Galloway

Like any good climbing trip, this one was prepared for in the pub. Meeting Dave at Preston Station he seemed to have survived his re-sits and we headed to Weatherspoons to meet Alex and Eddy. Will wasn’t able to meet us as he was “giving his mum a lift” but turned up an hour late with some friends; if you’re going to dodge friends for a night don’t go to the same pub! Drinking strong cider quickly wasn’t a good idea and as we stumbled to the station I got a feeling we weren’t going to be leaving too early the next day.

In the end we left home at 1 but only got to Galloway at 7 with food but no fuel for the stove. Feeling fit and fresh we marched over a few fields to go and have a look at Clifton Crag, a nice bit of solid Granite surrounded to the loose Greywacke of the area. I spent 15 minutes warming up whilst Dave chatted to Tom on the phone (who was trying to convince him to come to Les Arcs for a week). We marched up an easy Vs quickly; it wasn’t a bad route but I’d heard that this place was great. As the sun was setting we spotted the best looking route on the crag, a steep and curving crack graded Hvs. Just as I was about to set off a close friend, Sam, who I hadn’t spoken to for 6 weeks rang. We chatted for a while as Dave bouldered but I eventually said I had to go as it was getting too dark to do this last climb. Sweetly, she wasn’t impressed I was climbing in the murk.

The route was good, though placing gear n the murk was much harder than I thought it would be. Thinking I’d done the crux, I charged upwards cockily on slopers that quickly ran out and had a bit of a wake up call. At the top Dave casually mentioned that he’d seen the farmer opening the gates connecting the fields below us. So, there was now a black bull wandering about somewhere in the black field between us and the car. Fun times.

That evening we pitched the tent at midnight (after a long drive to find a campsite that wasn’t full) and were aware that we were underneath some kind of plane. Waking up the next morning was quite amusing:

Galloway

The next day we headed to Red Slab and warmed up on a nice Hs. I led until 5 or 6 on various Vs’s and Hs’s (Dave didn’t lead as he was still getting used to climbing on rock that moved every so often) before the heavens opened. We dejectedly marched back to the car with 150 metres of messy wet rope and resumed the time consuming task of finding a campsite with a nearby pub that wasn’t full.

The next day we headed back to Red Slab and were joined by a group of about 10. They immediately clocked us as “young and irresponsible” and mentioned that we were belaying from a single fence post. It was quite satisfying when they realised it was all that was going, and that “the youth” were climbing much more competently than they were. Dave led a couple of easier routes whilst I lead the superb Vs “Mental Block”. It’s a fitting name as you have to keep a very cool head as you climb up above dodgy wires and a horrific landing to a filling-cabinet sized block sticking from the wall. One of Dave’s routes had a harrowing run out too; he led confidently, but could have at least tried placing a few hopeful pieces of gear on the way. When belaying from a fencepost at the top of one of these scary routes you can’t help but think Red Slab is definitely not the place to push your grade, but it’s a great climbing experience.

Throughout the day we’d eyed up a stunning looking Hvs, K9, on another bigger section of the wall. It was two pitches and, though the second pitch looked obvious, neither the belay ledge of first pitch were. Finally going for it, the first pitch was an exercise in easy climbing above a lot of dodgy gear (precarious slings, cams in flared pockets and tiny wires). The belay ledge was superb though; a ledge the size of two feet on an enormous undercut flake with a bomber friend and a No. 1 Rp for protection. Some other guys looked over from Red Slab and shouted “man, that looks amazing”. It was. Dave looked cool on it, though asked a few nervous questions about this multi pitch climbing lark. Typical Dave, he’d been so easy going and chilled out that I hadn’t really clocked onto this being his first multi pitch route.

Dave belayign me as I reach the belay ledge, showing the huge overhangs curvng above us:

Dave cruising up to the belay ledge:

The second pitch flew by with some jamming up a bulging crack and wide bridging. The route appeared to follow the line of a 2 metre thick dyke, so was up immaculate and (for once) solid rock. Another fence post belay (this time with two, luxury!) left us feeling quite content. As it was Dave’s turn to lead we lounged about (eating as usual) and looked for something for him to do. Next to K9 (following the other side of the dyke) was a good looking Vdiff that, when combined with the access traverse, was said to be “a worthwhile route”.

As the other party left we geared up and bounced off down the descent; it was a beautiful evening to be out climbing. Dave dispatched the traverse easily and I followed quickly. It was deceptively long and I had to lead through to get to the bottom of the zawn (beneath the dyke). As there was nowhere to belay I started up the ridge like edge of the zawn easily, though without gear. After 10 or so metres I found a small flake and looped a sling over it and a hex behind it. Stood on one foot, my body leaning against the slabby wall with the huge cliffs all around me I couldn’t help but think this was an amazing place to be. Dave followed easily and took the gear in preparation for leading this final pitch. It looked straight forward, and Dave climbed it easily, but there was an acute lack of gear. After 10 metres of nothing I offered to lead it, but Dave seemed confident he could handle it, and that it would get better. Stepping up from the ledge I looked up to see Dave’s hand slamming onto the rock as he swore. I was terrified; if Dave came off here he was going to be bouncing down a huge amount of slab, probably into me. He somehow stayed on, but dislodged a massive lump or rock that started bounding down the slab in huge leaps, knocking even more stuff off. Thankfully, I was so concerned about Dave falling I didn’t notice this until it screamed past me; waiting as it crashed down in my general direction would have been horrible.

As it turned out, Dave had just placed a good friend on the ledge before he stepped up, so was pretty safe. The hand slamming into the wall wasn’t (as I had thought) a desperate attempt to stay on, but was instead an attempt to push the hold he’d just pulled off back onto the wall. The rest of the pitch got a little better, but good gear was still rare, and Dave looked overjoyed when he clipped into those fence posts at the top. I started up easily (a little relieved after I’d found his hidden friend) and, just as I pulled up to see Dave’s face at the top, pulled on television sized block. As if to say “thanks for climbing here” the cliff offered me the huge block of rock. A little surprised by this huge thing moving, I swung to my left (pivoting around my left hand and foot) and could only watch as the huge block smashed its way down the cliff before exploding into the water. I hate to think what would have happened if Dave was belaying behind me.

Collapsing back onto the bags we couldn’t help but laugh at it all. Dave summed it all by shouting “Sod it, I’ve seen the light and I’m not going there alone. I’m texting X to tell her I love her”.

The next day we walked to the most popular (read: has the most solid rock) area of the Galloway sea cliffs. I did a classic Vs up a steep wall and Dave did a goof Vdiff up a nice wall. To finish, I powered up a great looking Hvs. Feeling confident and strong, I can’t remember ever feeling more insync with a route. The middle section comprised of a series of moves from one horizontal edge to the next with only a No. 1 rp between you and the ground. Normally I would have felt terrified (and climbed clumsily because of it) but instead I just climbed up smoothly, certain I could do whatever this climb threw at me. Higher up, the climbing became easier and the gear was great; a just reward for having the guts to do the lower section.

This photo (taken the year before) sums up climbing on red slab; you’re cooking in the sun whilst you calves burn as you stand on tiny holds doing amazing climbing above questionable gear.

Writing this with my knee in the air after 14 weeks without sport, climbing in Galloway stands out as the best thing I did over summer. Usually, I feel guilty about dangerous climbing (if I knew I was letting my self in for it, I think “my Dad wouldn’t have done that”) but, with it sprung on me by surprise, I can’t help but look back and think that surviving it with someone is an amazing experience to share. Climbing on the last Hvs of the trip, I felt I understood a little of the feeling top climbers describe when they stand under a huge route and are just somehow certain they can do it.

On the other hand, perhaps I would look back on this very differently if something had done wrong.

Tremadog

Hearing about my great trip out to the Peaks, Dad seemed eager to get out and get some more routes in. He suggested North Wales so I excitedly asked about Gogarth; he didn’t seem too impressed so we decided to go to Tremadog. On the first day we arrived at the famous Eric’s Café and pitched the tent before marching up to the cliffs above. We started on a great Vs that had some great laybacking on; I felt cool and confident on it after Great North Road and cruised to the top comfortably. We then did the crag’s famous route, Scratch Arête. The first pitch is good Vs climbing, before the second pitch takes you across a delicate slab and up to an old peg (and some tiny rp placements, thankfully) and through a bold looking overlap. Looking down to the valley floor hundreds of metres below, it’s a truly spectacular setting one of the best routes I’ve ever done.

That evening we walked the 30 minutes to the pub and had some good food and beer. Dehydrated from a long day in the sun, it quickly went to our heads, but made for an amusing conversation.

The next day we walked to the next buttress and tackled a great three pitch Vs. I felt cool and calm as I was now climbing well within my grade (a far cry from Cornwall) but the party in front of us were slow and in-experienced. Being cooked in the sun, it would have been easy to get annoyed with them, but they were a pleasant couple who just lacked experience. At least they kept us entertained by ringing each other from the belays. Topping out, we soon lost the track down and got completely lost as we fought our way through the trees and abseiled over buttresses. Getting back to the bags my knee felt sore from the descent, so we decided to call it a day and drop in at Worlds End (Langollen) instead, one of Dad’s old haunts from when he lived in Shropshire.

Walking down, we wandered through a building site and chatted to some decent blokes who had been watching us from the valley below and joked about if the other pair had even got down yet.

At Worlds End we warmed up on a Vs before I tackled a harsh looking overhanging crack graded Hvs. With good gear in, I had to go for it a bit and pull hard when lay backing; my elbow gave a humongous pop and in a split second I understand how you could injure your elbows climbing. Pulling though the difficulties I slammed in another top cam and topped out hapily. Seconding, Dad found it difficult and fell off before calling it a day in case he wrenched his shoulder. A first for me, I had to ab down and take the gear out.

We finished on another couple of great Vs’s over looking the valley; I wish I’d had my camera with me. Getting home I looked up the Hvs in the guidebook and found it was now graded E1 5b, awesome! A great way to end a great little trip.
Tremadog

Peak Rock: The Sequel

Jon, Andy, Claire and I had decided to meet over the summer holidays to climb and so, thanks to Claire’s organisation, we were all heading to the Peak district on the same day. I brought along Dave and met Jon and Claire early on the Friday morning, only to discover that every campsite in the Peaks appeared to be full. Annoyed, we just decided to go climbing all day and see what would turn up in the evening.

Meeting Andy, we walked along the bottom of Millstone, admired “Masters Edge”, and then warmed up on “Great Slab”. Claire and Dave enjoyed the balancey climbing immediately, but Jon took a few goes to get it right. We then split up; Jon, Andy and Claire climbing together whilst Dave and I formed the usual team. Whilst Andy led a good diff, Dave and I tackled the other Vs on the Embankment (in an attempt to get back at Millstone and the Embankment for last time) and again found it quite difficult. I seemed to struggle when I wanted to smear between holds, an act that is nearly impossible on the clean faces of quarried gritstone.

Meeting up again, we saw two confident looking Italians heading up a huge 120ft crack line. Sitting down to watch the spectacle I guessed the grade to be E2 or 3, only to check in the guide book and see that it was the HVS “Great North Road”. Dave’s lead now, but I got that sinking feeling that I knew what was coming next. Dave made did his first lead without any fuss, a two pitch diff that he seemed to enjoy even though the technical grade was miles below what he can climb on the soft end of a rope.

Heading back down I decided the amazing line had to go and started gearing up under “Great North Road”. Its size didn’t bother me too much, but the steep laybacking corner looked hard. The Italian had either found it very easy and not wanted to place gear, or too strenuous and was unable to place any. Either way, he was very run out when he got to the top. Heading up the first moves I felt nervous, but the climbing was great. Soon I was bridging at the bottom of the layback and reached up to place a bomber friend, great stuff! Stepping down I re-couped my strength before launching up it. The first moves went well and halfway up I felt strong and smoothly placed an alien, only a few more moves to go. Unfortunately, a combination of foot holds out wide and the rope and alien stem sticking out where I wanted to put the other foot, I lost my smoothness, but made it to the top buzzing. With the hardest moves now behind me, I was able to enjoy the brilliant climbing of the upper section, sailing every higher on a wave of endorphins.

Belaying at the top I felt on top of the world, the route had scared me but I’d managed to put that aside (just about) and climb it, albeit not that smoothly. As icing on the cake, Dave pulled over the top a gibbering wreck exclaiming “respect mate, what a lead. I’ve never had vertigo before”.

That evening we managed to find a space on a great campsite and got bitten to death my midges as we cooked. A top days climbing.

The next day we decided to march up to the Goliaths Groove area of Stannage. We warmed up bouldering, before Dave led the atrocious “Helfensteins Struggle”, a horrific route that required you to squeeze through a tiny opening.  A very impressive lead.

And once Dave had led it, he was more than happy tolaugh at the rest of us.

As it’s such a classic, we climbed Goliaths Groove again (Claire doing amazingly to almost get to the top, but Jon finding the foot work hard) and set up a top rope on the bold arête next to it. Thinking it was only 5b I cruised to the top, only to come down to find it was 5c.  An example of what believing you can do the moves can do for your climbing. Dave had some issues with the smearing, and then finally got it sorted only to dyno for the wrong hold. Something for another day. Doing a classic Dave and drawing on his huge reserve of confidence, he then led his first Severe, a nice pitch, with ease.

Whist Andy nicked one of my cams for a good looking Vdiff, Dave and I headed to do a clean cut jamming crack (I was trying to work on the weaknesses in my climbing). I found it amazing climbing, slugging hand jam’s over each other with both feet in the crack. To my amusement, Dave’s hands were a little too small for it and he fell a few times, before arriving at the top looking quite embarrassed. I then nicked back my Cam, and all of Andy’s, to lead an amazing HVS 5b that pulled up steeply to a horizontal edge, before traversing off on very rounded, but big, holds.

To give Dave a challenge, we then set up a top rope on the E3 6a that went up a similar line. Somehow arguing it was my turn to climb, I annoyingly gave up on the top move, only to see the huge hold that had been inches from my hand. Annoyed, I let Dave have a go at linking the first moves, before he fell off on the last hard section. My turn again, and I got it in one; hopefully I can come back and lead it next year. On Dave’s last turn he made all the moves, but only with a rest in the middle (much to his frustration). To my frustration, I then found that all the falling had worn through the rope’s sheath, an expensive mistake.

Returning to the campsite we had a few beers on an empty stomach, and then headed to the pub. Nobody was up early the next morning.

We opted to go to Stannage again and had a more relaxed day. I led an awesome Vs 5a (with an impressively steep top section and brilliant mantle-shelf) and Dave wisely backed off a nasty looking Severe with no gear. We top roped a nice 5c (it had absolutely no gear) but Dave didn’t feel very confident on it so gave up, oddly. As Dave ran off to catch his train with Andy, Claire, Jon and I teamed up and did a great Hs corner crack before finishing on the Severe Dave tried.  I must have been off route as it seemed quite hard. That evening we watched the meteor shower from the campsite.

The next day we headed to the popular end of Stannage and did a route in the wind and rain.  Fortunatley, it then dried up and we did a few good routes, and the badly polished “Crack and Corner” before calling it a day to drop Claire at the station. Driving home, it was a sunny evening and I felt pleased by all the great climbing, and great fun, we’d had.

Anglezarke

Presented with a sunny Sunday, Dave, Jo and I decided to go to Anglezarke quarry. I had work in the evening so we headed off early and warmed up with a classic Vs, “Metamorphosis”. Unfortunately, Jo didn’t fare too well on this. Feeling fit, I then moved onto the object of the trip, my first E1. Though only 5a it is sustained, often dirty and suffers from some large loose blocks. Once on the route, I felt confident and made each move smoothly, expecting the next move to be the hard one. To my surprise I soon started to make the easy moves up to the top and realised it was in the bag. Though I was pleased it had gone so well, I had hoped for a little more of a fight to earn my first E point.

We then top roped a few things for Jo (including an awkward and dirty 5c) before moving back to top rope an awesome arête. The climbing up the initial crack was hard, probably 5c, but a big rest was then gained (and the last piece of gear, if you were leading). From here the route stepped out onto the arête before a powerful pull on an incut led to a precarious layback. Feeling well balanced, a gentle reach around the arête then gives a huge hold and it’s all over. Only the second 6a that I’ve ever top roped first try, I’d like to lead it at some point.

Jo was good at keeping the ego in trim by being more interested in the local wild life:

Peak Rock

I haven’t done much climbing in the Peaks so when Dad mentioned a trip over with Ian (whilst staying with Andrew) I made sure I wasn’t working. Driving over I felt excited to arrive in the centre of UK climbing and, arriving at Millstone Edge, we walked under some amazing lines like “Master’s Edge”.

We warmed up on an easy V diff before Dad led a severe that padded thinly across a typically smooth piece of quarried Gritstone. Approaching this a bit cockily, I slipped and was almost off.  A sign of things to come.

Moving up through the grades we then did the superb “Great Slab”, an enjoyable HS with a tricky top section. Worryingly, my fingers felt a bit sore.

We then moved over to climb “Gim Crack”, a VS that felt ok for the grade. As this inspired my confidence we then moved over to the Embankment area, only for me to fall from the first move of “Embankment 2″ (a VS) heavily. Good spotting by my Dad probably stopped me breaking my ankle.  I imagine I just had sand on my shoe, but it jarred my confidence and the route quickly psyched me out. We moved over to do another striking VS line that I backed off the second move of. Giving myself a stern talking to I launched up it again and ignored the “what if your foot slips” feeling by climbing confidently. A good route that probably did a lot to quickly halt the slide that can sometimes happen after my confidence gets knocked.

The next day we took the short walk to the Goliaths Groove area of Stannage. Goliaths Groove looked impressive but daunting. I warmed up by spending 20 minutes padding back and forth across a nicely angled slab in an attempt to regroup my confidence. It worked, and I cruised the Vs 5a that my Dad led and, considering I find laybacking hard, found the next VS I led ok for the grade.

Goliaths Groove looked very well protected and was within my grade, so had to be attempted. A route that is famous for the very different ways people approach it, I chose to bridge up the two walls. Though this didn’t require much from my hands, it felt a bit scary as I didn’t want to hit the ground again yet knew that was what would happen should one of my feet slip even slightly as I was clipping the gear. Getting to the top of the hard section, I cruised the top moves by placing my feet well, something I didn’t expect to do after the previous days slip.

To finish the two days climbing I led a good Vs. The moves up the vertical cracks seemed easy, but the traverse looked serious. I took my time to sus the moves and then padded across the slab, feeling a bit lonely as the gear just got further and further away. Balancing near the end of the traverse in the cold wind, I was struck by the absurdity of this, and felt very alone. Looking across the crag I spotted someone in the same sort of position and, as quickly as the loneliness had come, it disappeared and left me to smile and finish the route comfortably.

Witches Quarry

Frustrated with my knee and un-able to walk to a mountain crag, we opted to head to “Witches Quarry”. Classic limestone climbing, it is filled with gear, good routes and spectacular views. Warming up with a long traverse of the crag I ended up making the crux move for the first time, a 5b/c hand traverse under an overhang. The day was looking good.

Getting the ropes out, Dave and I got moving on a nice Vs 4b, then moved to a trickier Vs 5a. Both flew by so we had a go at the crag classic, a starred HVS 5a. A huge amount of fun, the route was a perfect to climb but I soon found myself at the top, neither too tired or too pushed. Deciding it was time to push things a little harder, we moved onto a HVS 5b. Bomber gear all the way, the rock was quite steep and punished me for hanging about before committing to the crux moves. Once I got on them, the climbing engrossed me and, fighting the pump in my forearms, I pulled onto the balancy final slab beaming from ear to ear. An amazing route.

Thinking this was the grade to be climbing at, I had a look at “Warlock Wall”. It looked savage, I couldn’t see myself climbing it. Small, fingery holds made putting the abundant gear in hard, so I pulled up into the route and stuffed two great pieces in before scuttling back to the ground to rest. Moving up again, the next move seemed a lot harder than the route I’d just climbed, trying different combinations I moved up into a side pull before trying to turn into it. A big mistake, I tried to retreat but was soon swinging from the gear.

As my Dad wandered over with his camera I gave it another go and, climbing more smoothly, linked the moves and stepped up into the next pumpy stance. With more great gear placed in exchange for some lactic acid in my forearms, I pulled over into the top jug delighted. Finally, my leading was feeling more confident. Maybe now I can try a soft touch E1 5b……

Feeling Strong

Having been climbing for weeks now, my arms were starting to feel deeply fatigued, whilst my fingers a little sore. After a brilliant trip to Manchester (which also included meeting a friends new university friends) we headed to west view for an easy evening of climbing, nothing to hard to punish the fingers, and yet more vertical miles.

As per usual, this all went out of the window when Jo mentioned that she had her camera and could film me climbing the big wall. Seizing the opportunity to analyse my climbing style, I decided to do something tricky, but not at my limit: a nice 6b+. Three weeks ago I couldn’t get off the ground, now it’s just something to keep fit on.

As ever, it’s quite worrying just how far you fall; the rope was clipped in level with my knee but I still ended up halfway down the wall. I think I wasted most energy pulling the rope through to clip above my head when it’s much more efficient to clip when it’s at waist level.

Resting afterwards, Dave pointed out a nasty looking 7b+ that would be fun to have a play on, but only with a top rope. Setting the rope up for him, Dave had a go but only made it about a 3rd of the way up. Big gaps, small holds and tricky moves made this one of the hardest routes on the wall. I gave it a good shot and got to the last move but, unwilling to dyno (for risk of injury) didn’t make the last move. Coming down I wasn’t sure what to think. Sure, I’d nearly made it to the top of a hard route but one of my fingers was now very sore. I should be able to do this route with a little practice, but at what potential cost-a summer with an injured finger?

Hard Work, and Work

For the past three weeks life has been simple, long shifts pulling pints at work mixed with long sessions at West View.  Though I seem quite strong, I don’t have much power.  At the start of the weeks I couldn’t do any big wall routes harder than 6a, or the classic surface features traverse.  Hopefully this will all change soon.

Knees

“I can give you a new anterior cruciate ligament now, or a new knee in 15 years”

The words of my knee surgeon. I’d hoped that my knee had been making steady improvements, but this check-up seemed to throw a big fat no on that idea. Though I don’t fully understand this yet, it appears that the damage to my PCL has also involved damaged to my ACL and meniscus but, with surgery and 6 months of rehab, I could have my knee back to its old ways.

Six months is a long time out from sport, but I couldn’t imagine my knee not making a full recovery. The only question is how soon I can have this done.

8th Week

8th Week, or the last week of term, was planned to be a very big week of drinking as the exams were at last over (for a select few, about 2/3rds of people were still locked up in exam halls). However, a friend had been harassing me about not going climbing and, out of curiosity; I thought I’d try my climbing boots on. Amazingly, they slipped on easily; no pain what-so-ever. Forget spending money on drink, in about 5 minutes I’d found someone to spend that week and money on a climbing trip-Jon.

Deciding on the famous Cornish sea cliff climbing, we left the end of exams celebrations and caught the first train of the morning.

Arriving after lunch, we caught the bus from Penzance to Lands End and pitched our tent at the ludicrously over priced (and viewless) “Sea View”. Wasting no time we walked the 20 minutes to Sennen Cove, scrambled down the descent gully and got the first easy route done. Having never climbed together before, and having not climbed in the last 2 months, we climbed easy V diffs and severes until it went dark. As Jon had never been this far south, we then decided to take a longer walk home via Lands End. Stopping their, we took a quick photo, admired the lack of a view and watched all the light houses and ships twinkling out at sea. Returning to the campsite hungry, we found a fox had eaten pretty much all our food. Some warmed up tuna and pasta sauce sent us to bed laughing: at least it hadn’t eaten the tent.

The next day was sunny and we were boiled out of the tent by ten (there was no other way we would be getting up any other way as neither of us had had a proper nights sleep since exams and revision started 3 weeks ago). Still not ready to go to the bigger and more serious cliffs to the south, we again opted for Sennen Cove. Warming up on another easy route, we then moved up the grades to do Dexter, a VS. Comprising of awkward, but great, gear on the crux, you had to climb confidently with your hands on a huge, curving flake whilst you smeared your feat onto the flat wall beneath, before pulling smoothly up. My sort of climbing, I was happy once I committed and started pulling onto the flake. Jon found the moves to stand on the flake difficult, however. Dropping the grade we did an easier climb to keep moving before climbing Vertical Crack, another brilliant VS. Whilst climbing I was impressed to look out to sea and see four basking sharks driving shoals of fish against the rocks.

On the third day we woke to yet more sun, and decided it was time to go to Chair Ladder, the area’s big cliff. As it was hide tide at about twelve, the bottom of the cliff would still be under water so, after walking the hour and a half to get there, climbed an easier route nearby; Seal Slab. A great route, I’m glad I found it quite easy as, at times, there’s no gear!

Feeling confident, we then walked over to Chair Ladder (whose base was just about showing from the waves by now) and scrambled down the long descent to get to the bottom. Dodging a few waves, we got to a point at which I thought we could climb into the side of the route. Whilst doing this great traverse, I saw a big wave come up and soak Jon. Moving the belay to a tiny ledge in the crack the rock above us reared out alarmingly, but the combination of great gear and huge holds made pulling onto the top ledge the highlight of the week- there was no way I thought I’d be climbing this well so soon after injury. Jon then followed me up this, climbing confidently and with a lot of style.

Not feeling up for the other big and steeper looking route on the main face, we decided to do a simple one pitch (or rope length) climb called “Hairy Cornflake”. Descending to the bottom of it, the line was striking; climb 60ft of steep cracks with huge holds before pulling over onto a steep wall with what can only be described as having a 10ft high cornflake stuck on it. You climbed the edge of this to the top, all the while with the exposure of the rest of the cliff behind you.

The first 60 ft flew by, but when looking over the bulge at the cornflake I realised I might not be able to get any gear behind it. Worried by this, I put three poor pieces in to my side, and tried to equalise any forces that would be on them (should I fall) with a long sling. Pulling over the bulge I stood up confidently and moved sideways to hang from the flake. The gear already seemed a long way beneath me. Stepping up again, I found the rock much steeper than it had looked and the weight of three days climbing in my muscles. Fiddling with the wretched friend I had hoped to put in, I watched as it just popped out under the slightest pull. Thankfully, I found a placement for a small friend at the back of the crack that seemed surprisingly ok, and made the last moves to pull onto the top with a whoop of delight. Jon then came up the route well, but had a little trouble on the top move.

Thinking it was all over, I started to scramble along the top of the route (it was like a pinnacle, but the top and back looked so broken and easy that it looked like we could scramble off). Moving round (with Jon still holding the rope) I found there were a few moves that looked ok, but as soon as you looked down you saw that one fall would be the end. Coming back round to Jon, I told him about this with a worried look. We decided to try and set up an abseil, but it quickly started to look even more dangerous. Encroaching darkness put a time limit on getting off the top. The best bet looked to be to scramble off the back, so I had another go and this time manage to find some gear to take away the risk of a fall. We were now stood at the back of the pinnacle, a mere 4 metres from the ground, but still with no obvious way down and the last light fading. Swapping over (so that Jon was again holding the rope for me) I scrambled around until finally found an easy way down, thank God! We just about managed to find our bags in the muddy darkness, laughed at how ridiculous that last “little route” had been and enjoyed the long, head torch lit walk home.

Planning to go home the next day, it was again sunny so we headed over to Sennen to finish off with a more relaxed day. We ticked off the crag classic, Demo Route, in style and then put a top rope (secured the rope at the top of the crag, so there’s no need to place gear) on an E3. Certain I didn’t have the strength to make this route, I was astounded when I climbed the first section to gain the rest. Lunging upwards from here I was over the moon when I just managed to stick the top hold.

Here I’m abseiling down the route (on the rope I’ve placed above) and looking down to avoid learning anything about the route before hand. It runs up the leftward slanting crack from my left foot, to rest at the black shaped scoop above my left shoulder. The crux of the route is then to move up to the obvious under-cling (the downward facing, long black hold above my head). Maybe I’ll lead this some time.

Relaxing in the campsite that evening, the sunset was an impressive deep red. The next day we caught the train back home, and enjoyed seeing friends back in college. All in all, an amazing week that seems to have come from a friend teasing me about not being able to climb.