English man in Font

Writing a blog entry when failure seems to be the all pervading force isn’t a fun thing to do, and I can’t imagine it’s much fun to read, but I think it’s a necessary part of the overall process.

I’ve been nursing my skin back to full health after my ridiculous session on Surplomb. I went way too far and I’ve paid the price, with tips that both sweat profusely whilst also having small hard calluses under the tips. It’s like the ultimate non climbing skin. Nige gave me some advice about making sure I had fingertips because those are the things that actually give you the grip to purchase on to the rock. I’m not sure as to the empirical evidence for this, but in my experience a soft tip that doesn’t sweat is the perfect choice for the rock in Font. Difference places require different types of skin, which is why I’ve avoided going to the places that require super hard skin, because I simply won’t ever have it. Enough skin talk!

2 days ago I woke up and I could feel a small breeze on my face. Without even opening my eyes I knew what lay before me… a perfect blue sky and conditions that were perfect for crushing. With my eyes still closed I said to myself “today is the day”. I opened my eyes to gaze upon the exterior world and it was just as I’d imagined. Perfect. Then I felt my tips. Oh. No. The masterpiece I’d painted in my mind of the perfect day had just been assaulted by spilt bucket of paint. I wasn’t completely defeated, as I figured I could wait until late afternoon and then head out if my skin had finished flooding the house. Late afternoon rolled by and I was desperate to jump in my car and go to Gecko. Today was the day, afterall. I tried to warm up on the fingerboard but it took less than 2 minutes to know I wouldn’t be climbing today. I made my peace with it and ended the perfect day without having been able to make use of it.

Yesterday I woke up and went through the same thing. Unfortunately when I opened my eyes all I saw were grey clouds. Great. Still, I could transform this mundane day into the perfect day if I was able to push on through. My skin had some more time to recover and even though it was far from being in good shape I knew it would be good enough. After lunch we headed to Satan I Helvete, where Tyler pulled off his usual magic trick. It’s really amazing to see actually, and it doesn’t get old either. Each time he seems kind of close to a boulder problem, he digs deep and POP! He’s at the top. It really is like magic, only real, and down to hard work rather than smoke and mirrors. So it’s nothing like magic now that I think about it. On the way back to car we were nearly trampled by a few out of control horses, which sent us retreating backwards in a real rush from the path, tripping over trees and very nearly landing on our pads, helpless like beached whales.

We drove on to Gecko and at first sight the boulder looked good. I brushed it down, hoping to make it feel more like 7C, then warmed up. I didn’t feel amazing, but I certainly felt good enough. My skin wasn’t amazing, but it was good enough. After a couple of goes from the sit start I was back up into the stand, and as I tried to put my right heel by my right hand, my left hand greased off. This was about to become the precedent. I tried again, reached the same place, and then my hand would simply disengage from the hold. I’d never felt that hold in such bad condition. The whole thing didn’t feel in good nick, but I’m at the stage whereby one good go will see this siege ended. I tried again and this time the end of my nail was the victim as I greased off. Next go it was the turn of another nail to be broken. I was hungry to seal the deal and I was trying to dig deep and find some magic but it seems like my magic tanks are empty. I had another go and split my first finger joint on my right hand. A tiny droplet of blood came out and I knew it was time to stop. I may be psyched to do this boulder problem, but I’m not stupid.

If I take a step backwards to look at what’s happened with Gecko Assis, the pattern is all too familiar to me. I came VERY close to doing it after only 2 sessions and I think it really could have gone down on one of those very cold and perfect days. Since then I’ve only gotten stronger on the problem. Some days the conditions have been bad, some days I’ve simply climbed terribly. The one thing that worries me is that it’s practically March and the seasons are changing. Average day time temperatures are now above 10C and this is going to make it very hard to get Gecko done. Why didn’t I just get it done 6 weeks ago? I think the simple answer is that I’m not a good enough rock climber. I can’t overpower something that is so close to my limit. It’s easy to overpower a 7C or even an 8A, and so it becomes easy to get away with not being an excellent rock climber. When you near your limit you realise what it is so climb excellently. This is what separates the naturally gifted rock climbers (whatever the hell that means) from those who try to be talented rock climbers. I just try very hard and that’s how I get things done. That’s what I’m going to continue to do too.

As I walked away from Gecko yesterday I felt pretty dejected. The overwhelming feeling I had was that I’d let the opportunity to climb it slip away from me and it all came down to not being a good enough rock climber. I was a little frustrated because I was thinking that the dream might be over, that I’d have to wait until autumn to try this boulder problem again. I’d made so much progress on it, I’d come so close, but it may well end up remaining a few mm out of reach. That wasn’t a fun thought if I’m perfectly honest.

Then I watched the footage of me trying it and I realised all of this was completely premature. The dream isn’t dead, la reve est vie! I wasn’t that far away from doing it at all! I only have to add in a couple of moves and it’s done. I just need to find it with good conditions on a day with a small breeze and I really think that I can avoid greasing off. If I can avoid that then I can do it, of that I’m almost certain. I have a few more weeks here and it would be a tragedy of roman proportions if there wasn’t at least 1 good day in that time. I just need to seize the day when it arrives, and hope that my skin happens to be prime too! After realising all this I certainly feel a little better about it all. Whilst there is a glimmer of hope twinkling in the distance then I’ll keep smiling and keep trying.

In light of what I’ve just written, about hoping for a perfect day to arrive in the next 3 weeks, I hope today wasn’t the one I wasted! Blue skies, a cool breeze, chilly in the shade, warm in the sun… and the rock felt so grippy. We went to try La Pierre Philosophale, which is something I’ve avoided for a couple of reasons. 1. It looks both hard and slightly painful. 2. It’s often wet during this season. Today it was dry but still hard and potentially painful. Ty and I worked down the moves from the top, which was good because the end is a red problem with a majestic pinch hold so it was a good warm up. Then we did the final move of the hard climbing, which felt ok. One move down and we were faced with the big move from the undercuts. A few fumbled attempts later I stuck the move. My hand wasn’t in the hold perfectly, but I’d done the move so I knew that a good attempt would mean my hand hit it perfectly. This wasn’t going too badly at all… another move downwards… things got spicy. At this point we really became disillusioned as we couldn’t figure out what to do, and the one thing that was obvious we didn’t want to do! A painful finger lock was asking to be utilised for an exceptionally hard pull. No thanks. I did find another sequence, involving absolute pure burl which meant we could do nearly all the moves, but each move was so ridiculously powerful that linking the problem would have been impossible (or simply much, much harder than anything I’ve ever tried). The start from the undercuts would be a halfway solution to doing Pierre (something like Gourmandise Raccourci) but it would be a real cop out option, so we moved on. Apparement was next and my flash go was nearly my best go. I went with a rather random sequence, that deposited me very close to the top, but then left me with one more hard move that I couldn’t fathom. The OG sequence of toe hooks just didn’t work for me, or rather, I couldn’t make it work for me. My toes just didn’t stick… what’s the point of being able to do front levers if you can’t make your toes stick!?! I felt like my sequence would work and put in a bit of effort, but soon my skin was screaming (with pain rather than joy – does skin scream with joy?) and I turned my attention to filming and spotting duties. Tyler went through his process, and I was a little surprised when he fell off 1 move from the end of the new low start, Apparement Bas, 8B. As his strength began to wane he found his magic and cruised to the top. It’s very true that on the go whereby he does something it always looks very smooth. On Apparement he changed from having to slap for holds to doing the moves static on the attempt which saw him on top. An interesting thing to note…

So now another rest day is in store to try and get the skin back to full force. My tick list hasn’t changed, nor has it diminished. The days are passing and I can see the next few weeks being very interesting in 1 of 2 ways. Either interesting from the perspective that I find my chi and begin crushing all the things which I’m 1 move away from doing (Gecko, Surplomb, Atresie, Karma, etc) or from the point of view of a man who’s spent nearly 3 months in font and done absolutely nothing. Both will be interesting!

This blog was brought to you with the sounds of Laurent Garnier’s wonderful RA podcast – check it out.

Things haven’t been going all that well and I’ve been very aware that my time is beginning to run out. I’ve been trying to let Gecko marinate, so that I can enjoy my other climbing moments without getting sucked in to a fierce and needless battle with Gecko. I’m here for long enough not to have to direct all of my undivided attention to Gecko, so that I can climb on other blocs and when I’m feeling on it I can then go to Gecko. But that’s where the trouble has been. I’ve not felt “on it” for a while now. My energy levels and thus power levels have been caught in a trough, but today I felt like the bottom had been reached and I was now riding towards the peak.

Last night I decided that I need to step up a gear and that today would be the first day of a new regime. This morning I woke up, grabbed the skipping rope, and went straight to the garage. Last year I was skipping every day and I really felt good for it. I felt like raising my heart rate in the morning put me in a much better state for days of rock climbing. Today I resurrected that regime and every morning I’ll be getting my skip on! This is the physical shift that I’m hoping will also align with a mental shift. I’m moving out of the trough and into the peak.

The weather certainly hasn’t been ideal in the last 10 days. Most days I’ve been struggling to find dry rock and rarely have I felt that super grippy feeling. I think it’s in part due to my bad skin, which has been going through a particularly bad patch, but mainly due to a constant dampness that has prevailed in the forest.

I thought today was going to be more of the same as we arrived at Cuvier to see most things wet and the report from Rempart was the same. Keen as mustard, we headed to Apremont to have a look at Psychose, Marginal, and Le Mur d’Idee. It’s a little bit of a boar hot spot up there, so I explained the boar danger scale to Nige and I thought we were both on the same page. Once we got up there I realised Nige had no idea of the danger lurking in these woods as he brazenly walked towards known boar pits. Luckily for him, it was all quiet on the boar front, and unluckily for us both, the boulders were wet. Marginal looked the driest, so I figured it was worth a punt. I pulled on, did one move, and then my hand blew off. I guess it really wasn’t worth a go. We packed up and headed back to the car to continue the search for dry rock, this time back at Rempart.

The sun (and a soft breeze) had done it’s job, with the rocks looking rather dry. We warmed up on some bits and bobs, taking our time as we knew the rocks were only getting drier. As we were walking down the path I remembered I wanted to do Watchtower, a prowed 7B (get it?!). I’ve wanted to do it for ages, but never had any idea about how it climbed, until a few days ago when I got sprayed down with beta. It turns out that it’s only 1 tricky move, the first, followed by a glorious jug romp to the top. The rock felt grippy and I found myself at the top all too quickly. It’s a shame that after the first 2 moves you are on jugs, as a few hard moves would (in my opinion) make it just that little bit better.

Then a young man desperate for a poo came round the corner and decided today was the day for the big 5. I won’t give the details away, but I’m sure you can read them at his blog. Since the team was under the big 5 I decided to get involved when the party moved to Fourmis Rouge. This is another problem that I’ve wanted to do for ages. I have tried it before, twice in fact, but both times I was shut down by wet holds. Today the holds were all dry and I had no excuses. My first go was a good one and I fell on the jump move near the top. It’s not a jump move for taller people, but my lack of height only gave me cause for more enjoyment as the little jump move is great. I was pretty confident it would go down but my next few goes were horrific. I couldn’t even match the sloper above the crack. It was as if my skin has been smeared with goose fat and i just couldn’t understand why. I wanted to believe that the conditions weren’t good, but as I watched Tyler, then Nige, and then Dave float up the problem I suddenly realised that it was I who was puntering. Tyler turned to me and said “your turn” and I pulled on with strong feelings of intent, but a bad feeling in my tips. I got up to the sloper which you have to match and I very nearly slipped off. My left hand felt horrific. I muttered something under my breath along the lines of “I can not believe how my skin lacks any purchase on this hold – gosh darn it” and I nearly let go, ready to give up. But then I readjusted, unfortunately resulting in just the same bad feeling. I decided I better make a go of it, and even though I knew I was about to slip off I should just slap the hold with my right hand. I slapped in to match and somehow I was still on. I moved my foot up, got in the position ready to jump, now convinced that I was definitely about to slip off. I lurched upwards and my left hand managed to somehow hit the hold and hold on! I could hear a barrage of shouts from below but it was just a blur. My right knee went on the hold that my foot should have been on, and just before I was about to slap up with my right hand I heard the shout of “get your foot on”. I utilised all my 1-5-9 training and pushed down with my right hand until my right foot reached the hold (which is how one gets by without being very flexible!). My right hand slapped up to the next hold and I was still on. At this point I would have offered odds on which hand was about to slip off, I was so sure that one of them would rip and deposit me on the pads. A super sketchy slap saw me a move higher and then one more lurch found me at a decent hold after which I managed to stand up! It was, without doubt, the sketchiest ascent of fourmis rouge that has ever occurred. I think that even a 1% increase in sketchiness would have resulted in my falling to the ground. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t slipped off, and I owe the ascent to the old adage of “until you quit, success is on the cards”. Sometimes you just have to keep on slapping, lurching, and hoping.

After this epic I was psyched for more but I knew that my skin wouldn’t appreciate any more climbing, so I took the boots off and got back to filming. Quite why my skin is so bad at the moment is a mystery to me. I think that little bit of climbing I did today was enough to take off the top layer and hopefully promote the growth of super duper grippy and strong skin for tomorrow!

One thing I want to say after getting a little closer to the magical big 5 is that the best boulder problems are often not the most classic or popular. The big 4/5 are often regarded as the best, or the ones to do, but it’s certainly not because of their quality. Big Boss involves a crux of having to keep your body from touching the rock behind it. Fourmis Rouge involves a start made of soft sand and a nasty couple of holds in the crack. Tristesse really is good though, having an amazing move of an amazing pinch! I can think of quite a few boulders which are 7C and are much better that big boss or fourmis rouge. When you come to font, do the classics because they’re classic, but don’t do them on the pretense that they are the best things around. A problems status as “classic” certainly doesn’t automatically qualify it for being a wonderful boulder. I refer to classic in the sense of being a historically important ascent, not classic in the sense of being both a proud line and amazing climbing! How many people have done Carnage but not done Peter Pan? The same grade, but worlds apart in terms of quality. There are amazing boulders out there… don’t get stuck under the bad ones!

Here are some random photos of Nige on La Nombriliste (check out how clean it is compared to last year!);

After my previous blog entry I was on a high of confidence. I felt like I would be returning to crush Gecko Assis and as I walked in to the boulder I was already thinking about how I would feel when I was stood on top. How would or should I react? What did it mean to me? Will reaching the top of this boulder problem change anything in my climbing? Will I be transformed? I had all these questions floating around in my head and perhaps that’s not the best mental state with which to approach any boulder. I was even thinking about how I would report my success on this very blog. Was this a case of sprinting before being able to crawl? Perhaps, but I’ve always been armed with a PMA (positive mental attitude), and all these thoughts were possibly just part of that. Having a PMA is all well and good but it must go hand in hand with a checked ego, otherwise things soon run wildly out of control and you find yourself bare chested running through the trees declaring yourself master of the forest. Was my ego beginning to be fed by the thought of success? It’s likely. I’m human, and thus I’m weak. I ditched my 8a account last year because I wanted to get rid of my ego. I wanted to say goodbye to a need for acceptance by other climbers, or a need for respect, or congratulations. I really don’t want any of that, I just want to go climbing. This is truly my personal battle. I came very close to ending this blog and I sought counsel from my close friends. I just felt like I needed to get away from everything that took climbing away from a personal activity. I have no intention to become secretive or to withhold details, but I wanted climbing to return to it’s core, it’s essence. Just something I do because it feels good to do it. Clearly I didn’t end the blog, for a number of reasons, but I always want to remain with my feet on the pad, and keep the ego well below ground. In all honesty, I think the thought of success on Gecko Assis was just too much, and it pulled my ego from the ground, revealing it’s ugly root system to my disappointed eyes.

My session on Gecko resulted in failure. I came fairly close, but it wasn’t close enough and the pressure on my shoulders kept me pinned to the ground. I gave in whilst I thought my skin was still good, with the intention of returning the next day to crush it. When the earth circumvented the sun and the next day was born I found myself at Gecko once again, but this time alone. My vision of doing it all alone was once again coming in to play. Within 5 minutes I realised just how foolish my efforts were. I’d tried Gecko on Wed/Thu, then rested Friday, tried again Sat and now I was sat here cursing my weak skin and foolish action plan. The result of trying it far too much was that I had very specific bruising in my right middle finger. Pulling on the same holds, in the exact same place, forcing the same small patch of skin to take a significant portion of my weight was too much to ask. I had to leave it. I had to walk away without even being able to try my hardest, thanks to a badly organised assault plan. I’m still learning when it comes to rock climbing. I’m a million miles away from having it all figured out and I’m still relatively new to the game, but luckily I’m still able to learn as much as I can from whatever situation I am faced with. My skin was very bruised and the only sane plan was to have a day or two off then climb on some other boulders for a while. I had to let my desire for Gecko Assis marinate, like a fine Bolognese. I had to retreat and regroup. Time away from Gecko would be good for me, physically and mentally.

The following three days saw nothing but grey skies and wet rock. I just wanted to go out climbing, as if I had a finite well of climbing memories, and I wanted to force in new ones to oust the old ones of Gecko failure. I wanted to overwrite thoughts of frustration with feelings of joy. I wanted to make my triceps do some work instead of being on holiday. I’m in font after all!

Today we went to try a long held goal of mine, Surplomb de la Mee. Over the past 3 years I must have been the boulder a handful of times, mainly to look but also to try and climb. Unfortunately it’s always been wet or I’ve only been there for a look, so to finally walk up to it today armed with pads and see it totally dry was a joy to behold. It’s an intimidating piece of rock in that the holds don’t look very good and at first glance it seems to ask a lot more of you that it really requires. After a fun but brief warmup we headed down to the main course. There is a pinch of unbelievable glorious proportions on the direct version of Surplomb, and because of that I decided I wanted to do the direct first (PMA!). Tyler did the deed and worked the moves out, sussing the foot sequence very quickly and firing off an ascent of the direct after a brief moment of confusion at the top. The move off the pinch is a wild yet controlled jump to the lip, at a perfect height so as to be a little spicy but completely safe. There was a random frenchie at the bloc who was also trying Surplomb and after he crushed the normal version he turned his attention to the direct. He got up, reached the pinch with his left hand, and instead of taking a flowing jump for the top he went again! NOOOOO!!!! The pinch move could be missed out and doing it not became an eliminate method. I really didn’t know what to do. I wanted to squeeze that pinch and jump, but I also wanted to get to the top. Luckily this didn’t matter too much as I was struggling with the first two moves. I’m sure most people know the famous picture of Ben Moon on the first move, but if not;

This picture has been an inspiration to me. Unfortunately most people no longer do the first couple of moves like this either. Why? Because it’s so ridiculously hard. Ben told me he didn’t think it was too bad, but after having tried it, I can say that it is a very hard method. The new school method misses out that mad looking backhand by using a crimpy sloper above it, which is reached via the aid of a heel hook. The magic of heel hooks… an aid to the weak. After a whole bunch of fumbled attempts and a moment when I thought my lower back was actually going to explode, I finally made it through the start moves. I reached the pinch of justice with my left hand and without even a second though I went again to the top with my left hand. I didn’t even consider pulling on it for the jump move. I’d shirked out of an amazing move but I was on my way to the top. Just a matter of doing a rockover on bad holds with cold fingers… needless to say it ended in me sliding off! Damn it – in the words of the man himself. I was happy to have gotten through the bottom section and I was having fun trying it, which came as a nice revelation when I realised it. My skin was pouring with water by this point, with the chalk refusing to adhere for much longer than 10 seconds. Not wanting to give up I pressed on and another good go saw me back up to the lip. This time my tips weren’t cold, but they were putting out enough water to re-film waterworld. I had no grip and as I desperately tried to get my heel on I realised it was futile as my hands could no longer grip on. It wasn’t such a bad day, as I got to try a problem that I’ve wanted to try for many years. I would have loved to do it, but I’m still not at the stage whereby I can do 8A’s easily. They are still hard for me, and probably always will be!

This is a great example of what seems to be summing up my trip. Nearly, but not quite. What I’m hoping is that in the next few weeks, all of my close ones will turn in to ascents and my ticklist will see a beating. This trip has seen me try problems mainly of 8A and above every time I’ve been climbing. This is good because they are all problems that I want to do, but it’s bad in that it’s hard to remember that getting close is still a good effort. Psychologically, it’s must nicer to do lots of 7C’s and 7C+’s, rather than failing on lots of 8A’s and up. The other interesting thing is that the problems I’ve been trying have not been beyond me, I simply haven’t managed to climb them. It’s as if I’m lacking something that once found will enable me to do one more and reach the top of my numerous projects. Unfortunately I don’t know that something is, which makes it hard to look for. I only have 1 month left to do everything I want to do this year. The list isn’t long, but it will be hard for me to get them all ticked. The lifelong list is still very long, but the “short term – concentrate on” list is;

Karma, Ubik Assis, Surplomb, Gecko Assis, Atresie, plus some other 7C’s and 7C+’s.

I’m so close on all of them, but I need to return to the grinding wheel and sharpen my sword. Hopefully that will do the trick and I’ll get that list ticked off with time to spare. Fingers crossed.

On Tuesday night I made a prediction that the next day, Wednesday, would be forever known as crushing Wednesday because we would all be going out and the forest would be getting a spanking. Little did I know just how right I was, for everyone.

Wednesday lunchtime we headed to Gecko, via Isatis for a quick a warm up. Whilst there we found Neil, who’d just sent one of his long held ambitions, Megawatt. Crushing Wednesday had begun. We were all feeling good. Light, lithe, full of energy and the rocks did their part by feeling grippy, dry, and in condition.

Upon arrival at Gecko Ty declared it the most grippy it had ever been. This served to do two things; 1. It got us all ever more ultra pumped up to crush it and 2. It put on a small amount of pressure because I knew today I could definitely climb it if I remained in control of my body whilst on the rock. I spent 10 minutes setting up the cameras, whilst Ty spent 10 minutes warming up and brushing. As soon as the cameras were set, he was ready to go, and he proceeded to float up the problem. Often when I’m filming someone I’m looking through the viewfinder, and in many ways that feels like I haven’t really watched the ascent. This time I watched him climb and after seeing him do the 3^rd move I would have put all my savings on him doing it that go. Something was different, and whatever it was enabled him to just keep on going, cruising upwards and topping out. It was really nice to see and only served as a kick in the butt for me. Crushing Wednesday continued.

I got on with it, started warming up, and was soon feeling pretty good. The only problem was that we weren’t alone at the block. There were 5 of us there already, and the first couple of holds were getting greasy (as they are common to both Gecko Assis and Les Beaux Quartiers). It wasn’t a make or break situation, but it felt like it wasn’t helping. I had one very good go where I was well into the stand up, but a simple foot move went wrong and my foot came off the rock. I tried desperately hard to compress on the nothing holds but it was no good, and I was earthbound. Soon after another few people arrived at the bloc. I kept trying but the holds weren’t faring well and a small amount of frustration was creeping in. I had a certain image in my mind of what it would be like when I topped out on this boulder. Not so much the emotional or mental response I expected from myself, but the actual physical conditions that would lead to an ascent. I could almost see it in my head, and for some reason the scene I saw was one of me there alone. I don’t know why that is, but for some reason I expected to do this boulder on my own, with only the forest and perhaps the odd boar for company. As I looked around at the throng of people here I knew this was a different scenario. But I also knew that I could still climb it if I concentrated and put all my energy into doing it. I still felt good and no excuses about the crowd should have allowed me to feel anything but psyched. I made more tried but had no success. Soon after another couple of people arrived and I pretty much gave up the fight. I did have another few goes and still felt like all I needed was a bit of luck to draw me upwards, but it never came. Conditions on Gecko were still amazing, but the starting holds had deteriorated. I pulled on to the stand start out of frustration and topped out with a desperate feeling of disappointment. I wanted to be there from the sit, not the stand. After walking down I gave up. I still felt strong and thought that if I quit strong I would be able to return the next day and crush it like I should have done today. Crushing Wednesday ended- with me being crushed.

Thursday morning the sky was blue and conditions looked just as good. We left for the crag, post lunch, and after another warm up at Isatis, I said goodbye to the boys and left on my own to Gecko. Was my vision really correct? Would I really do it on my own? Why did I even want to conform to this strange and ill understood vision? I got up there feeling ok. My warm had been ok, even if the skin of my right hand was feeling a little thin. I set up and got stuck in. My warm up moves didn’t go well. The tips of my right hand felt monstrously thin, and when I asked them to pull as hard as they could they answered with a perplexed look. I really thought I’d stopped strong the day before, but this pudding was turning out to be very ill tasting. Conditions were amazing however and this was gently ushering me forwards, whilst the pain of holding on was pulling me constantly back. I knew I only needed one good go to fight through the moves and establish myself at the stand start, then hoped the autopilot would kick in and carry me to the top. It didn’t happen and I fell on the transition moves from sit to stand, a place I never usually fall off. My tips were burning and I was faced with a horrible situation. If I could deal with the pain for just one more go I could make it to the top. If I could just go into “crush mode” I could get this thing done today. I tried again and my heel came off, along with my temper. A scream of frustration made me realise just what was going on and I sat down for a little moment with myself. I was here, beneath one of the hardest and greatest things I’d ever tried, and wanted to do it so much (perhaps too much). I knew topping out was so achievable, but the level of frustration I felt when my heel ripped off was not good. It was a sign that I wasn’t enjoying what I was doing. I’d fallen prey to setting my eyes on the top and forgotten, once again, about how much fun I should have been having. I could imagine nothing worse than getting to the top after feeling such frustration. The feeling of topping out would certainly have been far less sweet than if I’d managed to do it on a day where frustration was a distant and unknown factor. After releasing all my frustration I decided I could only do two things, either leave or try my very hardest to break through and fight to the top with joy, rather than frustration, as my fuel. I attempted to pull on to do some of the moves and I literally couldn’t take my feet off the floor. My skin was far too thin and there was nothing I could do but detach myself from my desire. It wasn’t going to happen today and I knew it. I was perhaps a little disappointed in that moment, but I was happy that I’d understood just what was going on.

Failure is only failure if you fail to learn anything from the failure. I’d not failed today, I’d simply not gotten to the top. It seems to me that there is more to be learnt in failure than there is to be learnt in success. Success is the sweet tasting desert which gives nothing but pleasure. It’s rare that people take a moment to stop and break down their feelings of success, to analyse and fully understand the process that has delivered them to that point. But failure is a different beast and how one deals with it marks the difference between long term success or long term disappointment. In many ways, failure can lead to more understanding than is often gleaned from success. I’m not happy to fail on Gecko, but I am happy to understand the nature of the failure and use it as a platform for improvement.

Being so close to doing a long held goal or ambition is a funny state to be in. Having the prize dangled in front of you with seemingly nothing in your way is certainly alluring, and saying no thanks without regret is a hard thing to do. I didn’t want to get up and go home, I wanted to just keep fighting, but it would have been both stupid and foolish. I wasn’t in the right physical or mental shape. I was shocked at the level of frustration I’d felt when my heel ripped off, but I was happy to have understood and dispelled it. Being fuelled by frustration is a waste of time as it will never lead to a deep satisfaction. Perhaps my vision will come true and I will ascend it alone, but ultimately that doesn’t matter. I want to make my ascent when I’m feeling great, when I will taste nothing but joy and elation. I know it will come at some point and I can understand so clearly why patience is regarded as a virtue. I have love for rock climbing, I really do, and where there is love there is always time. I packed up, made my peace with the boulder, and left.

It’s been raining heavily during the past week. The days of climbing on rock fell to the back of my mind and I made the most of what is a momentary drop is pressure. In the meantime we’ve built a campus board and the boys at beastmaker delivered a new fingerboard. The campus board is competition spec, official rung spacings (although I was very tempted to push them out to 23cm), exactly 20 degrees, and features Metolius rungs (both small and large). I would have preferred to make my own rungs, but since this isn’t my personal campus and since I don’t even live here, I rolled along with the easy option of the Metolius ones. I’m not a big fan of the Metolius rungs as I think they are badly sized and badly shaped. However, there is one thing you can do to make them marginally better, and that is to mount them upside down. This waves goodbye to their incut nastiness and gives you a much better training tool. My request was vetted on the large rungs but I put my foot down with the small ones, and so now we have some large rungs that are incut alongside some small rungs which are flat (ie. Perpendicular to the board). After putting the rungs up and then standing beneath it, 9 suddenly looked very far away.

It’s been a long time since I have used a campus board. In fact, the last time would have been in the school, before it’s demise, which was a LONG time ago. I can remember that not long ago I commented on my lack of snap, pop, and power on the rock. Would this campus board reiterate the point or would it give me new food for thought? Luckily (ha ha) the rain continued and so I spent 3 evenings in a row either fingerboard, campusing, or both. Fingerboarding is something which I think is time well spent, as it allows specific training of the most important things in rock climbing, fingers. Once again, it’s been a fair while since I did any serious fingerboarding, so this was a great opportunity to test myself, and doubly so because everyone has been raving about just how difficult the beastmaker is. After all, it is called a beastmaker.

Funnily enough, what I thought would be solitary sessions out there became great big group events with at least 6/7 people from the gites coming out either to climb or to talk. In fact, they mostly came out to talk… which did nothing to make them stronger, but gave me a nice change from the association of training and solitude. Soon enough I felt good and found myself asking what the current records were with regard to the beastmaker. Dan and Ned have got most of the records for what they can hang one arm, 2 arm, 2 finger, 1 finger, etc (all the details are on their site), so it was a natural challenge to give them a go. I genuinely didn’t know what to expect, but found myself at what I consider to be a decent level. I could still hang on smallish holds with my middle 2 fingers, and could hang on the slopers fairly comfortably. I quickly became aware that I’m no weaker in terms of this basic strength in this department. I did detect a slight bias between what I could hang right arm and left arm which is something that will probably develop when you don’t train, or it could simply have been due to worse skin on one hand. This was immediately reminding me about the conversation I’d had with Tyler about rock climbing making you good at rock climbing, but training making you strong. With that in mind I decided to have a punt on the campus board.

It took me a few minutes to remember what to do, how to twist, when to let go with the lower hand, etc. All campus board technique which I guess I still have engrained in me. Maybe it’s like learning to ride a bike, or maybe it’s like learning to do a wheelie on a bike. Anyway, it didn’t take more than a few attempts to fire off 1-5-8 which was a relief, a surprise, and somewhat confusing. Clearly I’ve not lost all my power or my snap, and so when I don’t feel it on the rocks it’s either due to a poor day in general, or possibly due to an ineffective warm up. Warming up on rock is, in my opinion, more difficult than warming up on your local board because you don’t have the set warm up routine to get you from 0% to 90%. The holds on rock are not necessarily as conducive to effectively warming up all your fingers evenly, which is less of an excuse than an understanding of how to warm up outdoors. Anyway, I didn’t push it too much on the campus board as every nights session was what I hoped would be a preamble to the next day’s climbing (rain permitting). 1-5-9 is the obvious goal, and we have a 9 set up at what is really 8.5 (although ours is actually 8.65), but we also have a real 9. Could the goal of a REAL 1-5-9 be a reality by the time I leave? Only if it rains a lot!

What did I take away from these 3 nights of campusing/fingerboarding. I’m not weak. Perhaps that needs to be quantified. I’m not weak compared to my level which I operate at when I’m at home and training on my own board. Rock climbing has done enough for my body to be in reasonable shape, and so I think I’ve matured in specific rock climbing abilities whilst not losing much strength. The basic strength loss is minimal in my opinion, and so the positives outweigh the negatives by a huge margin. This might not be a huge revelation to some people, and it’s not really a HUGE one to me, but it’s a nice reassurance that someone can go climbing on rocks whilst still maintaining their strength. I think that there is perhaps too much emphasis in certain subcultures of climbing on training, and this being the only path to success. Clearly training plays an incredibly important part of improving in rock climbing, but just going out there and climbing as much as you can is an option that should be preferred. I realise that not everyone can go to the rocks every day, people have jobs and other obligations, but I really think that if there is an option between indoors and outdoors, then go outdoors. I guess I need to ask myself if I’ll really apply that when I go back to England. The only thing I want to climb is The Ace, and so going climbing on rock verges on being less enjoyable than just having a session on my board. I guess this question will be answered when I do return home.

After the 3 nights of training the weather finally broke and after lunch we headed to the rocks. Psyche was high, very high infact, with certain people mentioning things like “nervous tension” about trying certain boulders that day. Our first port of call was Gecko and 66% of the car’s occupants were in the “wet” camp, but I remained positive and put my 34% (I count for more, it’s my car) into the “dry” camp. Unbelievably it was actually dry, but another couple of hours wouldn’t hurt and would give it further time to dry. With time to kill Tyler and Dave decided to hit up Karma, so off we went. Unfortunately neither of them managed it, but progress was made and an ascent will be had by one (if not all) of us this season (I hope!). It was particularly interesting seeing Tyler try it, as I think to climb Karma you really need a sense of understanding behind the movement and the positions into which your body must become fixed. Ty is clearly a monstrously strong guy, but I know he’s also a very good rock climber (something most people probably overlook – blindsided by the strength), so watching him try to figure it out was interesting.

The plan was unfurling, and we soon hit the magic hour of 3:30 so jetted back to Gecko. Things had only improved, with the holds looking and feeling dry. Ty was fast out the gate, wanting to find out if his on the sly stretching was going to work. It did. He did the heelhook move easily, did the other moves easily, and was in a very strong position for getting the problem done. I think we all realised this at the same time and it was then I understood his mention of nervous tension. I put my boots on and felt the wave of nerves wash over me, causing a whole host of interesting emotions. I had desire to do it, nerves about whether I would do it today, but belief that the possibility was there for the taking. I really think that sometimes if you force yourself to belief something enough then it only affirms your physical ability to do it. I felt a little sick but super psyched and a smile was on my face. This was the wonderful feeling I’d not had in so long. The desire to climb Gecko is really strong and it’s not overshadowed in the slightest by my expectation of myself that I can climb it. I don’t know exactly why, but I think it’s largely due to the fact that Gecko is one of the greatest things I’ve ever tried. The holds which are only just enough to give you the grip you need, the precision of the movements, the wideness of the moves, all of these things sum up to make one of the best boulder problems around.

I warmed up, had no overwhelming feeling of either strength nor weakness, but knew that conditions were prime and only aiding a possible ascent. The light was gorgeous as it filtered through the trees down below the boulder and the overall scene was one that only added to my satisfaction. Tyler and I were pretty much taking it in turns to have redpoint attempts. We were both making progress, but it was Tyler who was first to breakthrough the first move of the stand start and fall whilst trying to go into the undercut. It’s nice to climb with people when the overall vibe is one of wanting others to succeed. There is no competition between Ty and I, or anyone else for that matter, all we wanted to see was someone succeed, and this is in part why it was such a nice session. I was making my own progress, getting to the stand start most goes, but fluffing the first move.

The transition move from sit start to stand start.

When you reach the stand start there is a fleeting moment where you are in a stable position, long enough for a thought to flick through your mind, saying to you “this is possible right now, be accurate, execute”. I was there, looking upwards, felt the position, spied the hold, and boom. I hit it well enough, not perfect, but well enough. My thumb was able to exert some sort of attraction with the rock and I ninja swapped my left heel to a toe then slammed in my right heel hook. I bumped up my right hand, now compressing as hard as I could between these two poor holds. I udged my left foot upwards to set up for the move into the undercut. Only 2 moves to go, into the undercut, and then out of it to a jug and a glorious top out. I moved, then stopped. I hesitated for a split second as I knew my grip wasn’t perfect on my left hand, but then convinced myself it was good enough. I was so close that I had to just give it everything. I pulled back in and my body started moving towards the undercut but the precise moment before I wanted to move my right hand it dryfired off, punching me in the chest, and acting as a catalyst for my left hand to come flying off, also pinging into my chest. Baboon like, I was off. My feet still believed, and for a fraction of a second I was in the position but with only my 2 feet on the boulder, as can be seen here;

The next fraction of the second passed and ended with me sat on the pads, super psyched to have gotten that far, but clearly disappointed that I hadn’t done something to change the fact I’d fallen off!

This was progress. I’m making progress on this boulder problem, and if it continues in a linear fashion then I’ll have it done in a session or two. If it doesn’t continue linearly then it might take me a few sessions more, but whatever happens, I will be ascending this boulder before I leave font. It’s what I want more than anything else in the forest and I know I can make it happen. It’s a joy to try and just thinking about makes me feel good about rock climbing. It’s a welcome relief to find that I’ve rediscovered my love of putting all my energy into one boulder problem, which I’m sure I’d lost after Amber.

As a congratulations for reading such a waffly post, soothe your mind, body, and soul with this amazing Resident Advisor podcast, courtesy of Stimming.

Over a month ago I informed you there was a little bit of footage from 3 problems in Switzerland, and that it was appearing on moonclimbing soon. I think Ben has had a few issues with the website and so I figured I might as well post the video online for everyone.

The video is just a very short edit I did featuring 3 equally graded problems, from 3 different crags, all in the Ticino area. It features me doing Amber along with Tyler doing La Prou and Boogalagga. So get your notepads out and start scribbling down that crucial bit of beta that you may have missed…

BBB on Vimeo

Enjoy. Comments always welcome.

Yesterday things heated up. Sometimes unexpected things happen and yesterday I found my body feeling rather bad but all the warm up’s felt easy. How could I feel bad but climb all of these problems easily? How could my fingers feel sore but pull much harder than I usually manage to do? I don’t know. How could it be so hot yet conditions be some of the best I’ve ever experienced? A strange day all round.
It all went down at Rempart. After warming up I decided to try Atresie as my knee is healed from my previous attempt. I’ve never felt good on this problem but I still feel like I can do, I should do it, and I want to do it. It was so hot in the sun that we were climbing tops off. Snow one day… tops off the next day. Very interesting. The warmth did nothing to decrease friction, in fact it felt like it was aiding it. I had my best ever goes on Atresie and managed to fall with my fingers only a few cm away from the final jug. I was quite shocked to have got that far as I never feel strong on it. In fact, I always feel a long way from doing it! Progress was definitely made. Riding the wave of progress I turned my attention to Big Golden, which is another problem that feels super difficult and one which I’ve never managed to get close to doing. The good conditions and some inspiration from seeing DJ crushing the crimp caused me to man up and I actually felt like I could do it. I defaulted back to the method of choice… be like Jerry! After a few more go’s the strength left my body and I had to give up, but I was really content to have made progress on both of these classic problems. They are both great problems and also feel hard to me, so a perfect combination. I don’t understand how anybody could come to font and not try to climb these problems (if you’re climbing around the 7C+/8A mark that is…).

Me on Atresie (Photo courtesy of Landman Photography)

After getting powered out it was time to try something that required less power but more finesse, Kheops. There was a big team assembled, perhaps 5 or 6 people all trying it, and all British. As a testament to the perfect conditions, even with 6 people having go after go the holds never really became greasy. It was amazing. I had some good goes and felt like I grasped some fragment of understanding about the subtle position which enables success. For me it felt like a combination of left leg clamping and the vector of my right knee. If I can get both of these things perfect then I can do it. Tyler did the crux move after not too many goes and it was only a matter of time before he added the 1 additional move to get the problem ticked. His theory was that you need to be fast and slow at the same time… which conveniently combine to create flow. It’s all about the flow on Kheops. Dave Barrans was also looking very close and I’m sure if he gets the weather window he’ll get it done this week.

The day was a good example of my return to a once lost philosophy. I had a really good time trying these problems and I felt like I achieved something by getting close. It’s far too easy for me to discount things as 0, as failure, but it’s such a foolish thing to do. Progress was made and that is all I ask for.

Recently I’ve been searching for the reasons as to why I continue to climb. I’ve been feeling a little lost and a little dejected. My motivation dropped way down and I was left asking myself why I’m continuing to do this. I remember what it felt like to feel amazing at the rocks and the last few weeks have marked a distinct lack of anything amazing.

Perhaps the problem was not the activity, but the perspective. I viewed things as on/off. Sometimes I think I’m more machine than man (and so do my friends) but I need to become more of an emotional machine (or just more intelligent). The wording I used in my previous post may have given something away. I wrote that I’m not yet ready to do battle, which was perhaps just a loose reference to trying very hard to achieve something, or maybe it was a polarised view of what I’m doing in my climbing. Why do people battle? I think the reason we engage in battle is to win, and if you win it’s great. But if you lose it’s horrible. No country that ever lost a war or battle was happy about it. Is it simply because winning is a necessity in those circumstances?

I’ve applied this view, in certain ways, to rock climbing. Each boulder problem that I’ve approached and tried to climb has had two possible outcomes. Either I get to the top or I don’t. Simple really, a 1 or a 0, success or failure. There aren’t any other possible outcomes. So what could be different? Well, the interpretation of the outcomes for a start. Also, a bit of zooming out and approaching it with a larger world view would certainly do no harm. It is certain that there are only 2 possible outcomes but the significance of these outcomes has meaning only because I’ve assigned them meaning (they have no intrinsic meaning). So what meanings have I assigned to them? On a simplistic level I’ve associated success (reaching the top) with feeling good and failure (not reaching the top) with feeling like I didn’t quite make it. I’ve never made a goal to fail on something, or to just do my best. I’ve always made my goal the eventual ascent of any boulder problem/route I’ve chosen. This is perhaps who I am and part of my makeup. I don’t really know.

This way of thinking is bound to cause problems in the long run. Moving from success to success all the time is very hard and probably impossible for most people. Inevitably, there will come times when all my energy is focused on doing a certain problem, and when I don’t quite manage it I really do feel like a failure. Feelings of failure can also be good in that they motivate me to train harder, improve my climbing, and return to crush, but they can also move you the other way and cause you to spiral downwards and, inevitably, away from where you want to be… on top of boulders! Personally, I feel like failure is a fuel that drives the wheels of training, but somewhere in this whole process I lost the joy.

How can my worldview (climbing worldview) change? I think a major revelation is that I need to go back to the process and realise this is why I go climbing. If you remain so focused on failure/success, as measured in getting to the top or not, then everything that it takes to get there is lost. But that is precisely what I should be appreciating and enjoying. The goal posts need not just be moved, but they need to be dismantled (or heavily rejigged!). If the process is what I focus and concentrate on then failure will become a distant memory. There is no real failure when you consider the overall process that you’re going through. I’m constantly improving in my climbing. If I break it down (or up!) from the daily level, to a weekly level, to a monthly level, and then to a yearly level, I can see that I’m making progress all the way. I’m in a better place today than was 1 year ago in terms of my climbing. Extending the viewpoint beyond climbing, I can see so clearly that this is the real process I am undertaking in all aspects of my life. Or perhaps, this is certainly how I WANT to be living my life. A constant striving to improve. To implement this in my climbing life would be a great step towards a better overall experience. Of course, I’m still human and I still desire to have success on the many amazing boulders here and elsewhere, but I want to shift my focus from being single-mindedly set on getting to the top, to an enjoyment of the entire process and still retain the joy of topping out. I guess this paradigm shift has been a long time coming and perhaps I once even had it. Looking back at Amber I see how every day I didn’t get to the top was a day I beat myself up because I failed. In reality, each day I improved on both that boulder problem and in many other ways. I learned about my mental resolve and I answered many questions about what I can achieve. The shift in mentality begins now and I’m returning to a view whereby I can see success even in a session which resulted in me not getting to the top.

All of this was completely pertinent today, as I went back to Gecko in order to try the assis. All of the above thoughts have been on my mind for a few days now and they were definitely present in my climbing today. There were also present in my Friday session on Karma. I tried Karma last year, and perhaps I’d even tried it before that (I can’t remember). This time I had a breakthrough session. The goal wasn’t to go there and do it, because I still felt like I had much to learn before I did it. It was to go there and learn what I can, with a mindset of wanting to bring it down from being an unknown quantity to something I know I can climb. I was having a tough time with it, never getting my right hand onto the sliver of a hold that is supposed to help you reach the top. My motivation was a little low but the appearance of Chris and Ty for some moral support came as a welcome boost. With Chris’ help I finally managed to reach the right hand hold, and that led me to also be able to get my heel on. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to unglue my right foot from it’s foothold and bring it more underneath me, so I didn’t really have much of a chance of reaching the jug. But this small success with reaching the correct part of the handhold was a breakthrough for me. It actually felt really good and I knew it was the key part of the puzzle that will eventually allow me to climb it (I hope!).

Today’s session on Gecko was the same. It was a breakthrough session. The first session I couldn’t get my heel on, the second session I could get my heel on with some difficulty and just about managed to do the move off it. Today I found the heelhook move relatively easy and this was most noticeable by the lack of knee or groin pain! Stretching works my friends!!! It took me a great deal of time to really warm up, and get my skin to the correct temperature so it would grip on the holds. When it did I found myself breaking through. I found a crucial bit of beta that suddenly pieced it all together. Whilst I was previously dragging my left leg outwards when heelhooking, I know move it more easily until my knee sits into what can only be described as a knee smear on the rock. It’s the perfect shape and in the perfect location, both working to make the heelhook move a much simpler affair. After this I knew I should be starting with my derriere on the terre. My best goes saw me climb through the sit start and into the stand start. Unfortunately, by that point my skin was cold and not adhering to the holds. Your skin really does need to fuse to the holds… (it was many, many years ago that I heard Dave Graham say those same words whilst stood in front of this very problem!)

All of this meant only one thing. I know, with certainty, that I can do Gecko Assis. Not only that, I’m making sure not to put the eventual ascent on some pedestal of success, but to understand it’s only a part of the greater process which is me trying to climb this boulder. Today climbing felt good again, and it’s been a long time since I felt that. I was enjoying the process of making progress and creeping ever closer to getting to the top. The main point I want to make (also to myself) is that the eventual ascent is the product of everything that came before it. It shouldn’t be separated into a separate worthy entity all on it’s own, but it should be viewed as the final piece of a puzzle. Just like doing a Rubik’s cube, the satisfaction upon seeing a solid face is present because of the work it took to get there. It feels nice to have made this small realisation and I’m sure it will also filter into all my climbing days.

Moving away from personal revelation to personal attacks, today I realised that a mighty hogzilla isn’t the only danger in the forest. Far from it in fact. Whilst trying Gecko today I decided to do the stand up start for a bit of practice, and as I pulled my head upwards on the top sloper, in order to reach for the crack at the top I heard a sound rushing past my ear. Then BOOM! Something had just hit me very hard in my eyebrow, less than 1cm from my eye. I won’t type what I then shouted but it wasn’t pleasant. I fell off and started going a little crazy. Unbeknownst to me, a group of 20-30 guys, all in camo gear with facemasks etc, were running around the forest, shooting each other with BB guns (and high powered ones at that). Their battle had moved towards the gecko boulder and some moron was perched with his gun facing me. When he saw my head pop up he opened fire. How on earth a man in a blue/grey jumper looks anything like a camo’d up idiot is beyond me. I did go rather mad about this and went after him but he’d run off. I could see a whole crew of them a few hundred meters away and made my presence known to them in what can be described as not the finest queen’s English. Once the pain subsided I realised just how lucky I was that it hadn’t been 1cm lower. If that pellet had hit me in the eye I doubt I’d be writing this… and I doubt my eye would have ever recovered. So beware next time you’re in the forest… men with guns, men with BB guns, wild hogs, and strange men in leather jackets are all part of the dangers you face. Even with all of those things it’s still some of the greatest (if not the) greatest bouldering on the planet.

Ty doing the ultra classic Hypothese;

Chris on Gecko Assis;