English man in Font

Whilst I may only report on the days at which I’m out on the rocks doing what I enjoy, there is another side which is simmering away underneath. As you may know, I filmed a whole load of Ty’s ascents when we were in Fontainebleau earlier this year. His ticklist speaks volumes and what I have on film is essentially a very special collection of the best problems throughout font, which I’m attempting to make into a veritable feast for the eyes and ears.

My single goal for the trip was to do Gecko Assis, 8B+ (is the name as important as the number or vice versa or neither?), but I didn’t quite manage it and so the footage I now have could be described as “The Punt and the Pro”. Tyler ran amok in the forest, despatching the hardest and the best, whilst I scurried around trying to keep up and only managing to climb the modestly hard yet still excellent boulders. The sum total is what I believe should be the creme de la creme of both amazing and hard problems in font. Clearly any climbing film will be limited to what it can contain as there isn’t yet a market for 3 hour Red Cliff style epic films, so what I hope to show is that there is amazing climbing for everyone*. I’d like to be able to guarantee that if you went to any problem in this film you wouldn’t be disappointed by the quality of the problem you faced… I can also guarantee that there will be footage of problems which you will never have seen climbed before (and not because they are first ascents)!

Every day that I’m not climbing I’m currently editing. It’s a laborious task, but contains many moments of out loud laughter as I relive some of the memories alongside moments of pure dismay as I remember the things which I saw but could barely believe. There isn’t a release date set just yet because I still have a lot of work to do, but you can rest assured that it’s coming and that it will be good.

One thing it won’t be is free, as unfortunately I can’t make that work this time around. Last years donation based system was frightfully unsuccessful if measured in monetary terms, but that wasn’t my primary criteria. I just wanted people to watch L’Etranger and get psyched for rock climbing, either in the forest or elsewhere. If people enjoyed the film then that was way more important to me than trying to rake in as much money as possible. So why can’t I do the same this year? Well, the criteria haven’t really changed, but my circumstances have. I still want to get people motivated for climbing and ultimately bring them a slice of enjoyment, but I also have rent to pay and bills to cover.

Climbing DVD’s are in my opinion artificially over priced and distributed via an arcane network which doesn’t seem to be evolving alongside rapidly changing economic principles. In this light, you can be sure that what I will be charging will be significantly less than anything else available and more details will be available when the film nears completion.

I just wanted to let you know that even though the surface may remain still, 10,000m down there are all sorts of things taking place.

I just found this photo of Dolphins Cry, and apart from the “interesting” photo shop work and the obtrusive logo, it’s a cool picture. It certainly gives an idea of what you’re missing out on…I hope you’ve not booked your next holiday yet…

ps. I’m not affiliated with, nor do I endorse anything pertaining to, Urban Climber.

It’s official. I really do love route climbing. Or so I think…

listen to this as you read, for no other reason than I just wanted to try out this mp3 player plugin and this track was the last one I listened to!

All relationships go through the same 5 stages. The first is infatuation, or the phantasy stage, and it’s the one I am most certainly in. I’m climbing with a smile on my face, lowering down with a huge grin, and not really caring too much if I fall off because I’m having such a good time. Every route I climb seems wonderful and each successive route only gets better. Yesterday as I rested halfway up a route I looked out behind me to see a verdant pasture rolling away to the river whilst the forested mountains filled in the middle third and the top third was filled with a perfect blue sky containing a beautiful looking moon. Everything seems so rosy at the moment and it’s great, but I know it’s not forever. This is stage 1 though and in many ways I’m happy to stay in it for a while. In fact, I’ve made a concerted effort to stay in, by not getting on any hard routes even though I’m secretly harbouring very strong desires to do so.

I know that if I get on an 8c I will likely be able to do the moves and even do it in a few sections, but I likely won’t be able to redpoint it for a number of reasons. I’m hoping that by sticking to doing lots of 7c’s, 7c+’s, and 8a’s that those reasons will slowly begin to diminish and when I do get on some harder routes I’ll be able to do them quickly. In fact, the hardest routes I’ve been on is 8a+/b and I probably should have done it and perhaps could have if it hadn’t gone dark. I see this time as an investment in the art of sport climbing and so far I think it’s working. I seem to be climbing much better, although perhaps that wasn’t difficult if you’ve ever witnessed me sport climbing. I know that I have the strength, so I’m in search of the efficiency, as the combination will hopefully open my eyes to new possibilities. In fact, I’m already beginning to see it.

Yesterday I climbed, once again, at Ewige Jagdgrunde. I’d wanted to do a meaty looking 7c called Dolphins Cry the last time I was there but some punts had a top rope on an adjacent line which shared the first few clips so I was forced to leave it for another day. That day was yesterday and I set off up it, falling after my foot popped mid crux. I felt good up to the crux and after I did the move I carried on to the top without too much fuss, just a stop to double check I was using a good sequence. I came down, rested for 5 minutes, then set off up it again. This time it all went fairly smoothly and I crimped over hard at the crux to make sure nothing went wrong, then relaxed and climbed to the top. I’m becoming very aware of where to rest, where to shake, and where to skip bolts. It makes a big difference sometimes and I’m finding that I’d much rather miss a bolt to reach a jug then to stop and try to clip when a ground fall isn’t anywhere near realistic. I’m happy about that fact too as I’m clearly not climbing scared or nervously.

Before doing that route I’d warmed up on a terrible warm up called Muttertag, 7b+. It was terrible because it was actually a boulder problem, featuring only 3 bolts, and simply gave me a flash pump. Compounding the badness was the fact that my heelhook popped off whilst I took a hand off to chalk and I had to do it 1^st redpoint.  I need to iron out these errors from my game, and that is why I’m spending some time in Stage 1.

After this we crossed the river to check out some blocs on the other side. I’d been recommended a route called Sagaro, 8a+/b, and it did look very good, but there was another route that looked even better. Manitou, 7c, climbed a corner before tackling a series of sidepulls and then turned the lip onto a slab for a couple of metres. I reached the half height rest and felt great. I really felt like I was climbing efficiently, smoothly, and in the zone. I looked out at the scenery, smiled, and set off again. I reached what was the crux, and still felt ok, but then I looked up to see the final jug. From there there were jugs leading over the lip and onto the slab. Suddenly it all started going wrong. A voice came through saying “Good job Keith, you onsighted this route ever so well. You climbed wonderfully”, and as this happened I began to crumble. I suddenly began to leave “the zone”. I reached up to a good crimp, foregoing the bolt that was by my waist, and was starting at the jug. It looked big, but I couldn’t quite see over the top of it. I decided that even an out of control move to it would be fine, so I pasted on my feet and deadpointed to it. At that exact moment I saw the top of the jug and it wasn’t as it first appeared. My hand had landed on the slopey part of it, whereas 2 inches further left was the gigantic sidepull jug I’d envisaged landing on. I wasn’t able to resurrect the move and started plummeting downwards, DAMN IT!

I climbed back up, reached up to the sidepull jug which I’d missed, and continued to the chains. That was close, very close. That’s what I’m learning though and this was just another lesson in my first chapter of sport climbing. I came down and after another 5 minute rest I was back on the sharp end. This time I climbed rather badly, but made it up to the half height rest. From there I found a bit of form and pushed onwards, cruising through the moves now that I knew where the jug was. It’s a shame but not a disaster that I missed the holds on my onsight attempt. There are plenty more routes I can cut my teeth on in the next couple of weeks.

Manitou is one of the best things I’ve ever climbed though. It really is magnificent in terms of the rock quality. I’ve never seen granite formed into the shapes that are contained on this route, including some granite tufa’s. Totally incredible. The rock on this boulder is some of the best I’ve ever come across, and there are some fallen blocs at the bottom which have granite as good as the best stuff in Brione. I wasn’t sure what I’d think of sport climbing on Granite, but it’s safe to say that I am totally in love with it. Not all of it though as the rock quality does vary in the Zillertal, from rather large crystals and sharp, to super fine and absolutely amazing. I’ve still got so much to see so I can’t wait for the next climbing day!

Don’t worry bouldering, you haven’t been forgotten. You have my heart, but i’m just having so much fun flirting with this new model… I’ll come back to you, stronger, fitter, and more psyched than ever.

James and Emily’s time was up, so they headed back to England for a fleeting visit before heading to Mallorca. As one party left another arrived and this time it was Paul and Nat who were getting in their first sampling of Austrian climbing whilst on their 6 month euro tour.

A plan was hatched and we would go to check out Niederthai. At the moment everything is an adventure because I have probably been to 1% of the surrounding crags and I really love adventure, so it’s safe to say I’m pretty happy everytime I head out. Walking in to Niederthai was a nice warmup, as a narrow path cut through a forest before revealing some “woah” rocks. I love that feeling of seeing something new, something amazing looking, and just getting inspired to climb, which is exactly what happened. We got stuck in and did some warm ups on the Black and White bloc before moving on to the Steiler Block. This is a pretty interesting rock and this photo gives you an idea of what it looks like;

What you probably can’t tell is that the routes are almost all manufactured. Does this mean they are bad? Well, the guidebook gives some of them 3 stars (out of 3) and after climbing on the wall I’d say they definitely climb well. So what is the beef? Personally, I don’t have any. I think the wall is amazing looking and having some routes up it is better than just having a blank piece of rock. Would I ever drill something myself? No, because I have better things to do than to drill routes… like just going rock climbing. At the end of the day that’s just what I like doing, I like going rock climbing.

Anyway, I was overflowing with PMA and once again I think I managed to convince myself of what I wanted happen would actually happen. I said to Paul that we’d go over and do the 3 star 8a Twilight Zone, then move on to one of the other harder routes. He seemed surprised by this, but I stood fast and said that I was in no doubt that it would get crushed. Sometimes I’m sure that I tell myself these things so much that I end up believing them and then they inevitably spill over in to reality. It’s happened many times before, and I’m sure positive belief in your own ability is the key to success. I think it’s something that all the top guys have and something everyone can and should adopt. Believe you can succeed and you will succeed. Or rather, believe you can succeed and you will have either the same or an increased chance in succeeding (when compared to the other option of doubting yourself!). I went up the 8a and got about halfway before losing my sequence and falling off. I then spent the next 30 mins working out the moves of the upper headwall. The bottom half of the route may be drilled, but the top half is natural and climbs an interesting crack. It took me a while to discover the sequence but when I did it turned out to be super. I don’t know if this kind of move has a name, but essentially you use your leading hand to layback the crack, then use your trailing hand as an undercut layback in the crack, allowing your leading hand to head further upwards. Some jamming, some pinching, some laybacking, and some thank god jugs all played a part in the upper half of the route. I came down and sent paul up it armed with a ridiculous amount of beta. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to find any of my beta very useful (which isn’t surprising when you consider I weigh nearly 50% more than him and love slopers) but after a while he had his own sequence figured out. Once he came back down I had my redpoint attempt. I knew the moves, I had the sequence, I just had to execute. As I set off I immediately felt like I was flowing, which I think is coming from simply feeling more at home on sport routes. I reached the crux, took the hold perfectly, felt strong, and finished the route off. I’d basically willed myself up this route. I was so convinced that I would do it that I think my body had no choice but to play catch up with my brain, and I was pleased to have done it as it meant I could have an ice cream on the way home.

The crux of Masada

After this route was in the back I jumped on the 8a+/b called Masada. I figured the sequence out quickly, and the route revolves around 1 hard move at half height which probably elevates it from 7c+ to 8a+/b. I rested whilst Nat and Paul had a climb and then got ready for a redpoint. I reached the crux, but had wasted energy getting there. There is, in my opinion, 1 bolt too many, and clipping it is a waste of time. The second redpoint was more successful but I just couldn’t muster up enough strength for the deep lock. The third go was better, I missed the clip, I reached the crux feeling good, muttering something like “you’re going to do this right now” under my breath, and locked as deep as necessary. I got the hold, and as I pivoted on the foothold my lower hand suddenly greased out. Damn it! I was happy because I knew I could have done this route, but disappointed that I fell off due to grease (or perhaps I relaxed a split second too soon on that hand – who knows). Night fell all too soon and there was no time for another go, so it got shelved for next time which will likely be sooner rather than later as I’m keen to head back to Niederthai and explore the blocs I didn’t get a chance to see.

looking up Masada

The following day we went the opposite direction to the Zillertal and climbed at ewige jagdgrunde. I felt a little tired to start off with, but some Landjager and karottenbrot got me moving upwards. The real motivation came after I did the warm up route as the rock here was excellent and this is always an inspiring factor for me. I felt suddenly good and decided to head off up a 3 star 7b called Sanyas 365. All was going well, until I suddenly couldn’t see the next hold, and I was off! Turns out the hold I missed was a jug and from there the route is over. Oh well. I came down to the ground and headed back up, cruising up it with the knowledge of where all the holds were. This reminded me just how hard onsighting is, and for me the difference in level between onsight climbing and redpoint climbing is simply gigantic. I am so impressed when I hear of the top guys and girls onsighting hard routes as I think it shows an amazing level of ability, from climbing to route reading to efficient movement. I have much to learn! Afterwards I headed up an amazing 7a+ called Stone Cold Sober. It follows an arête feature, up to a small roof, then further up an arête and face. It’s really great, but once again my foot popped as I reached to what turned out to be a jug after which the route is finished! Punter! I was a little annoyed, but not hugely so as the climbing was amazing. I headed back up it and glued my feet to the holds to make sure nothing silly would happen, and clipped the chains on one of the more interesting sport routes I’ve done and one I can definitely recommend. The final route of the way was Science Fiction, 7b+. You can guess what happened. Another stupid slip as I was reaching to a jug led to an onsight failure! I didn’t even go to the top of the route as I was so annoyed at making such a dumb mistake. I came back down to the ground, pulled the rope, and tied on again. This time I set off and made sure my movement was steadier, hit the jug, then cruised the rest of the way up the route. It turns out that it was probably the easiest route of the day, but that’s grades for you.

All the routes at Hauptwand (the bloc I’ve just described) and extremely cruxy. They all feature one move which is much harder than all the others, making the routes both easy and hard. Easy if you read it correctly, annoying if you don’t. I’d managed to screw them all up, but it was great practice and I was happy just to get in a bit of climbing in a new (and once again amazing) place. Next time I go up there I want to explore the other boulders in the area as there look to be some excellent routes on beautiful rock.

I wasn’t so sure I would get into this whole sport climbing thing, but the more I do the more I sense a stronger attraction. Finding a flow and climbing more than 4 moves is nice. I’m certainly not saying that the boulderer in me is being crushed, but I’m enjoying this fresh challenge a lot. Variety is the spice of life, and specialisation for the insects.

Lots of climbing has occurred since the last update so I’ll try to keep it brief but interesting.

After my first day in Saussois I was psyched to head back down and try to do Bidule and a mild 34°C wasn’t going to stop me. It was only 2 grades harder than Chimpanzadrome and the chimp felt relatively easy so I thought I should be in with a good chance. Unfortunately the realisation of it’s difficulty arrived very quickly. The start involves 2 moves on good holds, then there is a blank section, and then the holds continue. Getting around this first blank section is the crux and by a very long way as I could climb from the move after it to the top. I spent a while trying to fathom the way to do the crux move but in the end I genuinely had no idea. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the move, it was the fact that I couldn’t understand how the move was possible. I envisaged a way that a very very strong man would do it, which was a dyno from a slopey 2 finger pocket with the left hand to a mono with the right hand. Unfortunately I was nowhere near this method for obvious reasons. In the end I got combinatorial on it and tried every possible hand sequence with every possible foot sequence. The result was the same as before, I was stumped. So if anyone reading this knows a sequence get in touch as I’m keen to go back and crush it.

The next day I jumped in the car and cruised down to Innsbruck where James and Emily were waiting for me with open arms. I’d made it a mini objective to do the drive in one hit without any stops and about 3 hours out I began to think a toilet break would become a necessity. But the power of PMA kept me going and after 9 hours of driving (8 of which were in pouring rain) I arrived back home.

With James and Emily here the priority was to go climbing so the next day we headed to a crag in Oetztal called Piburgesee. The location is idyllic, sitting above a beautiful lake and nestled amongst mountains covered in lush green trees. The routes are fairly long, all being around the 30m mark, so I was prepared to get a spanking. The warm up was a 7a+ and after losing the sequence I decided a dyno would be the best way to continue. It wasn’t. I fell off and then with eyes that had suddenly opened I saw the sequence. I suppose it was a good warm up though. I went back up it afterwards to get it ticked, but in reality I really need to learn to route read at a much higher standard as falling off easy 7^th grade routes needs to be stopped! The next route of the day was the 7b next to it and I made it all the way to the chains, but some confusion occurred between James and I as he shouted up “the final left hand hold isn’t very good”. I reached it and he was right, it wasn’t very good, and there was absolutely no way I could clip off it. Somewhat inevitably I fell off, with the chains in my face! What a punt! Turns out that the final left hand hold isn’t actually the final hold, as you do one more move past the chains to a jug of titanic proportions. Live and learn… I had to do the whole route again just to add one move to a jug and clip the chains. Another mistake in the art of route reading. James set his sights to an 8a up the middle of the wall which followed a strong natural line of cracks, grooves, and arêtes. He walked up it and once he was at the mid height rest the route was already in the bag. I decided to have a burn and followed James sequence exactly as I arrived at the crux. I was a little pumped and so when I suddenly needed to actually pull hard, the result was not fruitful. I was only a few moves from a hands off rest but I didn’t have it in me to pull it out of the bag. After a quick rest I found a slightly different method and climbed into the rest, from where I climbed to the top with a few more rests to try and understand the sequence. James did really well to onsight it, and I was too pooped to have a redpoint so that was that. The crag is definitely worth checking out (as are all the crags I seem to visit around here!) and there is even a bar on the lakeside for a post climb drink/munch.

The following day we mixed it up and headed to the Zillertal, to a crag called Monkey Island. We struggled with finding it, but this was largely due to the road being rebuilt and the footpath being hidden behind work equipment. When we did get there it was rather impressive. The only drawback is that the only warm up is a pretty bad 6c which is short, ugly, and a little unpleasant. It doesn’t really get you prepared for what’s to come. Next up was a 7c+/8a called Sex Magic. I went up it first, dogging bolt to bolt whilst getting pumped, dismayed, and generally climbing super badly. James was up next and did his usual trick of making it looking easy, adding another good flash to his list. I was inspired and decided I should get this route in the bad. After all, it was one of the shortest routes at the crag so I had no excuses. First redpoint ended in disaster. My feet were cutting loose, I was overgripping, and by halfway I was done for. Pathetic really. Jorg was at the crag too and commented that I needed to learn to use my feet. How right he was. My body was still locked in bouldering mode. I was jumping for holds simply because only a boulder problem they would be jugs, but this was only serving to make me look stupid and get pumped. My next redpoint was better and I made it to a few moves from the end but ran out of gas. The 3^rd redpoint was altogether better. I discovered new footholds, I reached statically, my sequence flowed. It felt nice. I got to the last move and I felt a bit powered out, but I had the hunger. I saved a near failure when my left hand slipped off with only one move left, but recovered enough to thrutch the final move to a super sharp jug and clipped the chains much to my relief. The difference between this go and my very first was incredible. I’d not got any better or stronger or fitter as a climber, I’d simply climbed more efficiently and the difference was amazing. I felt like I may have begun my quest to become a fluid sport climber (or at least fluid enough to pretend I’m a sport climber!).

This is already getting long so I’ll post again later with the following days activities, which basically involve more climbing in more cool places (with photos no less!).

This is just a short post to express my ultimate excitement about finally having the internet back in my life. It feels so good… like getting in touch with a beautiful girl you haven’t seen in too long… ok, enough blabbing. I’ll update with a climbing related post later on tonight or tomorrow morning.

After a rest day spent travelling from Derby to Fontainebleau, I felt like it was time to get back in action. Whilst the climbing in the forest is always good, even in summer, the things I want to do are too hard for me to do in these conditions. Of course it’s possible to go out and do 7C’s (or possibly even the odd 8A) on even the hottest days, but I fancied doing something a little different. I suggested to Neil that we head down to Le Saussois and he was keen to get out the old harness.

I’ve never been down to the sport climbing in Saussois, but Neil assured me it was alright for a local venue. It turns out the crags there aren’t very tall but they are pretty cool with grey, white, and orange rock all mixed together in interesting bands. The grey rock tends to be pocketed and super hard, the white stuff more crimpy, and the orange stuff more loose. I wanted to try a couple of routes in particular as I’d heard lots about them and one is in fact a Jerry route. Chimpanzadrome, 7C+, and La Bidule, 8A+, both lie on the same buttress of grey pocketed rock and they look pretty cool from the road below. They’re not very high, but the buttress is rather cool as it’s comprised of a double Bombay of rock. A wave leads into another wave and then you’re at the top, at which point you can actually top out to glory!

We warmed up on a random line of bolts to the left and then decided to get on Chimpanzadrome. I’d commented to Neil earlier that I thought this route would be alright as it’s just under my height limit of hitting the wall of pump, so I was hopeful but not sure of success. I abbed down to put the clips in as the holds all looked rather dirty and I didn’t have a clipstick, so I went with a “better safe than sorry” approach. It turned out to be a good decision as most holds were filled with either bird poo or spider webs, so I went down cleaning them all and feeling what I could. Once at the bottom I pulled the rope and set off.

It’s amazing how different holds can feel when you’re climbing up rather than abbing down. All the pockets felt better than they looked, the distances between holds shrank under the tension of my biceps, and I climbed up to the second clip (out of 4!) at which point I got into a muddle. When climbing on pockets it’s very difficult to reverse a hand sequence. Once you’ve committed to a left or right hand first sequence you get stuck in the left then right movement for a number of moves, unless you’re strong enough to match on 2 finger pockets – which I’m not! I slumped onto the rope and worked out a sequence that worked but utilised a mono middle finger jam which felt more dangerous than hard. It was a left hand mono into a right hand mono, after which it was a selection of front 2 finger pockets all the way to the top, some beautifully sculpted, some sharp, and some slopey. I came down and sent Neil up the route. He went up the crux mono finger move and managed to find another way of doing it which missed out the crux left hand mono hold! Great! Unfortunately I didn’t know whether or not I would be able to use his sequence as he’s often too tall to offer me useful beta. After he came down I went back up and tried his sequence which was just within my reach, so I now had a sequence that was much less painful, which only provided me with more motivation to get the route done! I went back down to the ground and got ready for a redpoint go. Bish, bash, bosh, I was at the crux, Gaz Parry in my mind. It was a little dicey but I reached the right hand mono and the psyche outweighed the pain, so I pasted my feet on, and managed to reach the 2 finger pocket above. I knew from here it would be plain sailing, and I followed the left/right/left/right hand sequence up to the top. Apparently Neil didn’t seem to think it looked like plain sailing, but I was at the top and that’s what mattered! Great! I was psyched to get this route done and really pleased that I didn’t get too pumped or powered out. By this point the sun had worked it’s magic and we were feeling rather drowsy, so rather than try to ab down bidule to clean the spider webs and bird poo we instead opted for a drink at the local cafe.

Le Saussois is a really nice place, with a gently flowing river in the middle of the valley (which was filled with children most of the day!), outcrops of rock popping up here and there, and a very verdant feel to the place. The rocks certainly aren’t world class, but the Chimpanzadrome sector is definitely cool. It may be short, although the guidebook says 15m, but it is a rather nice piece of rock and I’d recommend it as a stop off tour if you’re driving south through France on your way to Ceuse or some other more vast destination. The rocks are only 20min from the motorway so it’s not a huge detour, and there’s easily enough rock to spend a day or two on good routes. The riverbank offers picnic tables and shade from the sun, so even if you’re not climbing it’s a pleasant place to while away the afternoon with a good book. Definitely a nice little crag to have within reach of Fontainebleau.

As for La Bidule, I might head back down tomorrow if possible; otherwise it will have to wait until I’m back up this way in late August. It definitely looked cool and being one of Jerry’s route it’s clearly over rated in my skewed ranking system, so I’ll be getting it done at some point this summer.

I won’t lie. I had high hopes for this year’s BBC competition. I felt like I was in pretty good shape, perhaps not the best of my life, but certainly good enough shape to give the others a run for their money. My PMA was on overdrive and I hoped that the stars would align in order to allow me just one good competition performance.

On Saturday night Doylo asked me why I continued to go to competitions and humiliate myself, not realising that his question also contained the answer. If you’re exceptionally bad at something there are usually two choices; give up or keep trying until you become great. Giving up never sat too well with me, so a stream of humiliation is my chosen path. I told him I was feeling good and that I thought I had a half decent chance of posting a good result. He gave me only one simple command; don’t lose to anyone who hasn’t bouldered 8A.

Sunday morning I arose far too early to head down to register, which was when I hit the first barrier. I hadn’t pre-registered and when I arrived I was told the competition was full. Oh. I explained I’d come a long way for this comp and that I really needed to do it, but was offered a place on a rather long waiting list. Useless. Luckily, Nick Clement was good enough to work a little magic and managed to squeeze me into the competition, so I felt extra compelled to put in a good performance. Then I sighted Jerry Moffatt and immediately knew this was all the motivation I needed. It was all coming together in perfect harmony, or so I wilfully anticipated.

The qualification started and the first two problems where very easy so they were ticked off in no time. Then came the next eight, which all looked either hard or tricksome. I watched as people floundered, failed, and fell off with only the very best managing to get to the top of some of them. I wasn’t intimidated or nervous, but I was a little worried that my body wouldn’t fare well when it came to inserting myself into a strange groove involving reverse palms and widespread feet. Then there was a massive roof with some horrible looking volumes which did nothing for my inspiration. Then there was a crimpy one which led to a slopey volume, after which only 2 moves remained to the final hold which was generously set as a 2 finger pocket. There was no doubt that this was one of the hardest problems, as I hadn’t seen anyone do the move from the volume upwards. When Dave B fell off the sloper I was a little surprised, but I also knew my own strengths and I saw the potential. I might not be able to do the splits or do odd chimney moves, but I know I can hold on to slopers and it quickly dawned on me that this problem would be my ticket into the final. I was fairly sure no one else would do it, so I tried the other problems and then returned to get my ticket into the final. As I stood beneath it ready to begin I heard the unmistakable tunes from The Real Thing blaring over the sound system. This was it, fate had finally decided to join me on my side of the net instead of smashing the ball into my court. I set off knowing it was all about to fall into place. I matched the volume, did the move off it, grabbed a crimp, tamed the swing, and set up the final move to the pocket. As I flicked towards it I watched in slow motion as my fingers fumbled the lip of the pocket and instead of going in they just went slightly too far right. As I fell downwards I realised fate was serving me another ace and I hit the mat knowing I wouldn’t make the final. I’d lacked the precision, and I’d lacked the precision because I simply didn’t climb well enough. It wasn’t fate, it was only one persons fault; mine. I had missed the finals, I’d lost to people who hadn’t bouldered 8A, and I’d ended up in 12^th place.

I often wonder why more people don’t do competitions and I sometimes think it’s because there is no one else to blame apart from yourself when things go wrong. There are no second chances, competitions asks you to perform at your best on demand and this is a very difficult thing to do, which is why I have great respect and admiration for those who consistently perform well in major competitions. It’s a skill I sorely lack, but one I would very much like to have and I know it’s possible to get it. I do feel like I underperformed in this competition but then again I always feel like that as I can see how far I’ve fallen short of where I should be. However, I’m not disappointed as I have no room or time to feel sorry for myself. I’ve simply taken what I can from it, which is the simple lesson of needing far more practice. Practice makes perfect. Or perhaps it should be that an infinite amount of practice makes perfect, but since we are finite we can only ever strive for perfection, which is what I’m trying to do.

Now that this competition is over I can return to where I love to be, which is out on the rocks. I’ve got definite goals set out for this year in terms of my bouldering, and in my sport climbing career I only want to begin the journey. My goals were only reaffirmed after a bit of a chat with Dan Varian (of beastmaker fame) as he was hanging from various small holds in the cellar on Ned’s house. His psyche and dedication is definitely infectious (just like Ned’s) which is why those guys will continue to improve and go from strength to more strength. I want to get in better shape, be faster, stronger, smarter, more prepared, and return to my projects to slay them with ultimate skill.

I’m heading back to Font tomorrow and then back down to Innsbruck for a summer of editing and climbing on the rocks. Summer will be a time for improving and autumn will be time for sending. I feel revitalised now and my horrific comp performance is well and truly learned from (not forgotten!). I’ll be back next year for the BBC’s and my goal won’t have changed, but my preparation will have…

This is a rather long and boring video I made a couple of years ago after a particularly interesting trip to Magic Wood. This was the first video I ever made with my video camera so it stands as a reminder to how much I’ve learned since then (read; it’s boring and badly edited!). However, the overall message is one that’s probably pertinent right now…

Failure is not really failure – Magic Wood 2007 from unclesomebody on Vimeo.

I’m currently residing at Maisonbleau as Neil and family have gone on a long overdue and deserved holiday. I’ve stayed here for long periods and I know how things go down , but when it comes to actually being the responsible one it all looks rather different. Whilst I am here on long climbing trips my only real concern is going climbing. If something goes wrong with the house or the gites, but conditions are amazing, I just go climbing. This isn’t a luxury afforded to Neil. I think a lot of people see life here through severely rose tinted spectacles, but that’s mainly because they see only what they want to see (like so many things in life).

Each day I’m here I have to do a number of chores which are relatively easy, but that’s because I’m only doing small things to keep things flowing for 1 week. Neil has to do the thousands of small chores along with the major ones. No one saw what happened when the toilet system got clogged up, and Neil excavated half his garden to find the problem. As he was stood knee deep in at least a 6 month backlog of fecal matter I stood jaw agape at a safe distance. Fair play to him as he replaced a large part of the system and didn’t bat an eyelid after several days of literally bathing in shit. I could barely walk past without gagging. No one sees the many hours of work he puts in to build a gite into what was an old barn, or the days that go into creating a measly extra car parking space. That’s the reality of life here, and of running a business. If only each day was 2 degrees, blue skies, frosty ground, dinner made itself, and boulders waited to get crushed. For me that’s nearly a reality, but it’s all because Neil puts in the hours at Maisonbleau. I’ve always done what I can to help out but in reality I live the easy life.

This post isn’t meant to be some ode to Neil or to Maisonbleau, but merely a reflection on the fact that we only see what we want to see. Given a certain situation, it’s human nature to project our own wants, desires, and aspirations onto it, normally romanticising it into what we wish we could do if real life didn’t get in the way. We do this with situations and with people, but at the end of the day everything comes down to a choice. The question you have to ask is how much do you really want it? If you want anything enough, you can make it happen. That’s what I (rightly or wrongly) believe and it’s how I choose to live. No compromises.

I don’t have sponsors or anyone who pays me to do anything with rock climbing. I do it for love (not that the two are mutually exclusive). I survive because I’m exceptionally lucky with money and I’m able to earn decent amounts in short amounts of time. However, the most effective method of surviving is my ability to be extremely frugal when necessary and always to buy low and sell high. I can’t remember the last time I lost money on something I bought and sold. Don’t always push all in with pocket A’s, as sometimes if you dare to slowplay them you stand to gain so much more. I also survive because I have amazing friends who always help me out with whatever they can. Overall I’m just a very lucky individual. Then again, I don’t believe in luck…  I hope that clears it up doylo…

Lastnight I did a bit of training and surprised myself by finding my level of strength at a half decent level. Certainly not amazing, but it was permissible. 1-5-8 was hard but doable, although I’m not sure if I built the campus board with 22.5cm or 23cm spacings. The latter would certainly explain the extra difficulty. I feel like I’m getting back into shape and doing one armers on the smallest edges of the beastmaker felt easy. Hopefully I’ll be able to utilise some semblance of this strength at an upcoming competition, but if I’ve learnt anything from competitions of that past it’s that I’m hugely inconsistent. It’s possible that I can do well, and it’s equally possible that I can do exceptionally badly. What I will certainly do is try to be wise and shadow the better competitors like Gaz, Ned, and Dave B. in the vain hope of keeping up. The bottom line is that I don’t know what possible, but I’m not ruling anything out, from 1st to last place… place your bets.

After so many days in Tivoli, it was time to get to the rocks and thanks to a last minute call from Jorg I was able to get in a few hours at Magic Wood. I’m not a big fan of magic wood, perhaps because it always shuts me down so hard, but this time I had a mini breakthrough. I finally managed to get a good sequence for part 1 of the Never Ending Story, and part 2 was feeling easy which came as a great surprise. I really wanted to try a few other things but they were either wet or too dirty, and on a 1 day trip I had no time to do anything about that. The result of this quick jaunt is a renewed motivation for the wood, so perhaps I’ll be heading back out there to try and slay some more demons.

The next adventure was to Silvretta, thanks to an offer of a tour from Gu. There is no topo to the area, a serious lack of information, and everyone I asked said different things regarding snow levels, access, and the blocs. There is only ever one way to be sure of something, and that’s to do it yourself, so I arranged a meeting spot with Gu and off I went. The boulders of Silvretta are basically located just off to the side of a piste, so in winter they are largely covered by snow, and in summer they are located at the end of a long walk, unless you are going up there with someone in the know. We managed to drive all the way up to the top parking, which thankfully left only a 5-10min walk to the boulders.

Now, most people who know me also know just how much I dislike sharp holds, sharp rock, and basically anything other than smooth sandstone. I am rather picky when it comes to holds, and if anything ever feels even slightly tweaky, I choose not to do it rather than risk an injury. I don’t think it’s a particularly good thing that I’m so picky when it comes to holds, but I often think that a potentially great problem can be ruined by one sharp/tweaky hold. This is probably due to climbing only on amazing things for the first few years of my climbing life, so the standard (or norm) was set high.

With Gu being ever enthusiastic, he took me up to what was supposed to be a warm up area. There was an amazing 7A which instantly stood out to me, but the other easier problems looked absolutely horrible and dirty. So it was the 7A that was up first. Gu had been telling me about the rock, and I’d told him about my dislike of of sharpness, so he assured me the first area was the least sharp rock in the whole area. I pulled on, did 1 move, and let go. This was sharp, no doubt about it. Gu found it particularly hilarious but I was a little worried! I decided I just need to breakthrough, so I pulled back on and made my way to the top. It’s a very cool line, being a 5m high arete, so I was glad to get it done, but the sharpness was a small concern. Next up was the problem next to it, which was an 8A/+ consisting of a few big moves or lots more little ones. Gu showed me the beta, I did the moves fairly easily, but whilst doing them a chunk of skin came off one of my fingers, once again providing some comedy for Gu. He couldn’t believe how bad my skin was, and I decided to wrap the warm up session up.

We headed up the hill to have a look at Anam Cara, an 8C put up last year by Bernd. Everyone who knows Silvretta knows about Memento, but I think there can be little doubt that Anam Cara is actually the hardest problem up there. It’s not a hugely aesthetic line, being a fairly low 70 degree roof, but what it lacks for in looks it makes up for in hardness. It’s 7 moves long, with not an easy one in sight, the crux revolving around a move from a small undercut and a highish foot. You can see a video of Kornelius Obleitner making what may be the 2nd or 3rd ascent over at Chalkjunkie. We tried the moves and I managed to do most of them which is something I suppose. The crux move, in my opinion, the first hand move from the undercut and this is a move I couldn’t do. I don’t know if it was because it was too hard, or because it was due to my fingers not being fully warmed up, but I’m fairly certain that I could do the move on a return visit. In my opinion this is one of the most consistently hard problems that I’ve tried, there are no easy moves, and because of this I think linking it would be much harder than doing the moves. It’s also my anti style in a big way. Every hold is a smallish crimp and that is without a doubt my weakest grip position. Still, I don’t think it’s impossible for me, far from it infact, so I’m taking that positive away from the experience. Unfortunately the rain moved in and we ended up huddled under the roof waiting for it pass, but when it did we were in no mood to walk up the hill to see Memento or False Gods. False Gods is a very good looking 7C+ so I’m keen to head up there and have a blast on it at some point over the summer. If you’ve seen Memento, you’ll know what I mean.

The next rock adventure came courtesy of a guy called Berni, whom I met at Tivoli. He offered to show me around some of the bouldering in the Zillertal and, even though my skin was hurting, I couldn’t refuse. We headed to the Zillergrund, but unfortunately the majority of boulders were wet from the little rain and the extremely humid conditions. We ended up at a boulder which stays perma dry, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and hearing. Berni was giving me numbers but they absolutely didn’t correlate to the things I was looking at. The 7A warm up looked about 7C, the 7B problems next to it looked impossible, but the 7C+ actually looked 7C+ which was strange. A couple of pull ups on sharp jugs and then the 7A was dispatched. The 7B’s were ridiculous, requiring a pull from perhaps the smallest hold I’ve ever used. I have no idea how it could be 7B but I was pretty damn happy when I managed to do the deadpoint, jump, float, 2nd generation swing, and latch the jug. I didn’t try the 7C+ as my skin was on fire, so we went for a walk up to the sundergrund. What I found were some rather impressive blocs, with one highball arete being amongst the best lines I’ve ever seen. Some of the other things looked cool, but nothing stood out quite as much as the arete. What was incredible was that I found an arete of rock which was amongst the best rock I’ve EVER touched. It was a super fine granite, with incredible grip and texture. A true delight to pull on. Amazingly, this rock only existing for this arete, as only 10cm either side of the arete the rock changed to something much less appealing. I was so taken aback by this amazing bit of rock that even with super thin skin I went up, then down it. Truly magnificent, but unfortunately it doesn’t seem to exist anywhere else in the area, which is a great shame.

It felt great to be out on the rocks again, even though it was on sometimes horrifically sharp rock, and it reminded me how much I love rock climbing. Silvretta looks a little scrappy as there are huge pistes manufactured nearby, but the overall aspect is really beautiful. There are mountains and valleys all around which only made me feel greatful for being able to live the life I do and visit such wonderful places.

As for now, I’m back in Fontainebleau looking after Maisonbleau for a week as Neil and the family have gone south to enjoy a small holiday. I’ll be here for a week or so and then I’ll be making a small trip to England after which it’s back to Innsbruck for what I hope will be a summer of rock climbing. I’ll probably be training a fair bit as well as I want to increase my base level of strength, but the main goal for the summer is to learn how to utilise the crimp and pull on sharp holds without screaming, crying, or tearing open my fingertips!