Inspired to be better

Last week I started writing a blog post about teaching kids climbing etiquette, in the text I got on my high horse and moaned about kids pushing in on bouldering problems at walls and having no manners, I politely asked that walls and parents considered adding etiquette to their coaching sessions. I have now paid the price for my nagative moanings, karma has come up and bitten me on the bum, well the ankle to be more accurate. Before publishing said post I went back to the offending kids haunt, the same wall where the kids had pushed in between my friend and I as we took it in turns to solve various problems. A few climbs in and I was reaching for the last hold of a climb on an overhang, I was pretty sure I was going to get it but I missed and came tumbling down. I landed on the outside of my right foot and felt it go pop! I have never broken anything, or torn ligaments, I’ve been pretty lucky. I can’t describe the pain, but I remember waiting for it to ease, I could hear my friend and the guy from the wall asking me questions and I was thinking ‘I’ll just wait until the pain goes before I respond,’ but it didn’t go anywhere. I think I then started repeating my friend’s name, just to say something, looking back on it now I probably sounded like a bit of a weirdo.

Four days later and I’m sitting on my sofa, leg propped up; at the hospital they said it was inconclusive, it could be a fracture or a bad sprain. Either way I’ve got a week of not doing anything with my ankle, three weeks of not walking outside (a mean feat for an Outdoor Education Instructor) and then a further eight weeks of no ‘adventurous activities’. I didn’t ask for a definition of ‘adventurous’ what is adventurous for a doctor who had never heard the word ‘bouldering’ before is most certainly different to what I consider to be adventurous. I’m skiing in February no matter what they say.

The worst bit is having to ask people to do things for me, some friends are great and just help you without you even noticing, others have to be asked and I hate asking for help. Without wanting to sound too dramatic, I feel like a burden, I’m usually very independent. If I was reaching for something and there was a tall guy around the corner, I’d much rather stand on a chair balanced on a table, with a yard brush in my hand and get it myself than have to ask. This week I’ve had to ask. I was in a shop yesterday on my crutches and I wanted to buy something, I sheepishly asked the woman on the counter if she wouldn’t mind picking up the bits that I wanted, she could tell I was a bit ashamed to do it. When we got to the counter she quietly said to me ‘Don’t’ worry, lots of people ask me to do this for them when there is nothing wrong with them at all!’

So if I can’t climb, or walk outside, what am I going to do for the next three and a half weeks? I remember seeing a stop motion video made by a climber who had broken his toe. He recorded himself campusing on the underneath of the stairs on a road bridge, his upper body strength improved massively over the time of the video; I need to improve my upper body strength but I’m a bit afraid of landing on the offending ankle and making it worse. I’m sure I’ll think of something, in the mean time I’m reading, starting with ‘Annapurna: The great adventure of our time’ and I’ve got a pile of other books. Perhaps they will inspire me.

If there is one thing this experience has already inspired me to do, it is to be a better climber… and practice my landing.

All female?

In the past I have consciously kept away from all women’s events, I remember going to the ladies only night at a local swimming pool and being frustrated by the rows of women swimming and talking simultaneously. The same week I went to the mixed night and there were only two people there, I never looked back. I’d rather just jump in the pool and get some proper swimming done that fuss over men seeing me in my cossie and have to crowd dodge. I’ve always kind of pitied women who need an all female environment to feel comfortable, maybe because I’ve always had close male friends and worked with men and women with no particular problems. I tend to think that if guys had all male events then we would all be making a fuss.

So when a few weeks ago at work, I was offered the opportunity to attend an all women’s Level One Coaching course in Paddlesport, I cautiously accepted the offer. I wanted to do the course but I had visions of posters with kayaks turned into high-heeled shoes like the Women’s Climbing Symposium, but how wrong I was. Initially I was a little confused when I got confirmation of the course and it turned out that a guy was going to be teaching it. If you were going to go to the trouble of holding an all female course why on earth would you have a guy teach it? As soon as we arrived on the first day it was explained to us why, because apparently there weren’t any women qualified enough and willing to teach it. That was a shame and I think this should be rectified; although I have to say Phil Hadely who taught the course was an amazing instructor and very knowledgeable. Phil explained that they felt the need for the all female element because they were concerned that women on mixed courses sometimes felt shy or overpowered by the bolshie 20-30 something year old guys that take over and compete. During the course I learnt a lot from the instructors and the other women on the course, there was a lot of knowledge and ability in the room and on the water. It certainly didn’t feel girl orientated and whilst I have no way of knowing if the course was better or worse than it would have been if it were a mixed course, I certainly wouldn’t change the course that I attended.

I’ve in no way been converted to attending only all women events, I’ll still be keeping clear of ladies night at the local pool, but that ug feeling has gone away when I see them advertised. At the end of the day an opportunity is an opportunity and the people that find reason to complain, be it because of badly designed advertising posters or because they think it is in breach of equal opportunities, well they are just going to miss out aren’t they.

Map Writing

My family have never been precious about maps. In fact I grew up in a house with a bookshelf full of maps all covered in drawings and notes from my Dad’s rallying days. Most local walks were (and still are) done using maps with pencil and highlighter markings showing us welsh rally routes. Our European road maps have our holiday destinations highlighted with comments such as ‘nice beach here’, ‘good windsurfing’, ‘great restaurant’ and ‘expensive coffee.’ Maybe that is why all my OS maps are now folded beyond recognition, hole ridden and falling apart. People have been known to flinch at the permanent ink used, comments on landmarks and marked routes.

But I wouldn’t change any of them. Each map is a collection of memories, personalised with my experiences. A mud smeared pencil marked map is a relic from a journey, capable of evoking more memories than photographs. I’d rather buy a new map and end up with shelves full of archived expeditions, than rub away the traces of my journeys.

Long Long Mynd Hike

My Dad first attempted the Long Mynd Hike in 1996. The challenge is an 80km walk around the Shropshire Hills, for which you are given 24 hours to complete. Dad tried on and off over the following years and finally last year I decided to join him.

2011

He tried his best to prepare me for the challenge but ultimately nothing can prepare you as much as actually trying it. In fact I prepared very little and it showed. I had the wrong equipment on a ridiculously hot October day and made the mistake of checking my feet less than halfway round the route. One look at my weary blister ridden feet and I was on the mini bus waiting to be taken back to Church Stretton vowing I’d never do anything so painful ever again. Of course after a few days rest my feet were back to normal and clouds of doubt filled my head. Maybe it was just psychological? Maybe I could have carried on? I’m definitely doing it next year!

This time I bough better boots, socks and rucksack and I trained! I ran (I hate running) every other day for 2 months. I was going to finish it!

2012

My sister joined us for her first attempt, we tried with the same effort to prepare her and for a first attempt she did well, making 32km before retiring. Keeping Anna’s pace meant after her retirement my Dad and I had plenty of energy left to plod on into the night. Although my blister problem had been solved from the previous year a knee problem developed soon after the half way mark. I carried on regardless but inevitably gave up at 56km. I retired happy to see my Dad carry on into the distance as the sun rose. There was no stopping him.

My sister greeted me at the RV in the hike car park and we rested until 11am, by which time I could just about hobble and was cursing myself for giving up again. We made our way back to the hike headquarters to see if we could find out anything about Dad’s whereabouts. A quick radio check and yes number 076 was still walking and due to finish just before the 24 hour deadline.

I was beaming, bought a souvenir t-shirt and claimed my free breakfast! All of a sudden I didn’t care that I hadn’t finished, Dad was going to and I couldn’t be more proud.

We waited about an hour and went to the road just in time to see him appear in the distance. He practically hopped, skipped and jumped down the road to the finish looking bright and not at all like he had been walking for 23 and a half hours.

2013

On reflection I will be attempting again next year. I don’t care if it takes me until I’m 58, Dad’s determination has inspired me. The plan: to invest in some knee supports and walking poles and to do it solo. I might even do some more running, I can’t wait!

A Passion for Climbing

During my SPA training last weekend I met two twenty something climbers who live down south and had travelled up for the course based around Hathersage in Derbyshire. As I drove us to The Foundry from Stanage they chatted about the various climbing trips they had been on, both obviously really excited by climbing and willing to travel long distances to get as much experience as possible. They talked of leaving work early on a Friday to drive up north, spending the whole weekend camping and climbing and travelling back down last thing on a Sunday to work again Monday. Often they are beaten by the weather and would travel hours just to be rained off. Listening to them made me realise just how lucky I am to be living here in the midlands. Throughout the summer some of my colleagues and I travelled less than an hour in an evening after work to get a few hours climbing in before dark. But later it made me feel like I’m missing out, because I’m so close to these rocks I rarely make the effort to travel further and don’t get the bunk house experience. I’ve had a few weekends away, which have been amazing and I think they’ve inspired me to do it more often.

In a way they reminded me of an excerpt in Joe Brown’s Hard Years. I must admit although I appreciate the climbing he did I found a lot of the book to be laborious descriptions of climb after climb, that I’ll probably never be capable of ascending myself. But there was one section that really stuck out for me, it was where he talks about saving money in order to climb in the Alps for three months, for me this was the most inspiring section of the book. I’ve seen lots of places in magazines that I’d love to go and climb at but somehow felt that they were out of my reach, that they were for other people to climb, people with the money and time and the support of people that will go with them. After reading this passage those places suddenly felt a little closer, a little more achievable and I got the urge to make some plans. There is nothing set in stone yet and saving money is always something I aspire to, but I’m excited nonetheless.

Headcase Helmets

Reading the headcases article in the latest summit magazine brought to mind a scenario that I witnessed at the Roaches a couple of weeks ago.

I work as an Outdoor Education Instructor in Staffordshire and regularly take groups scrambling at the Roaches. On this occasion I was taking a small group of 12 year olds down the Devil’s Toilet gully just to the right of the Yong Area. At the same time there was a pair climbing next to our descent, the first climber had already led the climb and had set up on top, but was waggling the ropes. The Second was still on the ground, arms crossed and shouting ‘no…it’s just not working.’ It became clear that the couple were climbing with just one helmet. The Lead had obviously worn the helmet to climb and was attempting to send the helmet back down to the Second via the rope, not very well thought through as the rope was still clipped into the quick drawers from his ascent. As a result the helmet was now stuck on the top piece of gear and of no use to anyone. The Second would now have to climb without it and retrieve it when she got to the top, bringing to mind computer games where at the end of a level, when you have defeated the fire-breathing dragon, you are rewarded with extra lives. The Second was obviously embarrassed that my group and I had witnessed this so I quickly moved them on.

It led me to question who should be wearing a helmet and when. You could argue that the need for a helmet had passed, that whilst the Lead was climbing both were most at risk, the Lead from falling and the Second from falling rocks. Although in such a well-climbed area many would say the risk of falling rock was minimal. I have to say that after witnessing such bad decision-making I’d be reluctant to trust the set up on top, I’d want a helmet. But all arguments aside, the situation I witnessed was ridiculous, made even more so by that fact that just to left of the Yong Area and are the steps that lead up to the Upper Tier; if they were that bothered the Second could have just run up and got the helmet.

Mountaineering Museum

I had an idea of starting a Mountaineering Museum: you could collect lots of different types of climbing gear, do displays on different mountaineers and climbers, show loads of amazing photos, do timelines of different ascents of mountains. I don’t mind admitting I got a bit excited about it! You could combine it with a climbing wall and offer it for school trips, exercise and education; schools would love that. I even had plans for the website, which would definitely be interactive, I’d invite people to send in pictures of their beloved climbing gear and tell us a story about it, where it came from or where they have used it.

I used to work in a museum, I used to love leaving my desk and going to look around the collection, I actually learnt something new every day, but it was all about pottery because I was at The Potteries Museum and Art Gallery; a mountaineering one would be so much better.

Shame I didn’t think about it before the Olympics, there might have been a bit of funding going spare. Still I’ll keep it in mind for in case my rolling contract stops rolling.

Campervan Food

I recently went away for a week in a campervan, we went around southern Ireland, started off in Dublin from the ferry port and went all the way south, then all the way west, then north to level with Dublin again and back across east. It was a fantastic week for loads of reasons but what I wanted to write about was how excited I was about cooking in the van for a whole week!

I enjoy cooking and have a small but varied cookery book collection. I take great pleasure in searching through my spice rack to find the right tubs, some of which are my own mixes for specific dishes. I tend to cook a recipe once from the book then try to recreate it with usually not the right ingredients, just what I happen to find cheap in the supermarket. I suppose that makes me quite resourceful in the kitchen ingredient wise, but not utensil. I have been criticised more than a few times for my lack of sympathy with my washer-upper, mountains of crockery, pans, pots and cutlery litter the sink by the time I’m finished. I saw cooking in the van as a bit of a challenge; we had two gas hobs and a grill, limited pans and utensils and not much space for my beloved spices. I prepared a box of tricks before we went...

Box of tricks: Olive oil, garlic, stock cubes, salt and pepper and an Italian herb mix (I wish I’d thought to add flour and maybe some thyme).

I also insisted on taking a sharp knife (I’d tried with swiss army before but it’s just not big enough) and a baking tray for under the grill. I wasn’t allowed much more, the driver wanted to keep things simple.

I had a few dishes in mind that I thought we could manage, but wanted to avoid the usual ravioli pasta with stir in sauce (although we did have this at the bottom of Carrantuohill after a soggy walk up and it did taste amazing!) We ended up with…

Cahore Point Creamy, cheesy, bacon and veg Pasta with home made garlic bread

Dungarvan Chicken Fajhitas

Carrantuohill Fruity Balti with Basmati rice and naan bread

Carrantuohill after the mountain A Well Deserved Rest Pasta and Sauce

Brandon Bay Thai Green Curry with noodles and chips (yes chips!)

Best Dish Doolin Sausage Casserole

Lough Ree Spag Bol a la Washer-Upper (I had a well deserved night off!)

I saw my real achievement of the week as the chips with the thai green curry, my washer-upper is fussy about having chips with curry so I thought I’d try it. It was pretty simple to do….

1.Cut the potatoes into chip shapes.

2.Boil them until soft

3.Put in baking tray sprinkle with oil and salt and pepper and put under grill

4.Leave for as long as you can bear it, so they go extra crispy (or chippy if you like)

5.Serve!

The Old Man of Stoer: Part 2/2

The Old Man Himself

Click here to see our film

We set off for Lochinver on the Friday of an extremely hot week in March, the drive was a slog but made bearable by the excellent company and copious amounts of food. About 9 hours later we arrived at the Lochinver Mission bunkhouse, an awesome place with friendly staff. We set off early the next morning on a windy drive and arrived at the car park in Stoer, the weather could not have been more perfect, sun and a light breeze. Ross and Wendy had researched the trip as thoroughly as anyone could and we set off on the walk to the Old Man. Once he was in sight the excitement started to build and the reality of what we had to do was a little daunting. What hadn’t been included in any information was the descent down to the base of the stack, if you’re considering doing the climb bear in mind it is a very steep path, perhaps a grade 3 scramble in itself. We got the group down and everyone chipped in to set up the tyrolion, though Jacko was in charge. The idea was that everyone would make an attempt at climbing the stack, a tall order considering that half of the group had never done any climbing before. On finally reaching the stack that half decided that it was above their capabilities and the climbers started to get really excited, we were actually going to climb it! The first three to climb were Ross, Wendy and myself. I felt privileged that they wanted me to climb first, but we had all climbed together before so it did made sense. We started on a traverse of the base, setting up a handrail to make it easier for the next climbers and then it was three more pitches up to the top. Ross led the first, Wendy the second and Ross again up to the top. The rock was perfect, we could hear Tom playing his ukulele in the background and a with a quick glance over to the mainland saw Kirsten carving a wooden spoon, a very chilled out day. For me seconding the climb wasn’t too stressful, really good grip thanks to the weather, the crux wasn’t the hardest part from my point of view but the whole climb was a challenge and really good fun; the nightmare day at Tremadog had prepared me well. No words could do justice to the feeling of topping out on the stack and we didn’t have time to really take it in as we quickly descended hoping there would be time for the next group to go up. The plan was for Ross to wait at the cave and belay the next two people up from there. Unfortunately when we got to the bottom of the stack the tide had come in too far and because of the steep cliff we were concerned about getting everyone back up in the day light. It was a tough decision to make but ultimately the right one as we were walking back to the minibus in pitch black and over uneven boggy terrain. The rest of the group did get a go on the tyrolion traverse and Pippa made it across the first traverse to the base of the climb. Understandably it was disappointing so I had to try hard to hide my own excitement at having reached the top of such a memorable climb. We made the most of the weekend by walking up Suilven the next day: a long walk in and a steep climb but well worth it for the view.

Ross had decided that we should film the trip, mostly for our own entertainment but also because the online films were a really important part of the research for the trip. The filming is a little shaky at times but hopefully there are a few entertaining and useful bits in there.

Click here to see our film

The Old Man of Stoer: Part 1/2

An account of my climb up the Old Man of Stoer with some very good friends: the only question is, what do I do for my 30th?

That Doesn’t Normally Happen

The story of my trip up The Old Man of Stoer starts in Tremadog, a week before we were due to go to Scotland.

I’d been climbing with Wendy and Ross for about a year and they were finally introducing me to multi-pitch in preparation for Ross. 30th birthday trip. They chose Creagh Dhu Wall and as usual I trusted their judgement and just went with it. I was feeling a little nervous, the approach was awkward and the top of the climb was a long way away, not to mention it had rained all night. Ross was leading the first pitch and had just disappeared around the corner when a couple rocked up at the bottom of the climb. I was belaying and Wendy was talking me through how the ropes would work at the top of the pitch. It soon became apparent that the couple and another friend that turned up wanted to climb Creagh Dhu Wall and the woman was frustrated that we were there. The couple proceeded to have an argument as they tried to make a decision weather to wait or move on. Eventually the woman acknowledged us and asked how experienced the three of us were. I can be quite hot headed and as I thought it was rude of her to ask I thought it best that I let Wendy respond, she explained that herself and Ross climb frequently and that this was my first multi-pitch (actually they are both SPA and current instructors – Wendy has the habit of underselling herself). They were obviously trying to figure out how long we were going to be, which made me feel under more pressure. Their friend then asked if we had rock boots, looking at our walking boot clad feet, all I could think was ‘please just go away.’ They were about to leave when Ross radioed that he was safe, so they decided to wait and see. I considered their behaviour to be quite rude and against the ethos I had come to associate with climbing, perhaps my next move wasn’t much better. After beginning my ascent I deliberately faffed around with the first bit of gear, I was nervous enough as it was, the last thing I needed was these three watching my every move. Sure enough it worked, they must have decided I’d take too long to climb and moved on. At the top of the pitch Wendy reassured me that that doesn’t normally happen, a phrase I knew well by the end of the day. The rest of the climb was a bit nerve wracking but not too difficult, the hand/smear traverse was a bit slippy which made reaching the top even better.

I put complete trust in Wendy and Ross and have a lot of respect for them as climbers, so when they say ‘we ab off that tree’ that’s what I do. Wendy went down first but realised half way that the rope had got caught around the corner on a ledge and was now above her. With no way to retrieve it she attached herself to another tree and Ross came down second to sort the rope. I had never abseiled on my own before so Ross had had to sort out my prusik before descending, which meant attaching my belay device via a sling. So when it was my turn and I approached the overhang with a crack above it my body swung into the overhang and my weight on the sling pushed the two ropes into the crack and jammed my belay device. I was stuck. My legs weren’t long enough to reach the wall to push myself away so all I could do was jump and hope it would come free. A quick shout down to Ross ‘If I let go with both hands will I die?’ the response was ‘no’ so with a wing and prayer I jumped and freed myself. To a more experienced abseiler that probably doesn’t sound too scary and to be honest I just enjoyed the challenge.

The last climb of the day was Christmas Curry and all was going well until I was half way through seconding the middle pitch. I was trying to retrieve a piece of gear from inside a crack, which I couldn’t see very well, and holding onto a nice big jug with my other hand. At this point it started to belt it down with hail. Still trying to retrieve the gear I now had a mini waterfall pouring from the jug and down into my sleeve and Ross shouting for slack so that he could get into a cave for shelter. I slipped and slid up the climb to Wendy’s belay ledge and literally hugged the wall knowing that the only way was up. On reaching the top of the climb I was massively relieved and exhilarated, but I hadn’t been put off I just had to choose my clothing more wisely for the sea stack next week. Incidentally when we reached the top of the first pitch of Christmas Curry a couple appeared at the bottom of the climb and asked very politely ‘we are lost, we are looking for Christmas Curry?’ To which we responded they had the right place, they seemed very nice and were more than happy to wait for us to move on before they climbed, only put off by the rain, restoring my faith in the climbing community.

climbwriteup?

It is a difficult thing, to think of a name for a blog. I got a little impatient with my imagination and went for simple: 'climbwriteup' actually my Mum helped me name it. I realised a few months ago that I had lots of things I felt like writing about, things that I have done, read, witnessed etc... and I thought wouldn't it be amazing to write for a magazine, that's the long term plan but for now but I'll settle for a blog. I've got a bit of a backlog of things I've written so I'm starting with an event that took place in March this year.