English man in Font

Since returning from font I’ve fallen straight back into a regime of training. This in itself is strange for me because I usually have a bit of down time after a long climbing trip, but this time I started training after being back home for 2 days. I would like to put it down to a renewed sense of urgency to improve, because I was taken up in a hot air balloon and I glimpsed what was beyond the horizon, but now I’m back on Earth and feel like I need to sprint like crazy to get there.

There is only one problem amidst this psyche to improve, it’s the fact that climbing alone in my garage can be uncomfortably boring. I’m not enjoying these sessions spent deadhanging, or spent repeating my hardest problems with ease. I don’t have a sense of satisfaction from it all. Dobbin mentioned to me that he never built his own board for the sole reason that a lack of motivation for training alone would hinder him from using it. At least this is what I understood him to be saying. However, I don’t have that same issue. I know it’s boring, I know it’s not fun, but I still make that journey from my room to the garage. I still put the hours of training in. It might not be fun but this desire to improve has become some dark beast within me that I almost have no control over. At what point will it become fruitful, at what point will I be happy with my level? This question has also been plaguing me somewhat. As I’ve written previously, my next major goal is to do an 8B+, but then what? I’ll be in the same position I am today. Those n+1 steps don’t ever stop, they just keep you pushing like a carrot on a stick. Sometimes I even feel great solidarity with the ass. I know that following an 8B+ I will have a desire to seek out 8C. It all sounds so ridiculous when I voice these thoughts, but I’m not afraid of doing so, or of sounding ridiculous for that matter. But there will come a point when I can’t push any further. What happens then? In some ways I think I might be finished with climbing when that happens, but that’s a sad thought in itself. Perhaps then it will be time to pour my energy into something else. It sounds altogether odd to write such a thing, and it remains to be seen if such a thing will happen. These are only crazy thoughts of a man locked in a garage. Perhaps the quest for 8C will continue for ever. I know the quest for 8B+ won’t last forever, as I know I’m not a million miles away at the moment. In fact, if I had a bit more money I would probably head out to Branson sometime in the next few months for an extended trip of the area.

I do have to say that my training is evolving though. A new awareness of movement has been gifted upon me and I’m trying to use it to analyse my shortcomings and turn them into strengths. It was all based on a good conversation about what “technique” actually is that I had with Adam, and it has certainly helped me to understand a few things.
I’ve also been working on the film from font and it’s going to be much longer than expected. I wanted to make it 20-30 minutes so it won’t be boring, but the climbing footage alone exceeds that so I’m guessing it will be more in the vicinity of an hour. I hope to have it done within 4 weeks and I’ll announce it to the world in a narcissistic moment of glory when it is ready.

Oscar Wilde said “Success is a science; if you have the conditions, you get the result.” and in my particular case the variables are the hours of training that I need to put in for my desired end result. Success is never a fluke, it’s always the culmination of the many steps that came before it. Those conditions are summarised well by Confucius, who wrote “Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in getting up every time we do”.  So, another day in the garage awaits…

I guess the blog isn’t dead just yet. If anything, this is exactly what it’s for, an outpouring of thought. I’ve been reading and re-reading a book called L’Etranger by Albert Camus (which I first read 8/9 years ago) whilst really trying to find more and more in it. I came accross this quote by Camus, in another text, which I think is so accurate and pertinent to the process of climbing in my life that I need to share it.

“the great work of art has less significance in itself than the ordeal that it demands of the man and the opportunity which it provides him of overcoming his phantoms and approaching a little closer to his naked reality.”

In this sense, climbing is a great work of Art. On the other hand, climbing is only a particular representation of Art, which people choose because it is more enjoyable than all the other options. There is nothing inherently spiritual or mystical about climbing, it’s just a physical activity that we all happen to love. Alex Huber said it best in a Petzl video when he described it simply as “I just like climbing you know, it’s a matter of fact, just like the apes run around the trees, we like to run around the rocks but it’s nothing spiritual about climbing, it’s just enjoying being out there. It’s nothing special about climbing”.

Essentially reaching the top of a rock via a certain line is a meaningless act, the meaning comes from exactly what Camus describes, the journey of overcoming your phantoms, of facing your fears, and trying to confront them. When I was in the Frankenjura with Rich a few years ago he told me he wasn’t scared of failure. He didn’t care if he failed to do Action Direct, as long as he tried his hardest. He said he wouldn’t be disappointed with failure, because he had trained as hard he (or any other human) could. He just wanted to give it his best, and this is what he did, which was good enough for him to reach the top.

Rich also left me with one piece of advice that I’ve never forgotten, and that I constantly remind myself of, “until you quit, success is always on the cards”.

85 is a smith number, which is  when the sum of its digits equals the sum of all the digits appearing in its prime divisors (counting multiplicity).

The final day. After writing my previous post I decided that if I couldn’t heed my own advice then it really was truly useless. With that in mind I’ve decided to leave font (and as I write this I’m no longer in France!). A few other factors also came into play, but a large part of the reason was that spending 25C days in font was totally useless for me.

On my last morning (yesterday) I headed back down to Gorge du Houx with the intention of getting de la Terre a la lune on video and myself to the top. The early morning assault to get cool temperatures was a waste of time, as by 9am it was over 20C and I was sweating out of my tips. I did try though, and after doing Ligne de Mire, 7A, to warm up I was on the earth, but aiming for the moon. Unfortunately the sun was out, the moon was hiding, and I was greasing off holds. My tips were refusing the chalk that I was trying to grind into them, instead deciding it would be better to have waterfalls for grip. I battled on, got to the final move, but couldn’t pull up quite enough due to the feeling that any more pull and my hands would rip off. It made for interesting climbing though, trying to not weight the hands as much, instead pushing in a knee bar (a very nice one too) onto which I was forcing all my weight. It’s an ace problem, and I would guess fairly steady in half decent conditions, but I just couldn’t get myself to the top of it. I really wanted it too, as I know it would have looked cool on camera. I think Neil got some pictures so perhaps they’ll appear soon. It is certainly on my to do list, which I plan to resurrect later in the year.

Font has a lifetimes worth of bouldering for most people. Unless you’re at the very top level it’s hard to imagine that you would finish font off, or get bored. Certainly for me I doubt I will ever grow tired of it. There remains a long, long ticklist which I aspire to, and I know that next time I will continue to tick some of them. I suppose now is the time to reflect on the trip, even though I’m not home yet. The most important thing is that I’ve had a good time. I’ve had so many magical days in the forest where the air was crisp, the skies were blue, and occasionally there was snow on the ground. I love that feeling of dry grippy sandstone under your palms as you battle against the force of gravity, and it’s something I am already looking forward to again. In terms of what I achieved this trip, I am happy, but I also can see so much room for improvement. Improvement in the way I try things, in my ability to be focused, and of course in my actual climbing ability. A big goal of the trip was to climb an 8B in the forest, and I am happy I succeeded, but as with everything, the greener grass doesn’t stay greener for very long. I think I spent too many days not concentrating on projects that I desired, instead doing 7th grade problems, that although great, were not my true intention. The other thing that has been a major factor has been my skin. I really do not have good skin, and it’s a frustrating thing for me. I hate the fact that I have to stop climbing because my skin is too sore or, more usually, too thin. My body is still fresh, my mind is still strong, but my tips refuse to join in the parade. Complaining about it is ultimately useless, but I have learned that skin management needs to be top of my priorities when I’m climbing. What a ridiculous concept, but completely necessary. I’ve managed to tick some things off my life long list, but also added a few. I’ve failed on some classics whilst completely neglected some other classics. I’m shocked when I think that in nearly 3 months I didn’t have/make the time to go and try C’etait Demain or Surplomb de la Mee. It’s rather annoying in some ways. Ultimately though, it’s been great, and I am privileged to be able to spend my time climbing in such a wonderful place. Something that I’m happy about is that I have been able to identify weaknesses during this trip, but I’ve also seen what I can achieve at my current level of strength/ability. I am happy because I know that my next goal is 8B+, even though it may sound somewhat incredulous to some people. I’ve seen enough evidence to know that I am capable, but that the path there isn’t going to easy. I’m answering important (to me) questions about what I will be able to achieve, and although I may winge and nag on occasion, I am having a great time doing it.

As for the short term future, things are up in the air. The family house in Derby is pending on being sold, my board and I will have no home, and I don’t know what the next few moves are going to be. I’m short on money, long on psyche, but stuck having to get everything sorted. Sheffield isn’t the attractive option it once was, with training facilities being scarce on the ground. It seems that the only way people are going to improve is with their own boards, and finding somewhere to house my own board isn’t going to be easy (especially since I want to expand!). Maybe I should go crazy and open a training wall, but then I wonder, who would really come? How many people are there that are hell bent on putting lots of energy into climbing, into improving, and into maximising their potential? The BMX/skate/inline/snowboard world has something like camp woodward which started out as a desire to have something great and has expanded ever since. Can the climbing world support such a thing in it’s current incarnation? I don’t know, but I do think it would be a super interesting thing to find out.

I don’t know what will become of this blog as blogging about training is likely to be very boring, so perhaps it will be put into hibernation, to reappear when I next hit the rocks for an extended foray. I guess we’ll see.

I really should point out that this whole trip wouldn’t have been possible without Maisonbleau. Although they might not like me to get this idea too deeply engrained in my head, it really is one of my homes away from home.

One final thing. Keep your ears to the ground for the film from font. I did manage to get some decent footage (I think) so I’m hoping to put something half decent together for your viewing pleasure. It won’t be as seminal as west coast gimps (what could???), but it will at least be in HD. I hope you all have HD capable hardware…

83 is the smallest prime number which is the sum of a prime number of consecutive primes in a prime number of different ways.

The font bonanza has finally found closure. I’m booked to return on May 14th, back to my own bed, my own board, and a million other jobs that need taking care of. This leaves about 10 days to finish off the “to before I leave” list which consists mainly of things I’ve had a couple of goes on (usually to warm up) but then not done. It’s not yet time to start reflecting on this trip, and assessing the up’s, the down’s, the physical failures, the mental successes, and then beginning to plan the next step. I’ll do all that in 10 days time when I’ve left font.

As I wrote in a previous post, things here are either very hot or very wet. I managed 5 minutes climbing at St. Germain 2 days ago before it began pouring with rain as I walked off the top of the Megalithe boulder only having done Megalight, 7B. I’d really wanted to try Megalithe, 7C+, but once again the rain was stopping any chance of that. We huddled in, waiting for the rain to stop, for the rock to dry, and both things happened. But the second the rock became just about climbable another grey cloud rolled in and ended our time at the rocks. It was quite amusing actually, like some bad comedy sketch.

Yesterday was pretty hot and in the evening Neil and I headed down to Gorge du Houx. I’d gotten psyched to try Londinium, 8A, and also de la terre et la lune, 7C+. The car was registering around 20C on the way there but I was still hopeful that some magic was occuring so the rock would be cool and grippy. It’s not a long walk in, but not short, and by the time we got to Gargantoit,7A+, we were sweating like rabid wolves. I did some jug traverse to get some blood in my fingers (and to compound the sweat) then decided to do Gargantoit. It looked simple enough and I’d seen a video of someone climbing it (which always makes things appear simple). First go, I crossed over to the highest part of the right arete and the hold was wet/greasy or something. I nearly slid straight off, but managed to grip on, reverse a move or two, and try to wipe my hand on my trousers. It didn’t work, so when I reached back up it was even worse, and I elected to let go rather than slip off, breaking my back on the rocks below. I brushed the holds before my next go, asked Neil to spot me, and then managed to get to the top. It’s a really cool feature, somewhat ruined by the landing behind it, and the lack of a topout. If there was another 2 metres of arete climbing on top it would be mega! Anyway, I’d made it look sufficiently sketchy that Neil decided to pass. Next on the warm up list was L’arete, 7A+. I’d seen a video of this too, so it looked easy, and easily flashable. I tried the sequence I’d seen but found the positions a violation of the laws of physics. It just didn’t make any sense, unless it was cool perhaps, but I found a way around it, utilising the fact I can do one armers and one of the small crimps on the right. It’s a nice enough problem but once again not particularly satisfying. That seems to be a recurring theme at the moment, a lack of satisfaction upon reaching the top of boulder problems. From there I walked down to Londinium,8A, rather unsure of how it would feel. It is certainly a mega line and I think that I would be very satisfied if I got to the top, but that didn’t happen. The first hold felt ridiculously greasy but luckily I hadn’t fallen off on my first couple of tries. I also ended up utilising my signature knee to even get on to the rock! It’s certainly the first time I’ve used a knee to get on the rock as opposed to using it to top out. I was getting to the point where you have to match the two sidepulls, but the one go I felt super comfy and had all the holds right but Neil wasn’t spotting and I had no one pulling the mat underneath me, so couldn’t do the slap up and right. I assumed I’d be able to get back up there easily, but it wasn’t to be. I greased out of the first hold taking off skin from the tops of my fingers and after that I began to wane. It’s a mega line and should have been higher up on my list, but it is something that requires a few pads or a decent spotter. It’s certainly on the life long list and will probably be on the short list when I return later in the year. I was feeling rather exhausted, partly from the heat, but also because I’m generally tired at the moment. Anyway, I went for a quick burn on De la Terre a la Lune, 7C+. I don’t know why but decided to use a great looking sequence involving one arm pirouettes, which doesn’t make much sense unless you’ve seen/tried the problem. It’s a wonderful looking piece of rock and I made it to the last move but I was just too low on extra reserves of power to make up for the fact I was greasing off like WD-40 in a pan of teflon, in the oven at 200C. I sick of going on about these bad conditions though, so I’ll shut up about it for the time being. It’s also why I’m getting out of here. There is no point trying to climb, but getting frustrated at the bad conditions, so I should really utilise my time more wisely which means heading home and training.

You read the short version of my thoughts on passion in the last blog, but since it’s about 25C outside right now I have nothing to do other than excrete all my thoughts. The reason I arrived at the conclusion that passion is the underpinning for greatness was by trying to assess why some achieve and some don’t. I tend to browse the climbing websites a lot, trying to read about who is doing what/where, because I’m genuinely interested in finding out. Obviously news items tend to be about good/strong climbers doing great things, and it made me wonder why those particular individuals are the ones in the news. Not so much why are they in the news, but why are they the ones achieving greatness instead of some other guy/girl. What prompts someone to keep going, to keep moving forward, striving to reach the next level. Why do some people have the urge and others don’t? Sheffield has a lot of climbers in it, who cover a great spectrum of abilities from absolute beginner, to punter, to pro. Having lived there for a while and seen the scene it served as good knowledge when it came to my current train of thought regarding achievements. What separates your 7A wall climber from the top guys in Sheffield? The first answer I came up with was time. Time since beginning climbing, in experience, and time actually spent climbing (as an investment for improvement). Those who have been climbing longer tend (the important word) to be at a higher level than those who have only just begun. But there are some people who have many years experience but still operate at a mid/low level. Why is that? Likely it is because they don’t invest time in climbing to improve. Why not? Usually because they have a job/life/commitments that causes their time to be subdivided and climbing can’t/won’t rank as number 1 priority. But time is something you do have control over, and something you can choose to divide as you like. We are all products of the decisions we have made, consciously or not.  I’ve always believed, and still do, that if you want something enough then you will find a way to make it happen. I’m sure some people will disagree with me, which is fine, but that is my personal belief. So the next question I was left with was regarding why some people invest time in climbing instead of other things. As a side note, not long ago I asked my girlfriend what she would prefer, to climb one 8C bloc or 50 8A blocs. The grades aren’t especially important, but serve as a reference whereby 8C is top level and 8A is average/good level. She chose the 50 8A option and I was actually shocked. For me the answer was clearly the single 8C. This gave me even more food for thought regarding all this stuff. Perhaps if you asked a group of climbers “Do you want to climb 8A bloc?”, I think the answer would be an almost unanimous yes. Of course there are those who climb simply as a leisure activity but that is a whole new kettle of fish to fit into this framework. Most people could climb font 8A but they might have to sacrifice their other social commitments, work commitments, or leisure activities. Is this cost worth the reward? This is clearly a question that only the individual can answer, but how is the answer formed? What questions are asked in order to find the answer to that question? ha ha. What a funny sentence. Once you begin to gain some distance from climbing, as something you love to do, it becomes more abstract, and in that way no different to any other pursuit. In that way it can be analysed in the same way that any other pursuit can be analysed, and the question of why do some people succeed whilst others fail becomes (perhaps) simpler to answer. So why do some people reach the top and some others don’t? In economics there is something called satisficing, which is the notion whereby a process attempts to achieve at least some minimum level of a particular variable, but which does not necessarily maximize its value. From my own experiences in climbing, and in life, this is the general modus operandi that dominates people’s lives. I’ve never been particularly comfortable with the notion of satisficing as it doesn’t sit well with me. I’m more inclined to look at life, climbing, and other pursuits, as utility maximization problems. How can I gain the most utility from the time I have? I’m desperate to seek an optimal strategy that gives me the maximum return for the resources I have available. Actually, I think this is a defining feature of who I am. Then I can answer the question about success/failure as the optimal/non optimal strategies in life. Those who succeed in their field, from pilots to ninjas, from doctors to builders, are those who find an optimal strategy. Those who satisfice are never going to reach the top. Needless to say this isn’t easy for anyone to do, but I’m constantly trying to learn from those who are at the top. In climbing it’s about seeing all the top guys, seeing how they train, how they adapt, and how they improve faster and more efficiently. Obviously this is nigh on impossible to do because who has access to the daily lives of top climbers? Certainly not I. I want to find the point at which I can longer improve. I long for the day that I think, it’s not possible to pull any harder or to have more body tension. I once heard a tale about Willenburg being able to do sets of 10 one armers on each arm, repeatedly, without stopping. I would love to be able to move to a place where the strong guys trained, to learn from them, and to apply it to my own climbing. I wish I had someone who could help me train, give me knowledge that I know I lack.  Ultimately, climbing is just an outlet for the process I’m trying to achieve. It’s lucky because I love climbing, but if I didn’t have climbing I’m sure I would be trying to achieve this same process in some other discipline. The thing that pushes me to strive on is the passion. Passion to find my limit, to challenge myself every day, to not rest because life is short and I need to maximise my resources. I’m also lucky because I genuinely enjoy this process. Not only does the process bring me joy but so does the end result (if there is indeed such a thing).

I think that is why I am getting a bit frustrated with being in font right now. I’m not progressing and I’m not being optimal. I need to get back to a situation that will allow me to start progressing again, one where I feel like I’m actually making use of my time, not greasing off hot holds and wasting skin for no appreciable reason.

I apologise for all these ramblings and I appreciate they may not be very clear. It’s just that they are the ramblings of a man, a climber, with many questions unanswered and a strong desire to have them answered.