tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19328664383170799762024-03-13T12:48:00.496+00:00Soft RockDelusional witterings from a North Scotland ledge-shuffler. Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.comBlogger269125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-27816145162051687762019-07-18T13:40:00.000+01:002019-07-18T13:40:12.205+01:00Conon DWSWe're not long back from a family holiday in Mallorca and despite the July heat I had a quick look at a couple of DWS crags, which reminded me that I've been meaning to put up some details of the fun little DWS crag on the River Conon. As far as I know it's the only thing like it in the Inverness area. It's roadside, steep, clean and above a deep pool. Perfect for summer evenings when it's too hot and muggy for real climbing but you still fancy a fun session - with all the usual caveats about needing a midge-busting breeze. The routes are probably more like highball boulder problems than proper routes, so I've given them boulder grades. I'm pretty sure there are still a few things to do there, but they'll probably need a bit of cleaning.<br />
<br />
<b>Directions:</b> From Inverness direction go through Contin on the A835 and turn left on the minor road to Loch Achilty. Keep on this road all the way until the junction just after Luichart Power Station and go left over the metal bridge. As you cross the bridge the crag is obvious on the right hand side, forming the left wall above the river when looking upstream. Park considerately in the passing place on the left a little further on. Crag grid ref: NH 3927 5707.<br />
<br />
<b>Access:</b> Rig up a rope using one of the many trees above the crag and drop it down the corner to the right of the climbs (when looking out). Hand-over hand down the rope to the small ledge, then climb rightwards round the arete onto the wall.<br />
<br />
<b>Water exit:</b> If/when you take the plunge, the best option is to swim across to the opposite bank and walk back round over the bridge.<br />
<br />
<b>Water levels: </b>The amount of water in the river is regulated by the demand of the hydro power station so it does fluctuate. All the times that I've been there I've always felt that falling would be safe, but just be aware that things can change.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dsms9SbcZmQ/XTBk8yXpFzI/AAAAAAAACCE/w1hlVLNxyJoKA_xu1eaUrVLzD3Hg6E-_ACLcBGAs/s1600/CononDWS%2BTopo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dsms9SbcZmQ/XTBk8yXpFzI/AAAAAAAACCE/w1hlVLNxyJoKA_xu1eaUrVLzD3Hg6E-_ACLcBGAs/s640/CononDWS%2BTopo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Sunchyme beta video here:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/179810782" width="640"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/179810782">Get it while it's hot!</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user6155988">Gareth Marshall</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-72664469232096262342018-12-14T14:43:00.000+00:002018-12-14T14:43:35.452+00:00If Not Now: A story about completing a journeyNovember 2011: bumping along another forestry track in the work pickup with blue green pine plantation overhanging on both sides. On rounding a corner the forest opens up and across a small valley we were faced with the vast confusion of a recent clearfell; raw trunks strewn at unnatural angles, piles of brash, discarded 'lop and top'. And there, nestled amongst it all, silver grey, brutish and bulging; something I always dreamed about: an unknown boulder.<br />
<br />
On that first visit to Strathrusdale, a long and lonely dead-end strath in Easter Ross, we were counting deer dung to allow us to calculate how many deer need to be culled if young trees are to survive. On the second day of the survey I managed to engineer my survey route to take me past the boulder. As seasoned boulder hunters will know, most boulders seem to shrink the closer you get to them, with potential king line highballs on the horizon ending up being shoulder height nothings when you reach them, but this rock seemed to grow, its strange silvery crystalline walls looming out of the felled chaos. I made a mental note to come back with the cleaning kit to scout it for potential and moved on to the next survey plot.<br />
<br />
A winter passed and I finally got back. It was snowy and the river you have to cross to access from the main track was high. I'd somehow managed to persuade Rich that he needed to come and see this awesome rock and conditions everywhere else must have been shite because for some reason he'd agreed to it. I fell in the river, which he managed to capture on video (at 10 seconds <a href="https://vimeo.com/150441875" target="_blank">here</a>), and we gave up early. Rich couldn't see any lines and went as far as to say that he would buy me a beer if I could do a single problem on it. I could see what he meant. For it's size it's pretty featureless, with smooth walls and a general lack of things to pull or stand on. But having found this thing I was pretty determined to see what I could do so went back again and managed to climb a vague flake, creating a rather forgettable problem, but earning me that beer:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="padding: 75% 0 0 0; position: relative;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/50847553" style="height: 100%; left: 0; position: absolute; top: 0; width: 100%;" webkitallowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>
<script src="https://player.vimeo.com/api/player.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/50847553">Somewhere in Easter Ross</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user6155988">Gareth Marshall</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Straight after this I spotted a faint groove that appeared to have some holds in the lower half, leading to a blank wall of crystals, perhaps bypassed by a big move straight to the lip? That would be wild! I pulled on, promptly snapped a hold, clattered my elbow and started bleeding profusely. Game over.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
More time passed and I failed to return. Which is understandable. It's at the end of a dead-end road, followed by a 20 minute walk (or 5 minute bike ride) and a river crossing. If it's been dry you just hop across boulders, but if it's in spate see Rich's video. The next nearest bouldering is miles away in Strathconon, so I'm never just passing by. Plus, carting cleaning and climbing kit all that way is a right pain in the arse and there's the risk that I'd be using up valuable climbing time to try to climb something that is either not actually possible, or, worse, isn't any good. So, understandably, I spent my time going climbing elsewhere. But then, as I've mentioned before, the arrival of our wee boy narrowed my focus dramatically and I decided to use my time to develop local bouldering, so six years later, Strathrusdale came back into the game.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
On my first return visit it was nice to see that the brash from the clearfell was starting to decay and that heather and grass were taking over where bare earth and jumbled stumps had been. Some tree planting had even taken place, with young alders poking their heads above the heather. The wasteland was starting to feel a bit less raw. I went straight back to that vague groove and found that fortunately the hold that had broken in 2012 had left a nice diagonal crimp. An obvious sit start to the crimp then lead into the blankness above. The crystalline rock looks like it might provide the odd micro-edge, but on trying I couldn't find anything. Ground up attempts ended here. From a rope I eventually saw that out to the right a small seam had enough shape to make me believe it was a hold for the right hand and it wasn't until a second or third visit that I found a tiny indentation that made a two finger half-pad sidepull for the left. I reasoned that if I could get into these holds I'd then pop right hand up into a better seam (again, invisible from the ground and found while hanging on a rope) and from there a jump to the lip and glory. Having found the holds, it was just a simple matter of working out how to move between them. And here I hit a brick wall.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/27892159448/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Strathrusdale"><img alt="Strathrusdale" height="281" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/949/27892159448_b9c0373318.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The project</div>
Sessions came and went. Try followed try. Conditions got good, conditions got crap. Midges showed up, skin got ripped. The Process got pretty deep. After a while I realised the shoes I used made a massive difference in my ability to do one of the moves; rocking all my weight over a small edge in a crack. VSRs were too soft, Magos and Boostics were too bulky to fit into the crack. In the end I had to break out the Instict Lace which are usually reserved specifically for my board. These indeed were serious times. Fortunately I managed to keep the spirits up by cleaning and climbing a few other easier problems on the boulder, making use of scoops and curves and random crystal clusters, as well as repeating <i>The Original </i>from back in 2012.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/42633885170/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Strathrusdale"><img alt="Strathrusdale" height="281" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1848/42633885170_11ff5e8b53.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>To Autumn</i>, 6Bish.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Eventually I made a breakthrough when I decided to trust one particular crystalline extrusion with my right foot and realised that with a jump I might be able to bypass a move I kept failing on and go all the way to the lip and soon I was slapping the lip on most attempts in isolation. After about 5 session I finally had a sequence! On the next session I was confident that the project would be dispatched, but the boulderer's best excuse came into full force: conditions. It had been forecast to be cloudy with a light southerly breeze, but it was in fact sunny and still, and the south facing wall baked in the August heat. Not a chance. <br />
<br />
A week later I was back and it was dreamily overcast and breezy. The holds felt good, I felt fit and my skin wasn't too shredded. After a few warm ups and an inspection of the sweet spot on the lip I sat and gathered my thoughts. It felt like I was nearing the climax of a very personal journey that had started all those years ago when I first saw the boulder from the track. I'd had an inkling then that there could be something fun to do on it and it had burned away at the back of my mind in those intervening years. After Ben was born in September 2017 I had specifically dedicated the year to developing local bouldering so I was never away from home for too long. In that time I had found and climbed a few half-decent problems but it seemed so fitting that now nearing the end of that year in September 2018 I was close to climbing the one I'd wanted to do for the longest. Taking a last look up at the wall I said out loud, half to the dog who was lying in the heather watching patiently, and half to myself: "if not now, when?"<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div style="padding: 56.25% 0 0 0; position: relative;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/306401923" style="height: 100%; left: 0; position: absolute; top: 0; width: 100%;" webkitallowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>
<script src="https://player.vimeo.com/api/player.js"></script></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/306401923">If Not Now, 7B. Strathrusdale</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user6155988">Gareth Marshall</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-51444890650805894542018-06-07T16:44:00.000+01:002018-06-07T16:48:37.763+01:00RogieThe year ticks by and I'm still chipping away at finding and developing local boulder problems in the hours squeezed between work and family. I'm fully aware that I'm operating in an esoteric little microcosm, shutting out the real climbing world and concentrating on little chossy rocks that I'm sure no-one else will ever climb, but sod it, I'm having fun. My little patch northwest of Inverness is never going to be a renowned bouldering destination, but I'm impressed by the amount of stuff out there now that I've started looking for it.<br />
<br />
In less than ten minutes I can drive from the house to Rogie Falls just west of Contin, and a short walk takes me to my latest clutch of problems. Years back Rich peaked my interest by mentioning a chossy cave that might be worth a look. I went, I looked. It was chossy. But the amount of rock on show suggested that there might be something worthwhile lurking nearby, so I started hunting, eventually sniffing out a wall lurking among the larches and a steep prow hidden in plain sight next to a path. On inspection the wall looked like it would provide three easy problems and a harder highball after some TLC, but I wrote off the prow. Too easy.<br />
<br />
Over the last couple of years I returned to the wall a few times to dangle on a rope and dig out the overhanging moss cornice and brush off the accumulated larch needles, but I'd never got round to actually climbing there. The place sat in a to-do list in the back of my mind, waiting for the right time.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KYpH_H9eCEQ/WxlJr7J7gpI/AAAAAAAACAk/OuwImGEJIcw6vRkGhmB8lRJbCQL_2vHRgCLcBGAs/s1600/20150517_114130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KYpH_H9eCEQ/WxlJr7J7gpI/AAAAAAAACAk/OuwImGEJIcw6vRkGhmB8lRJbCQL_2vHRgCLcBGAs/s400/20150517_114130.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rogie Wall before the facelift</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So here we are: time poor but still desperate to climb. To begin with I re-visited the prow that I'd written off and realised that despite being easy it would give lovely climbing, so I scrubbed the top-out and lapped it up: <i>Rogie Prow </i>Font 4 or 5, or something. While doing that I spotted another line to the left, scrubbed it and climbed it: <i>Rogie State</i>, maybe nudging 6B from a snatchy sit start.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/41409692222/in/photostream/" nbsp="" title="Rogie Falls"><img alt="Rogie Falls" height="281" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/868/41409692222_c1986f4bf1.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Rogie Prow</div>
<br />
Then over a couple of visits I climbed the three easier problems up on what I was calling Rogie Wall: the right arete at 6A+ (aka <i>Right</i>), the blocky central crack at Font 5ish (aka <i>Middle</i>), and the wall left of the crack at 6A+ (aka <i>Left</i>). Good names, eh? The latter problem in particular climbs really nicely, and they're all high enough to make you not want to fluff the top.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/40628249285/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Rogie Falls"><img alt="Rogie Falls" height="500" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/890/40628249285_d3952932d2.jpg" width="281" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Left </div>
<br />
But the main event was still to be done. The left side of Rogie Wall rears up higher than the right side, gently leaning in the top half and with holds petering out with height. Annoyingly, there's often a dribble of seepage wetting the top holds and it's a bit higher than you would really want to be skiting off unexpectedly, but this long dry spell has sorted that out. I knew that now was the time to strike and after a couple of sessions <i>Awake but Always Dreaming</i> emerged. It's probably only about 6C, but as is the way with highballs, when fear starts to creep in it feels a bit harder. It's definitely one of the best problems I've done in this recent wave of local development. If anyone fancies a shot, give me a shout and I'll send you directions.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/41686035304/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Rogie Falls"><img alt="Rogie Falls" height="500" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/885/41686035304_b4360d28b8.jpg" width="281" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Awake but Always Dreaming</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-24261425484668142142018-03-17T21:35:00.001+00:002018-03-20T10:07:56.962+00:00Gold Dance<div>
If I could wish for anything in my new state as 'time-starved Dad who still wants to be a climber' it would be to find a load of brand new boulder problems close to home. In this ideal scenario the rock would be clean and quick drying and at least a few of the problems would be hard enough to take some serious trying. Well...<br />
<br />
In the damp last week of December I went out for a drive to see what the conditions were like on the local boulders. I wasn't climbing, but I'd been granted a pass for the next day and didn't want to waste it, so I was heading out to see whether Scatwell was likely be worth a try. I'd not been up Strathconon for months as all my recent bouldering had been spent trying (and failing on) the dreaded 'Hygge Project' on the Bus Boulder at Inchbae. I'd started to lose interest in the endless sessions of failure so fancied a change of scene. On rounding a corner a mile or so before the Luichart power station I saw that there had been a load of recent clearfelling on the slope above the road. Last time I drove down here there was an impenetrable wall of spruce right down to the road, hiding anything lurking beneath. Now, scalped, the bare slope might revealed it's secrets. Driving a little further, I spotted a grey lump poking out from the top of a small knoll: rock!<br />
<br />
The next day I forwent a climbing session and returned with the cleaning kit, spending a merry couple of hours scrubbing moss, digging out decades of accumulated spruce needles and trying to create some order in the chaos of fallen brash on and around the boulders. In general though, the rock, a rough grey schist, was naturally very clean and didn't need much cleaning. By the time I'd finished I took a step back and admired, fairly happy that there was something here to return to with shoes, chalk and pads. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eTnNLG7-nSw/Wq1_ltFqKLI/AAAAAAAAB_4/IfKFeF4ws2oP0j1trXCg46Z_nJ_TB8ZcACLcBGAs/s1600/20171227_155630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eTnNLG7-nSw/Wq1_ltFqKLI/AAAAAAAAB_4/IfKFeF4ws2oP0j1trXCg46Z_nJ_TB8ZcACLcBGAs/s400/20171227_155630.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;">How I found it</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dw4KvjyJBwk/Wq1_qfede0I/AAAAAAAACAA/oGMUInbbR3IgLAc5yRleR_64mCWU0qSXwCLcBGAs/s400/20171228_135456.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;">After a bit of T.L.C.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dw4KvjyJBwk/Wq1_qfede0I/AAAAAAAACAA/oGMUInbbR3IgLAc5yRleR_64mCWU0qSXwCLcBGAs/s1600/20171228_135456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dw4KvjyJBwk/Wq1_qfede0I/AAAAAAAACAA/oGMUInbbR3IgLAc5yRleR_64mCWU0qSXwCLcBGAs/s1600/20171228_135456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
Over the following weeks I used my precious climbing passes to explore this little collection of rocks, emancipated from their sprucey prison. There are 10 problems there now plus a couple of variations, mostly in the lower grades of 4ish to 6Bish, but there's a couple in the 6C-7A bracket and a still-to-be-done project that I suspect will be a notch or two harder.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/27785146409/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Strathconon"><img alt="Strathconon" height="281" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4729/27785146409_f80257d3ab.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;">The best from day one: a nice easy arete called <i>The Sleeping Lady</i> (6A?), named after the skyline formed by the hills above our house, which looks like, um, a sleeping lady.</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GSsNqulNpME/Wq1_nwze9mI/AAAAAAAAB_8/h8jQS-NW6MYphEXxddPX_LVdFeYaoPSxgCLcBGAs/s1600/Sleep%2BThief%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GSsNqulNpME/Wq1_nwze9mI/AAAAAAAAB_8/h8jQS-NW6MYphEXxddPX_LVdFeYaoPSxgCLcBGAs/s400/Sleep%2BThief%2B2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;"><i>Sleep Thief</i> (6C?) held out over a couple of sessions and provides a nice bit of slappy burl in an ocean of felled brash.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The pick of the bunch I've called <i>Gold Dance</i> after Andy and Lance's promise to each other in Mackenzie Crook's superb series <i>Detectorists</i>. If ever they find gold when out metal detecting they tell each other they'll do a dance to celebrate, the gold dance. For me, finding these boulders at this time in my life is like striking gold. I've tentatively given it 7A because it took a fair bit of trying before I finally worked out how to climb it, but freely admit that I have no idea. My grade calibrator is non-existent these days, having pretty much only climbed on my own problems for the last six months. I suspect that because I've not managed to train or climb as much as in the past I'm getting shitter but have no way of knowing it, so the grades may need re-evaluation...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/39904450474/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Strathconon"><img alt="Strathconon" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4649/39904450474_98d9d0b9e5.jpg" width="281" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><i>Gold Dance </i>(7A?) squeezes between the arete and the crack.</span></div>
<br />
Strathconon is hardly a popular place for boulderers to visit, but between the <a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_0lz-dwFTZYw/R-9sf8H8feI/AAAAAAAAB0k/04b_PFJPImY/s1600-h/Scatwell.jpg" target="_blank">Scatwell Boulder,</a> <a href="http://www.alphamountaineering.co.uk/downloads/strathconon_bouldering.pdf" target="_blank">the Meig Boulders, the lone (but quality) Super Beetle problem at Glenmarksie</a> and now this, not to mention the <a href="https://vimeo.com/179810782" target="_blank">deep water highballs</a> beside the Conon road bridge, it's actually a pretty cool place.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rnTS8GHU0QY/Wq1_Wa8O7yI/AAAAAAAAB_0/3cGUhqRhXFw2ySj2CRVuPVFN087BBwWNQCLcBGAs/s1600/Screenshot_20180202-193510.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rnTS8GHU0QY/Wq1_Wa8O7yI/AAAAAAAAB_0/3cGUhqRhXFw2ySj2CRVuPVFN087BBwWNQCLcBGAs/s400/Screenshot_20180202-193510.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;">The Last Great Project, climbing the arete of <i>Gold Dance</i> without the crack off to the left. I've failed spectacularly so far and am happy to hand it over to anyone keen enough to bother exploring this bouldering backwater.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-77144749233018194582018-02-25T15:08:00.000+00:002018-02-26T14:47:29.612+00:00AdaptationBen's five months old now. We can't quite believe how fast the time goes. Surely it was only yesterday that I came home on my own that first night, leaving Sarah and him behind in the hospital? That was the strangest feeling: eight hours together sharing the most intense and wondrous experience that life can provide and then, by dint of hospital policy, sent home alone until visiting hours the next day. How can life continue as normal after what we've just been through? Signs and headlamps a blur on the road back to an empty home when all my DNA is telling me it wants to be back there with them.<br />
<br />
They tell you your life will change. You get the knowing jokes from the card carrying dads that you don't quite get. "When'll you be auctioning off yer rack then?". All that. But it can't be that bad, right? You just assume you'll find a way round it. It'll be different for you.<br />
<br />
Five months in, Ben's just come through a particularly stormy patch. His four month jabs seemed to coincide with the classic four month sleep regression and then about four weeks of colds that culminated in a bad cough that threatened to affect his breathing and precipitated a night in hospital for him and Mum. At exactly five months to the second he was back in the same building where he was born. Things seem to be subsiding now, only I've just been down with his same virus, caught at a low ebb of sleep loss and Dad-worry.<br />
<br />
They were right, those card carrying Dads. It's not different for me.<br />
<br />
I always knew this winter would be a much more paired-down time for my climbing, but I was confident I'd still get something done: a bit of training on weeknight evenings and the odd weekend day out. I'd chalked up three problems on the west coast that I really wanted to do and if I did two of them and tried the third I'd consider it a success. Well, it's nearly March and I've not been anywhere near any of them yet and there's no sign that things will change. A part of me despairs; mourns the loss of what I was and what I had. To be a climber, and that simplest comodity: time.<br />
<br />
And so, adaptation. I've just had to shift my frame of reference. What's available instead? While my heart will always be with the red sandstone of the west I've put that to bed for now and have been making discoveries on the grey schists and granites of the east, compiling a list of unfound or unloved boulders within a 30 minute drive of home and slowly cleaning and climbing my way through them. It's a slow process, this development, when you only get a few hours on occasional weeks but it's keeping me focused and inspired to keep trying. There's something special about exploring your local patch, getting to know it better and better on each visit.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RERMxyTNvEo/WpLK-4tRGYI/AAAAAAAAB-w/_AaMfI-7qGQhMxhRzSiQqmUJbg7dalNnACLcBGAs/s1600/WP_20171025_15_34_48_Pro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RERMxyTNvEo/WpLK-4tRGYI/AAAAAAAAB-w/_AaMfI-7qGQhMxhRzSiQqmUJbg7dalNnACLcBGAs/s400/WP_20171025_15_34_48_Pro.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Red kites have soared overhead on every visit I've made to one venue, there must be a roost nearby. And from the boulders I've heard the chat of dipper on the river below. On the first visit a golden eagle passed high, heading toward the snowy sunset skyline and on arrival last time a merlin shot past as I slipped out of the car on the frozen layby. What do they make of my comings and goings?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--ZMDVNcWga8/WpLLxvB7-vI/AAAAAAAAB-8/pSBtHR6sW8wsDKEEZyGVvaPPTlcT58wCACLcBGAs/s1600/20171220_102853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--ZMDVNcWga8/WpLLxvB7-vI/AAAAAAAAB-8/pSBtHR6sW8wsDKEEZyGVvaPPTlcT58wCACLcBGAs/s400/20171220_102853.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
As it stands, since Ben was born I've cleaned about 15 new problems, some of which I've climbed, some are still projects. A bunch are pleasant romps in the lower grades but my guess is that the hardest might get into the 7B range, which is the hardest I've ever managed so fine by me. That's on top of the 15 or so problems I'd already found in the last few years of exploration, again, some climbed, some projects, some still needing a clean. They probably fit into a similar grade range again. Among them are one or two genuinely good lines that I'm sure people would be keen to repeat so I'll get round to writing them up one day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UFZ1PJ4d6t0/WpLNiXlo2GI/AAAAAAAAB_c/F-Gc54ym0YUhv2M-2BTtG7JaEdn_JBklgCLcBGAs/s1600/Topo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UFZ1PJ4d6t0/WpLNiXlo2GI/AAAAAAAAB_c/F-Gc54ym0YUhv2M-2BTtG7JaEdn_JBklgCLcBGAs/s400/Topo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
So, while time is tight and sleep is fleeting I've got my new climbing focus: make the most of what's local and hopefully one day I'll look back on this period as the time when Ben taught me to appreciate what I have to hand.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p59s4wfOPRo/WpLMIUCuewI/AAAAAAAAB_A/-Ru1bHiLA_Uif5kxiEDRPOa6KSB06bzbACLcBGAs/s1600/Sleep%2BThief%2B1%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p59s4wfOPRo/WpLMIUCuewI/AAAAAAAAB_A/-Ru1bHiLA_Uif5kxiEDRPOa6KSB06bzbACLcBGAs/s400/Sleep%2BThief%2B1%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sleep Thief</i>, 6Cish</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VxnWlGsgIAk/WpLMjczuT9I/AAAAAAAAB_M/_iag0GXA34oL8iAjkJ3bVdrbGqHhn6IlQCLcBGAs/s1600/Screenshot_20180202-193510.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VxnWlGsgIAk/WpLMjczuT9I/AAAAAAAAB_M/_iag0GXA34oL8iAjkJ3bVdrbGqHhn6IlQCLcBGAs/s400/Screenshot_20180202-193510.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of several works in progress...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-15519024239087155302018-01-02T13:12:00.001+00:002018-01-02T13:12:17.464+00:002017It's the final day of the festive holidays: the visitors have all gone, the decorations are coming down, the mountain of chocolates is slowly eroding. I always feel a tinge of ennui at this time of year - the fun is over, the excitement and promise has come and gone, normality resumes. It's was a lovely Christmas this year, wee Ben's first, (although at 14 weeks he's not really shown much interest) and as a gift to his parents he had his best ever night of sleep on Christmas Eve. It returned to crap shortly afterwards, naturally.<br />
<br />
Before the first day back at work tomorrow it seems a fitting time to reflect on the last year one more time, so here are my monthy climbing highlights from 2017:<br />
<br />
<b>January: Routeburn & Caples Tracks, New Zealand</b><br />
We spent most of January in New Zealand so I didn't do much climbing, so this month's highlight is the next closest thing. Four days of our trip were spent 'tramping' in the hills of the South Island, linking huts on these two famous tracks. It was great to see such big forests growing up to the natural tree line - something we totally lack in Scotland.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ye89MotZP0U/WkuBn91UTaI/AAAAAAAAB-U/43zEE_uvDr8rmIPYDBcBRIQHSfpuhMTjgCLcBGAs/s1600/20170113_152721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ye89MotZP0U/WkuBn91UTaI/AAAAAAAAB-U/43zEE_uvDr8rmIPYDBcBRIQHSfpuhMTjgCLcBGAs/s400/20170113_152721.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>February: Tia Maria, 7A, Torridon</b><br />
Back to business. This Mike Lee classic is such an obvious line standing over the lower tier at Torridon. Despite a few attempts it had evaded me for a long time and I only really managed it this time round after Peter Herd unlocked some beta that worked for me.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/32884813181/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Torridon"><img alt="Torridon" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2004/32884813181_07e0cdf6ff.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<b>March: Super-Pittance, E6 6b, Torridon</b><br />
I'd seconded Ian T on the F.A. of this back in 2016 so it was always in my head as a possible headpoint. I'd not headpointed a route for a few years, but I liked the idea of climbing a route at a place I normally associate with bouldering: a new dimension to the Torridon experience. I had a few sessions on a shunt before Lawrence dropped by at the end of a day that formed part of his Annatomist Saga, captured brilliantly in Eadan Cunningham's great film <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W51zBGrcMRg" target="_blank">'The Mission'.</a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/33010096730/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Torridon"><img alt="Torridon" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/687/33010096730_c7eecb0775.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<b>April: Fly Tip Link, 7A+, Scatwell</b><br />
Somewhat telling of my climbing these days, the April highlight was repeating something I'd first done in March. Scatwell is one of my locals so it's only natural that I've started making link-ups of some of the original problems. I started trying to link Fly Tip Lip into Alcove Lefthand back in late 2016 but spent five or more session powering out on the last long move, until finally sticking it in a cold March lamp session. On my next visit in April it went down easily on the first go. Funny how things click sometimes.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/33240896155/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Scatwell"><img alt="Scatwell" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2874/33240896155_6b6e954f8e.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>May: Steeple, E2, Shelterstone</b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I did quite a bit in May, but a glorious day in the Cairngorms stands out as the highlight. I'd wanted to do Steeple for years and was really lucky that Mhairi was happy for me to do almost all the leading. That corner pitch!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/34789687141/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Shelterstone"><img alt="Shelterstone" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4272/34789687141_4788a3cb79.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> </b></div>
<b>June: Ring of Bright Water, 6b DWS, Erraid</b><br />
A week on Mull wouldn't be complete without a trip over the sands to Erraid. I did the original sea-level traverse with Jules' additional finish looping back over itself to add a bit of spice. Blue skies, turquoise sea, golden sand: cliche ahoy!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/35363794462/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Erraid"><img alt="Erraid" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4266/35363794462_80500553d6.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<b>July: Primo, 7c, Am Fasgadh</b><br />
As previously written about on this blog, as a grade-whore I'd wanted to redpoint a 7c sport route before the arrival of Ben in the Autumn. A combination of lucky conditions, patient belayers and a forgiving wife lined up over consecutive weekends to allow me to eventually climb <i>Primo</i> at Am Fasgadh. I'm not sure if it really counts as I'd already done the 7b+ lower half as <i>Curving Crack </i>back in 2014, but it fed the rat and allowed me to take it a bit easier and just boulder for the rest of the year.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>August: His Imminence, 6A+, Torridon</b><br />
As the baby's due date approached I decided to jack in climbing routes and to just boulder. It was partly because I didn't want to be strapped to a crag in the back of beyond when Sarah needed me, but also because I didn't want to let down partners with last minute bail outs. August isn't exactly renowned for good bouldering conditions in the north of Scotland but I scraped a few things together, including finally getting back to finish off this easy but high slab in the glen, seven years after first seeing it.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/36072572320/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Torridon"><img alt="Torridon" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4409/36072572320_3efe411015.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<b>September: Blue Fish Prow, 7A, Primrose Bay</b><br />
A couple of weekends before Ben arrived, a heavily pregnant Sarah and I spent an afternoon on the beach at Primrose Bay on the Moray Coast. As she snoozed I pottered about bouldering and was pleased to come away with this fun little problem.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/36196754143/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Primrose Bay"><img alt="Primrose Bay" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4379/36196754143_3dc2a477df.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<b>October: The Day Before, 6Cish, Inchbae</b><br />
The day before Ben was born I was out looking for new boulders at Inchbae and came across a cool granite block with a few obvious problems on it. I gave them a scrub but didn't have any climbing kit with me so vowed to return. A few sleep deprived weeks later I was back and did a couple of them, including this one, a nice thin wall on flakes and crimps. It's probably been done before, but until I get the retroclaim I'm calling it <i>The Day Before</i>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--yfa0bRvpeo/WkuBRRghYgI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/CneyoSJC5goJauHDT9D--C1VHcZ0jiBJwCLcBGAs/s1600/Day%2BBefore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--yfa0bRvpeo/WkuBRRghYgI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/CneyoSJC5goJauHDT9D--C1VHcZ0jiBJwCLcBGAs/s400/Day%2BBefore.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>November: There's Something About Diana, 6C, Cummingston</b><br />
Most of the Moray coast bouldering comprises lowball traverses or jump-off-at-a-jug type finishes, which can be really useful when looking for places to climb in crap weather but isn't very satisfying. This problem is totally different, combining a proper top-out with a spicy height. More like this please!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/38758754392/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Cummingston"><img alt="Cummingston" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4570/38758754392_65444363f2.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<b>December: My board</b><br />
Fatherhood, work and weather meant that getting out in December was pretty non-existent, but I've been on the board a fair bit and it's been keeping me sane and I can see slow gains creeping in.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8F5CAZ4TONo/WkuDYcPin_I/AAAAAAAAB-g/yEFtm5UDPHYHqN7VW0D6vC6TxIW_iS3egCLcBGAs/s1600/ShedDec17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8F5CAZ4TONo/WkuDYcPin_I/AAAAAAAAB-g/yEFtm5UDPHYHqN7VW0D6vC6TxIW_iS3egCLcBGAs/s400/ShedDec17.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Roll on some better weather in 2018, I've got projects to climb...<br />
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-11987417025854431232017-11-06T11:31:00.002+00:002017-11-06T11:34:10.267+00:00The day beforeThe day before. It was one of my Fridays off work; a mild September day with just a hint of gold fringing the still-green birch and bracken. The forecast was hit and miss, some passing rain was predicted, but when and where wasn't clear. 38 week pregnant Sarah had a day of pottering at home planned; I decided I'd head out with the dog to prospect for potential boulders. There are still blank spots on the map; hummocky moraines, dense forests, river gorges, unvisited glens. There must be gold in them there hills. Or tin. I'm not picky.<br />
<br />
When Ian T gifted me the Bus Boulder at Inchbae a year or two back, hidden next to a main road that I'd driven past hundreds of times but never seen, it opened my eyes to the other possibilities that could be in that area. Quite some time ago (over 11000 years, at least) a whopping great glacier deposited a load of granite lumps and bumps around the whaleback mountain that became Ben Wyvis. The boggy moorland west of Inchbae is scattered with these remnant erratics - pink grey crystalline masses, pocked with black lichen - and I've found similar beasts lurking in the plantations of Strathrusdale on the east of Wyvis too. Most of them are too small to yield worthy climbing, but every so often there's a gem among them.<br />
<br />
Over the years of dabbling with boulder development I've come to learn how rare it is to find boulders that it's worth investing time and energy into. Sure, there's lots of rock out there, but a good boulder problem has to meet a few criteria:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Rock - fundamentally, the rock needs to be sound. No scrittly, snappy nonsense.</li>
<li>An OK landing - it doesn't have to be perfectly flat and dry, but it's got to be manageable. No ankle snapping blocks or steep slopes. </li>
<li>Approach - it's got to be a distance you're willing to walk with one or more pads, climbing and cleaning gear. This seems to be proportional to the quality of the climbing. I'll walk for hours through a bog if it gets me to a king line.</li>
<li>Amount of preparation needed - it's a fact, some rock types provide a better medium for mosses and lichens to grow than others. Boulders in a wood collect decades-worth of leaf litter. Is the amount of cleaning that's needed to make it a good climbing experience worth it? Time might be better spent driving to Torridon and climbing clean classics.</li>
<li>Size - it matters (to me). Two move arse-drags are all well and good, but more moves means more interest. And nothing beats a tall, stand-alone line.</li>
<li>Quantity - a single problem on it's own is going to have to be pretty darn good to be worth the effort of cleaning and climbing, but several 'OK' problems grouped together might be worth it.</li>
<li>The X Factor - ideally, you want to find a problem that you're not sure if you'll be able to do. If you cruise it first go chances are you'll never come back. For me, I want to find problems that I'll have to keep returning for, that form a deep relationship with the stone and the place. I want to keep returning, testing myself, unlocking it's secrets.</li>
</ul>
<div>
On that walk I kept thinking that round each moraine hummock IT would be there. The one. But it was never quite right; too small, too easy, too dirty. Then I saw something in the distance. A glimmer of grey standing proud. I kept trudging over the bog and with each step it grew. Potential. Straight away I could see three possible lines that would need fairly minimal cleaning; a layback groove, a thin wall and a tall vague arete. Optimistically I had been carrying my cleaning kit so I set to with gusto, flaking lichen from seams and brushing moss from top-outs, imagining hold configurations and piecing together moves. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wF17EZoB7hU/WgA-7zGukaI/AAAAAAAAB-A/APpzJYamEfwV1a86UhRrJL33R8rbwwBVgCLcBGAs/s1600/Inchbae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wF17EZoB7hU/WgA-7zGukaI/AAAAAAAAB-A/APpzJYamEfwV1a86UhRrJL33R8rbwwBVgCLcBGAs/s400/Inchbae.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<div>
By the time I was done it was getting late and the drizzle was setting in, and as I walked back across the moor I flushed two black grouse feeding in the bog cotton. A good omen. My head was full of excitement, thinking about my new toy and the logistics of my next visit. I'd have to return soon.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day Ben was born, and life turned upside down. </div>
<br />
<br />Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-87347900573240943382017-07-17T19:46:00.001+01:002017-07-17T19:46:31.276+01:00PrimoThe bracken was over head height in places. A flourecent ocean of summer dampness choking the path, fibrous fronds a haven to the legions of midges, just waiting for their chance to unleash hell. No-one's been to this crag for a while then. Really, Am Fasgadh is a venue for the short cold days, best approached <i>over</i> browned bracken skeletons, not <i>through </i>the living green mass in late June. It's short tests best attempted in winter-dry friction, not in summer smooge. But here we were. 12 degrees, breezy, showery. Where else was going to offer a day of guaranteed dry climbing? The clip-stick came into it's own as a bracken basher, and between that and a bouldering mat dragged about like a tractor-mounted topper we got the worst of it down, freeing the starting footholds from their submersion. <br />
<br />
Now we're here, where to begin?<br />
<br />
In the bright optimism of Spring I foolishly sprayed a couple of goals I wanted to achieve before becoming a dad. One was to onsight E5, which, in the reality of a full-time-working-midgy-drizzly-not-very-traddy-Highland-summer, I'm reneging on. Just not enough mileage in the head. The other was to redpoint a 7c sport route, a grade that I'd not climbed before. This latter goal felt much more realistic, involving far more factors that I could control. I had a handful of routes that would potentially fit the bill and one that I thought I might have a pretty good chance at was Am Fasgadh's <i>Primo.</i> The first 5 bolts of <i>Primo</i> on their own are a fierce little 7b+ known as <i>Curving Crack </i>(AKA <i>C.C.</i> for the rest of this blog)<i>. </i>Where perma-dry <i>C.C.</i> slopes off right to an intermediate lower-off<i> Primo </i>keeps going for another 6 bolts through the quartz roof umbrella to the top of the crag. After around 4 seasons of attempts I eventually did <i>C.C. </i>in 2014, boring it into submission.<br />
<br />
So that's where I started. Trying to re-aquaint myself with old friends on <i>C.C. - </i>evil old friends I had spent years battling:<i> </i>the quartz 'jug', the crozzly pinch, the stab into the crack, the delicate cross into the finger-lock. They were as stubborn as before, but at least I knew what to do and that would hopefully just be a matter of persistence to bring them together.<br />
<br />
Then there was the top section. I'd never tried it before but had belayed a couple of folk on it a time or two and had a memory of hearing that it was easier than the lower section. The first time up that felt like a big fat lie to me. There was a grim move pulling through a roof on a horizontal hand jam that as soon as you moved up and the hand was level with your foot bit savagely into my wrist, spitting me off in squeaks of pain. Then the next move seemed like a huge span from a small undercut to an awkward diagonal hold. I went home with my tail between my legs - happy to have at least opened an account on a pre-baby goal, but knowing there was work to do.<br />
<br />
A week passed. The board took a hammering and I even dusted off the running shoes. Surely summer would return and Am Fasgadh would be back off-limits? But along came the weekend and it was 12 degrees, showery and breezy again. Back to it.<br />
<br />
The <i>C.C. </i>links started to grow that day: ground to quartz jug, off, quartz jug to the crack. Tess' beta got me from <i>C.C. </i>into the quartz roof but then the horror-jam wasn't working so I was stuck. I eventually unstuck this by a complete fluke, squeezing a toe under the roof to take weight off the jam and turn it into an undercut. It was so satisfying, turning a stopper into a fairly do-able move. But then there was the span. It was infuriating. Tess, who is shorter than me, pissed the move that day so I really shouldn't have been having a problem. Clearly I was doing something silly with my feet. I made some headway, but didn't feel secure. After that section I was pretty sure I could hold the rest together to the chain. <br />
<br />
Suddenly success distilled down to three things: repeating a short 7b+ that I had managed three years ago, getting enough rest below the roof and sorting my feet to get high enough for the 'stretch'. Oh, and getting a notoriously midgy, sheltered, south-facing crag in good condition in early July.<br />
<br />
Another week passed. Routes at the wall on Monday, circuits on Tuesday, boulder problems on Wednesday. Friday I was off work, but their wasn't much wind forecast. A potential midge-fest. But then it was looking showery so no-where else was guaranteed to be dry. Mhairi wanted a re-match on <i>C.C.</i>so I had a keen partner. Sod it, let's gamble.<br />
<br />
The gentlest breeze tickled the green bracken sea. The rattling leaves on the aspen tree above the crag - the Am Fasgadh weathervane - gave a slight tremble. The midges sat tight. I clawed my way through <i>Curving Crack</i> to the semi-rest, to the roof, shook out and shook out and shook out, and then: jam, step, toe, undercut, undercut, step, step, reach... Either I crept past as the Am Fasgadh gods were sleeping or they just got bored of me, but either way, I'm now one step closer to being ready for parenthood.<br />
<br />
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-26716934034862083632017-06-05T20:56:00.000+01:002017-06-07T09:17:02.738+01:00'Holiday'<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/34587463440/in/contacts/" nbsp="" title="Goat Crag"><img alt="Goat Crag" height="231" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4269/34587463440_73cfb2844b.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Batman and Robin at Goat (Photo:Ian Taylor)</div>
<br />
A few things haven't gone quite as planned lately. Firstly, I wasn't supposed to be ill during the peak busy survey season - languishing at home watching Netflix while others did the work I'm supposed to specialise in. Then secondly, at the end of May I was supposed to be away on a climbing trip with Nick. That's right. Me. Away. The first multi-day trip exclusively dedicated to climbing since 2014. But a week before the off poor old Nick fractured his ankle while out running. So that was that.<br />
<br />
I sent out a rumble on the jungle drums to see if I could find a Carter replacement, but the best I could muster was stringing together several partners up here, so I did that instead. On the plus side, it meant that I could keep a few days of leave to utilise if there's good weather later in the summer. Despite not being away, it felt so nice to have multiple days climbing in a row, something that life just doesn't seem to afford these days. Here's a tedious blow by blow account:<br />
<br />
<b>Day 1: Creag nan Cadhag with Murdo</b><br />
Summertime sport (until the sun comes round at 4pm). <i>Drip, drip, drip,</i><i> </i>one of the original 7as who's name says it all, was dry so I had to cash in.<i> </i>Murdo described it as like an esoteric ice route that rarely forms, so when it's in condition you have to do it. I very nearly didn't as the crux pulling onto the slab was a reminder that I've not pulled on small holds for a while, but it eventually gave in. A class route. Next up was <i>The Greek Exit</i>, a 7a that breaks out of <i>Axe Grinder,</i> the original 7a+.<i> </i>By then I might have been tired, but it felt as hard as it's parent route did when I did it last October. 3rd redpoint, last go of the day. Got it by a ball hair, as the locals say.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/34722613785/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="Creag nan Cadhag"><img alt="Creag nan Cadhag" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4163/34722613785_1f67bca718.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Murdo and Frankie jus chillin'.</div>
<b>Day 2: Work</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Day 3: Seanna Mheallan with Tess</b><br />
Despite really loving Torridon and bouldering on the redstone I don't have a good track record with routes there. Today was no exception, falling off a route I backed off about 5 years previously (<i>Mark of a Skyver</i>, E2 5c). Not great for the confidence, and a clear sign that crag classic <i>The Torridonian</i> will have to wait. Tess did a couple of good routes (<i>Crack of Ages</i> and <i>Edge of Enlightenment</i>) and as I topped out on a pleasant E1 <i>Left in the Lurch </i>the threatening heavens opened and she had to follow in full waterproofs. Game over.<br />
<br />
<b>Day 4: Heavy rain. No dice.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Day 5: Ashie Fort and Duntelchaig with Murdo</b><br />
I'm still not sure how I persuaded Tain's best all rounder to visit Inverness' premier conglomerate trad crag, but there we were. <i>Ruby Tuesday </i>E2 5b was a nice start, but clearly not enough of a warm up as shortly afterwards I was slumped on a cam on <i>Brain Damage</i> E3 6a. I guess 10 metre E3s that have 5 metres of VS at the start are bound to have hard moves. Deep down I knew I was lacking the trad grit required for such endeavors. Then we went over to Duntelchaig so I could pay Murdo back for his patience. He had his eyes on Bett's <i>Transvision Clamp.</i> It was given E6 6b by a presumably on-form Rich after headpointing, so full marks to Murdo for trying it on-sight. Murdo's not exactly shit these days (he'll love this), but after a valiant effort he realised it was hard, techy and involving fiddly small gear. In the end he decided that he'd need to come back and have a try on a rope. A day of unfinished business for both of us.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/52986281@N08/34672805021/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Ashie Fort"><img alt="Ashie Fort" height="500" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4201/34672805021_0ecda52e42.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Me about to get flamed on Brain Damage. (Photo: Murdo Jamieson)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-78nD1Xu0jA8/WTWwOWGJ2TI/AAAAAAAAB9o/JVuZcZrOuDs1DiHbSDmqzsjGuvS7E29WQCLcB/s1600/DSC01399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-78nD1Xu0jA8/WTWwOWGJ2TI/AAAAAAAAB9o/JVuZcZrOuDs1DiHbSDmqzsjGuvS7E29WQCLcB/s320/DSC01399.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Murdo opening the account on <i>Transvision Clamp</i>, E6 6b (at least).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Day 6: The Camel with Murdo</b><br />
My excuse is that I was tired from the previous day's spanking on a 10 metre route, but this turned into the low point of the 'trip'. Stone of Destiny was no warm up, Inverarnie Schwarzenegger was ny on impossible. The less said the better. Manwhile, Murdo climbed a life's ticklist of routes in a few hours. Dick.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dmG__x-4qzY/WTWws9fBURI/AAAAAAAAB9s/ZMKpNjtNM7IGV1Y5KuAioeQQ3Y-889oeACLcB/s1600/DSC01400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dmG__x-4qzY/WTWws9fBURI/AAAAAAAAB9s/ZMKpNjtNM7IGV1Y5KuAioeQQ3Y-889oeACLcB/s320/DSC01400.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Murdo and <i>Ubunto </i>8a at the Camel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Day 7: Work</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Day 8: Work</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Day 9: Secret Sport Crag with Ian</b><br />
The heatwave struck and we had 2 options: Secret Sport Crag or the mountains. We plumped for the former, one of the latest offerings from the beady eye of Andy Wilby and perhaps my favourite so far. I'm not sure how top secret it is, so I'll not witter on too much, but the routes I did were ace, and there's plenty to return for.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/34081706933/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Andy & Sue's Crag"><img alt="Andy & Sue's Crag" height="319" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4271/34081706933_81a45436d2.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Me on Scatman Crothers 6c+/7a (Photo: Ian Taylor)</div>
<br />
<b>Day 10: Shelterstone with Mhairi</b><br />
Day 2 of the heatwave, so we headed into the hills for Mhairi's first mountain route. It was so lovely to be back in the Cairngorms, over the back and dropping into the Avon basin, a reminder of the days I used to spend over there when I lived in Aviemore. Super classic E2 <i>Steeple</i> had somehow been missing from my C.V. so we plumped for that, relishing 7 pitches from basin to plateau on a gorgeous blue sky day. Mhairi acquitted herself brilliantly, as expected, and not a bad introduction to climbing in the hills. The only problem is that it doesn't get much better than that, so she might as well give up and become a boulderer now.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/34757790832/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="Shelterstone"><img alt="Shelterstone" height="500" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4220/34757790832_59e3da468e.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ashie Fort, or some other crag. They're all the same.</div>
<br />
<b>Day 11: rest, eat cake, paint the nursery.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Day 12: Goat Crag with Tess</b><br />
It was a funny old forecast, supposed to be chilly with showers so we thought about Am Fasgadh, but it was actually pretty warm so we went uphill to Goat. After another failure to warm up on a 6c+ and minor toy throwing out of pram session I decided to open an account on <i>Batman and Robin, </i>a route I'd wanted to try for ages (and one of the few dry routes that day). After a working go I managed to power-out twice in a row with just one move to go. Then the arms gave up. More unfinished business.<br />
<br />
<b>Day 13, The Last Day: Goat Crag with Mhairi</b><br />
Predictably, I managed to persuade Mhairi that she wanted to go to Goat (which, to be fair, she did). After warming up on the actual warm up (rather than the local's warm up), <i>Batman and Robin</i> went down first go after putting the clips in. Phew, first 7b for a while. Or is it 7a+? Regardless, another gratuitous tick and just in time to massage my ego through the dark days back at the office.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CNnnML-W9to/WTWw_6qTEtI/AAAAAAAAB9w/9s072cQeRx8b13cempSuITiJJQws1Pc5ACLcB/s1600/DSC01434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CNnnML-W9to/WTWw_6qTEtI/AAAAAAAAB9w/9s072cQeRx8b13cempSuITiJJQws1Pc5ACLcB/s320/DSC01434.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ian on his way to smashing <i>The Prow Direct</i>, 7c+, at Goat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Thanks to all the folks I climbed with. Perhaps next trip I go on I'll actually leave the house.Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-43766586354719403742017-04-28T13:36:00.000+01:002017-04-28T13:36:52.593+01:00Seismic ShiftThis is the fifth day in a row that I've been stuck at home feeling sorry for myself. It's that time of year, the capercaillie lek time when I'm supposed to turn semi-feral and sleep out in the woods night after night to be up early to count the birds strutting their stuff. But instead, part way through proceedings my Judas body has turned on me and crashed and I've been jibbering at home with a virus instead, marshalling the survey team via texts from my bed.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8h9jg-M_Dk/WQMv3p4JIDI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/ILMoojHtvWAyaFAJGcFDIiq11EbQWzUUACLcB/s1600/WP_20170416_21_00_56_Pro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8h9jg-M_Dk/WQMv3p4JIDI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/ILMoojHtvWAyaFAJGcFDIiq11EbQWzUUACLcB/s400/WP_20170416_21_00_56_Pro.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr Caper at twilight, photo through binoculars.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've attempted to start writing this blog a few times while killing time but keep packing up because there's not been a whole lot to report lately. Work, work, family visits, a wedding, work and more work. Except, I guess, for the seismic-shifting news that Sarah and I are expecting a baby later this year.<br />
<br />
But what about my already stuttering and minimal attempts to be a climber, which is what this blog is supposed to be about? What indeed. I already seem to have very little time to get out, and now with the imminent arrival of a bundle of laughs and vomit time will be even tighter. I'm doomed!<br />
<br />
I'm seeing it as a two fold opportunity: In the short term before the yoof arrives I've got a clear deadline by which I want to try to achieve a couple of long held ambitions. In the long term, when we're in the midst of nappies, sleep deprivation, toddling and teething I reckon I'll have to be pretty organised and disciplined to keep getting sessions in on the board and to make hay when the rare opportunities to get out present themselves, so I expect I'll become very project-orientated (which I kind-of am already). Although trad headpoints are a bit of a cop-out, for the time-starved I can imagine that they might feed my rat admirably.<br />
<br />
As ever with these things, I'm a bit nervous about setting my ambitions out in a public space like a blog, because then if I fail it's for all to see. But conversely, it should act as a driver - I've said these things, now I need to do them. With a due date of 30th September, I've got 5 months.<br />
<br />
<b>Short term ambition number 1: redpoint 7c.</b><br />
I've done a handful of 7b+s around these parts but never once tried a 7c, so it's a logical step. It's always seemed like a magic and unattainable grade, but I'm realising that I'm really bad for putting restrictions on myself like that and never just having a go.<br />
<br />
Choosing the right route will be the initial issue, as it'll need to be somewhere other's are regularly going otherwise I'll never get a catch. I don't imagine this will be a one session project. Potential contenders would be <i>Prow Lefthand</i> at Goat Crag, the north's most famous at the grade and at one of the most popular and reliable crags. Then there's <i>Primo</i> at Am Fasgadh, which I've done the first part of as <i>Curving Crack</i>, but Am Fasgadh isn't generally a summer venue. More locally, <i>Brin It On</i> at Brin would be available for after work evening sessions, or maybe something at Zed Buttress perhaps. Or what about Loch Maree's Super Crag? Thinking outside the box, something at Dunkeld might be an idea, but it's a fair trek to have a project. I'm also on a family holiday to Yorkshire for a week in July, any soft touches at Kilnsey?<br />
<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/8612114405/in/photolist-e82kz8-84WzGm-e2X6oZ-dr8ssh-dr8rWw-atDEAJ-doaQ3F-6fiYcp-bMWdHD-bSNhsT-aFNzBK-bMWdtX-bB9PFe-atDEAS-dmEkah-aCVqS4-bz2xub-gkv6uG-aFNznp-bSNh9K-aFNyVc-atDEB5-a3j5w1-8U8Emu-6fiYoP-8roVmo-bFvz26-7ogKBw-8U8E7h-bMWdC8-bFyYtg-Fs1HeF-bFvzJH-bSNh4F-bsAGCy-boeUrG-6fo9LA-aFNyuz-4tZ7fh-aFNAyM-bFvzsc-bEEQoZ-bsAKif-5uC7SJ-bFvBBz-8roVPW-bsAKy5-bFvyWp-84UwF5-bDTzj7" nbsp="" title="Goat Crag"><img alt="Goat Crag" height="281" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8249/8612114405_8c66a0bef9.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Short term ambition number 2: Onsight E5.</b><br />
This is the one I'm far more nervous of. I've only done a handful of E4s and still not that many E3s really, and in recent years my trad climbing has stuttered to stagnation with just a few routes done each year. With trad, confidence is key and confidence comes with mileage, and trad mileage just comes with lots and lots of time at the crag. In general, that's not something I have a huge amount of. But hell, if not now, when? I've got a 10 day trip booked with Nick C at the end of May in which I'll hopefully make a good start to clocking up the mileage, and then hopefully I'll be able to keep plugging away with days here and there over the summer. <br />
<br />
It's much harder to be specific about what routes I want to do as I think it will really depend on where the sun ends up shining. If pressed, in the north I'd say I probably have more chance on something long and gneissy rather than short and sandstoney, but I'll take each route as it comes, and build up a base of fitness and familiarity with the trad faff. <br />
<br />
Any advice or route recommendations?<br />
<br />
Above all, I'll have to try to remind myself that it's all just a bit of fun in the end, and if I don't achieve these things it's not the end of the world. By having a go I should get to some cool places and climb some good routes along the way.<br />
<br />
Just thinking, there are 3-star E5s and 7cs at both of these crags, they seem like good places to start...<br />
<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/29391638356/in/photolist-oCZoZr-GGfDn3-FbFZQU-G79d5K-AyLdRa-6tGtN3-HqiKwo-zEdkGW-G1hDSx-AxkvkE-zBD4YM-rLNB2M-G4oQYd-G4u9Ke-G4usNP-GVV9uC-GyLSGS-G4uiKZ-Mm5uj1-LMeQ6s" nbsp="" title="Loch Maree Crag"><img alt="Loch Maree Crag" height="372" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8003/29391638356_e94e5c3d23.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/4639096264/in/photolist-84WzGm-e2X6oZ-dr8ssh-dr8rWw-atDEAJ-doaQ3F-6fiYcp-bMWdHD-bSNhsT-aFNzBK-bMWdtX-bB9PFe-atDEAS-dmEkah-aCVqS4-bz2xub-gkv6uG-aFNznp-bSNh9K-aFNyVc-atDEB5-a3j5w1-8U8Emu-6fiYoP-8roVmo-bFvz26-7ogKBw-8U8E7h-bMWdC8-bFyYtg-Fs1HeF-bFvzJH-bSNh4F-bsAGCy-boeUrG-6fo9LA-aFNyuz-4tZ7fh-aFNAyM-bFvzsc-bEEQoZ-bsAKif-5uC7SJ-bFvBBz-8roVPW-bsAKy5-bFvyWp-84UwF5-bDTzj7-atDEB3" nbsp="" title="Goat Crag"><img alt="Goat Crag" height="290" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4044/4639096264_e04f75e11c.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-27674350598327565192017-03-12T21:00:00.001+00:002017-03-12T21:00:52.886+00:00TicklistBack in January, Sarah and I took ourselves off to New Zealand's South Island for a 13 month overdue honeymoon. It was never going to be a climbing trip, but we'd budgeted a couple of days of our hard-won annual leave at the famed limestone boulders of Castle Hill. However, fate, or more accurately Qantas Airlines, conspired to scupper those plans and we were delayed in the transit hell-hole that is Dubai for two days. While sitting in a strange hotel ballroom with 300 other stranded passengers waiting for news of our flight we started re-working our holiday plans and it was natural that the two days at Castle Hill got the boot. Sarah doesn't climb and two days was never going to be enough to feed my rat. Bye bye boulders. <br />
<br />
Faced with three weeks of holiday with no climbing, as we travelled and played our way around the beautiful South Island I couldn't help but think about the winter rock season slipping by at home - all those projects, all those days of perfect friction, all those Torridon sunsets with the sun slipping behind a snowy Beinn Damph. Fortunately, sporadic checks of the MetOffice app reassured me that the weather at home was crap and I wasn't missing anything. This was verified by the lack of uploads on the Highland scene's Flickr pages - no FOMO. But with three weeks of no climbing I knew if I was to get anything from the shortened season I'd need a plan of action on my return: some serious time spent on the board and a ticklist of routes and problems to aim for.<br />
<br />
I've now been back from New Zealand for seven weeks. To begin with the board was mean. The warm ups were hard, the classics were projects. But by sticking at it I started to feel better and get back to being able to do last winter's classics and then I started to feel even better and even some of last winter's projects started to go.<br />
<br />
The ticklist is still with me. Some of the things on it I've not tried, some of them I have but are still incomplete, but there are a few that I've managed to see off. The last couple of weeks have been particularly good, with my three 'list' succeses all going down in that time. <br />
<br />
The first to fall was an arbitrary local's link-up at the Scatwell boulder. It's a version of <i>Fly Tip Lip</i>, the right to left lip traverse which I managed in March 2016, but for some inexplicable reason I couldn't repeat the last long move when I tried it this autumn. So instead I started trying to drop down off the lip into the last moves of <i>Alcove Left Hand</i>, turning it into a bit of an endurance issue and opening my eyes to the possibilities for other link-ups for the myopic local. I've no idea what grade it would be. Font 7A+? It took much longer to do than I thought it would, about 4 after-work lamp sessions before we went away, dropping the last big move back up to the lip about 10 times in a row before managing it on the first session there in 2017. In the end it was a relief to see off.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/33240896155/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="Scatwell"><img alt="Scatwell" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2874/33240896155_6b6e954f8e.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
Next came a rare success at Am Fasgadh. I've not been there much this winter, but the project du-jour was Pillar-Up, which links the start of <i>The Pillar</i> into the top of <i>Warm Up</i> at around 7b+. <i>The Pillar</i> section has really intricate climbing; about 15 hand moves for about 5 metres of height gained before joining <i>Warm Up</i> and having to keep it together for it's heartbreaking clip at the lower-off. I didn't really expect to do it that day, I was just going to be a fun day out climbing, but I managed a few beta tweaks and refined a clip that seemed to make the difference and before I knew I was at the chain. The only problem is that now the next obvious route to try there is going to be one of the hard ones.<br />
<br />
Two days later I was in Torridon, geared up and dry-mouthed underneath Ian Taylor's <i>Super Pittance</i>, a pokey little trad route that climbs the steep wall above his original boulder problem in the pit at the Jumble. I belayed and seconded Ian on the first ascent of this last winter, catching him when a hold broke on an initial direct finish attempt. He reckoned it would probably come in around E6 for the onsight. Knowing that it was pumpy but safe (Ian's gear held!) and feeling a tiny amount of ownership in the first ascent process, it seemed like a good choice to have as my first headpoint project in years. <br />
<br />
I was pleasantly surprised how quickly it all came together. A few weeks ago I had two days bouldering in the Glen in quick succession and halfway through the second day my skin was in tatters. It seemed like a logical time to stop bouldering and to inspect the route so I abbed it to check the gear. A couple of weeks later I went back again with the shunt and worked out the moves. Then along came this weekend. I managed to blag a belay off Lawrence Hughes who was projecting on the other side of the Glen. He came over to the Jumble after his session so I'd had plenty of time to re-familiarise myself with the gear and the sequence. Few people are as positive as Lawrence and with him holding my rope I didn't even question whether I was ready - he was psyched and so was I. All went roughly to plan, including the pumpy downclimb to the rest that you can't rehearse on a shunt, although I did manage to punter a cam placement and drop it.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/33010096730/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="Torridon"><img alt="Torridon" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/687/33010096730_c7eecb0775.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> </div>
<br />
The remaining projects on the ticklist are all sandstone boulder problems so will require good cold conditions if I'm to stand a chance. Lets see what the weather brings...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8ex21dYVjo/WMWzY-ax2OI/AAAAAAAAB84/bAo4foJglo8qLRuhj-Tb0MLaCo8fdhh-ACLcB/s1600/IMG_2457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8ex21dYVjo/WMWzY-ax2OI/AAAAAAAAB84/bAo4foJglo8qLRuhj-Tb0MLaCo8fdhh-ACLcB/s400/IMG_2457.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Topping out into the sunshine on Super Pittance (Photo: Lawrence Hughes)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-74021178337996180762016-12-24T16:48:00.001+00:002016-12-24T16:48:23.822+00:00RetrospectiveThe annual retrospective blog post: what have the 2016 pebble-wrestling highlights been?<br />
<br />
This year in particular the haul feels pretty insignificant - lots of bouldering, a bit of sport, very little trad. It's strange that despite really loving bouldering, in my own scoring system I still attribute more personal value to climbing routes, and more for trad than for sport. I mean, it's not about one being better than the other, I love them all, but when I look back on the memries, I do feel like I still get more reward from a good trad fight than a sport redpoint or a worked boulder. I can't really put numbers on it - is an onsighted E3 more valuable to me than a redpointed 7b? Probably. So, because of this weird skew in my head, it feels like I've not really had a good year, when in reality I've done a load of really good things. Here's a single highlight from each month:<br />
<br />
January: <i>Clach Mheallan</i> 7A, Reiff in the Woods<br />
An unexpected start to the year. I'd looked at the obvious steep arete a couple of times before but the low start always seemed impossible. The necessary change was Ian being there to give me the beta, so basically, I cheated. Regardless, a top tick from one of my favourite bouldering venues.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/23762329479/in/photolist-NvSqpW-N7DjYo-otgheD-qcpAC7-doaYx5-7FsxY7-r9gqqr-7wTVth-nh4khN-DF6xbb-8jYPxm-8jYPxs-dUsjrP-8jYPx7-7SRf6z-7wTVgb-8jYPwL-CHZn7s-E5khF8-E5ktkp-CAJVqU-CcN9FR-r2uuTx" nbsp="" title="Reiff in the Woods"><img alt="Reiff in the Woods" height="274" src="https://c8.staticflickr.com/6/5709/23762329479_b8a183901b_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
February: <i>Changed Days</i> 7B, Kishorn<br />
Chronicled <a href="http://gaz-softrock.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/inside-bubble.html" target="_blank">here</a>. I'd actually gone to Kishorn to try <i>The Universal </i>but I never even got to it as this little number sucked me in. It eventually took three sessions plus an aborted attempt when the road was blocked with snow. Totally worth it.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-midiaFaAnsU/VpvFYZGVrJI/AAAAAAAAB6s/lz0SZ1b_ixkeU9bIR_vvx0GgD9NgYXYtwCPcB/s1600/Changed%2BDays.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-midiaFaAnsU/VpvFYZGVrJI/AAAAAAAAB6s/lz0SZ1b_ixkeU9bIR_vvx0GgD9NgYXYtwCPcB/s400/Changed%2BDays.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Changed Days</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
March: <i>The Tippler</i>, E1 5b, Stanage<br />
I backed off this at about 8am one cold misty morning in March 2012, the last time I was at Stanage. So, on this trip it was imperative that I didn't get shut down again on a mere E1. If I'm honest, it was still pretty touch and go but I somehow clawed my way to the top. It was my first trad route of the year and I was confident that it heralded the start of a long spring and summer of battling, but of course, life intervened.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8bews2u9BfI/VvG8flYm7oI/AAAAAAAAB7E/gIFqEQgtgu0T-gB6wJWO4YF3gjdLahZxQCPcB/s1600/IMG-20160319-WA0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8bews2u9BfI/VvG8flYm7oI/AAAAAAAAB7E/gIFqEQgtgu0T-gB6wJWO4YF3gjdLahZxQCPcB/s400/IMG-20160319-WA0008.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting horrifically pumped but somehow only 5 metres off the deck. Photo: Phil Applegate</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
April: <i>Little Minx</i>, 7b, Zed Buttress, Brin<br />
April is always a tricky month for climbing. It's the peak period of capercaillie breeding so I go semi-feral and spend most of my time out in the forest counting them at their leks. Doing <i>Little Minx</i> doesn't feature in the list due to it's quality (it's good fun but fairly forgettable) but because it was a triumph of localism - a couple of quick sessions at Inverness' nearest sport crag, squeezed in between nights spent sleeping in cramped hides. Enough to keep the rat fed.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/52986281@N08/19887954722/in/photolist-wiqY45-xDnFRA/" nbsp="" title="Brin - Zed Buttress"><img alt="Brin - Zed Buttress" height="320" src="https://c3.staticflickr.com/1/391/19887954722_1ed5773b83_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
May: <i>Town Without Pity</i>, E2 5c, Ardmair<br />
Going on pure numbers, in May I had one of my most unexpected successes when I somehow squeezed my way up Rich's <i>The Scientist</i> boulder problem at Brin, but going on that skewed value system I seem to have the fight I had when I did <i>Town Without Pity</i> at Ardmair definitely comes out as a more worthy victory in my memory. Strange, eh? To be fair, it is bloody brilliant.<br />
<br />
June: <i>Throw Lichen to the Wind</i>, E2 5c, Ashie Fort<br />
Another nod to localism and probably the most esoteric route on this list. I'd never trad climbed on conglomerate before so was a little un-nerved by the whole process, but the rock was solid and clean(ish), the crag was sunny and the route was pumpy and safe. And then we drove to Dores Inn for ice cream by Loch Ness. <br />
<br />
July: <i>Over the Hills and Farr Away</i>, 7a+, The Camel<br />
I think this only qualifies as it's the only route I did in July that I'd not done before. Not the best route at the crag, but to be fair it does pack a punch. It was a typical July climbing day: overcast, mild, midgy and showery, trapped in that dark gully, belaying in midge nets and duvet jackets. One of those days when getting anything done is a victory in itself.<br />
<br />
August: <i>Pink Wall</i>, 7b, Brin<br />
If you'd asked me on the 1st of January what routes I wanted to climb this year, Brin's <i>Pink Wall</i> would have been one of the first on the list. There aren't many three star 7bs in this part of the world, but this is definitely one of them. This probably marked a high period of my climbing year, as two days later I managed my <a href="http://gaz-softrock.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/get-it-while-its-hot.html" target="_blank">Conon DWS project</a>. Within the week I was off sick with a viral infection.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/6004782695/in/photolist-8iPEE7-bX9sCY-a9C5G8" nbsp="" title="Brin"><img alt="Brin" height="320" src="https://c8.staticflickr.com/7/6135/6004782695_8da54a3608_n.jpg" width="220" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
September: <i>Scorchio</i>, 7a, Am Fasgadh<br />
The weird viral infection hung around for a few weeks, affecting my balance and making me knackered, so September was a bit of a low point, but I did manage a fun day out with Tess to Am Fasgadh. The three routes on the right side of the crag are normally wet when I'm there so I'd never tried them but this time they were in and I managed to come away with all three - resorting to doing the best one, <i>Scorchio,</i> second go.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/6330833303/in/photolist-aDrbbk-boeUCL-boeUUQ-aCZjiQ/" nbsp="" title="Am Fasgadh"><img alt="Am Fasgadh" height="234" src="https://c8.staticflickr.com/7/6218/6330833303_860f989285_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
October: <i>South Groove</i>, E1 5c, Trewavas Head,<br />
I'd not placed a wire since July, but a family holiday for my Mum's 60th in Cornwall offered the opportunity to blackmail a belay from Sarah ("we can't come all this way..."). Trewavas Head fitted the bill for a non-tidal crag within a short drive of our accommodation, and it was a beautiful spot ticking all the Cornish cliches: golden granite, turquoise sea, wind-clipped heathland, an old tin mine and chattering choughs overhead. I only did a couple of routes, of which <i>South Groove </i>was the more memorable due to it's non-hold granitey weirdness crux, but both were well worth the trad faff, reaffirming my trad> sport> bouldering value system.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/30352865136/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="Trewavas Head"><img alt="Trewavas Head" height="500" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8407/30352865136_282b868e9e.jpg" width="281" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
November: <i>Teasel</i>, 6B+, Bus Boulder<br />
When Ian gifted me the <a href="http://gaz-softrock.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/spring-2016.html" target="_blank">Bus Boulder</a> for development back in the Spring I had concentrated on looking for a way up a steep wall and hadn't paid much attention to it's vague left arete. But then one day, with a slightly tweaked perspective, I spotted that there was a line to be done but that the top needed a serious clean. I eventually got round to getting on a rope on a horrible wet day and did my best to clean it up but then didn't go back for a few weeks. Eventually I got there in the middle of a really good spell of cold high pressure, when the trees were white with rime, the rocks by the river were shiny with verglass and Ben Wyvis resembled a giant meringue. I'd originally envisaged a sit start, but that seems pretty futuristic for now. However the stand is a cracker. The day before, Teasel the family's 16 year old Jack Russell terrier was put down, so the name seemed like a fitting memorial. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/31086897575/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="Bus Boulder"><img alt="Bus Boulder" height="240" src="https://c8.staticflickr.com/6/5349/31086897575_6fc1ae0b93_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
December: <i>DIY</i>, 6B, Stanage <br />
Similar to March's top tick, on that trip to Stanage in 2012 I tried and failed on a lovely highball called <i>DIY</i>, so it was on top of the to-do list for another quick trip in early December. It's possibly the definition of my perfect climb: just off-vertical, high enough to be exciting, short enough to be safe above pads. <br />
<br />
So, all in all not too bad a year. Here's hoping that 2017 brings more, and hopefully a bit more trad. But there's a winter of bouldering still to come...Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-73513606217144974032016-12-13T07:38:00.001+00:002016-12-13T07:38:27.738+00:00Ticked Off<div class="MsoNormal">
Another Soft Rock hiatus.
It probably reflects where my climbing is these days: kind of aimless, wondering,
opportunistic. This time last year I’d
climbed my six year project and was floating on a cloud of egotism, well into a
productive winter of bouldering . This year I feel like I’ve not even got going
yet. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In a bid to change things, yesterday I had a great day out
circuiting with Rich in Strathnairn; my first time out in that direction for a
long time, and my first day out with Rich this season. Brin was pleasant enough and we managed a few
problems between falling down holes and losing dogs, including the dubiously
named <i>Celebrity Leg Penis</i>. Despite
telling me he’s not had much form and not been training much, Rich still burnt
me off on everything. It’s good to know
your place. Farr was in much better nick
with a cool breeze and, frankly, is a much nicer place to climb; far better and
cleaner rock and fewer holes in the ground.
If only there was more of it. As
the light started to dip we raced up to Ruthven for a nightcap. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throughout the day, between falling off and throwing tennis
balls for dogs, the conversation regularly turned to the increasingly evident impact
of boulderers in bouldering areas and in particular the mortal sin of not
brushing off tick marks. It’s a funny
old thing, and certainly something that seems to be increasing in frequency,
both at the crags near me and everywhere else, and documented with righteous
indignation in the brilliant <a href="http://ukbouldering.com/board/index.php/topic,1942.1150.html" target="_blank">Hall of Shame</a> thread on UKB. <br />
<br />
Fair enough, you might feel the need for a
line of chalk pointing to where a cryptically camouflaged or hidden hold is,
but not everyone does, and not everyone will use your sequence so might not even
use that hold. If it’s an obvious hold,
what do you need a tick mark for? And is
a line 3 inches long really necessary? After considering all that, if you still need a tick mark, just brush it off when you
leave. It's not hard and we all carry a plethora of expensive brushes with us these days. <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sQFba-4xOrE/WE-jVi7FMLI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/2vFLwxvkTD4Mgbrxg2wAaT6ubiGXWqgNACLcB/s1600/IMG_5061.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sQFba-4xOrE/WE-jVi7FMLI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/2vFLwxvkTD4Mgbrxg2wAaT6ubiGXWqgNACLcB/s1600/IMG_5061.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brin: Remind me, where are those holds? (Photo: Rich Betts)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It’s hard to know exactly why it irks me so much, but I
think it shows a massive lack of respect for whoever comes to the boulder
after you, an assumption that they’re happy to climb in your mess and embodies
a wider selfish attitude where the boulders and places we all love are just there to
be consumed: leave your mark, move on to the next, repeat. Is it a symptom of more climbers graduating
from walls, swinging between brightly coloured blobs, into the real world where
you need a bit more skill and experience to spot holds? Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you can’t brush
them off afterwards.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hIcL5og-G4k/WE7YLL2A9hI/AAAAAAAAB8A/9sJQypAROi8cHkt8M2pzNJiuzZzWBxkEACLcB/s1600/20160825_132725.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hIcL5og-G4k/WE7YLL2A9hI/AAAAAAAAB8A/9sJQypAROi8cHkt8M2pzNJiuzZzWBxkEACLcB/s640/20160825_132725.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruthven: What is this even pointing to? (Photo: Murdoch Jamieson)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s something I know Rich wrestles with. Having co-authored
a guide to one of the best but least-frequented bouldering areas in Britain, is
he basically opening the door for the hordes to come and trash it? I guess it’s
inevitable that the more people that come to an area, the greater the impact
they’ll have, but by acting responsibly there’s really no reason why those
impacts need to be significant and to impact on other’s future enjoyment. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMUehZzxbvU/WE-jWDl7ZhI/AAAAAAAAB8U/avDLJ2J4R-ww4EmYY6NIYbE8LGX9NkaZwCLcB/s1600/IMG_4162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMUehZzxbvU/WE-jWDl7ZhI/AAAAAAAAB8U/avDLJ2J4R-ww4EmYY6NIYbE8LGX9NkaZwCLcB/s400/IMG_4162.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Torridon: That's a starting hold you can reach from the ground.(Photo: Rich Betts)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Last weekend I had 3 days in the Peak, at Stanage, the Roaches, Cratcliffe and Robin Hood’s Stride, and was appalled at the state that some people leave some of these boulders in – massive tick marks pointing to obvious holds that aren’t brushed off, excessive loose grains of chalk plastered on every conceivable hold (including the ones you really don’t need), yellow chalk stains everywhere and, inevitably, the signs of broken holds and erosion that come from climbing on wet rock. If you then include the soil erosion under the landings and around the footpaths you’ve got to accept that a sport that’s been in existence for less than 40 years is starting to trash places that have been around for millennia. Forget the annual furore about crampon scratches on a distant mountain crag, where's the anger about the state of our boulders?</div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-47191185382967945642016-08-23T10:59:00.000+01:002016-08-23T10:59:56.849+01:00Get it while it's hot!I buckled under the pressure and spent some time trying my little DWS project on a shunt. All ethical scruples go out the window when there are only a handful of days each year that I'm willing to fall into a river. Majorca this aint.<br />
<br />
Pleasingly, there are some pretty meager grips up there and the easiest sequence I found was still pretty hard. I still couldn't link it on the rope, so although I knew what to do a nervous air of mystery remained.<br />
<br />
Last night my motivation was pretty low. After a day at work the grey skies and breeze didn't make the thought of another watery plummet particularly inviting. I checked the forecast in the hope that tomorrow would be nicer but it wasn't looking much better. Shit. Maybe that was the window. If I don't go now maybe I'll have to wait another year. Shit.<br />
<br />
Knowing what I was in for, I knew I would have to be well warmed up to have half a chance; one of the many reasons I love having a board at home. I slowly started the process, going through my list of warm up problems: <i>Juggy Circuit, Undercut, Left-hand Yellows, Left-hand Yellow Mirror, Moon Pinch.</i> Eventually, as the mists of the work day started to part, I started to feel the psyche arrive. That bubble in the gut. That burning. I dived in the car and turned on the tunes.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/179810782" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/179810782">Get it while it's hot!</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user6155988">Gareth Marshall</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
</div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-7694766105571747282016-08-21T11:16:00.000+01:002016-08-21T11:16:17.513+01:00The Potterer"Call this summer?"<br />
<br />
It amazes me how short the collective memory is. For a nation that's supposed to be obsessed with the weather our obsessions don't seem very grounded in reality. So many people I talk to seem to have a rose-tinted view that the summer months of July and August should bring picture-postcard long hot sunny days, mountain crags, nights under the stars, sea cliffs, bronzed bodies frolicking on beaches - the dream sold to them by social media and marketing - and feel cheated that in the Highlands it's generally two months of humid, midgy, bracken-choked rain.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/28706698205/in/datetaken/" nbsp="" title="August"><img alt="August" height="375" src="https://c6.staticflickr.com/8/7691/28706698205_47af40e02c.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Goat Crag.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Video: Ian Taylor</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vRQPyyOGjxA/V7Lp5v67y4I/AAAAAAAAB7g/YxQg3bihyKYa-4C37nBq3gphlSS42-mBwCLcB/s1600/20160814_121959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vRQPyyOGjxA/V7Lp5v67y4I/AAAAAAAAB7g/YxQg3bihyKYa-4C37nBq3gphlSS42-mBwCLcB/s320/20160814_121959.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brin<br />Photo: Tess Fryer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
For me, I've lived here long enough to realise that it's better to write these months off for big objectives, to keep ticking over in anticipation for the cooler months ahead and then to consider any climbing that happens as a bonus. The summer seems to have consisted of pottering about at local crags and boulders. Fortunately the hard work of a handful of folk means there are a few great routes round here that are well worth doing over and over again. I'm not sure I'll ever get tired of doing <i>Little Teaser</i> at Moy, scraping through those last metres to the belay using different holds every time. Then at the Camel <i>Stone of Destiny</i> never feels like a certainty and is pretty stiff for a warm up, and then <i>The One and Only </i>at Brin is just superb, straight up the middle of the wall.<br />
<br />
There's also a ready-supply of routes at these crags that I'd still not done. Ian's <i>Little Squeezer</i> (6c) at Moy is aptly named but well worth it, filling an obvious gap on the Big Flat Wall. Neil Shephard's <i>Over the Hills and Far Away </i>(7a+) at the Camel put up more of a fight and wasn't helped by the midges and passing rain. Up at Brin I finally got round to redpointing Andrew Wilby's classic <i>The Pink Wall </i>(7b)<i> </i>over two sessions. Despite only being 8 clips and 15 metres long this packs in quite a bit of climbing, and for a scaredy-cat like me it feels pretty airy up there. Another one bites the dust.<br />
<br />
Having written all that about the crap weather, this last week has actually shown signs of summer and the local pottering has continued in force. I've been back to the River Conon where there's a cool <a href="http://gaz-softrock.blogspot.co.uk/2015/07/two-days-of-summer.html" target="_blank">steep wall</a> above a deep pool to try to do a fierce micro-route that Andy Moles told me about last year. I'd previously abbed it to check for holds, but have been trying to climb it ground-up and have now taken the splash-down from the same place 7 times. Dry chalk bags and shoes (and midge tolerance) are becoming a limiting factor - not to mention warm sunny days that make the thought of falling in a river attractive - so I think I'm going to have to try it on a rope. Watch this space.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/29048887261/in/datetaken-public/" nbsp="" title="Conon"><img alt="Conon" height="375" src="https://c6.staticflickr.com/9/8280/29048887261_1a49d5eb89.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-2324445666160198502016-06-13T19:38:00.000+01:002016-06-13T19:38:28.731+01:00Spring 2016A typical Highland day in June. The sweet damp greens of summer unfurled; leaves and flowers and fronds uncurling. Brilliant yellow broom, bluebell blue; swallows and swifts and martens race each other through the drizzle. <br />
<br />
Months have passed without a word. You've probably forgotten the cobwebbed pages of Soft Rock. I know I have. I think I left the last installment with a vague promise that bouldering would cease and ropes would be used. I've tried to keep my word, but on quite a few occasions in the last months I've had to resort to the easy default of the loner; bumping pads and brushes and cleaning paraphernalia to the big blocks, scrubbing new climbing into existence and resurrecting unloved old gems.<br />
<br />
Ian pointed me to the Bus Boulder, an Inchbae erratic perched by the Blackwater river, 10 seconds from the road. It's too far from Ullapool to be in his patch and only 20 minutes from home for me so he gifted the development duties (it's got nothing to do with acres of West coast quality he's still got to unearth). Leafy summer dank has now postponed activities until the Autumn cool returns, but before the midge ended play I'd squeezed out a couple of good lowball 6Cs. Hopefully there'll be more to come later this year.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/26365336903/in/datetaken-public/" nbsp="" title="Bus Boulder"><img alt="Bus Boulder" height="375" src="https://c8.staticflickr.com/8/7631/26365336903_f69064bd91.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
As Spring wore on I managed a few trips to the likely sport crags Am Fasgadh and Zed Buttress, fluking my way up the crimpy 7b <i>Little Minx</i> at the latter and power shrieking my way up <i>Super Warm Up</i> (7b+) at the former and kidding myself into believing that I was getting fitter. A later date at Goat on a high humidity day took me back to earth with a bump when I barely got up Ian's new <i>Sun Rays</i> (7a) second go and then ungraciously failed on the 6c+ <i>Bamboozle</i>. Arse.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/16425796013/in/photolist-E5ktkp-otgheD-otgi8x-qcpAC7-doaYx5-7FsxY7-r9gqqr-7wTVth-nh4khN-DF6xbb-8jYPxm-8jYPxs-dUsjrP-8jYPx7-7SRf6z-7wTVgb-CHZn7s-E5khF8-CAJVqU-CcN9FR-r2uuTx" nbsp="" title="Brin"><img alt="Brin" height="255" src="https://c6.staticflickr.com/8/7611/16425796013_63ddc941f7.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Trying Little Minx at Zed last Spring (Photo: Ian Taylo</span>r)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Tradding? Once my raison d'etre, now a rare treat. I've done so little these last years and with so little consistency that I think I've gone backwards. I listened to a podcast with Stevie Haston the other day and he talked about the hardcore traddies of the 80s having 'head skills'. That's definitely something missing from my repertoire. For me, I don't think there's a way of short-cutting the path to confident trad climbing, you've just got to put in the hours. Faffing with ropes, weedling in wires, running it out. The odd day here and there just doesn't do it. After bleeding my way up <i>Town Without Pity</i> (E2) at Ardmair I started to feel happy with my jamming abilities, but then last week I followed Murdo up the top pitch of <i>Mid-flight Crisis </i>(E4) on Stac Pollaidh and realised that I am still really shit at it. Failing on <i>Seal Song</i> at Reiff yesterday confirms my belief. Maybe I need to try something that isn't a steep sandstone crack.<br />
<br />
So, the odd bit of roped climbing lately but, depressingly for this time of year, my biggest tick has been a boulder problem. A high gravity morning at Brin sent me and Murdo down the hill to Richie's long-forgotten cracker <i>The Scientist </i>7B. It's a proper good line, and when Rich <a href="http://gaz-softrock.blogspot.co.uk/2010/10/balancing.html" target="_blank">first showed it to me</a> years ago I was pretty inspired to try it. I think I had one quick session and gave up without linking any moves. Roll forward 6 years and somehow I managed to do it in two sessions, with an interim visit in the rain to clean up the top-out. Thoroughly recommended and big respect to those early pioneers back in the day...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/100362744@N02/26963368800/in/datetaken-public/" nbsp="" title="Brin"><img alt="Brin" height="500" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/8/7458/26963368800_d09e665023.jpg" width="281" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> </div>
<br />
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-63973947436905086182016-03-22T22:22:00.000+00:002016-03-22T22:22:53.771+00:00Witness the (un)fitnessThe days of cold bouldering conditions must surely be numbered. It's been a great season. My best ever without a doubt, with a pleasing list of completed projects and fairly quick ticks. The last time out in Torridon I finished off one of the last problems that I'd had on my season's optimistic ticklist by slapping my way up <i>Wee Baws. </i>Regular use of the board in the shed has definitely paid off. And with that I'm pretty content to put the boulders to bed and start thinking about ropes and harnesses and all that faffery.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/24990622249/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="Torridon"><img alt="Torridon" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1661/24990622249_1d00ca54d3.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
Within half an hour of topping out <i>Wee Baws</i> my transition was in full swing and I was slumped on the rope, straining to fiddle out wires while trying to follow Ian up a punchy new route he'd just done on one of the short walls above the boulders. There's work to be done.<br />
<br />
I followed up with a pilgrimage to the ever-dry Am Fasgadh the next weekend with Murdo. Despite it being the first time on the sharp-end for the best part of 6 months I just about hauled myself up the <i>Warm Up</i> and tickled the chains on <i>Curving Crack</i> so felt fairly happy with my endeavors.<br />
<br />
In a bid to start injecting some endurance into my one-move wonder arms I took Frankie the dog down to Tom Riach for the year's first after-work sessions. After getting reacquainted with <a href="http://gaz-softrock.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/uncle-tom.html" target="_blank"><i>There</i>, <i>Back</i> and the </a><i><a href="http://gaz-softrock.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/uncle-tom.html" target="_blank">Butcher Finish</a> </i>on the SW face<i> </i>and with the trickery of the NW face I started working the <i>Knil, </i>the traverse of the NW face into SW going left to right and the obvious next thing to do after doing the original <i>Link</i>. I was surprised to fluke my way through it on my second visit, so now I need another local project to keep me busy.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2cf52qp2Ks/VvG8nEbVZVI/AAAAAAAAB7A/aOihztnK3k4Ph4SnlfTuo04pO6kHDh6JQ/s1600/20160315_181753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2cf52qp2Ks/VvG8nEbVZVI/AAAAAAAAB7A/aOihztnK3k4Ph4SnlfTuo04pO6kHDh6JQ/s400/20160315_181753.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pete turning the arete on Tom Riach's <i>Link</i>.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8bews2u9BfI/VvG8flYm7oI/AAAAAAAAB64/JHiWSVUAHk8aRfwqV77wKV84lC8gstbyg/s1600/IMG-20160319-WA0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8bews2u9BfI/VvG8flYm7oI/AAAAAAAAB64/JHiWSVUAHk8aRfwqV77wKV84lC8gstbyg/s640/IMG-20160319-WA0008.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I kicked off the 2016 trad year with a three day trip to the Peak District. Here I am getting horrifically pumped on the <i>The Tippler </i>at Stanage<i>.</i> (Photo: Phil Applegate)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-prbX6EiyxeI/VvG8i8z2zhI/AAAAAAAAB68/C2xp7T7URXMNyFAW-zvqcchzkP_dlWLiA/s1600/RU%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-prbX6EiyxeI/VvG8i8z2zhI/AAAAAAAAB68/C2xp7T7URXMNyFAW-zvqcchzkP_dlWLiA/s400/RU%2B1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The last route of the short trip, the legendary <i>Right Unconquerable</i>. (Photo: Rob Greenwood) </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-20501311090888416902016-02-06T17:57:00.001+00:002016-02-06T17:57:12.850+00:00CaptureLast time around I tried to capture something of the bizarre, irrational and selfish game of projecting boulder problems in the cold of a Highland winter. I captured some of my battling on camera for posterity and have stuck it together in the wee edit below. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="375" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/154421355" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/154421355">Changed Days at Kishorn</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user6155988">Gareth Marshall</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
<br />
On the subject of footage of bouldering up here, Rich has unearthed some gold buried deep in his hard drive and stuck it together in his film The Archive below. No names, no grades, no locations, but the sheer number of different problems and places speaks volumes about Rich's voracious appetite for the game. And yes, that is me that falls in the river.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="282" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/150441875" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/150441875">The Archive</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user3118030">Richard Betts</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-55433761722862651232016-01-17T16:48:00.000+00:002016-01-17T16:49:04.893+00:00Inside the BubbleIt's hilarious when you look in from the outside. What a preposterous way to spend a weekend. The coldest weekend this winter too, with a clear forecast saying that the weather would be better in the east. But I'm inside the bubble, and I don't care.<br />
<br />
I've been seduced into another project on the sandstone of the West. This time I'm in Applecross, or more accurately, Kishorn; trapped on the slope tumbling down from the chicanery of Bealach na Ba where a handful of boulders are strewn across the heathy hillside. A blunt arete, Dave Macleod's 7B <i>Changed Days, </i>points towards the leaden sky above as I lie back on the pads and apply another layer of tape and superglue to my bloody fingers, then, shivering, hat, scarf, gloves, gilet and downie are pulled close. I can hear the burn pouring from Coire nan Arr and a distant car on the Lochcarron road, perhaps on their way to a cosy cafe or a log fire and pub lunch. My flask will do for now. They're outside the bubble, I'm inside.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-midiaFaAnsU/VpvFYZGVrJI/AAAAAAAAB6o/-8p7qqP_i8Y/s1600/Changed%2BDays.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-midiaFaAnsU/VpvFYZGVrJI/AAAAAAAAB6o/-8p7qqP_i8Y/s400/Changed%2BDays.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Slapping and scraping, a guttural oath pierces the air as I hit the pads again. <br />
<br />
It's hard to explain what drives the motivation. Right now I'm cold, I'm uncomfortable, my ripped fingers sting, my bloodless toes are crying out for release and I'm trapped on my dry island of pads in a sea of snowy heather. I've driven for over an hour to be here and already I know that today isn't the day of success. Yet, I can justify it all to myself so easily - this is where I want to be. Inside the bubble.Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-7490919129933511632016-01-05T07:16:00.003+00:002016-01-05T07:17:38.861+00:00Home for ChristmasFor the first time ever, we spent the festive season at home rather than traipsing the length of the UK to visit parents and friends. It's been bliss. I don't think I'd realised just how much I needed a break; 2015 really has been a busy year. We had family here for Christmas and then friends for New Year, but amongst all the eating and socialising I've managed to get a good few days out bouldering, a couple of runs (first in ages, ouch) and even a session scrubbing new problems.<br />
<br />
So far, I'm really happy with the way my bouldering has gone this winter. It feels pretty rare that I'm satisfied with my climbing, but this year I'm content with my little haul. After doing my long-term nemesis of Malc's Arete in November I've been free to explore elsewhere and have slowly been ticking through some of the other Wester Ross classics that had been shoved to the back of the queue. Below are some of the highlights from the last couple of months. Hunt them out!<br />
<br />
<i>The Crack</i> 7A+, Reiff in the Woods<br />
The day after doing Malc's I managed to pull this out of the bag having failed on it on three sessions last season. An innocuous looking thing but surprisingly burly.<br />
<br />
<i>Ian's Problem</i> 7A, Ardmair Crag<br />
A long throw to a hidden hold. <i>Lawrence's Crack</i> is by far and away the better problem here, but this is still pretty good. I couldn't do it when I tried it in the summer, so it was nice to see it off. Helpfully, this whole wall is almost perma-dry.<br />
<br />
<i>The Prow</i> 7A, Balgy Boulder<br />
Year's ago I tried this and got absolutely no-where. This time it was the salvation of a freezing wet day in Torridon when almost everything else had a veneer of verglass.<br />
<br />
<i>McBonzai</i> 7A?, Torridon<br />
Having failed on both my objectives for the day I wondered over for a look and managed to trick my way up it pretty quickly. I found a kneebar that I can only assume Dan Varian and subsequent repeaters hadn't, because it aint 7B this way! 7A is my guess, but regardless it's a great little problem.<br />
<br />
<i>Sparrow Legs Wall</i> 6C+/7A Reiff in the Woods<br />
This always gets overlooked by it's (admittedly better) neighbour <i>Haven, </i>but this also epitomises the style of technical Torridonian sandstone walls - crimpy, balancy and high enough to have a hint of spice. I tried it last year and couldn't get off the ground but the New Year easterly gales had it in cracking nick this time.<br />
<br />
<i>Clach-mheallan</i> 7A, Reiff in the Woods<br />
When I saw Ian trying this a few weeks ago I wrote it off as the start looked absolutely desperate - a teeny crimp, a sloper and a heel impossibly close to the groin. However, inquisitiveness got the better of me and I had a few goes, and with Ian's handy beta and a very welcome spot it came together nicely.<br />
<br />
<i>Romancing the Stone</i> 7A, Reiff<br />
I'd never bouldered at Reiff before but Ian gave me a tip off that this was a handy venue in an easterly gale so I fled there on the last day of the festive holidays. Another techy sandstone wall, a good height and lovely to be down by the sea. <br />
<br />
I captured a few of these ascents along with one or two others for posterity:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/150725202" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/150725202">Wester Ross Boulders: Winter 2015/16</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user6155988">Gareth Marshall</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
<br />
Here's hoping 2016 continues in a similar vein. Happy New Year!Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-47332227165550590682015-11-14T22:33:00.001+00:002015-11-14T22:33:17.945+00:00The RoadToday, something very strange happened. It's something that I've been working towards for years; an ambition that has taken me on a long and winding road, and finally, somehow, today I brought it to reality. I still can't quite take it in. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I first set eyes on <i>Malcolm Smith's Arete</i> on the Ship Boulder in Torridon on a muggy Sunday in July 2008. Blair, Jenny and I had been midged off a day of trad climbing on Seanna Mheallan and were kicking our heels in the glen, not wanting to call a premature end to the weekend and have to drive back home to start the working week. We ended up strolling round the Celtic Jumble, the chaos of boulders where Liathach falls into Loch Torridon, and straight away were drawn to the most aesthetic feature there: a curving arete forming the righthand prow of a rippled pink block, soaring above a perfect flat landing. It screamed out to be climbed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Of course, those of you that have read this blog before will probably know that the seed that was sown on that day germinated into a giant's beanstalk that I've been trying to reach the top of for years. I'd love to be able to quantify the energy that I've expended on it - not just attempts on the actual problem, but every time I trained with it in mind, every time I talked about it, every time I tried to envisage success, even the times I dreamed about it. I strongly recall a time while a priest was saying prayers at a friend's wedding (they will remain nameless) when I escaped into my own spiritual reverie and tried to work out a new sequence for the crux. It didn't work.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In those first few years it was clearly an objective that was way beyond me, but for some reason I decided to keep trying. The first breakthrough came when I learnt how to use the sidepull crimp (Rich's advice to face Applecross is right), but then I couldn't reach the slopey shelf. Then we worked out a way to use a heel to lock you in rather than jump, and with two small intermediates I could just about bump to the shelf. Then came the long barren years of reaching the shelf and getting no further. THE MOVE: a throw to the sloping lip at the very apex at the top of the arete, feet popping off, pirouetting backwards. I recall reading a blog from Mina Leslie-Wujastyk in which she described failing on a move almost becoming part of the sequence. That definitely happened for me. For about three years Malc' Arete meant jumping, slapping, spinning and hitting the pads. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngFden-cHZc/Vke1lTbWjaI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/w-IB9hJFsis/s1600/DSC_0127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngFden-cHZc/Vke1lTbWjaI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/w-IB9hJFsis/s400/DSC_0127.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The inevitable pirouette. (Photo: Rory Brown)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
I've always tried to keep going with good humour, but along the way there have been a few black days when I've seriously doubted myself and toys have been thrown around. Why was it so hard?Why was I so weak? What did I have to do to get up this bloody bit of rock? Why had I sacrificed so much time and energy on something that was so clearly beyond me? Who was I kidding? For a while I genuinely thought I'd never do it, that there was something about that move and the geometry of my body that meant it was fundamentally impossible.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, something kept dragging me back. There are a load of reasons why it's such an enchanting line - the history of the legendary first ascentionist, the prime location in pole position in one of the most beautiful bouldering venues in the country, the holds, the landing, the height, but most of all for me, I think it's the visual appeal of the line. It's just a beautiful regular curve that stands out in a landscape of jagged edges. Added to this, the positivity and seemingly blind faith of the small band of Torridon devotees who kept telling me that one day it would happen. I couldn't let them down. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LbsAevgzhkY/VkexS0K9zPI/AAAAAAAAB58/g8T-DGS-z7Y/s1600/DSCF1586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LbsAevgzhkY/VkexS0K9zPI/AAAAAAAAB58/g8T-DGS-z7Y/s400/DSCF1586.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Positivity from Anne and Nige</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I guess it would be fair to say that I've been pretty motivated for it this season and I've been trying to be serious with sessions on my board. I'm probably slightly stronger than before and now able to use a slightly higher foot that had been no help in the past, which meant I could push further with less likelihood of the foot cutting. Straight away it felt better and I got a flutter of hope that a new door was unlocking. I set a problem on my board to replicate the move and went from not being able to do it to doing it almost every time - each go learning a bit more about how I was positioning the rest of my body around the holds I was using. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After I wrote my last blog, I had a session in good conditions and had my best go yet - the last of the day as I held the lip for a millisecond, the foot cut and I spun off, missing my pads and landing ankle-deep in the bog.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well, today it was the end of the road. This happened:</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/145737018" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <a href="https://vimeo.com/145737018">6 years in the making: Malc's</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user6155988">Gareth Marshall</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
A huge, huge thanks for all that have helped me along the way, but in particular to Rich for the shared psyche (and the video), to Anne and Nige for the note they put on my windscreen when I was going through a dark patch, to Dan for his beta while I tried to onsight the top-out, and to Sarah for listening to my babbling about a little rock in a glen on the west coast for the last six years.<br /><div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-85129605630998407302015-11-05T19:29:00.002+00:002015-11-05T21:50:57.499+00:00Biding TimeNo matter which choices I make, when it comes to climbing they often seem to be the wrong ones. <br />
<br />
Being a lonely misanthrope I decided that my wedding in mid-September would mark the transition into the bouldering season. In past years October has brought periods of great cold and dry conditions. Last year I was away in Australia getting pumped on sweaty trad routes and missed all the happy social scenes in Torridon, so this year I decided I'd start preparations early so I could be steely fingered as soon as the weather changed. Of course, what actually happened was we had the warmest October for years and all the sensible people have been climbing routes while I've been greasing off my projects. Still, its been fun getting back into the swing of things.<br />
<br />
I barely tried my arch-nemesis <i>Malc's Arete</i> last year so I'm engaging it once more with renewed vigour. This must be at least the 6th season of trying, which smacks of desperation, but the old minx keeps teasing me. The one time I've been there in OK conditions this year I had some pretty good goes with a slightly different sequence than in the past, leading me on to hope that there might be a way to do THE MOVE keeping a foot on, rather than an all out jump. Watch this space (again).<br />
<br />
In the interim, I'm still amazed at the number of problems in Torridon that Rich and co. have done in recent years that I've still not done. One of the benefits of being a punter is that you have to project everything, which eeks out the joy. On the last couple of visits two great problems in the 6B-6C range have really stood out and deserve more acclaim.<br />
<br />
A few years ago I remember sniffing around a boulder to the west of Torridon village when I was doing some survey work in the glen. I never got round to climbing on it but Rich did the obvious arete a year or so after and gave it one of my favourite names around: <i>Sticky Damph</i>. Conditions were suitably warm and damp when I did it.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/richiebetts/15696224646/in/photolist-pV2fJS-pV2wkG/" nbsp="" title="Sticky Damph"><img alt="Sticky Damph" height="281" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7529/15696224646_ff1c15def9.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Even more years ago I remember pointing out a cool looking highball wall in a bay hidden behind some lovely old birch trees on the level up from the main jumble. As per usual, Rich did the obvious problem quickly and called it <i>Bay Crack.</i> I didn't doit and then forgot all about it. Last year Rich did a harder sit start into the original and gave it another quality name: <i>50 Days of Grey</i>. Reminded by this, I went back and did the easier original last week. The highball rounded top-out felt a bit committing on my tod, but at least our new addition was there to spot me.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/52986281@N08/5108614958/in/photolist-8MnXcH-9jVWyC-gBMeoi-pECN1G-8FNr3G-peNR2G-pFFbpo-8MnVuF-pFF6ms-8MnWDv-8FKfTZ-8RK856-gBM2hK-pWRhHp-8RNes3-gBM3QL-oJNacF-peNVLG-gA67su-9jVW1w-gA74iv-pwioYn-pDvbDh-gBM8Bt-8RNeVo-p1hCW2-pp724i-8MqZff-vfMMa2-peP7sR-oJN1jF-oqaM4W-8vDsNR-opKQPY" nbsp="" title="Torridon"><img alt="Torridon" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1358/5108614958_4ff4368829.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The day we found <i>Bay Crack</i> (photo: Murdoch Jamieson)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
On that note, I finished the last blog entry with a cliff hanger about road-testing a dog. We took the plunge and are now busy teaching her the dark arts of spotting, as displayed here:</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RZuztKkMFdo/VjutNx4tb-I/AAAAAAAAB5s/I3UIv3HZvx0/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RZuztKkMFdo/VjutNx4tb-I/AAAAAAAAB5s/I3UIv3HZvx0/s400/010.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Photo: Anne Falconer</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-27939560159138464202015-10-01T23:04:00.003+01:002015-10-01T23:11:07.591+01:00Moray's FinestJust back in from finishing off a short and fiery love affair on the Moray coast. On Sunday Mrs M and I headed down to see what all the fuss was about at Primrose Bay, a supposed Cummingston 2.0 with a prettier sandy beach and clutch of recently developed boulder problems. Something for everyone. We weren't dissapointed.<br />
<br />
The hidden sandy beach is flanked by orange sculpted cliffs. They have the appearance of the Grampians in Australia, but sadly lack the structural integrity. However, hidden through a cave in a second pebbly bay I found the crag classic: <i>Amateur Acrobatics</i>. I think Hamish Fraser and others have been developing problems here for the last year or so, and from what I saw this problem stands out as THE line. That's one of my complaints about this coast: it doesn't really have that many lines, just lines of holds, and more often than not you jump off at an arbitrary jug. Not this one though. <br />
<br />
Here's Hamish on it:<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/119598681" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/119598681">Amateur Acrobatics, Primrose Bay, Moray</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/hamfunk">Hamish Fraser</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
<br />
And here's Bettsy:<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="375" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/140345946" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://vimeo.com/140345946">Primrose Bay</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user3118030">Richard Betts</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
<br />
I was on a flying visit on Sunday so didn't expect too much, but got dead excited when I linked into the crux after a few tries. That was it for that session though. The crux seemed to be using a high heel to flick round the lip into a big slopey pinch thing, but I couldn't hold the swing. Again and again and again.<br />
<br />
I was so impressed and excited (and the weather, tides and fickle coastal conditions were too good to miss) so I came back with the lamp the next night after work. After failing to hold the swing for the umpteenth time I started asking questions of my sequence and rapidly realised that the burly heel could be replaced by a cheating kneebar, which made the reach to the slopey pinch thing static. Hamish, I apologise wholeheartedly for ruining your creation with wack beta. Blame Alex Barrows. Still, by the time I'd worked this out I was so goosed that I still fell off with my fingers tickling the top-out.<br />
<br />
After two days of rest I was back again tonight. I had the lamp, but really I was racing the sunset as I had a dog in tow that we're road-testing and might be re-homing. I didn't want it to get dark and then lose her on an unknown beach. Fortunately, things came together nicely and I topped out as the blue Caithness coast disappeared beneath an orange burning sunset.<br />
<br />
All told, I probably drove the best part of 300 miles doing three round trips to Primrose Bay in the last 5 days. And for one problem. But was it worth it? Without a doubt. <br />
<br />
And I didn't lose the dog.Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-38179532179309339902015-09-01T22:24:00.000+01:002015-09-01T22:26:13.185+01:00Whinging Part 3Sarah's hen weekend meant I had a full two-day pass with no wedding admin. I'd lined up Robin Thomas for Saturday and since we'd not climbed together before I thought it would be a bit selfish to ask him to slog up to Brin to belay me on my project. So, the west coast and Diabaig gneiss it was, or at least until the wind died and the midges forced an early retreat. Murdo was lined up for Sunday and I didn't feel quite so bad about making him go to Brin. Even then, I was still praying for an iffy forecast that would rule-out the trad climbing F.O.M.O. In the end it worked out well because Murdo is working <i>The Force</i> at Zed Buttress, just down the hill. We agreed that I'd have the morning redpoint shift while Murdo gently warmed up and then we'd head down for his turn in the shade.<br />
<br />
It would be a lie to say conditions were optimal that day: hot august sun beating onto a south-facing crag, but a strong easterly took the edge off and made it worthwhile. Building on gains from the previous sessions I made another babystep forward: discovering a knee twist that makes the penultimate move in the crux sequence more manageable, and on my best go I pinged off going for the last hard move before the rest. Enough progress to keep the dream alive.<br />
<br />
More importantly, Murdo made his best links yet on <i>The Force. </i>I hear the send-train a' comin down the line.<br />
<br />
Diary scanning after that showed an alarming lack of time for potential Brin trips before the wedding bells ring out but luckily for me Mhairi was happy to squeeze in an evening session on Thursday. It won't be long before there's not enough daylight left for after-work sessions and I could feel the pressure mounting. I decided to be canny after a full redpointing session on Sunday. Monday: rest. Tuesday: session in the shed trying a sustained 10-move problem trying to replicate the length of the crux sequence. Wednesday: 40 minute run but no climbing.<br />
<br />
Thursday came along and I was concerned about the lack of time I'd have at the crag to get the clips in, warm up and still have time for a couple of redpoint goes. Seeking inspiration from Murdo I remembered him talking recently having really good sessions in the afternoon after light fingerboarding in the morning. Something about recruitment? I still don't understand physiology. I guessed it could either work well or ruin me, so in desperation I raced to the wall in my 45 minute lunchbreak and dangled from the campus board for a bit before racing into town to pick up the waistcoats a friend has made us for the wedding and then back to the office for a few hours.<br />
<br />
Driving to the crag I implored Mhairi to ignore the drizzle tickling the windscreen: "it'll be bone dry in this wind". I tried to sound confident. Luckily I was right. Putting the clips in and resting bolt-to-bolt I could tell the rock felt much better than Sunday and things were looking pretty good, although if anything there was a danger of it being too cold. Also, in the back of my mind I was very aware that I'd not actually done the full link from the rest after the crux to the top. Between the 5th and 6th bolts there's a stiff pull that I could imagine coming unstuck on if I didn't get much back from the rest. Still, nothing ventured...<br />
<br />
It all came together on the second redpoint that evening. After clipping the second bolt I downclimbed into the niche and sat looking out over Strathnairn and the relentless motion of the Farr Windfarm turbines sailing round on the wind. I closed my eyes and ran through the 11 move crux in my head. Even though I was climbing in my mind, by the time I hit the flake jug at the 4th bolt I was pumping with adrenaline and had to take another minute to get my heart rate back down. As is always the way, when the time came to move it all flowed and before I could think I was bowling over into the jug and milking the rest for as long as possible. When you rest, you rest. When you climb, you climb. Eventually, when I got some blood back into my fingers, I flicked the switch between the two states and swarmed through the top section as I'd hoped, yelping into the wind as I clipped the chain. Another journey over.<br />
<br />
Phew. Now I can get married.<br />
<br />Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1932866438317079976.post-15253040984447177662015-08-17T21:16:00.000+01:002015-08-17T21:17:15.728+01:00Whinging Part 2I know you're dieing to ask: How am I getting on with my wee project of redpointing <i>Whinging Consultants</i> before my wedding on September 12th? Well, it's still a project. That's the short answer. The long answer is that it's starting to come together.<br />
<br />
I've now had three sessions on the route. The first was with Tess, on one of our seemingly regular 'it's wet in the West, Brin is the last resort' days. I'd not been on the route before and was very glad of use of her clip-stick to dog the draws in, otherwise I reckon I'd still be projecting the third clip. That day I had a couple of tries on top-rope, sussing where it all goes, quite how powerful the crux is, and how easy it'll be to pump-out on the top wall if you can't get much back from the rest.<br />
<br />
The second session was an evening after work with Mhairi, and it's fair to say that work that day wasn't hugely productive as I started piecing together the route in my head. I'd not done an evening at Brin before, and what with the Vietnam-style bracken slog it's hardly roadside convenience, but Mhairi had an appointment with <i>One and Only</i>, so was keen. My aim that session was to work a sequence for the crux and integrate clipping into it. I guess in that respect it was a success. It's tedious reading other people's waffle about sequences and holds, but in summary the crux section of this route boils down to working round a roof and having to use a righthand gaston, matching it and turning it into a layback to pull up into a distant undercut. The difficulty comes from the complete lack of footholds that you really want on the left which would allow you to lean out rightwards from the layback, so instead you're all bunched up using feet straight beneath you. I told you it was tedious. Above the crux there's a half decent rest (only half decent, mind you), followed by easier but brilliant climbing. More importantly, Mhairi redpointed <i>One and Only.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandrock/6053640899/in/photolist-8CV8b4-adWtVe-adWuwX-bY99Jj-bY98eL-adZhN9-adWswV-7w8r2F/" nbsp="" title="Brin"><img alt="Brin" height="640" src="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6073/6053640899_a0afc4f6e9_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Andy Wilby showing how its's done, and seeminky using a totally different sequence to me.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Photo: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandrock/" target="_blank">Dave Douglas</a>)</div>
<br />
On my third and most recent session I was joined for another post-work jungle-bash up the hill by Andy Moles, a man that I'd last seen throwing shapes in a sweaty tent at Tiree Music Festival. The aim this time was to start redpointing and making links, which I guess could be described as successful too. There was an initial false start when I found the hardest move impossible despite doing it in previous sessions - having matched the gaston and worked the feet up to turn it into a layback (hooray for dismal climbing chat!) I just couldn't stand up into the undercut. However, Moles was on hand to talk about flagging feet and counter-balancing and I think I've now got the crucial knowledge. On my third go (first to get the clips in, second to warm up) I linked from the floor into matching the gaston flake, which seemed a million miles away when I think back to my first session nine days earlier. Just two more moves and then it's a rest. More importantly, Andy onsighted <i>One and Only</i>.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/6005326886/in/photolist-rVZwoE-bX9taw-bX9saL-bX9tQJ-bX9sCY-bX9rSC-a9C5G8-a9ESsJ-r2uuTx-fKWaDJ-bX9ru3" nbsp="" title="Brin"><img alt="Brin" height="370" src="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6142/6005326886_2f03a11a05.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Whinging consultant Dave Douglas entering the crux (photo: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/7538425@N05/" target="_blank">Ian Taylor</a>)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Time was tight this weekend (wedding admin, aka 'Wadmin') but I was all set up for a Saturday morning session but rain spoiled play. I'm lined up with Dr Clarkson, one of the route's namesakes, for tomorrow night but there's rain in the forecast again. I'll keep you posted...</div>
Gaz Marshallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06090622707416508536noreply@blogger.com0