English man in Font

80 is the smallest number that is diminished by taking its sum of letters (writing out its English name and adding the letters using a=1, b=2, c=3, …) – EIGHTY = 5+9+7+8+20+25 = 74.

It seems like so long ago that I wrote anything on here, and I’m sure you can’t imagine a scenario where I haven’t climbed for 6 days. But what sense can that make? Climbing? Not blogging? Fear not! I had an impending deadline so my head was in my books most days, but I was also out and about. My time in font is drawing to a close, so that means I’ll need to change the name of the blog, but it also means I have to finish off the things I still want to do. I’m intent on making a decent short film containing the things I’ve climbed since being here, so I need to shoot some more scenic footage, and there are a few comedy scenes that I want to capture. All will be revealed in time (which I realise may be too much to bare for some). It also means that I have to clean up a few things that I’ve tried but not completed. As some of you may be aware, the weather out here isn’t exactly wonderful at the moment. Last weekend saw 23C on Saturday and 25C on Sunday. Then it went into a spiral of rain, thunderstorms, sunshine, and cloud. Every day that’s passed has had at least 1 hour that you could have climbed somewhere in the forest. Unfortunately I was too lazy to be out searching for that place.
On Saturday evening I returned to La Nombriliste with Tim so he could try to do it, and I get footage of me doing it. I was hoping it would go down without too much hassle, and I was proved right. I shot one angle for my first go and amazingly I got to the top first go! Then I set up for another angle and managed to do it again. It felt so comfortable actually, which I can only assume is because I’m climbing in Anasazi pinks again or perhaps because it was completely dry and I knew the movement. I actually think it’s because I trusted my feet far more and it enabled me to weight them more precisely. In light of that, I think that 7A+ is fair, rather than the 7B I thought after having done it the first time. Anyway, it was good to get it on film as it a beautiful slab. If you have looked it up in the new 7+8 guidebook, the chap in the photo is doing it differentely to how I suggest. He is reaching up with his left hand, whereas I reached up to the same hold with my right hand. I think the right hand method is way better, way cooler, and the way YOU should do it.

Sunday morning I went to get footage of a friend trying Rubis sur l’Ongle, 7B+, but ended up being sucked in and I had a few tries. I notice that on bleau.info the description says “Exposed to the south : recommended for cold seasons”. I doubt a sunny April day with temps of 25C is exactly what they meant. I had about 4 goes before my skin hurt far too much and I was unable to reach the rubis hold. I must have gotten within a few mm but that wasn’t close enough. I did however find a new technique (read; common sense) that gave me the confidence to know I can do it when I’m not passing out from heat exhaustion (I also forgot to take any form of liquid).  Basically, I found it easier to miss out all the intermediates and instead just pushed down with my right hand on the lower rail. The reason I find it so hard is because I can’t put my left leg on anything due to having grossly inflexible hips, meaning I have to do it as a big rockover. Anyway, these aren’t excuses, merely facts of the situation, but facts that won’t be any different after I go back and crimp my way up that bad boy. It’s a big tick since it’s on the Real Thing ticklist. In fact, I should do it before leaving.

Monday and Tuesday I was studious but ended up in the board for a mini session. Neil had pointed out a hold that no one had used yet because it was so horrific. Clearly I made it an objective to use, and without massaging my ego too much, I ended up setting (and climbing) a rather cool problem with it. I’m starting to find that I just don’t pull on small holds when climbing on boards. I gravitate so strongly towards pinches/slopers/pockets that I find it hard to actually pull on small holds. This is a serious problem as my fingers just aren’t getting any stronger. I need to get home and start deadhanging again on those 6mm edges (which only serve to rip the skin off my fingertips due to the rucksack of encyclopaedia). I’ll do something about this when I get back… perhaps some time with Doylo. He knows about small crimps, so I’m sure I can learn a thing of two from him. I just don’t want my finger strength to fall way behind my other grip strengths, as I really don’t want to start boxing myself in. I want to be able to climb fairly hard (font 8A) in all styles, including slabs, walls, etc. I think specialisation should only really occur at the very top level and I’m nowhere near that level so I should continue working weaknesses on the path of improvement.

Today I woke up free up any obligation to study, which meant I could spend time surfing the web reading all about great things like the eyeball of the collosal squid, the gop structure of HDV, the overclocking of quad core processors, and robots that can reassemble themselves (although not quite as well as Terminator’s foe). It also meant I could go rock climbing! WOO HOO! The weather wasn’t looking very good, but by lunch time it looked as though it might dry out. Neil and I prepared for an outing with the little man, but before we got a chance to leave the heavens opened and we thought that was that. I checked the webcam up near Arbonne and it all looked dry! With blue skies and dry rock in my mind we set off, doing nothing more than driving towards wherever we could see blue. We ended up at Cuvier where it had clearly rained a little but things were drying out already, but decided to have a walk down to St. Germain whilst waiting for things to dry completely. We got down there to find dry rock, cool features, and a man with a tarp over Megalithe, 7C+. That was a bit of forward planning! By the time we checked the place out, then walked back to the car we were all hungry and thirsty. The sun had come out and it was actually rather hot in the sun. We spent 30min sat there lounging around trying to decide what to do. I’ve got issues with making decisions sometimes. I want to know that I’m making the best possible decision I can make, based on all the information I can possibly have access to. The sun was out and hot, which meant we needed to go somewhere that was shady but would remain dry, so perhaps an overhanging block that was north facing. That seemed a good solution, but without a firm decision in mind, we headed into font for water and a sandwich. Whilst in the Champion, variables altered, the skies turned grey and once again poured down. Lifeline or not, rain doesn’t make for great climbing. We drove back to cuvier and found wet rock, but only the tops, and the topsy turvy weather had now decided to show us some sunshine and a nice breeze. I was sure things would dry quickly, as the rock in font has that magic property, and sure enough within 30mins things were dry. We warmed up at bas cuvier, doing some of the classics, and not doing some of the non classics. I tried Super Prestat, 7B+, but got up the final move and had a razor in my right hand which I just wasn’t willing to pull on. I jumped off and decided to seek out some slopers! The rock in font has another magical property which it probably shares with other places. After rain the rock sometimes feel very, very grippy. I’m not sure why, but if the factors are right, a shower followed by some sun and a breeze can actually provide excellent conditions. Everything felt great and it was so nice to feel clean, grippy sandstone against my tips. I walked up to Rempart with the intention of getting Noir Desir, 7C, on film. It seems I live for footage sometimes. I set the camera up, tried the sequence I’d used last time, failed. Then I tried a new sequence, and fell off. Then I sat down and tried to analyse why on earth I was falling off this thing. What was I missing. Then it dawned on me, I was blindly following some beta that I’d gleaned from a video, which provided a nice LH-RH-LH way of climbing it, but I decided it involved a move that could be missed out completely. Armed with my newly constructed thought beta I set off again. I wasn’t hugely surprised when it worked and I got to the top, but I was pleased to have it on camera. Everyone goes on about it being a great problem, and I suppose it is quite good, but it didn’t do much for me. It was starting to get on a bit, the sun was setting, and so I began to pack up to leave. Then I suddenly realised I was walking away from good conditions, so changed my mind and rushed down to Atresie. It was getting a bit dark, but I had enough time for a few tries. My second go was probably my best ever. The kneescum worked really well and I felt good on the holds, but as I reached up the crimp my knee slipped out and I landed on the pad. Failure! But I was pleased that it felt within reach, and I even said to myself “you can do this right now”. I was battling against time, so I would have a go, fall off, chalk up, and set off again. The lack of resting soon showed and I was wasting my time. I wished I’d arrived 30mins earlier as I think conditions were the best I might get for the rest of the trip. I packed up and walked down, trying to stay alert for lewd french men looking for a good time. It really is true about Cuvier after nightfall… lots of dodgy men walking around smoking, and then heading off into the bushes. I wouldn’t reccommend it.

Last night I was watching Live with Jools Holland and there was a mini interview with Eddie Grant. You probably know the type of thing, Jools speaking as fast as he can trying to cram everything in, the interviewee just taking their time with every response not caring it’s live TV. But that’s besides the point. Jools asked Eddie if he had any advice for up and coming musicians, since Eddie had been in the game so long. He said “you look after the music, and the music will look after you”. I thought this was such a nice thing to say, and perhaps somewhat idealistic, I’m sure it has some level of pragmatism. What Eddie meant was that if you are doing something you love then just keep doing it, because everything else will fall into place. It’s kind of easy to say this with hindsight, especially when things have worked out, but it’s far more difficult to have trust in the future, in the unknown. I thought a bit about this, in relation to myself and my life decisions. I’m put a lot of my life into climbing, and I’ve forsaken a lot for it, but I am happy. That is the bottom line. I don’t know where my future path will go, and it’s probably because I’m reaching another juncture that I thought a lot about Eddie’s words. I have another set of paths to choose from, and how to choose between these paths is always difficult and complicated, but I’m sure that if I look after the things I love, they will continue to look after me.

I also wanted to write some diatribe about passion, but it’s really rather late and I’m so tired that I think it would be better to wait until next time. The succinct version is something like; passion underpins all greatness.

74 is the twenty first distinct biprime, and the eleventh of the form (2.q)

In some ways I wish I wasn’t writing a blog entry for today, but unfortunately I am. What happens when you go out to the crag without climbing shoes on purpose because you want to save your skin and be fresh for the following day? Today, in my case, I ended up thrashing my skin. I spent the morning doing stats work, but eventually the blue skies, warm breeze, and glowing sunshine won me over and I decided to head out and meet Neil & crew. They were up at Cuisiniere, where I found them sat underneath Hale Bopp. I’d come out with only my video camera and tripod, with the intent to get some nice scenic shots and perhaps some footage of hale bopp. Unfortunately I’d arrived a little late in the day and the team was waning. I got some footage of failure, but it might turn out well since I shot it via a method that will yield excellent slow motion properties (the video equivalent of shutter priority and highest frame rate). Perhaps I’ll post a sample up when I get the scripts sorted and have a chance to test the process. I hope that will satisfy the raging homo fathers that might be reading this blog (what a demographic).

Before leaving the hale bopp area Louis wanted a go on Chatterton, 7B/7C/8A, which is the run and jump problem next to hale bopp. After filming them all trying I decided it was worth a go for a laugh. I’m not lying when I say I then proceeded to have upwards of 50 goes. I was getting progressively closer, but it felt like I was at the limit of my jumping ability, whilst my fingers were about 1cm from the top. I needed another 4cm to be able to actually get my fingers over the top and hang on. I had so many goes, slapping the top, but only having a mm or two of skin over the top. I just felt like I couldn’t jump any higher! I’d tried various run ups, varied the angles, varied the speeds, but to no avail. I was getting jaded, tired, and hungry. By this point I’d probably spent about 90 minutes trying it. I know, I’m a fool, I get succored in too easily sometimes and then the will to succeed takes over. Running and jumping isn’t normally so complicated, and I am going to the first to slag this problem off for being stupid. But I am also going to the first to admit it’s complexity. Perhaps if you’re tall it is simple because the top is nowhere near your limit of jump, but for me it was at my limit. I was getting more and more process as the goes went on, but lacked consistency. Sometimes it just felt completely wrong and sometimes it clicked, resulting in tickling the top. My left quad was beginning to really hurt from the leap onto the right foothold. I expected it to be the other way round, but even now my left quad is painful… Eventually I found the key to that extra couple of cm. I had a great angle of attack but my speed was a little low (mainly because speed was inversely proportional to accuracy with the right foot). However, I’d now had so many goes that my accuracy rate had increased, meaning I could afford to dabble with a little more speed. I set up for one more try, went tops off for power/glory/style, and hit it! My run up was well executed, I took off my left leg well, my right leg landed perfectly on the foothold… winding up as I transferred my weight forward and then springing upwards as I reach the balance point. BOOM! I was holding on the top, very much to my relief, but also pleased! I wasn’t sure if I could find that extra height, but when I hit everything perfectly it gave me just the height I required. I’m sure if the top was another 2cm I wouldn’t be able to do it, that’s how close it felt to my limit of jumping. Regarding the slash grade, and the large discrepancy at that, it all comes down to how it felt for me. As I say, I know people who’ve flashed it and found it easy, but I also know there are 8C climbers who would NEVER be able to do it. Some people are of the opinion that you can’t grade dyno’s or stupid jump moves like Chatterton, but I think you can. Since grades are only a personally subjective opinion on difficulty, you can compare it to other things that took you the same level of time/energy. I put it on my scorecard as 8A, not because I am grade chasing, but because I think it was at my absolute limit of jumping ability. I could not do a similar style of problem that was harder, therefore 8A is probably about right. It took me far more goes than other 8A’s I’ve done in font, but that’s because of the complex nature of running and jumping (that’s not a joke). However, i am still of the opinion that this is a stupid problem, and given climbing boots plus a day at the rocks I would never, ever, try such a thing. But the combination of being up there, seeing a problem that was possible in trainers, and then wanting to find out if it was actually possible for me just fed my psyche levels and spurred me onwards.

Of course, I got video footage, and even some amazing looking pictures courtesy of Louis, so if I can get them off him tomorrow I’ll update the blog. I’m sure they’ll look cool. However, my skin is not primo, so tomorrow WILL be a rest day. I say that now, but who knows what I’ll be writing in 24 hours…

73 is the largest two-digit Unholey prime: such primes do not have holes in their digits.

Success always comes at a price. In fact, everything has it’s price and it’s always worth remembering that. It’s not always obvious what price you pay for the choices you make, but, as the saying goes “hindsight is 20/20″.

I spent all day today trying to do stats work, but also faffing about with computer stuff. The reason I have so much random (rather, apparently random) knowledge, is because I spend so much time reading about crap on the internet. That’s what I did today, I learned more random knowledge, from kexts to hex editing to jpeg storage algorithms. But there’s only so much you can take, and once the rain stopped to reveal a determined sun things were looking up. I stuffed myself at dinner, which is far too frequent an occurrence, but was determined to go out and enjoy the blue skies and hopefully dry rock. Eventually the food settled, so whilst deciding where to go I warmed up a little in the woody with Thomas, 4 year old champion of the woody. Luckily I didn’t get sucked in to trying to out do him, which would have ended in tears (mine), but I did get ready to start pulling. The skin on my right index finger was still thin from the pocket of Fata Morgana, so I was trying to take that into consideration with my choice of venue. I got very psyched for trying Londinium, 8A, but the walk in was a bit long for a brief evening session. Hip Hop, 8A, is close by and it’s something that is on the “to try” list but I wasn’t convinced it was the best choice. I felt like I needed to go somewhere and do SOMETHING. It wasn’t important what it was, any 7C or harder would do, just to keep the ball rolling. Success feeds on itself, and it always leads to more success. Likewise constant failure leads to a mentality of failure, which is sadly very evident in some climbers. With all that in mind I took the risk of going back to Fata Morgana. I knew I would only be able to have a couple of goes due to very think skin, but decided I could probably do it, and I really wanted a burn on Satan i Helvete. I drove up there, appreciate the plentiful bluebells springing into life all around the forest, and proceeded to get involved. Step 1. Set up Camera. Step 2. Boots and Chalk. Step 3. Climb the boulder problem. It didn’t go exactly like that… On my first go I missed the pocket (amateur!). On my second go I hit the pocket, moved my left hand up, set up to go for the jug but could feel my right hand creeping. I didn’t dare jump with my left hand because I knew my right hand would rip and I would probably hurt myself again. I hung there for far too long deciding what to do then I just freestyled and threw for the jug with my right hand. I’ve never, ever, tried the move like that because a. it’s harder and b. it’s harder. Sure enough, I hit the jug but not convincengly enough to stay on. I was pretty shocked I could even throw up with my right arm! Anyway, I was still on the ground and not at the top. Why? That’s all I could think. A quick change of angle for the camera and I had another go. This time I reached the move for the jug, felt like I was going to rip off, but didn’t care. I had to succeed. I launched and hit the jug with an internal sigh of relief, which was followed about 1 second later by an external sigh of relief. I walked to the top and had no outpouring of joy. I wasn’t even the slightest bit pleased, only relieved. I think it’s a little bit sad actually, to do a fairly good boulder problem and not be pleased. It took me a minute or two to figure out why I was relieved and not pleased. In my mind I was capable of this boulder problem a long time ago. To do it was not to answer the question of whether or not I could actually do it, which is normally the case. I had already done this problem in my heart, mind, and soul. Sounds ridiculous, but physically being stood on top was not the goal for me. I was also relieved because I know this boulder problem isn’t a real test for me. You could argue that it clearly was a test because I fell off a handful of times (in the last few days), but I would disagree in a certain way. Afterwards I came down (mentally and physically), replaced the pads, and tried Satan I Helvete. What a boulder problem! It’s short, powerful, and poses a very serious challenge to me. I don’t know if I can do it and it’s not exactly my style (and I hate that concept of style!) but I’m motivated for it. In these days of 16-18C temperatures, I think you just have to redefine where you climb, what you climb, and the time you climb.

I’m feeling positive about the closing stages of the trip, but my heart and soul have already moved on in a way. I don’t know where they’ve moved on to, but I hope that my body catches up soon, and psyche levels collide in a phenomenal outpouring of power!

71 is the only two-digit number n such that (nⁿ-n!)/n is prime.

The last two days have seen bad weather, but among the rain and clouds I found something I’d been missing all week. To train you have to be motivated, and to be motivated you have to be inspired, and to be inspired you have to find and hold on to that inspiration. Different people get inspired by different things, but I know what I get inspired by. I am inspired by greatness. When I see great climbers I am so inspired to increase my own level and to improve in any way I can. In fact, I’m inspired by so many people around me because they are better than me in one way or another. From the very first time I saw Neil Gresham in the Castle, locked off with 1 arm, looking as casual as you like, to the first time I walked into the school only to realise just how weak and talentless I really was. All these moments were my inspiration, which gave me my motivation, and led me to where I am today. My greatest inspiration came in the form of meeting and getting to know Richard Simpson. I have so much respect for Rich, in so many ways, but mainly for always working super hard in everything that he does. That is something that inspires me so much. Maintaining goals over a long period of time is something that separates the great from the could have been great. This week I once again found my motivation, my inspiration, and my desire. So I’m back on track and ready to once again start moving forward.

With the weather being bad, I have done a bit of training the past couple of days, which always feels good. I’ve set a couple of hard moves and decided to warm up in the woody whilst deciding where to go today. It was rather warm (16C) and the odd shower had permeated the forest, so conditions weren’t great. I wanted to try something that I could get done, and remembered a problem I tried 2 years ago, but couldn’t do. Fata Morgana, 8A, was a sad story of what could have been. At the time it would have been the hardest thing I’d climbed, but I never managed to suss out the crux move. Essentially it’s a one move problem, with the sit start adding some fairly easy moves, but the main meat just being the single move to the pocket on the lip. That one move had stood in my way two years ago, and I don’t think I’ve tried it since. I might have tried it last year very briefly with Longshlong but I can’t remember doing so. Anyway, I suddenly decided to go back there to finish this story, and find out what a difference 2 years makes. I’d not been back to Fata on purpose, because it was a chapter I’d opened with Sara, and I really wanted her to be there when I did it, but these things don’t always work out. Whilst warming up I set a move on the board that resembled the crux of fata and then tried it for 10 mins to warm up a bit more. I eventually did it, but decided it was most definitely harder, or my memory was deceiving me. Certainly a lot can change in 2 years, and this really hit home as I walked up to Fata Morgana. The first time I went there there was barely a path up the hillside to the block but now there is a 1m wide path leading the way. Clearly this is the natural development of a crag that climbers visit, but it just reminded me that nothing stays the same. You either choose to improve or you don’t, and if you don’t you regress. I cleaned all the holds, and found the top ones were a little damp, including the pocket, but I didn’t think it would present a problem. Nothing a bit of chalk couldn’t sort out. I tried the crux move and it came as a massive surprise when I slapped round but couldn’t even feel the pocket! When I looked at my finger marks I realised it was because I’d gone 2 inches past the hold, which was a welcome relief! Next go I did the move (without even cutting loose!), but had the pocket badly and slipped out as I was reaching up to the left hand pocket. This was already a massive improvement on 2 years ago so I was pleased. Third go I got the pocket again, got the next left hand pocket, and was setting up for the final move to the jug. It just felt so easy, like I couldn’t even comprehend how I’d failed 2 years ago. Just as I was reaching up to the jug, and probably already tasting victory, my right hand violently ripped off. My left hand was first to hit the ground, missing the pad, and getting very muddy in the process. My bum hit the ground next and my head barely missed the boulder behind the problem. I was initially in a bit of shock because it had hurt, but that soon turned to being a bit pissed off. Ripping off had really trashed my right index finger, and it was hurting a lot. I tried to pull on again but the pain was a bit too much and I couldn’t bare to weight that finger. Oh well, sometimes you win, and sometimes you win. I’d won, because in my mind I’d done this problem. Clearly I’d fallen off, but the demon had been slayed. It felt easy and I knew it would only take another go or two to actually get to the top. I really wanted to try Satan i Helvete, 8B, anyway, so a return visit was already pencilled in to my minds diary. My session was over, but I was taking something really positive away from it. I’d returned to a move from 2 years ago, and as such was able to compare, very directly, just how I’d changed as a climber. Not only am I stronger now, but I’m more aware, my footwork is better, my understanding is deeper, and this is progress.

Although I think I’ll only stay for a few more weeks, I’m feeling positive that I can get some more things done that I want to do. I’ve also rekindled some love for training, and I’m hoping that I can get some sessions in too, so I can begin the long process of increasing my base level. The bottom line is that I’ve found my motivation and it all came from a small piece of inspiration which was Ramon Julian saying how he trained 6-7 hours a day. As soon as I heard that I just wished I could be training 6-7 hours a day. That is what makes him great and puts him on top of the sport climbing world. Thank you Ramon.

68 is a happy number. How nice!

I was feeling on a high after the weekend, but also very, very sore. My shoulders were aching through till Tuesday, and then my lats picked up where the shoulders left on on Wednesday. I’ve also had a uni deadline this week so I’ve been mainly sat trying to figure out how confident I am in predicting how various things are distributed. It all sounds so simple, but then I end up staring at an equation which has parameters that mean nothing to me! It’s not very reassuring, but thankfully I got it finished (sort of) and handed in.

Wednesday afternoon I was fed up with the stats and not feeling particularly well so went out to meet Neil and Tim for a bit of a walk at Elephant Nord. I’d never been up there before and although there is nothing very hard, there are some interesting bits of rock. I joined them as they were about to set off on a 7A slab called Tour de Gard. I had taken my boots just in case, and it looked inviting, so I figured it would be a nice warm up, but it turned out rather differently. Firstly, I couldn’t reach the second move how Tim and Neil were doing it, so that called for a rather hard move to reach the mono. Mono?!? On a warm up! Then there was a tricky finger swap on the mono and then a smeary move to a decent sidepull jug. It was certainly harder than I wanted it to be, but I made it to the top. Next up was the problem just to it’s right, Christiansen, 7A/+. Once again, I was thinking it would be a good warm up, but I was once again so far off the mark. It required hard pulling, hard positions, and nearly resulted in failure. Thankfully I made it to the top after a number of efforts, just deciding to pull harder on the successful attempt, which wasn’t what I wanted to do, but needed to do. The next problem was something that Neil said was 6C, so it had to be easy… NOPE! Coquine Blues, 7A, is a one move affair, which I probably didn’t do in the easiest way, but the easiest way wasn’t easy either. I was really struggling on these problems, they all felt hard, and I certainly felt heavy! Falling is only one letter different from failing, and both of them are easy to do because gravity is always there to lend a hand. What a nice guy. I really should have known to quit, but foolishly pressed on. Tim and I walked round to Coup de Lune, 7B+/C, as I thought it would be an easy flash. A day of serious misjudgements as it would turn out. I fell on the flash, fell on the 2nd go, the 3rd, the 4th, ad infinitum (well, nearly). It was a very long move to a rather poor hold and before long I atleast had a bit of common sense left to walk away. I didn’t have enough common sense to leave the crag though… so Tim and I wandered over to Glamorama, 8A. I realised I could barely pull on, so walked away immediately, but then a magnificent arete/pillar caught my eye and I had to have a go. It was black number 33, so I figured it wouldn’t be too hard, only a little scary. I got up to the last move, realised it involved a very balancy foot placement, and I hastily escaped back a few moves and to the ground. I did have a few more goes but the holds were clean, I was worried about slipping off, and basically I was being a total pus. Turns out it is 6C+/7A and called Le Pilier Legendaire (a fitting name). We packed up, said goodbye to Elephant, but instead of saying hello to some food and a hot bath, we were driving to Boissy aux Cailles to check out a great looking slab called La Nombriliste, 7. It is an amazing piece of rock, totally out of place in the valley which it sits. We bumped into some Americans (of which 2 were 8B climbers…) and none of them had done it. Pants down? Tim and I tried our best but our best just wasn’t good enough and we ended up taking our pants down too (in the non gayest sense). The moon guided us back out the forest, but we vowed to return!

I’d heard about a project at Boigneville, which is close by, that is supposed to be great looking, hard, and waiting for an ascent. I went up to have a look on Thursday afternoon and bumped into a keen French man, whom I recognised as none other than the font beast Francois Louvel.  He had the scene covered, a rope with a shunt to clean it, a ladder to access it, 2 massive thick foam pads, and then 3 bouldering pads on top. The line was certainly magnificent. An overhanging prow, high enough to be scary, but not too high to be dangerous, with holds leading the way up. He gave me a quick run down, but somewhere in the midst of all the Franglais it seemed to me that he might have actually done it from a stand start, but was trying to add one move at the start to complete the line. The move was about font 5, and wouldn’t have made any difference to the grade, but it would have improved the line. I’m not entirely sure if he has actually done it, but the fact he had given it a name, Intensite, and said it was about 8A lead me to conclude he has. It does look about the same level of difficulty as Partage, 8A+, so I said something like “so, easier than Partage” to which he replies something like “no, a little harder maybe. Partage is very technical, but this is more powerful”. Hmmm… sounded amazing, looked amazing, and I was very keen for a go. But my skin was in a bad way so I hatched plans to return in the morning. Before I left he had some goes, and was crushing the bottom bit, but falling off what looked like a tricky move at about 2/3 height.

The morning came and it wasn’t raining, my skin was sore but useable, so I went back up to Boigneville. Tim came with me, and we warmed up on a couple of 7A’s that Francois had shown us. Well, they were supposed to be 7A. The first was a very cool arete, that would have been entirely at home in the peak district. Such great movement, but felt a bit hard for 7A. Tim didn’t manage it which means something! The second was also an arete, but a 1 move affair. I flashed it, and it felt much easier than the other 7A, but Tim didn’t get it either. I think Francois may well be somewhat of a sandbagger. But the main meat was to come, and we moved on to Intensite. I fully expected to get to Francois’ high point fairly easily, as he made it look tres facile. Turns out he’s a beast and it’s not easy at all. In fact, it was very hard. I did some of the moves, but moves that he made look easy utilised holds that I could barely hang. I was genuinely shocked. There is no way it was 8A, that’s for sure. I kept plugging away and made a bit of progress, but I hadn’t been able to reach the move that Francois was falling off. I think I could do the moves, but in my opinion they certainly warranted some bigger numbers. It actually felt as hard as Kheops, 8B, which although I haven’t done I have tried enough to know. I thrashed myself but had no joy, I tried a number of different sequences but no joy. My only joy was the memory of watching him cruise the moves that I couldn’t do! When we left I left a note in the dirt beneath the problem saying “C’est trop difficile pour moi. Je Pense 8B?”. I hope it atleast provides him with some amusement…

Not content with finishing the day just yet, we returned to La Nombriliste. It was a little damp from the rain, but not too damp to halt proceedings. We got on and started trying again. The crux move is a long reach from a small foothold with no handholds (other than a strange palm if you can get in the right position) to a smallish pocket. Then you have another move to the top, then some slopers to mantle onto (from which one of the Americans fell time after time). Neither Tim nor I had managed to reach the pocket, and we were no closer to figuring out the move. Tim was probably closer than I was, but then I changed beta. The way we were trying involved reaching up smoothly, staticly, and fluidly with your left hand to the pocket (because you’re right is palming). I went against the grain, didn’t use the palm, and jumped/popped for the pocket with my right hand. I had a feeling it would work if I could keep my foot on too, but the problem had always been with the feet slipping off. After a rediscovery of the joys of the old pink anasazi’s I knew it was possible with my jump method. I was getting closer and closer to getting my fingers accurately in the pocket, and my foot wasn’t popping off. Eventually I hit it, and one more tenuous foot move allowed me to pop for the sloper at the top. Quite how the American chap could fall off here so many times was beyond me, as they were semi decent holds. I ran my feet up and mantled to glory. I was pretty psyched actually, because it’s a wonderful slab, and it was genuinely tricky for me. Unfortunately the video camera had dies, but fortunately it means I get to go back and do it again! If you’re reading this Adam (Long) you need to put this on your tick list for the next font trip. I really can’t recommend it enough and I know you’re the one person who will appreciate it more than most! There aren’t any small holds to pull on, only great delicate movement with smears for feet. It’s wonderful!

Earlier in the day as we left Boigneville, Tim asked me which list I was going to put Intensite on. I currently have several lists of boulder problems, which helps me stay on top of things (otherwise I’d just go crazy and try everything, everywhere). I have one “life long” font ticklist, one “to-try” list, and one short term “concentrate on” list. There is a fluid movement between the lists, but I try to stick to them. This week has been an exception on all fronts. It’s almost been a holiday week from climbing actually. I’ve not put pressure on myself to go and try Dune, or to try another hard problem. I think that it’s because I found success in Switzerland I’m just having a bit of downtime, a post success laziness. I’ve also been feeling rather tired all week, had stats coming out my ears, and generally not on top of the world. I think it’s also because I’ve been here for quite a while now plus other non climbing things are weighing heavily on my mind. Conditions have moved on considerably. Gone are the cold crisp mornings, the thermals, and the flasks of tea. Now we’ve got warm temperatures, April showers, and in some ways I’m getting a bit low on psyche. There are things going on in England that really need my attention, but I also want to stay here and climb some more. I found out that Dune was actually the first 8B+ in the forest, which only increased my desire to try it, but I’m still not sure if I can even do it at the moment. It’s hard and I’m beginning to feel weak. I’m hoping that it’s just due to this being a hectic week for me, and now the stats is over I can begin to get back into climbing. I’ve also been thinking that I need to return to some form of training, increase my base level a little bit before another extended trip. I know my fingers are mightily weak and they will need work before heading out to Magic Wood. It’s just that I don’t really like crimping…

I’m not sure how long I’ll remain out here now, but I can’t see it being more than 3 or 4 weeks. I hope I can make it a productive few weeks, and not slip into laziness. Maybe I should check for tick bites actually…

Day 62 and 63

62 is the only number whose cube (238328) consists of 3 digits each occurring 2 times, whilst 63 is a Woodall number and a Harshad number.

Something a little different in this entry, as I eschewed the forest and drove like a madman for hours on end! Sara came down from Belgium for the weekend, and we were both psyched to head down to Switzerland, although for rather different reasons. For so long I’ve wanted to visit Branson, the home of La Danse de Balrog and Radja, the first 8B and 8B+, respectively. Fred Nicole did these problems in the early 90′s as you probably know, but it seems to me that they don’t get the attention they deserve. These problems should be on any wannabe’s tick list in my opinion, and they are certainly high on mine. After seeing a video of Sebastian Spauwen climbing it recently it kicked started me into motion so I decided to stop being a wus and just head down there.

We set off on Saturday morning and 4.5 hours later we arrived at the very sunny, very beautiful village of Branson. I was so psyched to be stood in front of the bloc which Nicole first gazed on back in the nineties, and then proceeded to crush. It was mid afternoon so the sun was shining down nice and warm, so we did the only sensible thing and sat in the sun eating! When it started cooling down we began warming up. There is a perfect little warm up block just before the Radja block with a number of 5′s and 6′s. I was struggling to get warm but eventually the fingers began working and we moved around the corner. I was really impressed the first time my eyes set upon the Radja block. It doesn’t look so great in the videos but it’s an impressive block. A wide overhanging face with a handful of 8th grade problems on really cool pinch-esque holds. It’s clearly a historical bit of rock, but in addition to that it’s actually really good. Since I saw the video of la Danse de Balrog I had imagined trying the moves, trying to remember all the movements, but also a bit intrepid to try such a classic problem. During the drive down I was a little nervous because I didn’t want to arrive and get totally shut down. But I’d watched the video so many times, the holds looked alright, and very much in my style. I love to pinch and every hold required you to squeeze with your thumb. Now that I was stood below it, brushing the holds, I could see that the holds were ok and I thought I should be able to do the moves. But I’ve learned in the past that holds which appear to be good often lead to very hard boulder problems. I decided to have a flash go, because you only get one chance and anything is worth a shot, so I cleaned my boots and sat down. I knew the sequence, I just had to execute. I pulled on, slapped for the first move, and proceeded to land on the pad. Clearly I’ve got room to improve in this department! I’d hit the second hold badly, with my thumb in the wrong place and that was the end. It was quite a sharp hold to slap for so I didn’t try that move again. I knew from that tentative go that I could do it. I then worked the moves upwards, starting at the second and finishing at the top. I figured out exactly where to put my feet, did all the moves without too many problems, and decided that for me the crux would be a foot movement in the middle. I was already nursing a split tip from last week and a hole in the side of my ring finger thanks to a DIY accident, but I was all taped up and ready for another go. I knew exactly how to take each hold, I just needed to do it now. I decided to have another go, knowing that I just had to grab each hold correctly and I could get to the top. I knew I was capable of the moves, but was I capable of the link? I pulled on, slapped for the first move and hit the hold perfectly. I knew I could do it now, as I had done the rest of the moves, so I just had to not let go and execute. My feet went on just where I wanted, and the foot movement that I thought would be the crux just breezed past. I guess I was pulling much harder on the link, desperate not to fall off. I set up for the last tricky move, which you can do with a kneebar but clearly I wasn’t about to do that. It’s such a great move, just like something from the 50 board at the school! I went for it and hit the hold! A tricky heel hook to bring my left hand up and I only had one long but steady move to the jug. I later found out that Dave Graham had fallen off that move on the flash but he was using the kneebar method which sets you up slightly differently. What a beast. I slapped with all my might to the final jug and BOOM! I was there. I was shocked, elated, amazed, and really fulfilled. I’d arrived a bit nervous as to just how hard it would be and now I was stood beneath it having done it second go (first go is flash go, right?). Nicole had climbed the same thing (nearly) in 1992… BEAST! I realised as I stood on the ground that I was bleeding, and it came as no surprise to see I’d split a tip. What is wrong with my skin? Why is it so weak? I suppose it’s a good thing I did it that go! I was riding high on adrenaline so I thought it was worth trying Radja. I taped up and had a few tentative goes at the moves but my skin was hurting a little too much so I decided to leave it for the following morning.

Climbing La Danse de Balrog so quickly really made me think. It highlighted some major things that have changed in climbing since 1992, mainly with regard to training methods. Clearly in the 80′s and 90′s there were some serious beasts around (Nicole, Gullich, Moon, Moffatt, etc) but training for climbing wasn’t as accessible. With training venues now being severely overhanging boards, campus boards, fingerboards, etc everybody is training power. The average level of power is definitely higher, and so coming to a piece of rock like the Radja block is like a test of all the training moves I’ve done in the past few years. Perhaps all climbing is like that in reality, but these problems are quite basic, requiring a lot of shoulder, back, and arm power. That is why it’s possible to do them very quickly. The new generation of beasts like Ondra, Woods, Landman, Robinson, and Graham are performing at another level. They are able to climb very hard but also in very short amounts of time. I wonder if the next generation will be able to climb 8C’s in a session? Probably, that’s evolution I suppose.

Anyway, we went to a lovely Chambres d’hotes in Branson for the night. Our room had such an amazing view… all we could see were snow topped mountains and blue skies above. Suffice to say it made for an incredible wake up call. However, my shoulders were aching after the short but intense use they received the day before. I wanted to have a session on Radja before we left and Sara was keen for a bit of crushing of her own. We had our breakfast up at the rocks whilst enjoying the view and the warm sunshine. We got warmed up on the mini radja block and Sara had her sights set on the 6C problem on it. I did it using a completely duff sequence and knew I had to find another way if Sara was going to get up it. Luckily it wasn’t too complicated and I found a method that I knew she could do. I showed her once and then left her to do it. Climbing with Sara is good for me because it reminds me that I wasn’t always as aware of how to climb as I am now. Sometimes I expect her to be able to remember sequences like people remember the day of the week, and it’s a bit unfair. I’ve enveloped myself in climbing so it’s easy for me to remember climbing related things, but Sara is still learning, developing, and improving. So I should say sorry to Sara for not being patient enough sometimes. She was falling off on the link because she kept forgetting what to do, not because she couldn’t do the moves. I left her to it and soon enough I saw her topping out. She then proceeded to inform me it was the second time she’d done it, and then she did it again for the camera! Great!!!

Frederic Moix turned up and I was glad to meet him. He was the one who’d given me all the information and beta for Branson. What a nice guy! He showed me the original sequence that Fred Nicole used on la Danse and on Radja. He explained how a variation had then been climbed on la Danse which was graded 8A+/B, and then went on to explain that last year he found a new method of doing the first move. It sounds a bit contrived, but it makes a lot of sense when you are in front of the block. The new method for the start means you do 1 move instead of 3, and this is how Sebastien Spauwen climbed it (as you may have seen in the video). However, it is a bit easier but this is not a variation or a different start. This is the most logical way to climb it, being the easiest method, and not eliminant. From the point you pull on for the new start it is only 30 or 40cm to the start holds that Nicole used. I tried the moves on the original start and did them ok. I kind of wish I knew that information for my previous session because I’m sure I could have done that start, which is still regarded as a benchmark 8B. I would have liked to climb it the same way as Nicole, if only to know that I was following in the footsteps of greatness. Frederic showed me how to climb Radja and left it in my hands to do it. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. It is a hard problem and very physical on the shoulders and lower back. I did do the moves but only individually. The crux is a 2 move sequence and would warrant 8A+ on it’s own. The moves are really good though, and I’m already harboring a desire to return to the bloc. I had a fair number of goes at the moves on Radja but the skin on my thumbs was just too sore and I had to quit. That goes to show how thumb intensive the holds are, much to my delight!

We got our stuff together, packed the car, and began the long journey back to font. It was an even longer journey for Sara as she was continuing on to Belgium! The journey wasn’t without incident though, as tomtom got stuck in a loop that took us in a big circle of about 20 miles. Don’t trust sat nav over common sense is the lesson to be learned there! The next incident occurred about halfway along the journey when I got pulled over for speeding. Luckily I wasn’t going too fast because Sara had just woken up so I was talking to her. As the policeman wrote on the whiteboard in large letters, “168km/h = 90€”. We paid and got on our way without any hassle. Luckily we weren’t on the receiving end of the €1350 fine that some other poor bastard was getting whilst we were in there! Ouch. Financially, it was a rather unwise trip as it ended up costing a fair bit… €50 payage fees, €65 accomodation, €120 diesel, €30 food, €90 po-po tax. All in, €355 for one boulder problem. Probably the most expensive problem I’ve ever done…

I don’t know when I’ll get to go back to Branson, but I’m definitely keen. It’s a bit too far to go for a one night trip, so next time it will be for at least one week. Frederic also told me about an amazing place called Fionnay that Graham crushed so I would love to see it at the next opportunity. I hope that next time I return I can do Radja. That would be a dream come true for me. In fact, it would perhaps be one of my greatest climbing goals, to repeat the world’s first 8B+. I think I can probably do it, but it will be very hard, that’s for sure. No, wait, I’m sure I can do it. Maybe not next trip, but I know I can do it if I want it enough, and I do. Now I’m back in font, it’s raining, and I need some rest.

I’ll update this post in a day or two with a link to the video from our little swiss trip…

58 is the maximal number of regions into which a plane can be divided by 8 circles.

Two days of climbing in a row! Oh what a joy! I have to confess that I was carrying a split tip into todays session due to vanity and ego. After I got up Gourmandise yesterday, I wanted to get some different camera angles and close up shots of some holds. I set the camera up to record the first 4 moves and climbed them, only to afterwards see that I had split a tip and it was now bleeding all over my fingers. I was pleased that I had climbed it on the previous go, but annoyed that I had split my tip for the sake of good video!

The weather was looking good for today so I had to make a decision about what to do. It was a choice between an easy day doing some of the classics I want to do, like Irreversible, or a session on something I’ve had a quick play on, like Narcotic Direct, or a new project. I sat outside in the morning sun deciding what to do, perusing my overly long lifetime tick list of the forest. In the end I decided to have a go on something hard, something that I had tried for 15 mins 2 years ago, and something that had been in my mind for the past few weeks. I mentioned that trying Gourmandise had been great training for undercuts, tension, and power, well, that was essentially the warm up act for Dune, 8B+. Two years ago I tried this with James, because we were on a mission to see/try every hard problem in the forest. We didn’t manage to ascend any of them, but we did see every hard problem that had been done at the time. I’d tried Dune for 15 minutes simply because we’d walked all the way down there and I thought it was worth a feeler. It was hard, but even back then I thought that one day it might be possible. Today I was genuinely intrigued as to how it would feel. Had my memories been warped by rose tinted spectacles, or was this a good problem that was possible for me to do?

Before we went to dune Neil wanted to do a dyno called Nouvelle Vague, 7B+ (Neil’s video here). After a quick warm up on Petit Homme for me (none for Neil!) we got on the dyno. I didn’t want to have a go because I don’t think dynos are all they’re cracked up to be, but after seeing Neil try it I decided to have 3 goes. You are supposed to jump to a slightly incut jug, but it looked so sharp that I decided I better try jumping for a sloper next to it instead. My prediction of it’s sharpness came true when Neil latched the top only to slip off and find a huge flapper on his finger. I failed 3 times in a row, but the third go I had my hand on the sloper. It was worth one more go and luckily I held on. I think it’s rather easy, and probably more like 7A+/B but what does that matter really? I left Neil there quested off along the ridge to Dune. Salamander is a proper Boar Nation area. I’ve seen boar there before, so I am always a bit intrepid when walking around through their hood. I think someone wrote a song called Boar’s with Beretta’s and that pretty much sums up the fear they’ve instilled in me in the past. Last year, Sara and I were walking along when 5 of them came running out of some trees towards us which prompted me to take evasive action by clambering on a rock leaving Sara frozen on the ground. Luckily they turned and ran off in another direction, but I should apologise to Sara for not saving her first! Anyway, ever since then I’ve had the fear. As I walked to Dune I came across fresh boar tracks, fresh pits, and then fresh pooh. Great. I was sneaking along trying to stay alert for any sounds, but also aware that being silent meant I might stumble right onto a boar. It’s alright once you actually come across a boar because once they’ve seen you they are likely to run off, meaning there are no boar in the area, but it’s the build up to the sighting that instils the fear. In fact, not seeing boars is more scary because the longer the time that passes when you haven’t seen one, you become more sure that you’re just about to see one! Seeing one then becomes some great relief, a moment of joy that relieves you from your fear! My moment of joy never arrived though, only a continuation of the perpetual feeling of fear. That is until I reached Dune. For some reason when you have a pad unfurled, chalk on your hands, and v10′s on your feet you feel safe. I have no idea why, but I would guess that climbing is within the comfort zone for most climbers, so whilst climbing you tend not to be worrying about boar nation. Certainly it’s true for me.
Once at Dune I scrubbed the top of the bloc as best I could, and cleaned the relevant bits and bobs, as there was moss reclaiming the top holds. For those who haven’t seen this bloc, it’s essentially a one move 8B+. I climbed from the 1st move in to the end, and would hazard a guess that it’s about 7B/+. The jump start gets 7B actually, but in reality the jump start is about 6C. So, one move into a 7B/+ and you have an 8B+. It stands to reason that it’s going to be a hard move, and it is. There are 2 undercuts and 1 smear of a foothold. You pull on into a near enough horizontal position whilst trying to maintain tension at all times otherwise a plummet to earth awaits. It’s hard to pull on, harder to hold on, harder again to actually feel like you can take your right hand off, then very hard to actually move, and harder still to get the hold. My first few goes resulted in me landing ass first on the pad, but as I had more attempts I began landing on my feet which was a great sign. I was inching closer to the hold but not quite there. The start position is so tenuous to hold, but you also have to move your body enough to generate some sort of upward momentum.

The pictures (still grabs from video – sorry for low quality) give some indication as to what the move is like. My best effort resulted in me being a couple of inches away from the hold. Hitting it is going to be the next stage, and the stage after that will be hanging on. It’s a half decent hold, only because it’s compression between the left hand undercut and the right hand sloper. The rest of the problem is just 3 campus moves and a rockover, which as I said before is trivial. The question on my mind now is whether I can do it. It is very hard, certainly one of the hardest moves I’ve ever tried on rock. I feel a little bit greedy for trying an 8B+ too, since I feel it’s almost a cocky thing to do. I certainly don’t want it to appear like that, but can easily understand such thinking. I think I’m going to stay here for another month at the most, so now the question is whether I think I can do it in a month of trying. Do I want this more than I want to do all the other classic 8A’s? Why do I want to do this? In all honesty, the answer is because it’s 8B+. Clearly that’s the next level, and the next level is always the next challenge. Should I accept it? I’ve not decided yet, and I need a couple of rest days to do some uni work so I’ll use them to ponder about motivation, goals, desires and the reasons behind them.

Desire is the key to motivation, but it’s the determination and commitment to an unrelenting pursuit of your goal – a commitment to excellence – that will enable you to attain the success you seek. -Mario Andretti

59 is the 17th smallest prime number. The next is sixty-one, with which it comprises a twin prime. 59 is an irregular prime, a safe prime and the 14th supersingular prime. It is an Eisenstein prime as well as a Pillai prime.

The last few days have been spent sorting out video editing issues, but in every idle moment all I’ve thought about is why I hadn’t yet got to the top of Gourmandise. Each night I’ve fallen asleep thinking about what is actually standing in my way. I’ve thought about sequences, body positions, foot movements, and I have been left answer less. There is no explanation as to why I haven’t crushed that bloc into oblivion. Although it hasn’t exactly been a siege, it has involved siege tactics. Due to my horrific skin I’ve been climbing day on, 4 off. It’s a bad situation, and over the past 2 weeks I think I’ve only climbed 4 times. The previous session on day 52 really messed up the nail on my left index finger and it continues to hurt now. But I’ve also seen the positive to it all. Without realising, my failure has been preparing me for my next project(s). Undercuts, body tension, and power are all things that I could do with in large amounts to have any chance of future success.

Last night I was missing climbing a lot. I feel bad if I don’t climb for 2 days, let alone 3, 4, or 5 days. I guess climbing has become such a core part of my being that I feel like it’s something I really need to do. I’d had 4 days off, and my nail was still hurting, but Dave Graham had come round so after a brief chat with him I felt inspired. When I speak with someone who has achieved so much I ask myself a series of questions. The main thing I take away is inspiration to continue on the path to improvement, that never ending path that has no ultimate goal, but only n+1 steps. Armed with inspiration I took to the woody for a small warm up session to check what state I was in and how bad my fingernail was. The answer? Well, it really hurt to pull the laces on my shoes, but it didn’t hurt to pull on the holds. I did about 30mins of climbing/deadhanging then decided not to push it any further. The forecast for this morning was good. Cold and with a chance of sunshine, it would be perfect as long as it didn’t rain during the night.

Luckily it didn’t rain during the night, instead deciding to snow! I looked out my window first thing and saw a white rooftop, and snow covering my car, the ground, and just about everything else. Perfect. I just hoped the top few holds on Gourmandise had managed to avoid being saturated by snow or melt water. It didn’t take long to eat breakfast, make a flask, pack the video camera and get up to Cuvier. All the way the roads were wet in the shade, dry in the sun, and the forest had a wonderful white blanket covering it. It looked really nice, and obviously I was reminded of Ben and Jerry playing in the snow… what a beautiful moment. Once at Cuvier I was happy to see the boulders all looking dry. It was as if the big man had decided that in order to increase the beauty of the forest there should be snow everywhere, but so as not to disrupt the climbers, all the blocs should be kept dry and clean. Whoever said bouldering was freedom from all the faff of climbing was doing something very different to what I’m doing these days;

I was loaded up, psyched up, and ready to finish this saga. Much to my relief, Gourmandise was pretty much entirely dry. I unloaded, brushed/chalked all the holds, and went off to warm up. It’s nice up at Rempart because it’s never busy (not that I’ve ever seen anyway). There were another couple of people up there but that was it. I did some problems I’d done before to warm up, but kept it short because I didn’t want to risk hurting my nail or my skin. Back down to Gourmandise and I thought I better clarify exactly which sequence I was going to use for what bit. Basically, I had two methods for the middle bit, and two methods for the last bit. The middle bit was either the original power method or the new heelhook method. I was sure I would use the heelhook method since it saved a hard move at the expense of a tenuous heelhook (for me anyway). The problem lies in that when your heel sits perfectly it’s solid, but even a few mm above or below and you’re facing a fall. I tried the heelhook move a few times, and I just couldn’t get it to work. Without Sara there to help with the placement I couldn’t get it to sit properly. Shit. That left the power method… but I’d tried this way, and fallen too many times. I was confused, so decided to figure out which of the two end methods to use. Either a tricky move or a possible barndoor were the options I faced. I tried both, but the barndoor method predictably caused me to fall off every go. The tricky move method felt fine, but I new it would be tricky on the link. However, I made the decision to use the tricky method. Back to the heelhook method. I figured I should have a go from the start, so chalked up, pulled on, got half way through when suddenly I realised I’d forgotten to turn the camera on. Suffice to say that the moment I realised that, even though I told myself to keep going, I fell on the next move. It was a good first go though, and I felt strong so I set the camera on and hit record. I tried the heelhook move again but fell off again. I was getting a bit pissed about it, because with someone else there I knew I could get it on perfectly and finish this thing. But that wasn’t an option so I decided to have another go from the start. I did the first moves without a problem, set up for the jump, latched it, and then started to put the heel on. I wasn’t sure if it was solid, but as long as it didn’t come off I would be happy. You have to do 4 moves off the heelhook, and it can’t move or come off during any of them. The first move went fine, and at that point I knew the heel was good. Then the second. Then the third, which was the point of my redpoint crux. I was through the move, I had the hold well, and I was pulling overly hard. The fourth move went fine, my heel was still on, I was so close. My fingers had started to lose feeling though, probably because I wasn’t warmed up enough, but I was so damn close to the end that I had to hang on. Surely this was THE GO. I jumped out to the next left hand hold with the expectation that my right hand was going to rip off but it didn’t. A small power scream at myself to not let go fired the next move off, and I was at the point where I needed to decide which method to use for the end. I’d chosen the tricky method, but I knew my fingers were too cold now to risk a tenuous move like that, so I reverted to the barndoor method. This way you get a jug with your left hand, but you end up being so wide that when you move your right hand it’s easy to just fall off. I took that jug and pulled so freaking hard that I decided if I did start to barn door I wouldn’t fall off. I crushed the move out of necessity. I think a fall there would have crushed the spirit and confounded it to a dark place. Two more moves and I was on top. It was finished. I sat down and just basked in the sun, which had suddenly popped out to bask me in it’s heat. It felt pretty good. I always think the moment you top out on a project is a very interesting one. It’s the product of all your effort, but also the end of a chapter. I tried to saviour the process I’d been through to get there. I knew from the 1st session I was capable of this bloc, but it’s complexity had unravelled itself the more I tried it. Finally, everything worked and I made it though.

Afterwards I just sat in the sun, drank some tea, ate a sandwhich and allowed myself to feel good. My thoughts were already onto the next project though. That’s why in climbing there is no end. There are n+1 goals, projects, aspirations. That’s also why it’s so great. You can never get to a point where you have reached the top. It’s not like completing a video game whereby you read the end, it’s a constantly evolving beast that lures you like a donkey and a carrot. I think I’ll be here for another few weeks at least, and I hope to reach my next goal, only to then set another. That’s part of the pursuit of excellence. You can never be perfect or truly excellent, you can only keep trying. So that’s what I’m doing, I’m trying…

54 can be written as the sum of three squares in three different ways: 7² + 2² + 1² = 6² + 2(3²) = 2(5²) + 2² = 54. It is the smallest number with this property.

I’m beginning to become reticent about writing these blog entries. I feel as though I should be returning with tales of success, or adventure, or at the very least silly stories about half naked men running through the trees screaming like chimps. Unfortunately I have nothing of the sort, only sad tales involving bad skin and failure.

Perhaps all this failure blogging will give some insight into the process of sieging. Chris Doyle is one of the masters of the siege. I think sometimes he prefers a good siege over actually doing a hard problem quickly. The process is a long hard battle but as with most long hard battle’s, the victory is one of irrepressible delight. I wouldn’t actually describe by current attack of Gourmandise as a siege. I’ve only had 3 sessions on it, which isn’t a lot by the standards of the masters of siege. I guess it is feeling like the beginning of a siege because I am so freaking close but not actually on top of the boulder. So each day that I walk up there I begin thinking things like “will today be the day”, which in my opinion is a siege mentality.

Today’s session was, however, cut rather short. Before trying it from the start I wanted to have a thorough test of the heelhook beta. I had discounted it after only having 2 goes at it, and today I began to think that I should give it the time of day. Previously I wrote that I wasn’t using the easiest sequence, but it was one that would work and as a bi-product it would also yield excellent moves. But today I thought that by sticking with this I am denying myself the opportunity to go and try all the other wonderful things on my ticklist. If I can only finish Gourmandise off then I can move on to some of the other gems that are awaiting my feathered forearms. With that in mind I spent 15 minutes trying the heelhook sequence, only to discover that it does work, it is easier, and I should be using it. Obviously I only had a finite number of goes in me during any given session, and I was SO close to doing it with my old sequence of power that I thought it was worth one last shot. I tried, but got to the same point, past the crux moves, then greased off. I think to use my power sequence requires much better conditions as you have to do many moves with your right hand on the same hold, each move only furthering the sweat oozing out of my tips. But it was time to move on, to realise that I was fooling myself, and to begin the process of optimizing a new sequence. I had my next go from the start with the aim of using the heelhook sequence, but the result of the go was a small split tip on my right ring finger. Great. I taped it up and got prepared for my next goes. I don’t like heelhooks generally because to use a heelhook implies that you need to take weight off your arms with your heel. I suppose that’s what feet do in general, but heels make more use of that fact. I also don’t like heelhooks because they are not as secure as a toe. I have half decent body tension and strong toes (I think) so I can pull pretty hard with them in a very specific way. My heels are not honed in the same way, so I spent the next two goes falling due to my heel sliding off. It was partly because it wasn’t sitting quite right on the 4mm spike that holds it on (sounds like some Si o’joke shizzle) and partly because I’m just not that good with my heels. The next go was better and saw me get through the crux only to fall due to a misunderstanding of the physics of the move. The change in sequence was taking a bit of getting used to. The next go resulted in a huge flapper on my right ring finger when I tried to adjust it but instead slipped straight off. It was bleeding but nothing a ream of tape couldn’t solve. I was getting a bit battered and the flapper was causing a lot of pain even under tape. Sara helped me to realise it was time to leave but I thought I’d have a quick go from the 8A+ start using the new heelhook sequence, as good practice for next time. It all went fine, I passed the crux, then passed my old redpoint crux, and was at the (virtual) end. Whilst doing the final couple of moves to top out my left hand greased off like lightning and I was on the ground/Sara’s arms. Luckily for me she was there as I had gone past the pads in the landing zone. Unluckily for me, whilst greasing off I managed to seperate the end of my nail from my finger, which was now pouring with blood. Great.

That was truly the end, and after a few paracetamol and a pain au chocolat we left for greener pastures. It probably sounds like a total disaster but it wasn’t for me. True, I am sick of falling off, tearing skin, and failing, but I am happy that I’m still making progress. With the new heelhook sequence I have eliminated the move which I have been falling off on the link. It means that next time I simply have to go there with good skin, a refined sequence, some sweet pastries, and ascend the boulder. I guess with a siege the point at which disillusion sets in is when you fail to see progress. When you become stagnant it’s probably very, very hard to continue. The Japanese tend to have a rather good philosophy on these things, which I think is so prevalent throughout their culture. Koyomada is perhaps the greatest sieger of them all, spending over 100 days on his most beastly creation in Japan. The 16th century swordsman Miyamoto Musashi said;
“Aspire to be like Mt. Fuji, with such a broad and solid foundation that the strongest earthquake cannot move you, and so tall that the greatest enterprises of common men seem insignificant from your lofty perspective. With your mind as high as Mt Fuji you can see all things clearly. And you can see all the forces that shape events; not just the things happening near to you.”

It’s this vision that is employed during the siege, the ability to picture a final success, and the mindset to focus without losing purpose. Although I’m not in siege mode, I have great empathy with it, and I actually hope to be able to enter it at some point in my climbing life.