d rested it as long as I could as I knew this was the problem on which it would suddenly flare up. The hand positions are so particular for me that I can’t avoid the pain by moving it up or down 5mm. It really does have to be millimetre perfect for me to flow through the moves. I decided to try and do the stand up start as a further warm up but it really didn’t feel good. My psych wasn’t dropping though, it was powering me forward. I tried again and as I was reaching up into the undercut my right hand dryfired off and blood started seeping out the back of my knuckles. I’ve come to accept this. If my skin isn’t in a super state then gripping on becomes very difficult and this has resulted in me and Mr. Dryfire becoming the best of friends.

The sun was rising and the forest looked beautiful. Tyler was curled up of the floor basking in the sunshine and I was in the shade trying to find the grip and D.E. It didn’t take too long before I realised this quest was fruitless and I had to throw in the towel. My skin was too painful, conditions weren’t amazing, and I was tired. I’d pumped myself up for this and now I was coming back down to earth. The reality of the situation was setting in. I’d prepared myself for success, for an amazing tale of last day triumph, just like it seems to happen in the films. Perhaps that’s why I’m trying to make a film, so I can achieve the impossible too. It didn’t work though. This really was the end. I was leaving and my final go on Gecko Assis was done. What now? Well, October is only 6 months away. My confidence isn’t diminished as I know without doubt that I will ascend this boulder problem and it will feel amazing when I do. It’s simply challenging me, perhaps in ways I didn’t expect. The physical challenge was quickly surmounted and I think it’s fair to say I am easily strong enough. I can climb it in 2 very overlapping sections on command, but I didn’t have enough juice to link it. The mental challenge is something else, another part of the game that I’ve not experienced before. I’ve never put so much energy into something and had to leave without doing it. It nearly happened in Switzerland with Amber but my single mindedness and perhaps complete madness culminated in a last day send. That was another problem that I was over strong for but struggled to get done. So now I have to let my mind rest, knowing that Gecko is still there, waiting for my return. It would have been really nice to get it done and have it in the film but something real life is just too damn ordinary. People fail.

In the 6 months between now and October I have other challenges remaining. There are a couple of things I want to do in England and one two major things abroad. I have a film to put together and edit. I have family to catch up with. I certainly won’t be tapping my fingers waiting for the days to elapse!

However, the day was not done yet. In fact, the day hadn’t even started as I was finished with Gecko before 9am! We had more than a whole day of climbing ahead of us. There were a number of amazing problems that I’d done in previous years that I’d not filmed, so we set about repeating them for the lens. The first was Amok, an incredible float move from a perfect pinch to a perfect sloper. It’s hard to explain just how amazing these problems are because my words will always lack the feeling of the movement. If you’re climbing at around the 8A level then you should make it your purpose to check out this problem. We walked out both overwhelmed by the beauty of the forest in the gorgeous morning light. The joy didn’t stop there though as we zoom zoomed down to Ubik. We set the camera up and Tyler asked me if I was going to do it. Of course I replied yes. Confidence before rationality (I joke). I pulled on and floated to the top. As I topped out I remembered that absolutely amazing feeling of joy. When something is so good, as Ubik is, you just want to revel in it’s glory. Amok has a wonderful right hand pinch and Ubik has an even more wonderful left hand pinch. Tyler didn’t want to miss out on the joy and he promptly pulled on and joined me on top. He then boldy declared it the best problem in the whole world… not a minor claim when you know just how many areas he’s visited. The stand start felt so easy that I figured I should do the sit start. One of the undercuts was unfortunately the perfect size to rip into my split and as strong as my body felt, I couldn’t let go of my lower hand to do the move. Somewhat of a shame, but I was high on the feeling of how good Ubik was. In fact, I did it again. Yes, it’s that good. Once again, if you are operating at around 8A then get yourself to this bloc.

By this point it was barely lunchtime. Incredible how much time there is in a day when you wake up at 6am. Next stop Rocher Greau for Tyler to keep on with his quest of making the unreal real. Another impressive ascent (details on his blog I assume) and we jet leponged for the next crag. It was at this point we realised just how hot the day had become. From being so cold at Gecko we were now cruising tops off with the car reporting temps of 18C. WOOOOO WEEEEEE!

Upon arrival at Cuvier we were both feeling somewhat lethargic but there was one more thing to film. After achieving some personal bests in one legged hoping we headed up to the Rempart. My skin was destroyed, I felt tired, but I really wanted to film T-Rex. I had to dig really deep and it was probably only the shouts of encouragement from Tyler that got me up it. When I’d done it earlier in the trip it had taken me a bunch of goes and I’d fallen so many times at the ninja foot jump move. Today, in awful conditions, where I genuinely felt like I was about to grease off every hold I managed to stick the move first go. Amazing what determination can do. My skin was truly finished now. Water was pouring out and the bruises were very visible.

My last day in font was complete. I’d hoped to make it an amazing day with an ascent of Gecko Assis. Even though I’d not managed it I’d had a truly amazing day. I’d remembered why climbing in font is so amazing, why I love it more than anywhere else in the world, and felt motivated to come back. This trip has been a strange one for me, but I know that I’m not climbing badly. Getting to the last move of many problems is frustrating, but I’ve chosen to look at it another way. When I return I will be fitter, stronger, and fresher. The many problems which I’ve nearly climbed will all get climbed and all of a sudden my life long ticklist will get a lot shorter.

Climbing with Tyler is something that I want to write a little bit about. You can skip this bit if you’re reading Tyler. I’ve witnessed some quite incredible things during this trip. Seeing the unreal becoming real every day can affect your judgement on the whole world. Going out with Tyler makes me question what is possible and where climbing really is at the moment. Seeing boulder after boulder crushed into oblivion can have a very strange affect. I’m lucky though, because I was witnessing this dismay but my feet were firmly footed to the ground. I did try nearly everything that Tyler has done and so when I saw him do it I wasn’t out of touch with the ascent. I knew that the moves he was flowing along were actually very hard. I’m not a world class climber, far from it. There are thousands of climbers better than me in this world, and I’m sure there are some who stand shoulder to shoulder with Tyler. When you read about someone doing one hard problem after another it’s worth taking a moment to stop and think about what you’re reading. These problems aren’t easy. Just because someone is making them seem easy does not make them easy in any way. It’s like watching the Russian ballet, or watching Schumacher win the F1 world title 5 years in a row. These things which your eyes are witnessing are incredible. You’re lucky enough to be witnessing the incredible. Don’t let this become ordinary. Don’t forget just what level of performance you are seeing. Don’t forget how many years of dedication and hard work it took to get there. The moment when everything flows and everything is in a state of DE is a crescendo of everything that came before it. I’ve been very lucky in that I’ve climbed with what I consider to be some of the best and strongest climbers in the world. The unreal was completely debased by Rich Simpson who had a way of making absolutely everything look easy. I simply started believing he could do anything in his path (and he did) after climbing with him for a couple of months in the Frankenjura. Seeing him do 1-5-9 so easily probably affected me and gave me the hope that I could do it too. If it looked so easy then how hard could it be? Well, the answer is very hard. This is what I think people should remember when they see any of the world’s top climbers doing their thing. You really are witnessing the incredible. If you let yourself become desensitized to it then you’re missing out on a wonderful joy.

I’ve got an overwhelming feeling right now that I’m the luckiest person in the world. I spend my days doing exactly what I want to do and I don’t think anyone could ask for anything more. I climb in amazing places, hang out with great people, and have very little to worry about. I’m not immune to the base things like needing money to survive, but I’ve been a little lucky and a little skilled so I’ve made bits and bobs along the way that have enabled me to keep doing what I love. I’m able to follow my aspirations and live my dreams. I know that I’m a very lucky middle class white kid from Manchester and I’m pretty mindful to make sure that I never forget this. I wouldn’t change my life for any other and this is surely a very good measure of true happiness.

In closing, I have footage of Tyler’s impressive rampage through the forest and I hope to put something together in the next couple of months. I hope I can do it justice and that the incredibleness isn’t lost. In fact, I’m a little nervous about putting it all together. Basically I’m just a punt with a video camera but hopefully with enough time/perseverance/luck I can make something better than the sum of its parts. I think I can say with confidence that there won’t be a bad problem in the whole film. Perhaps I can offer some sort of guarantee that you won’t be disappointed if you go to try any problem featured in the film. I don’t know what I’m guaranteeing it for, but I just wanted to share that titbit of information.

Tyler is undoubtedly one of the best boulderers in the world, this is undisputed. Climbing with him is a dismaying feat most of the time and I think that there are two human reactions to seeing such a thing every single day. The dismay can be too much and it can result in personal trouble because of a loss of perspective on one’s own climbing, or, it can act as a source of inspiration. For me it’s most definitely inspiring and it causes me to try and raise my game whenever possible. Making the impossible seem not only possible but also easy is something I really do like to see. To the common bystander it probably looks rather ordinary, with a young man easily climbing up a bit of rock. It’s only when I step on to the rock that the bystander asks “why can’t that guy climb” when instead they should be asking “what have I just witnessed!?”.

A facet of climbing that I think is particularly wonderful is that it can be thoroughly enjoyed at any level. From 5 to 8C, when you do something that was genuinely hard or challenging the resulting feeling of surmounting your difficulties is wonderful. Knowing that you were tested and that you succeeded is a great feeling. In climbing this joy isn’t exclusively reserved for those who are amazing, it’s available to every single man, woman, and child. Difficulty is most certainly relative in this game, with an overall schematic of objective difficulty also existing. My brother occassionaly climbs, and he knows what it feels like to do something that once seemed impossible, and I’ve seen the reaction when he’s suddenly made the impossible possible. I’m sure his feeling will have been very similar to my feeling when I did my first hard problem in the forest. This is one of the greatest things in climbing – a solidarity of sorts.

However, there is something to be said about the joys increasing as the grades increase. Whilst there is no causation between higher grades and higher joy, there is possibly correlation. I think the causation comes from the fact that the more time we spend climbing, the more we improve. The more we have invested in climbing, the more we get back from climbing. Knowing that the hardest boulder problem you have ever climbed was the sum total of 5 years of effort, dedication, and desire can only serve to make the success even sweeter. I’m sure Doylo was beyond ecstatic after completing his pill box project after a Jesus like 40 days of effort. I’m certain that his joy was greater than had he done it in 1 day. The difficulty of the process is what tempers us and it’s what makes it better. In that way I think it’s less enjoyable to be a super amazing rock climber, because everything feels easy.

During this trip with Tyler I think the most psyched he has been has not necessarily been when he’s topped out the hardest problems. From what I’ve seen, the most coveted ascents have been those that he really didn’t know if he would be able to do. Those that posed a different or unusual challenge, those with history and those that were far more than the sum of their moves. In my mind, Karma and Duel were 2 moments when he really felt super good, and both are far below his physical limit.

The same is true for all of us. Overcoming a mental hurdle or a physical hurdle (or both) can be the most wonderful feeling in the world and every single climber is lucky enough to have this feeling available to them (for free!) all of the time.