Soft Rock

Too many!

2012-01-29T17:55:00.001Z

In my first post of 2012 I stated my aims for the winter projecting season - Malc's Arete for bouldering, Primo for sport climbing. Both on the West coast, both beyond my current limit*, and both having easily brushed off all my previous puny attempts. I'm pretty sure though, that with some dedication and attention they are both attainable.

*or my inaccurate perception of my limit.

Of course, within a week of writing this, bad weather in the West meant I had to make do with a weekend of playing in the East, and low and behold, without even meaning to, I managed to recruit myself two more projects - The Seer at Moy and a new thing at Laggan 2. Both hard and both inspiring in their own ways. While The Seer may not be an outstanding line, it's attraction lies in it's sustained thin moves, it's technicality and the surprise and joy of fiddling around with movements and feeling them come together. The pull of the Laggan 2 project is more basic - it's hard, linking far apart poor holds on a leaning face, small enough to be safe, tall enough to be exciting, and, call me vain, it's never been done before.

I guess it's cool to have projects in the West and projects in the East - games for all weathers. But I reckon it increases the likelihood of never really buckling down to any of them. I've got to prioritise.

With this in mind I tried to recruit Murdo to give me a catch at Moy, thinking that on the routes front, The Seer could be the quickest to dispatch. Fresh from a week of hard mixed in the hills and about to leave his beloved Highlands for nine months at the Brenin, Murdo was keen to go West, so I agreed to go to Am Fasgadh instead. No Seer for me this time, but at least another chance to get on Primo.

Trying to think tactically, I made the target of the day to find a new way of doing the last hard moves rightwards into the crack. Previous attempts have always used other's beta; a backhanded stab into the crack, then falling rightwards across it to catch it with the left hand, a process that has always seen me hanging off the nearest bolt soon afterwards. A mix of Murdo's Am Fasgadh knowledge and numerous earthward plummets eventually provided me with the sequence I was after, and a modest success to take home. I envisage a long road ahead before any real success on the route, but i'll take solace from a small step on the way.

In a bid to keep the Eastside on the burner I bargained with Jones to allow a quick Seer session the next morning, in exchange for an afternoon spotting dolphins off the Black Isle. With my excuses in early - it was a proper cold morning and the arms still felt fatigued from Am Fasgadh - I didn't know what to expect. In the end I came away empty handed but invigorated. The crux span didn't seem as far as last time, and on my first and best redpoint I fell at the penultimate bolt, boxed and cold. With Jones starting to shiver on the belay I felt like a quick rest and try again was the fairest thing to do, but having scraped through the crux again I popped off one move earlier than the first go. Time to pack up.

Jones wrapped up for cold belay duty

Winter Sunshine

2012-01-15T20:21:00.000Z

At last, a weekend with some good weather.

A quick hit at Laggan allowed time to see off one of the glaring omissions on the Gale Force block - a tricky sit start to the undercut slabby arete - and called it Fiercely Mild, inspired by a Dylan Moran stand up rant. It's probably somewhere around Font 6b/+, but I don't really know - I still fail on 5s and then do 7as.

Fiercely Mild on a frosty January morning.

I managed to cajole Sarah to go up to Moy for some sunny winter sport action yesterday and decided to open an account on The Seer. As a local 7b it's something I felt I should really be trying, so had at it, especially as it's a short steep slab. Really enjoyable moves, tricky and sustained and makes use of a couple of teeny-tiny edges, which is always satisfying. Got to the stage of attempting to redpoint but failed on the crux span, then succumbed to the cold and the gloom. With fresh fingers and a bit more familiarity it felt pretty do-able, so a return next weekend with the beta fresh in my memory is required.

Enjoying the process on The Seer
(Photo: Steve Crawford)

Or will it be time to head west for the projects out there?

Soft Rock Review: 2011

2012-01-01T10:45:00.000Z

As everyone blinks through their hangovers on the first morning of this new oh-so exciting Olympic year here are my thoughts on the year that was - purely from a personal climbing perspective you see. Insiteful comment on the apocolyptic-financial-meltdown-revelations-endoftheworld-diseaseridden-economiccrisis-starvation-wartorn world we find ourselves cowering in is best left to men in suits.

Overall I guess I'm pretty happy with the climbing year - a few more E3s, a couple of soft-touch E4 slabs, plenty of good E1s and E2s, several Font and French 7as. Trips to the grit, Pembroke, North Wales and Catalunya and a fair few raids to the North West, although I never climbed at Reiff in 2011 (How?). A few routes I'd coveted for a while finally succombed - Wings of Unreason, Mactalla, Comes the Dervish - and one or two unexpected gems - Deranged at Saint Govan's and Strongbow at Laggan 1. A couple of hitherto unreached numbers - Font 7a+ and onsighting French 7a. Finding the Laggan boulders in late 2010 has been great for my sanity in Strathspey, providing many days of discovery and a good local fallback when the weather elsewhere is crap, and there are still a few fruits to be plucked.

Dave Macleod on Strongbow

Of course, it's not all rosy. I'm still far from being the climber I want to be. There have been plenty of failures, falling off, backing off, and worse; not trying in the first place. I still haven't done Malc's Arete, I still haven't done Steeple, I still haven't done The Hill, I still haven't done Primo. The mind and belief in my own ability still hold me back. Like most people, my trad grades remain lower than sport and bouldering suggest they could be. The same old problem: confidence comes with momentum, momentum comes with the holy trinity of time off, psyched partners and weather.

During the Mactalla battle

There's no-doubt that living in the Highlands - Strathspey in particular - does put me on the back foot for rock climbing. The weather's often crap, there aren't many psyched climbers, there's nowhere to train, there's not that much decent rock close to home, it's midgy (when I write all that I marvel that I get anything done). Of course, the flipside is that I do live relatively near some of the best trad, sport and bouldering in Scotland (possibly Britain?), that when the weather is good, it's really good, that it's quiet, unspoilt, and in some of the most beautiful landscapes there are, and that although small in number, there are a handful of keen folk out there.

All in all, sounds like I should pull my socks up. Train hard, make use of my opportunities, go on a few trips, get into battle with my projects. Come on 2012, I'm ready...

Priority Number 1 for 2012 bouldering (pic: Murdo Jamieson)

The Alternative

2011-12-18T16:59:00.000Z

The arrival of winter sends me out in search of primo bouldering conditions. I did one winter route last week, enough to remind me that I don't really like mixed climbing. Too much grovelling, shuffling and digging and not enough actual climbing. No doubt if I climbed harder the balance of interesting movement would start to tip in my favour, but I'm not very good, and for now not that fussed.

Here's a few from the last two weekends of flaskhugging-toefreezing-fingerrasping rock desperation:

Highball Arete at Cummingston, normally a good bet when it's cold and snowy inland.

Rich and Paula's new arrival, Bronwen the crag spaniel. Lock up your Smartwool socks!

What it's all about:

Cold, blue sky days in the North West. Stac Pollaidh shimmers above Reiff in the Woods.

Rich in classic TP&QC pose at Reiff in the Woods

Necessity is the mother of invention: Rich cleans snow from the top of Gale Force at Laggan 2

Esoterica!

2011-12-10T20:43:00.001Z

While transferring files from my old laptop to my new one I stumbled across a load of forgotten video files. They were all of boulder problems that I've done in the random and obscure places I've found myself across Scotland over the last few years. I wasn't sure what to do with them, but in the end decided to edit them together into the wee film linked below. I think it's a nice testament to the amount of untapped potential there is out there and also a display of how desperate I must have sometimes been!

For some reason embedding from Vimeo isn't working, so the link is here.

Boom

2011-12-01T19:38:00.001Z

A 2 goes on anything, anything goes on a 2. You can only play lower than the card underneath a 7. 8 is transparent. 9: miss a go. 10 burns the pack. First to lose all their cards wins. No finish on a power card. Aces high.

When you add it all up, you spend more time on climbing trips resting and travelling than you do at the crag, especially on a budget Euro sport climbing holiday. You've got to find ways to pass the time: good books, nice food, a pack of cards. The game du jour at Jordy's refugio in Margalef was the schoolboys classic; Shithead. The evenings and rest days just flew by.

I tagged onto the last week of a three week Spanish sport trip of a Scottish-Welsh team who'd started in Margalef, moved north to Terradets and then returned to Margalef when I turned up. I knew the Scottish contingent - the Fyffe, Fat Tony and Young Gun Murdo - and vaguely knew Guy from his days at the Ice Factor, but Baby Dave, the John Orr Boom Express and Youngest Gun Callum were all Welsh-based and new to me. One of the great things about being a climber is you instantly have things in common with other climbers, so I had a great week getting to know them, exploring the crags and, naturally, playing endless amounts of Shithead. It was on my last night that I realised that I was the only one of us that hadn't onsighted E6 or Scottish VIII, or both. Punter.

Who killed the dog?

The boys pick up another random dog

As I've probably complained about recently, I've not really had a chance to climb much in the last couple of months, so I was pretty psyched to get out there, clock up a few routes with low expectations and see how things went. The weather generally played ball, with a few showers to begin with but enough dry rock to get routes done, then a mega-wet day to rest, then three days of cloudless skies to burnout, then home-time. I was pretty pleased with the final score - daily 6c onsights, a 7a onsight (or 2, depending on which guide you look in) and taking the lob with my hands above the chain on a 7a flash (or 7a+, depending which guide you look at)

Dave redpointing 7c+ at The Hermitage.

It's a great place, climbing on funky pocket-and-pebble conglomerate limestone, with tonnes of different crags, so many routes of differing styles, and even more crags that are still untouched. I'm already excited about the return.

My Autumn

2011-11-02T19:54:00.001Z

The Autumn seems to be passing in a blur. It's only a matter of time before the northerly wind brings the snow to the hills, but it seems like only yesterday I was lapping up the summer sunshine.

I guess I have been pretty busy; Sarah starting a Masters in Edinburgh, my new job, organising and attending Steve's Stag, then his wedding to Fran, the OMM and all the training that requires, then trying to climb on any free time left over. No wonder it's gone so fast.

Sam Loveday enjoying Stag Do 'activities'

Athletes at work: Duncan and Konrad's interpretative dance workshop at 0300 at the wedding.

The OMM is my annual concession to being a runner - an autumn crusade to get fit and fast. As in the last 8 years, from late August to the end of October I increase my weekly running mileage and head out for some long runs in the hills. Fortunately my last few jobs have kept me in reasonable hill fitness, so I've got a good base to build on. The highlights of this year's training runs included a round of the Drumochter munros, a link-up of 5 of the Alder/Ardverikie munros and the Pentland Skyline (I couldn't do the race so ran the course on the Friday before). Duncan, who I've been running the OMM with for the last 6 years, is now a proper runner, he's in a club, competes regularly, and has even been crowned the South of England Senior Fell Running Champion, so I was acutely aware of my relative lack of running.

The race was this weekend just gone, based near Comrie in Perthshire and based round the munro Ben Chonzie and it's surrounding classic OMM wasteland of bogs, steep glens, deep heather, peat hags, hills, mires, fens, swamps and flushes. Running in Elite again, we were chuffed to see the straight line course was only 38km on Saturday and 29km on Sunday (relative to last year's 51km and 36km), however hilly terrain and rough ground meant we were out for almost as long. Saturday's weather was also suitably OMMish - low cloud, heavy rain and a strong wind. Lovely.

In the end we were really pleased to finish in 6th, our highest ever place and behind a load of beasts (i.e. proper runners that win big races and are known names in the circuit). It never fails to amaze me how we do it, but somehow we do. Well done Duncan!

For Athlete's like Duncan Steen, re-hydration is key. Tequila is optional.

As for climbing, well that's been on the back burner for the last few months, but I have spent a fair bit of time hanging from my rock rings at home, as well as a few visits to the Betts training dungeon. I did add a new problem to Laggan 1, and had some fun trips to Moy, ticking some of the raft of new routes. A quick redpoint of the new F7a One Man Went to Moy reminded me that things aren't too bad, and a day lobbing off Primo (F7b+) at Am Fasgadh reaped some rewards with new sections linked and crucial beta found. I'm off out to Catalunya with a bunch of wads from Scotland and Wales in a few weeks, so quite keen to get fit.

I'm never satisfied....

Unsung Heroes: The Wellie Boot's Story

2011-09-16T18:30:00.000+01:00

Most of the year we live in the car boot, sandwiched between an ever-changing array of kit from Gaz's life. Most of the time we're untouched, forgotten, unloved. Forsaken for smaller, for smarter, for more expensive. You'll never read about us in magazines, or online, or in gear reviews, and you'll never see us for sale alongside swanky specialist gear. But the truth is, we're one of the most important bits of kit that Gaz and many of his friends own. Without us they'd be wet, cold, miserable, and probably wouldn't bother. With the changing of the seasons, our time approaches.

Take today, the 16th of September. There's the slightest chill in the air, and a grey sky, and the merest hint of the leaves turning. Summer has passed, and with it the last of the swallows and house martins. Autumn lies ahead, running season for Gaz, and bouldering. And that's when we come out and play our part.

We've been untouched in the car boot for months, sliding from side to side round bends and roundabouts, travelling the length of the country and never once being allowed out. But today was different. After Inverness the road felt familiar, the twists and turns - Contin, Garve, Achnasheen, Kinlochewe. After that the steady stop-start of passing places on the way down Glen Torridon and finally the crunch of gravel under the tyres as we halted in the regular parking spot. And then the boot opened and there was the view. The view! Mountains and rock and water and sky. Familiar, but always different.

As Gaz puts us on he gathers up the usual bouldering paraphernalia - pads and shoes, flasks and brushes, tape and towels, and another unsung hero, the tarpaulin.

Today is no different from the usual Torridon bouldering session, it's just special because it's the first of the new season and Gaz is impatient to get back on the sandstone. Splishy-splashing through the burn and the bog to the tumble-down rock jumble and the old friends and enemies that lie hidden there. So many stories, successes, failures, ongoing sieges. The scene of torments and of frustrations. But most excitingly, the scene of so much potential, for Gaz personally, as there is still so much for him to try and to complete, to train for and to mark as notches in his progression, or not. Potential for others too, as they hungrily quest across the hillsides in search of the new, the perfect and the hard. After a while on the classic warm up circuit Gaz takes us down to the Ship Boulder and uses us to keep the tarp from blowing away as he takes continual falls from Malc's Arete. He's still not very close to doing it, but closer than last season, so I expect we'll be back with him quite a bit this year.

Eventually the expected rain arrives, so Gaz packs up quick and puts us on and traipses back through the mire to the car, where we go back into the boot, and wait in the dark, until next time.

Dringfeydd!

2011-08-16T09:32:00.013+01:00

Don't worry, I haven't dropped something on the keyboard, that word is 'climbing' in welsh, which sums up the last week's activities pretty well.

After an anarchic late night show at Edinburgh's Fringe on Saturday night, winter-scratcher and part-time rock-jock Viv Scott and I started the L-O-N-G drive south to Pembroke on Sunday, eventually getting to St. Govan's Inn in Bosherston in time for last orders. I've concluded that despite not being all that big, Wales must be very dense as it takes a long time to move through. Finally fed, watered and fighting fit (or maybe fighting fat), we were ready to kick off our wee trip, and stumbled down to Stennis Head the next morning to traverse out above a rather angry sea on Riders on the Storm. After neither getting wet or falling off, and finding solace in some of the biggest holds known to mankind I decided that Pembroke is rather fun, and we set about ticking more classics, with Viv on Cool for Cats and me on Manzoku, and then headed down into Huntsman's Leap for Viv to take a good lob from the crux overlap on Beast from the Undergrowth - be warned, the photo in the Rockfax guide of someone making 'the stretch move', is complete anti-beta. Well done. Meanwhile, Blair was working his way up Just Another Day/Scorch the Earth only for it to start raining (a running theme of Blair and

Nona's trip), but he waited it out and topped out in the dry. Good work Fyffe.

We started the next day on First Blood at St. Govan's East, followed by Calisto, then swung round to St. Govan's proper and I had an amazing time on Deranged, which was possibly the best route of the trip, and Viv romped up the super-classic and super-polished Army Dreamers. We were tempted by a final route to finish the day, but instead decided to eat ice cream, explore St Govan's Chapel and then go to the beach. Slackers.

Wednesday dawned overcast and windy, and after a pot of tea at Ma Weston's we decided to up sticks and explore the crags round St. Davids, eventually reaching Carreg-y-Barcud in time to climb Beyond the Azimuth and The Great Valerio before the tide did for us. Both of these were great routes on thin (ish) slabby sandstone, and the antithesis of South Pembroke's steep limestone, so we decided to stick around and return the next day. In the mean time we ate more ice cream (I recommend Blue Lagoon flavour) and deep/shallow water soloed the perfect Red Wall at Porth Chlais, before retiring to The Farmer's Arms.

Viv going sideways on The Great Valerio

Enjoying big holds and big sea on Red Wall

Back at Barcud the next day I started us out on Sinecure, a fingery wee number, and Viv styled the crag classic Kitten Claws. There was then just enough time before the impatient tide and approaching showers to nip up the soft touch Stingray. We then headed back into St. David's for some culture and a look around the 12th Century Cathedral. Those that know me will know I don't exactly have positive leanings towards religion, but there's no denying that from a historical perspective it's a truly stunning building; full of ancient tombs, shrines and ornate decoration, and well interpreted so oiks like me can understand what I'm looking at. In particular it felt nice to get to know a bit more about the place we were visiting than just the crags, pubs and campsites.

Following up Kitten Claws

After another flourescent blue ice cream we hopped in the car and headed north for stage two of the trip...

On arrival in Llanberis, it was rather wet, and remained rather wet for a few days. Rob Greenwood very kindly put us up in his nice new house (within a pebble toss of Pete's Eats), which made life significantly better than mouldering away in a soggy tent. Rob took us on a brilliant run up a hill above town, whose name I will never remember except that it sounded like Noel Edmunds, which was a timely reminder that OMM training should start about now.

Each night we made a vague plan to do some routes in the slate quarries the next morning, then to head up the Pass or out to the coast, but each morning the plans were re-written by the drizzle. On Saturday we ended up going out to Llandudno, guided to Craig-y-Don on the Little Orme by Rob. I lead up a classic venture called Hydro, and Rob then casually strolled up Frozen Moment/New Wave and Nimitz. By now the tide had gone out and LPT was good to go, so we went and clipped shiny seaside bolts. My aim was to do the classic 7a The Pink Pinkie Snuffs It, which I'd fallen off on a very quick onsight attempt a year and a bit ago. Rob kindly put the clips in for me, and I managed it first go this time, which was nice. I then got nauseatingly pumped onsighting Under the Boardwalk and spent the rest of the evening not doing much. Meanwhile, Rob redpointed the rather savagely sharp sounding La Boheme.

And then it was Sunday and the last day of the trip, and since it was drizzling in town we hatched a Gogarth shaped plan and headed for Holyhead. Other than The Strand on Upper Tier last year, I've never climbed at Gogarth, so was keen for my introduction to be solid and relatively safe and stress-free, so I managed to persuade Viv out of going straight down Red Walls and over to Castell Helen, where we did the brilliant Atlantis/True Moments/Freebird link up. Despite this being amazing, I still didn't feel ready to up my game to proper choss-shuffling, so pursuaded Viv that the slate would be dry by now and to bail back inland. Luckily for me, he assented, and the slate was dry, so I finished off the trip with one of the routes I had most wanted to climb in Wales, Comes the Dervish, which, rather unsurprisingly, was bloody brilliant. Celebratory beers in The Heights ensued, followed by a Pete's breakfast next morning, and of course, as we drove away the sun was out and folk were out climbing in the Pass. Typical.

Viv traversing out on pitch 2 of the Atlantis link.

Excited about the Dervish

The End

Eight Days

2011-07-31T11:42:00.013+01:00

To get out climbing you need the holy trinity of factors to align at the same time - time, weather, and someone to climb with. A big stroke of luck has brought these all together over the last week and I've finally managed to start getting some routes done. A nice high pressure system coincided with my contract finishing earlier than expected, and with graduates and teachers being on holiday.

It started last Friday night at the Camel with Jim, when I redpointed Final Straw, the last of the sub-7b routes I still had to do there. Jim did likewise, and we both warmed down on Stone of Destiny, which never seems to get any easier. A good start.

On Sunday morning I met Murdo in Contin and we motored oot west (as the Canadians might say) to Loch Thollaidh crags near Gairloch. Despite their Northerly aspect and sometimes feeling dark and cold, this is one of my favourite places to climb. All the routes I've done here have been brilliant and the Lewisian Gneiss is beautiful to climb on. My highlights were climbing Water Lily and Strip-teaser, both of which had been on my must-do list for a while. Murdo only has a couple of routes left to do here, so after seeing off Wild Iris, a bold E4 he'd been putting off for a long time, was ready for battle on Old El Passe, one of the Cubby/Anderson E6s on Gairloch Wall. After a prolonged and painful tussle with the brutal steep starting cracks he decided to call it a day though- a good reason to come back.

Me on Seams Obvious at Seanna Mheallan. (Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

Next day out was Tuesday, and Murdo and I fled west once more, this time up the vertical heather slope to Seanna Mheallan in Torridon. I'm coming to realise that sandstone climbing is hard - mainly because I'm crap at jamming - so it was a good opportunity to work on my apprenticeship. I managed a couple of good E1s - Sandpiper and Seams Obvious, but failed on an E2 called Mark of a Skyver - mmm mmm, sweaty jams. Hey ho. Again, Murdo has pretty much ticked the crag so only had a few things left to do. He ticked a couple of E3s he'd not done and the notoriously tricky E4 Hunter Killer. Despite all the hearsay about trickiness and shonky pegs, he made it look a path. The boy is on form. Next time he's up there he'll have to do Dave Mac's E8 Kolus.

Murdo about to start moving right to the arete on Hunter Killer.

Wednesday was slab day, and after Murdo and Guy did Thor on Shelterstone's Central Slabs a few weeks back, Murdo was keen to go back and do Cupid's Bow. This sounded like a good plan, as it has an easy HVS/E1 entry pitch that I could lead, then dangle from some rusting pegs (and other good gear) and Murdo could style the 6b crux. And that's pretty much what happened. The Central Slabs are an awesome place to be - an intimidating sea of flawless granite, traced with corners and grooves, perched on high and looking straight down the length of Loch Avon. Once the route was over, my heart had stopped racing with fear, and we'd finished the three abseils back to our kit, we strolled over to the Lower Slab by Hell's Lum and I finished the day with the pleasant E3 Cerberus, while Murdo thought about trying Firestone, but decided against

it under the burning July sun.

A timeless classic climbing image: Murdo's arse starting the crux pitch of Cupid's Bow.

The terrible view from the Central Slabs.

Then Friday, another sandstone apprenticeship day, this time at Ardmair with Steve. In this vein I went for some mileage on the E1s Sunstroke and Tunnel Vision and the HVS Friendly Groove (which felt the same grade as the others). Steve dug deep with an ascent of the classic

Acrimonious Acrobat, an inspiring fight to watch. About halfway up the route he was clearly having psyche-up issues, and ummed and arred for a while, then suddenly declared "basically, I'm being a pussy and need to man the fuck up", which he promptly did and grunted his way to the top. Props!

Lastly, yesterday I was hired as a guide by Sarah and Sofia (and paid in fish and chips, ice cream and pub credits) and took them up Ardverikie Wall on Binnien Shuas. I first did this as my first Scottish multi-pitch route in 2004, when I'd only been climbing for about 6 months, and it felt fairly full-on. It was great to return on a beautiful summers day, to feel relaxed and satisfied after a good week of great routes, and to just enjoy the climbing, the scenery and the company.

What a lucky bastard I've been!

The girls getting psyched for a day of micro-granite wonder on Ardverikie Wall.

Time for another coffee

2011-07-07T09:24:00.005+01:00

Nursing my second steaming coffee of the morning, a steady drizzle falling outside, the trees bending on the stiff breeze. I sit here, typing, waiting. This is the problem with working on mountain-top bird surveys, the good weather you need is pretty rare. Sitting out bad weather is just a part of the job. It was the same yesterday, and the day before. A chat with the Cairngorm rangers on Tuesday confirmed that I was right to not bother trying - winds gusting to 70mph make hearing and seeing birds tricky.

All the forecasts point to an improvement at some point today, so for now I'm just waiting, checking webcams, staring out the window. My packed bag waits by the door, boots ready to go.

To kill the time yesterday I started playing about with some of the clips I've taken from my trips to the Laggan 1 boulders this year. I was trying to make a short intro for them, a taster of some of what's been done. Here's how it ended up:

Laggan Bouldering - Developmants at Creagan Soillier from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

Strongbow, and other tales.

2011-06-26T18:42:00.007+01:00

Strongbow at Laggan.

Who said there's no good bouldering in Strathspey? (Photo: Dave Macleod)

It's with continual jealousy (and awe) that I do my endless rounds of website checks - blogs, forums, news updates, video sites, photo pages - and find out what people have been climbing. Whether it's mates of mine, international uber-wads or folk I've never even met or heard of, there's a constant feed of psyched climbers out there, getting out, pulling down, and documenting it - a continual source of inspiration for lowly weekend warriors like myself to tap into. Of course, it works the other way too. When the rain is pattering on my window for the third day in a row and I haven't ticked anything of personal note for some time, it's a torment to see the blue skies and big ticks, a mockery of my live-for-the-weekend attempts at being a climber.

With this in mind, I have to sit and think hard about what I've been up to, what's of note and whether any of it is worth blurting out to the blogosphere. I'm hardly setting the place on fire, and between the constraints of the working week and the recent Highland weather I'm pretty pleased that I'm managing to get anything done.

Traddage:

Last weekend Sarah and I took a quick trip to Gairloch, and after a morning admiring the arboreal verdance of Inverewe Gardens and enjoying coffee and cakes, climbed a few routes in Gruinard Bay. The highlights were Right Charlie at Jetty Crag and Root Beer at Inverianvie Crag - both routes I'd been aware of but not done on previous visits. I'm finding more and more that to improve at trad climbing you need to do lots of it and build up momentum, and given the crap weather that's not really been possible yet this year, so it's nice just to keep ticking over.

Sportage:

After being drizzled off trad routes at Loch Tollaidh on Saturday, Steve and I headed to Creag nan Luch for some redpoint action. We've had a succesful few sessions here after being rained/frozen/blown off trad crags, and this time I opted for Murdo's 7a+ slab Unfinished Business and was surprised to get it first redpoint. I think the grade is a bit contentious as it be easier the taller you are, but I definately found the crux pretty dang hard. Steve ticked the pumpy 6b Astar.

Boulderage:

I'm just back in from ticking my summer project - a beautiful steep curving arete at Laggan called Strongbow, and weighing in around the V7/7A+ mark. I'd half-heartedly tried it a few times earlier in the year and knew it would climb really well, I just couldn't do it. Dave Macleod then did the first ascent when I showed it to him in April, and since then I've had 5 or 6 sessions up there specifically trying it. Each time I've come away one step closer to the tick, refining the sequence and getting stronger and smoother on it. On my last session I kept failing on the same move but could do all the others almost every time, so this time I had a good long think and totally changed my foot sequence and hey presto! It worked. It's a big tick for me, as it's a brilliant problem - steep, technical and great moves - at my own little stomping ground of Laggan, and despite Dave doing it first, I found, cleaned it, and worked out the moves, and it's my first 7A+! (Dave reckoned that was the grade, and who am I to argue? Can someone come along and repeat it to confirm please?). I've taken quite a bit of footage of my sessions, so will edit something together and post it soon, but here's Dave on the FA:

Strongbow - Laggan from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

Crumble

2011-06-13T11:49:00.007+01:00

I could feel the hold crumbling under my fingers and knew I was off straight away. The familiar lurch backwards, the milli-second flap of stomach butterflies, the sub-concious grab of the knot, the peculiarly unattached "what's going to happen next?" sensation. Of course, all that happened was that I fell a few metres onto a nice shiny bolt, but taking a lob is still always exciting. Serves me right for using the wrong holds.

I got the route, Match if You're Weak, next go. Another of the great routes on Moy's Big Flat Wall ticked. Now that the trees are gone this place seems to be becoming the most popular crag for miles around, especially now Mr Nisbet has added a couple more easy routes. Apparently it's not uncommon on a sunny evening to see a queue for Little Teaser, the crag classic 6b+.

Other than a couple of exciting-but-safe run-out routes at Farrletter on a sunny evening last week, the weather hasn't been conducive to getting out much. ***(As an aside, why do people only seem to top-rope at Farrletter? It just polishes the routes and drops a load of shit on them when the rope erodes the top of the crag. All the routes I've done or tried have been safe enough. Either man-up and lead or bugger off to somewhere the routes are easier, like Kingussie. Rant over)***. I'm getting plenty of exercise doing montane bird surveys (basically paid Munro-bagging and bird watching), so shouldn't complain too much, I guess. I'm hoping that when my contract finishes at the end of July there'll be a month of brilliant weather to play with, but if August is anything like last year, I won't hold my breath.

Incoming!

2011-05-24T11:25:00.004+01:00

Stevie Johnston nipping up The Unknown Soilleir at Laggan 1 before another band of rain comes from the west.

This photo sums up the last few week's of sporadic activity.

Make Hay

2011-05-14T10:52:00.010+01:00

Getting a bit toasty in Torridon.

Was that the summer? I bloody hope not.

The Strathspey weather seems to have fast-forwarded straight through to the horrible sunshine and showers we usually get in high summer. I'm not fretting too much yet, as there's normally a few high pressure systems to play with each summer, but still it sucks.

Murdo on Neart Nan Gaidheal at Ardmair.

That old saying about making hay while the sun shines definitely rang true when it did, with desperate flurries of texts going back and forth among the Inverness area climbers, making plans, arranging partners and lifts, checking forecasts. I don't feel too ashamed with the way I used the good weather: finally putting Mactalla to bed, pleasant routes at Seanna Mheallan while Torridon blazed below, evening sunshine at Kingussie Crag, skin-loss and body-pump at Ardmair and shower and midge dodging at the new(ish) sport routes on Creag nan Cadhag, Stone Valley. But of course, just as I'm starting to feel like I'm getting into my stride the rain intervenes. I guess it's a good time to go back indoors to keep up some strength.

Jones seconding Right Hand Crack at Kingussie.

Echo

2011-05-02T19:58:00.008+01:00

Redpointing Mactalla

(Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

I remember first hearing about Goat Crag when I lived in Fort William. I was climbing with Blair quite a bit, and every so often he’d slope off to the north for a weekend of sport climbing and come back raving about amazing routes, perfect Lewisian Gneiss and the beautiful North West. He also kept telling me about this one route called Mactalla - I would love it and should get myself up there ASAP.

Not long afterwards, Gary Latter’s Scottish Rock North guide came out and I got another glimpse of this place. I couldn’t fail to notice the four stars Mactalla got, and the “one of the best routes of it’s grade in the country” description. The only issue I could see was the grade: F7a+. At this stage I’d only just redpointed a couple of F7as and was pretty sure they were soft touches, so the jump up was going to be a big deal. Never the less, everything about this route seemed like a perfect line to aspire to: the location, the rock, the grade and the reputation it was steadily acquiring. I just needed to get on it!

It wasn’t until the spring of 2009 that I had my first experience of the route. While waiting for wet trad crags to dry in Gruinard Bay I dragged Steve up to Goat Crag for a look. I knew straight away that I'd have a battle on my hands as this was clearly a long, steep, stamina route - something that a slab climbing boulderer isn;t very good at. I played on the first few clips but before long the sun came out and we headed off for some trad routes.

It was about 6 months later that I next went to Goat Crag. I'd hoped to get on Mactalla but it was wet most of the day so I amused myself on the easy warm ups and watched Blair and Iain make everything look easy, and this heralded the start of a period of about a year and a half when I was desperate to do Mactalla but circumstances kept delaying me. Often it seeps in the morning, so quite a few times I got on another route first and was too spanked by the time I tried it in the afternoon. Sometimes I was out with folk for whom Goat Crag didn't offer much scope so we went elsewhere. Sometimes we drove all the way to Gruinard Bay to find it clagged in and raining. Compared to it's neighbour Am Fasgadh it's an exposed icebox in winter and can be a similar baking sun-trap in summer, so I stayed away for big chunks of the year. But during all this time Mactalla was in the back of my mind, niggling away as THE route I most wanted to do. Even last year when I managed the similar and sensational Paralysis by Analysis at the Camel, it was just a substitute and preparation for Mactalla, which was spending the summer dribbling under a rain cloud. My fervour was fuelled all the more by starting to climb with the Goat Crag locals, Murdo, Richie, Andrew, Ian and Tess and seeing them waltz up the route in all conditions and all styles (last time I was there with Murdo he down-climbed it after leading it).

But this spring I decided to get a bit more serious and to be a bit more sensible. I've specifically tried to get as much sport climbing done and tried to get better at falling off and 'going for it' in extremis - being happy taking falls has always held me back, so whenever I've climbed indoors I've made sure that I lead and tried to take a few practice lobs - that sounds like a total punter thing to write, but it's definitely made a difference. A winter of bouldering has meant that I'm moving OK on rock already, rather than having to start all over again after months of winter climbing. And, importantly, when I went to the crag and the line was wet I waited for it to dry and then got on it rested and fresh. Finally, after all this time, I started my redpoint mission about three weeks ago.

On my third visit, after a week of great weather in which I'd clocked up a long stamina F7a redpoint at Moy, two ascents of Stone of Destiny at the Camel and an afternoon of showing some punter called Macleod round the Laggan boulders, and as royal wedding bells rang out across Westminster, I found myself eyeing up the last of the hard moves again. A deadpoint to a good jug, the scene of my previous failures. Gathering myself for the launch, braced for the fall, I squeezed the lefthand crimp, fired upwards, and the journey came to an end.

More of the Same

2011-04-26T16:06:00.003+01:00

New York Girls - Laggan from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

Just stuck this wee clip up on Vimeo. I went back to Laggan 1 last week and got psyched to see it all dry. The seam in the steep wall to the left of the problem in the video is 'THE LINE' of Laggan 1, but it's way, way too hard for me so I'm keen for someone to come and destroy. There's a project nearby that I'd love to be mine, but how do you stop other folk without being an arse? I guess the beauty is that no-one ever goes to Laggan. For now....

I've still not fired up the trad yet but have climbed more sport routes than ever before at this time of year. The Ticks Ate all the Midges went down quickly at Moy and on Sunday I did the V5-into-F6a 'B-Movie' at Am Fasgadh before falling from the last hard move of Mactalla twice in a row. So close, but yet... Yesterday was the first tick of the year of the stupendously good Stone of Destiny at the Camel and I'm off up there in a bit for more stamina plodding in a bid to train for Mactalla. Hopefully all this sport will make trad feel marginally less stressful when it begins, but I won't hold my breath.

Sprung!

2011-04-20T14:10:00.005+01:00

Murdo working Blair's traverse 'Beyond Communication' at Ruthven.

Seems like spring is here at last. Actually, it's arrived pretty quickly this year, with very little snow left on the tops already and lots of plants emerging and migrant birdies arriving for their summer holidays. Today I heard my first cuckoo through the dawn mirk in Strathconon, the welcome springtime alarm melding with the distant bubbling of a black grouse lek I was there to track down. Later, back by the road, I heard my first wood warbler of the year calling through the emerging birch, and yesterday morning we started our survey in Strathbran to the chirruping of the year's first grasshopper warbler. The swallows, swifts and house martins are yet to arrive in decent numbers to Strathspey, but it won't be long now.

Murdo again, this time on The Joker (?) at Goat Crag.

It's in the warm, dry spells at this time of year that I should be pouncing on the Highland trad routes, before midges and summer rain write them off. Before the onslaught really begins I'm keen to climb the wondrous Mactalla at Goat Crag. It's a route I've known about for ages and had a few quick goes at when it's been dry over the last couple of years but never spent enough time on to get stuck in. It's a fairly sustained wall, so if I can get up it I'm hoping that means I'll have a bit of fitness in the arms. A few weekends back I had my first proper session, falling from the second to last clip on the first go. I was so surprised to be there that I failed to stop at the rest, pressed on and promptly dropped off. Oops. After that it got very hot and slimy so I didn't make any more progress. Now it feels like it's just a matter of getting stuck in. Excited.

On the trad front, I've only had a quick evening session at the mighty Huntly's Cave, climbing the cruxy Diagonal Direct, one of the last of the routes that I've got to do there before having to really pull my socks up. One night last week I met Richie for some Strathnairn bouldering esoterica followed by a wee line at Pinnacle Crag, Duntelchaig. This last weekend the Tollaidh Triathlon got in the way of other climbing. It's such a great wee event, but I'd forgotten quite how uncomfortable cycling is, especially uphill into a headwind. Other than this it's been bouldering, trying to catch up on sleep, wrangling with the lack of climbing partners in Aviemore and working at silly o-clock in the morning. Hard times.

Dawn Patrol

2011-04-07T20:47:00.007+01:00

Blair Fyffe on Yellow Wall at Laggan.

I'm back to the dawn patrol, surveying areas of Easter Ross for black grouse. I'd forgotten the amazing sense of privelage you get when you're out in the hills watching the horizon glow and grow with the day's new sun, and the peculiar evocative bubbles and cough calls these birds make as the males strut their stuff to show off for a mate. I'd also forgotten the soul-sinking feeling you get when your alarm whips you out of bed at 0400. Swings and roundabouts.

On the climbing front, the bouldering has been ticking over fine. I've just been visiting local crags between the showers. After the scrubbing I gave Burnside back in January it's looking spick and span. I managed the sit start to Gale Force at Laggan today with Blair Fyffe. I can't grade for toffee, but it bumps the grade up a notch from the standing start so depending on what that was it's now 7A or 7A+. I guess if it goes from a sitter you might as well do it. I had a day getting thrown off Primo at Am Fasgadh with Murdo a few weekends back, but otherwise I've not done much with a rope since the grit.

Gale Force going from the sitter. The stand start is great, but this makes for a much better problem.

And finally....

We were lucky enough to be invited down to Wales for Richie and Paula's wedding in Llechwedd Stale Caverns. A very cool place to get hitched and a really good day. Congratulations guys!

Quick Grit Hit

2011-03-23T12:33:00.006Z

Chris styling Wild Thing at the Roaches. (Photo: Adam Gill)

Having spent my winter working hard, scrubbing boulders on my own and generally having to put in a good bit of effort for the minimal gains Highland bouldering often provides, it was nice to have a few days down in the Peak District on the grit. Chalked, clean, established problems and routes as far as the eye could see, and an abundance of pysched climbers. Happy days.

I went down with Chris after work on Tuesday and stayed at his folks' place in Matlock. After a 2am arrival, day 1 started with coffee and bleary eyes as we wended westwards to the Roaches. The perfect slabs of the Skyline area was the plan for the day, and didn't dissapoint. Chris made quick work of Mantis, Wild Thing and The Staffordshire Flyer, I somehow got to the top of San Melas, Triple Point and Wings of Unreason. These were three routes that had been on my radar for a long time so it was good to get them done.

Almost fluffing the Wings jump. (Photo: Adam Gill)

After a day of bold routes we opted to boulder on day 2 and made a tour linking Mother Cap, Owler Tor, Millstone and finishing at Burbage South. Not much skin left at the end but some good problems climbed. I can't claim Technical Master at Millstone as I jumped off at the jug - that top-out is pretty high! Golden Arete at Owler Tor and Attitude Inspector at Burbage South were the highlights.

Day 3 - the last day - was Stanage, and I had my heart set on a couple of routes and problems, but as soon as I topped-out on Crescent Arete at the start of the day I knew the thin tips would put paid to my plans. I gave Satin a good few tries, but those crimps weren't very friendly. After the fun highball Pullover I tried Wall End Slab Direct but ended up climbing back down after commitment issues. There's always next time.... After a quick play on some easy numbers on the Plantation Boulders we packed in and bailed out for coffee and muffins in Hathersage.

Still so much to do!

Grit Calling

2011-03-14T19:32:00.003Z

Winter has returned with a mega dump in, on and around Aviemore. After the last two weekends of sport climbing and sunshine it was a bit of a shock to the system, but I stepped up to the horrible weather and hit the pistes with the crowds.

It's the last day of my latest contract tomorrow, then I'm off to the Peak District for a few days. Very, very psyched for some scary highball/trad slab action, but we'll see what the weather allows.

The Winter of Discontent

2011-03-03T08:28:00.003Z

The Winter of Discontent - Laggan Bouldering from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

Over the winter I've been cobbling together one or two clips of some of the problems at Laggan 2 and have finally finished sticking them together in this wee film. It's a bit boring as films go but it's an attempt to illustrate what I've been up to, and hopefully to generate some interest and/or more traffic.

I've also put together a first draft PDF of the main scree field so get in touch if anyone would be interested in seeing it.

Enjoy!

More Winter Sessions

2011-02-25T16:34:00.009Z

Laggan 2

I had the pleasure of some company at Laggan 2 last Saturday. Aviemore Tom and Edinburgh Chris came out to see what I keep banging on about and I think they were pleasantly surprised. Chris did a sterling effort patio-ing the boggy base of The Dock Block and diverting a tiny trickle around it, providing a good landing to Laggan’s best and worst named problem: Trowel Moat. Oh yes.

Sunday was a Torridon day. I finally managed to do the original version of Slipstones Thing after putting a hole in my finger on it last time round. I still can’t do Malc’s Arete, but I’m hitting the dish every time now. Just a matter of holding it. Oh, and then doing the hard bit. Hmm.

This weekend was a good one. After a mid-week lantern session at Laggan 2 I was armed with the beta for the start of the king line, Gale Force. I saw Mike Gale do this a few years back when there was a bit of an Aviemore scene exploring the local boulders, hence the name. In my memory he made the top bit look easy, but it's far from it and took me a fair few lobs from on high before I unlocked it's secrets. It's definately the hardest and best problem at Laggan to date, until someone strong cleans up (in both senses) at Laggan 1.

Now I'm just in from the first venture into sport routes for the year. Mactalla at Goat Crag was seeping most of the day but the brilliant Hydrotherapy was in great nick and I was surprised to do it on my second proper go. My flash attempt ended with a good lob, deep pump and slight nausea. Roll on the spring.

_____________________________________________

I've been meaning to upload this video of Murdo Jamieson repeating The Essence in Torridon for ages, so here you are Murdo! I've just opened a Vimeo account so I'll start uploading a load of old videos I've got lurking on my hard drive on it. It's here.

The Fruit

2011-02-13T18:04:00.008Z

A video still from Laggan 2: Gunfire Font 6b(ish)

Not too much to report of late. I didn't get the job I interviewed for so it's looking like it's back to survey work this spring and summer - really enjoyable work but generally not very well paid. After that, who knows.

I've been trying to train a wee bit since I've had lots of time off so far this year, in the hope of making one or two gains on the rock (a man can dream). I've been mixing up a combination of deadhangs and repeaters, and a few basic strength exercises at home, running, bouldering and circuits at Glenmore Lodge, bouldering on the savage Bettsmaker, and occasional leading at the Grantown wall. Mostly though, I've been getting out bouldering as much as possible.

Cleaning up the local rock has kept me really psyched over these last damp few months. I've started writing up the Laggan boulders but there's still plenty to do down there. At Creag Ruadh, aka Laggan 2, aka Laggan South, I've counted about 20 problems that have been done or are waiting to be done, all weighing in around the Font 5-7a grades - the makings of a really nice wee circuit. I've still not fully explored the crags above the boulders so there might well be more.

Despite visiting it first, I've not done as much at Creagan Soillier, aka Laggan 1, aka Laggan North, but I think that's where there will be more harder problems.

Anyway, here's a few more pics from some of the Laggan 2 problems:

Sobotka's Neck, Font 6c+ ish

The Detail, Font 6a

Robert the Bruce

2011-01-29T18:16:00.007Z

The Sanctuary, Bealach na Ba, Applecross.

What's that old legend about Robert the Bruce hiding in a dank cave and watching a spider trying to spin it's web? Try, try and try again. Success will come if you try hard enough.

In a radical departure from my usual form I've had a successful week: topping out some great problems in the lonely wilds of the Highlands and being offered an interview for the previously mentioned RSPB job. I've even scraped some cash together by writing articles for a mate who does something to do with web marketing (I still haven't grasped the particulars). Something about lights and tunnel ends springs to mind.

After a fresh fall of snow the Bett's and I had a whitey and backed out of our plans to go to Hell's Lum on thursday, giving way to one of the best day's North West bouldering I've ever had. Richie's text on wednesday night says it all about our winter vs. bouldering motivation: 'fuck ledge shuffling i wanna pull on some sick slopers'. I don't doubt that we'd have had a good day on the hill, but would it have beaten a day on Torridonian Sandstone in Applecross, under a cloudless sky? Who knows. As it was, conditions couldn't have got much better: cool, frosty, still and sunny, so after a warm up on the Kishorn boulder we hunted out The Sanctuary on top of the Bealach na Ba (I shook my fist at Blue Pillar as we drove past). There's a pdf topo of this cool low roof on the new Stone Country site and it's definitely worth visiting if you're in the area, just make sure you've got strong core muscles as the problems all start lying down! I managed a dubious tick of The Sanctuary problem (starting 1 hold out, but seriously, why would you bother starting lying down? I was bouldering, not caving!). I'm taking the tick.

On the way back down the hill we visited the Dam Boulder on the lip of Coire nan Arr and after receiving maximum beta from the first ascentionist (Richie) I ticked the brilliant left arete of the roof. Two 7As in a day? Perhaps, perhaps not.

The King Line on Dam Boulder

After a full day of interview prep yesterday I've back down to Laggan today, managing to
fill in some of the un-climbed (certainly uncleaned) lines. One of which, though I say it myself, was a bit of a peach - short, sharp and powerful and something I thought was a long way off when I last tried it about a week ago. Just goes to show what trying can do.

Some of the Laggan beauties

What's in a name?

2011-01-24T17:27:00.007Z

Steep moves on the big face, Creagan Soillier, Laggan

Sod's law. After I bigged-up the Laggan boulders on Soft Rock Richie and Steve were keen to come down for a look and, of course, it rained. Not to be put off (there's not much else to do once you've driven to Laggan) we walked up to Creagan Soillier for a look-see. The big face remained perma-dry so we had a play on the right-hand problem and strolled about in the drizzle looking for lines.

Richie rain-dodging

As I've previously mentioned, Mike Gale et al. did some of the problems up there back in the day and he wrote them up in his wee 2006(?) Strathspey bouldering guide. However, no names were given to problems, which I think really detracts some of the poetic mystery and appeal from the adventure. "The 6c up the arete" doesn't get me excited or make me curious, but by giving it a name it becomes definite, a real identifiable problem with a character - and the same goes for routes. Deliverence, A Dream of White Horses, Orion Direct - there's no doubt that these names all mean something more to climbers than simple lines up rocks. As you may have noticed, I'm really keen to develop the Laggan boulders and spread the word, but feel like a bit of an arse if I go giving other people's problems names, so what's the deal with retro-naming other people's problems?

The Lonliness of Obsession

2011-01-20T17:21:00.009Z

Strange days these. I've been working contracts for the RSPB for almost three years now, but my last one ended at Christmas so I'm starting the year with lots of time on my hands but no money to spend on fuel for adventures. When I'm working I always complain about the lack of time to get out. Oh the irony! The application closing date for what could potentially be my dream job came and went on Monday so all I can do is sit around and hope I get the call offering an interview.

In the mean time I've regained my status as the only/keenest/most desperate boulderer in Strathspey. Armed with rope, jumars, prussicks and all the wire brushes I can carry I've spent this week visiting some of our small collections of boulders and giving them a spring clean. The sad truth is that I'm probably the only person who'll benefit from all this work, but it's already paying off with one or two good new problems and lots of oldies in better nick.

In particular the Aviemore local's favourite, Burnside Bouldering Wall, has had a face lift and now you can top out all the problems. The desperate crimpy wall in the middle finally gave in to my attempts. I'm sure Mike Gale and the old school will have done this years ago, but at least now there are holds rather than moss at the top. I also went to re-aquaint myself with Jules' find at Creag Pityoulish and the highball wall at Creagan a' Mhuilinn, both of which are typically Strathspeyian, to coin a word: quite an effort to get to but actually pretty good once you get there. Also typical of round here there are very few proper hard problems (proper hard for me means into the Font 7s), but lots of good mileage 'circuit' problems up to about Font 6C. On paper the Cuca Boulder sounds like it should be what I'm looking for, with a smattering of two and three star 7A/7A+ problems in John Watson's Bouldering In Scotland guide, but the sad truth is that every time I go for a look its dank, dripping and uninspiring.

However, this all pales into insignificance next to the Laggan boulders. There are two seperate areas either side of the village and I know that over the years a few of the locals like Mike, Jules and Scott Muir have been up and climbed a few of the lines, but for some reason word has never spread to the rest of the Scottish bouldering fraternity. It seems mad when folk are out scouring the high mountain corries in the remote North West for the last great problems when these perfectly good venues are right next to the road in the central Highlands. Quite bizarre really, given that they're as good a collection of problems across the grades as any places I've bouldered in Scotland. Now I either need to get very strong and good very fast, or gather a gaggle of handy climbers to mop up the projects, and then I'll try to write up a wee guide for them. It'll give me something to do to while away the hours.

The Good, the Good and the Ugly

2011-01-11T11:20:00.010Z

Back north to the grim wastes of the wintry Highlands and a few shenanigans to report. Shenanigans might not be the right word, maybe epic mega shit-storm would be more suitable. But I digress.

Friday was one of those perfect winter days, cold, crisp and still with a bright sun pulsing down on the white hills and fields, making Aviemore look like just another day in the Alps. I took myself off to the Laggan boulders to continue the exploration and hopefully succeed on a problem I'd failed on before. Lone days of bouldering like this are perfect for me - a chance to really take my time to enjoy the place, the rocks, their shapes and the humbling landscape laid out before me. I warmed up slowly, taking regular warming gulps from the flask and stuffing my shoes down my top to thaw them between tries, my tarp under my mat acting as a lubricating layer on the snow, constantly trying to surf me down hill into the fence. Finally, sufficiently warmed and stretched I spent some time on the problem I was after and saw it off. Happy and relieved I broke out the last of the Christmas chocolates to celebrate. It's great up at these boulders, it's such a beautiful spot, and nicely accessible from Aviemore. There's a bit of work to do to get them properly cleaned and spic and span but I'm psyched to put the effort in and unleash some new gems for the Highland boulderers (all 2 of us).

Steep dry rock, snow and blue sky. What more could you ask for? The Cairngorms lurk beyond the steep face of one of the Laggan boulders.

The next day I joined Richie at Brin for another cold, crisp day on the rock. Heavy snow in Aviemore gave way to beautiful sun in Strath Nairn and we played for a few hours. I had a try on The Scientist, which I can only describe as excitingly hard. I did the easiest two of the four hard moves, which is something, I guess. Could do with access to a campus board... We then went for a look at the Farr Boulder as the sun set.

Richie confronting the snow on the Farr Boulder.

Then it was Sunday and time for my first winter climbing trip of the season. Sam came up on Saturday night and we left in good time on Sunday morning, skating up the snowy Bealach na Ba in Applecross to climb Blue Pillar on Meall Gorm. Being only 15 minutes from the car you'd think it wasn't going to be an epic day, but when Sam pulled a big chockstone out of a shallow chimney high on the route and took a backwards plummet onto ledges below that all changed. Out of sight, round the corner and pulled tight against my belay I didn't know what to think. Sam was silent. "Sam, speak to me!" I yelled into the approaching gloom. Eventually he called back. He was OK but his ankle was badly hurt. It had only been a fall of a few metres, but with that chockstone involved, things could be messy. Slowly he emerged groaning back onto the ledge beside me, his headtorch swinging loose from his helmet before his ashen face and thousand-mile eyes. "We're going down", he confirmed my thoughts. And so we started our descent into the inky darkness, I lowered Sam to our previous belay and then abbed down to join him. But then, of course, the ropes jammed when we tried to pull them through. No matter which way or how hard I pulled - nothing. Then we made our error, we still had 30 or so metres of rope so we abseiled as far as we could onto the next big ledge in the hope that the ropes would pull from this different angle. I should have climbed back up the ropes to free them, but hind-sight is no use now. By now it was pitch black and we worked in the twin white cocoons of our torch beams. From this new ledge we could escape into Lobster Gully, and down-climb it as far as possible, which we did until a steep step loomed out of the blackness below. And there we were, stranded only 60 odd metres up, no ropes. Shit.

We'd now abbed too far for me to climb back up the ropes and free them so I cast about on the other side of the ridge to find a way off but just found dead ends and bottomless drops so came back to Sam, who was now in a fair bit of pain, sitting quietly, stoically in the snow. There was nothing left for it but to make the call to mountain rescue - our time had finally come to become rescue statistics. Hours passed, messages were relayed back and forth and we started to get cold, then colder and then colder still. Our conversation started to falter and it was alarming how quickly the silence grew and bore down on our pitiful position. I tried hard to make small talk with Sam but it wasn't up to much and I could tell he was starting to get cold and depressed. The quiet calm night turned dim as the clouds dropped and then the snow started to fall, heavier and heavier on the rising wind. Through the murk we could see the rescue teams vehicles on the road, up and down, stopping and going again, but nothing was happening, no processions of torches coming up the hill.

The first rule of having an epic is to take lots of photos. Here's Sam when our predicament was still fairly novel. Smiles rapidly dissapeared shortly afterwards.

After another hour or so we realised that no helicopters would be flying in these conditions and any rescue from the team would take forever as they'd have to rig about 130 metres of abseil to reach us. I decided to have another look at the step in Lobster Gully that was stopping us. Leaving Sam to bear his pain alone I went for a look, desperate to have a good go at down climbing it if it looked half do-able - it was our only way off. And thankfully, it was. Once I committed to the first few metres I found that it was OK, 10 metres of fairly steep but useful turf and snow-ice. I raced back up to Sam to tell him and he was game to try, although neither of us were sure how he'd do it with a damaged ankle. With lots of swearing and scraping he did it though, hard bastard, and we were back into the gully. Only to be stopped by another shorter but steeper step below. No surely not after all our efforts! Keeping moving, I left Sam and hunted across the other side of the ridge again, finally finding a ledge that led off into the left hand easy gully. Back up to Sam again and I told him I thought I'd found our salvation. Following on behind me, sliding on one foot and his tools, Sam braved the narrow ledge round into the gully and bum-slid down behind me into the valley floor, free at last.

The rescue team were still in their vehicles and had obviously seen our torches moving and making our way toward them as a couple of torches came out into the darkness and started to approach. By now Sam was leaning on me and hobbling badly. When we reached the rescuers - of which the first we met was local legend Martin Moran - they looked as relieved as we were that we'd made it off by ourselves; it would have been a huge epic and taken a long long time for them to reach us, by which time we would probably have been hypothermic and in a bad state. They took Sam off to check he was OK and made sure I was fine to reach my car through the blizzard.

Then it was just a case of not crashing or falling asleep at the wheel for the next three hours of heavy snow and terrible roads back to Aviemore.

I heard from Sam today and it turns out that he's chipped and fractured his talus bone and is now in plaster so that's his winter season put on hold. As for me, well I'm not sure, but that might be the end of my winter too.

2010-12-28T11:36:00.004Z

Power down. Cough, snuffle, sniff, groan. Oh woe is me, man-flu I hate thee!

I'm very rarely ill and have been very rarely injured, but here I am, cut down in my prime by this vile wintry pox. The flu. Or is it just a bad cold? No, it's bronchitis, surely. I'm not used to being incapacitated, what are you supposed to do?

I'll sit here and grumble quietly to myself and polish off the last of the festive confectionery. You don't mind do you?

Well, that's 2010 been and gone. I was proudly in bed by 12.15 on new years night. Bah humbug, cough, splutter, grumble grumble. Actually I rather like waking up on the first day of the year hangover free. Trying to make a big event out of something that just isn't always leads to a disappointed melancholy when it's all over, all you have is a hangover and a mild feeling of depression to show for it.

From a climbing perspective, 2010 was a funny old year. I'm chalking it up as a year of consolidation, rather than one of progression. I don't think I did much that was harder than anything before, I just did a bit more of it than previously. I bouldered and sport climbed more than before - mainly thanks to the rain and convenience, but also because I was introduced to the endless supply of Torridonian sandstone and Lewisian Gneiss in the North West. Trad started OK but never really got going as the summer monsoon stepped in.

Hopefully 2011 will be a chance to up the trad output. To do this I need to be ready to pounce as soon as the Highland spring begins. The pre-midge dry season is so short and arrives so soon after winter it's hard to be ready. A winter of pulling on plastic can only do so much good as it's my head that always lets me down first. I think a large amount of practice falls and sports mileage in February and March are required. And of course there's the growing list of sport routes and boulder problems that will require serious attention if they're ever to be completed, plus getting a job, plus going winter climbing, and learning to ski and staying on top of the running. Tricky tricky.

In the mean time, Jones and I have been down in Staffordshire and Somerset visiting family. Both our contracts ended just before Christmas so we're currently free agents (anyone got any work?). I've managed to slink out into the cold a few times for a quick boulder. Un-named tidal limestone problems at Brean Down were the best I could manage in Somerset but Staffordshire's Roaches have been a bit more accommodating. On Christmas Eve most things were still covered in snow but C3P0 on the Spring Boulders was worth the drive alone. Yesterday things were dry but baltic so I didn't stay still for very long and The Staffordshire Flyer and Wild Thing were the highlights among lots of easy circuit problems. We'll be back home in Aviemore by the end of the week when serious job hunting and playing in snow can commence.

Happy New Year y'all.

1000 Words

2010-12-15T15:10:00.011Z

The nature of winter rock climbing generally means projecting hard boulder problems and sport routes. Short cold days aren't conducive to casual days of tradding, so I spend my time attempting to make incremental gains. Sometimes it feels like banging my head against a wall, but I know that the feeling of hard-fought success will be worth it if I complete even one of my growing list of projects...

Here's the latest Soft Rocking....

It's pretty rare that I get to report a success, but as previously reported, Masonic Fingershake at Cummingston finally gave in.

After the turbo-thaw Torridon was back on the agenda. There's not much left for Richie to do at the Celtic Jumble, so now he has to work on the desperates. Here he's trying Dave MacLeod's Frantic.

After a rapid flash by Richie, I managed to scrape myself up Mike Lee's Girls in Their Summer Dresses. (Photo: Richie Betts)

Another Am Fasgadh Sunday Session. Here Rich battles with Bog Talla. Given The Sheild's regular wetness I'm switching my attentions to the drier line of Primo. It's the first route I've been on that I've not been able to do all the moves after the first session. I think this might be a whole-winter seige. Bring it on.

Mixed Feelings in the Dark

2010-12-07T12:52:00.006Z

I get mixed feelings as the cold continues to grip onto Scotland and starts to squeeze hard. Every man, woman and their dog in Aviemore seems to have donned their luminous baggy clothing and thousands of pounds worth of skiing kit (how do they all afford it?) and joined the queues on the pistes.

Part of me feels like I should too, or at least be out ticking winter climbs. I mean, why live in the Highlands and put up with it's generally crap weather if you're not really fussed about playing in the snow? I'm not sure what it is that puts me off. I guess sharing the same small bit of hill with every Tom, Dick and Chummer isn't exactly my idea of a fun time, regardless of how much you have to pay on kit and up-lift to get there. And as for winter climbing, it still holds an attraction, in the right place, at the right time, but wading through ball-deep avalanche debris to dig around in powder and stare into the same mist-obscured corrie isn't it. Give me a bit of freeze-thaw, some sunshine and a new mountain to explore and I'll probably be a bit keener.

So, I've been skiving off from winter and making use of the cold dry northerly by bouldering at Cummingston. Last weekend poor Chris was up from Edinburgh and heavy snow meant we couldn't get across to Ben Nevis. Naturally we ended up sheltering in the big cave at Cummy, as you do, and it was in good nick. This Saturday I returned with the Betts but a slight thaw meant it was a grease-fest. All except for the secret weapon: The Corridor. As luck would have it we were both armed with lamps to stave off these early December nights, so were able to light up the through-cave between Doubt Wall and the big Fingerlicker cave, and not only was the rock dry, it was beautifully wave-worn and harder than the rest of the crag. Time to make hay.

One problem I found looked fairly innocuous but kept kicking me to the floor. Slapping up an arete, spanning away to a pinch and stubbing blindly for a rounded-toe edge under a bulge. It looked so easy. Eventually Richie showed the way and just as I started to make progress the batteries waned and the shadows grew and we had to bail, blinking into the daylight. Empty-handed.

The future of raining/snowy days? Richie in The Corridor (Photo: Richie Betts)

With charged batteries, rested fingers and the return of colder air I went back on Sunday and saw off the problem. I called it The Enemy Within, and assume it will never be repeated cos it's in the dark, which is a shame really. Afterwards I put the cherry on my already pleased cake by doing Masonic Fingershake, which I've tried on and off for about 2 years so was rather chuffed.

Quick! The batteries are running out! Me trying The Enemy Within on Saturday. (Photo: Richie Betts)

Holy Buck

2010-11-22T09:31:00.005Z

Time was short this weekend. All activities centered around a mad dash to and from Glasgow on Saturday night to the Buck65/Holy Fuck gig at King Tut's - Sarah was working on both Saturday and Sunday so we had to be there and back in one night. A bit of a mission but it was well worth it. There's a bit of a Canadian band invasion over the next few weeks and there's another night-raid in store when the elusive and truly god-like Godspeed You! Black Emperor play at Barrowlands on Dec 8th. It's no exaggeration to say that seeing them will be the realisation of a life ambition. Oh yes.

So, not enough time on Saturday to head oot west (and not much decent weather) and not enough wakefulness to join the Am Fasgadh Sunday session. So, I took a gamble with a local venue I'd been keen to explore for a while, the Creagan Soillier boulders at Laggan. Mike gave them a brief write-up in his local guide, saying something about them making a good wee spot if people made the effort to climb there and keep them clean. So, armed with several wire brushes (the Homebase Value set is a bargain at £2.98 for three different sizes), ipod, flask and gardening gloves, I was all ready for a voyage of discovery.

Now, I'll admit that in my keenness to get out in the past I've been guilty of cleaning and climbing on some pretty desperate bits of choss, and my fear was that these would be just another non-venue - dirty, small, eliminate - but in all honesty, I was impressed. Set on the slopes below the broken crags of Creagan Soillier, above the oft-driven through village of Laggan is a small boulder field: cleaved from the hillside, debris from geological history. Most of the blocks are too small to bother with, but amongst them are five or six big beasts, worthy of bouldering note anywhere, let alone the backwater of Strathspey.

I spent Saturday hiding from showers under a blank highball leaning face - a project for the travelling wad - with more convenient lines up either side (although sit-starts will bump them up to meaty grades). Between showers I took a few strolls around, checking the other blocks for the next visit on a dry day.

And Sunday was the dry day. Blinking through the fug of sleep deprivation, a looming cold and fatigue from trying the same move fifty-times in a row the day before, I staggered back up the hill to the blocks. So, I had a bit of a circuit boulder - working my way through the boulders, trying lines, failing on most, getting up others. The only problem I kept coming up against were damp mossy/licheny top-outs. I did what I could, but next time I'll do more brushing and less climbing. It won't take much though, and with a bit of publicity and the passage of more feet this should become known as a decent, accessible central Scottish venue. If only...

Where I hid from the showers for most of Saturday: Two well-chalked holds and lots of steep blankness.

Working at it

2010-11-11T10:52:00.005Z

Just another brilliant wee problem we found in Torridon (Photo: Richie Betts)

The annual brief punt at being a runner is over for another 10 months so it's a chance to try to fulfil my ceaseless ambition to actually become an OK climber. I've got high hopes for a winter of training and getting strong, but lets be honest, I've had this hope every year for a while and I'm still a weak and scared punter. To get psyched for the OMM I got into reading lots of Mark Twight's thoughts from the Gym Jones website: maybe it's time to take his advice, turn up the punk rock and get all medieval on the fingerboard. Quotes like

"Acquiring the spirit necessary to win, which includes a positive acceptance of pain, is difficult in a society where comfort is more highly regarded than capacity. When genuine physical fitness is the norm for so few it is hard to avoid being dragged into the morass. You become what you do. How and what you become depends on environmental influence so you become who you hang around. Raise the standard your peers must meet and you'll raise your expectations of yourself. If your environment is not making you better, change it. We did."

get me all psyched for a Fight Club-style rebellion, quit my job and live the dream. But who am I kidding? Difinately not my bank manager. Just got to fit the beastings around the rest of life.

Last winter - the winter of all winters - I made the strange choice of ignoring the cold stuff and concentrating on trying to be a rock climber. I justified the decision to myself when I redpointed The Warm Up at Am Fasgadh and started to discover the wealth of brilliant boulders in the North West. I feel like I'm still on that trajectory from last winter, still exploring, just on the edge of getting up some routes and problems that might herald a new standard for me. I just need to apply myself a bit more.

Saturday saw a tiny bit of progress on Malc's Arete in Torridon - still failing at the same place as before, just failing slightly better. Train, train train and return. Sunday was the first of (hopefully) many winter Am Fasgadh Sundays, with the local beasts wadding about in typical Am Fasgadh style (i.e working hard projects). I had my first look at The Shield, which will hopefully become a winter project, so long as it's not too wet. First half OK, second half hard. My lack of consistent route-climbing really shows in a) getting pumped 3 metres off the deck, and b) being scared of falling. I think the latter is really the thing that holds me back the most in all my climbing and is something I need to confront.

In Highland boulder news, strong munro-bagger and Scotrail-sponsored youth Murdo Jamieson (I stole that quote from Richie) made the second ascent of Richie's monster prow The Essence in Torridon, after three specific weekend raids from Glasgow. Beast. I'll post a video ASAP. And just in, Richie added a sit start to his own Applecross creation The Universal in Coire nan Arr yesterday, making it longer and "proper 7b". Like I know what that means. Video here.

Murdo in heaven on The Essence, looking out at Liathach. (Photo: Richie Betts)

A Warm Glow

2010-11-04T16:22:00.007Z

3, 2, 1, go - run - check the map -run - check north - fight through the slow starters - wrestle with the over sized map, finally fold it into a manageable shape - confer with Duncan, confirm control 1 - run - link tracks to sheep trods, line up the walls and the tor on the skyline - run - there's the river, find a crossing point - run, the first deep breaths up the first hill - check the next leg - reach the tor, Control 1 - Beep - Go.

And continue....

It's been a few days now since I got back from the OMM. Enough time for the dust to settle and the worst of the pain to subside. Enough time for the worst of the misery to be forgotten, leaving only the spirit-soaring highs. I'll say this much: it was a long old way. Dartmoor isn't blessed with big hills, and it's got it's share of fast terrain. To make it hard the organisers just had to keep us going. And going. So that's what we did.

52km on day 1; Dunc and I laughed when we first saw it printed on the map - we almost cried between those last painful controls. At least it was clear and dry, making for easy navigation and route choice. The weather turned that evening, making for a long loud night of wind and rain howling and beating at our cocoon.

Day 2. We stirred as the heavy showers continued and started the admin - breakfast, blister plasters, hydration, the queue for the portaloo. Slowly, gently, wake up the legs. Pull on the wet shoes, hope the blisters don't bite too badly. Join the hubbub and excitement at the start line. 3, 2, 1, go.

5 hours 22 minutes later we emerge out of the cloud and stumble over the finish, a wet, wheezing mess, miles of bog and hill behind us. An overall time of 12 hours 45 over the 2 days, just shy of 90km in a straight line, more in reality, puts us in 8th place behind the big guns. Happy days.

Same time next year? I expect so.

Couscous/Smash

2010-10-21T15:10:00.005+01:00

Falling leaves, burnished golden hillsides, the first snows - the clock inevitably ticks towards the OMM next weekend. The training runs start to wind down to the all important tapering period before the race (more time free for climbing). Team admin begins (the classic cous cous vs. Smash debate). Old race maps lie strewn around the house, studying route choices, brushing up on navigation. The October traditions of the last seven years.

Living and training up in the Highlands, I'm hoping Dartmoor will feel relatively warm and dry, but I won't hold my breath - these events have a good record of attracting the worst of the elements.

It's now at the stage when there's not much more I can do to prepare. Now it's time to sit it out, think, relax. Be ready for the first glimpse of the map and the sound of the starter's airhorn -then it's time to act.

Still There

2010-10-11T18:35:00.005+01:00

I've managed to stay on the tightrope a bit longer. Another climb/run weekend passes with a trip down to auld reekie and The County. Back Bowden in the harr on Saturday allowed enough dry rock for a nice wee boulder and route or two. I'd not encountered trad climbing for a while so got a good work-out on the 3-dimensional The Arches.

Sunday was the real reason I headed south: the Pentland Skyline race. The cloud was down the whole way, making some of the intricate route finding tricky, but I was pleased to come in 15th. 2 places higher than last year, although 3 minutes slower; I'm blaming the weather for those 3 minutes. Konrad was 6 seconds behind in 16th and OMM partner Duncan came 21st, so OMM prep is in good shape. Dunc's sister Katie was the final Team Towers member to cross the line, in a very respectable sub-4 hour time. High fives all round.

The big news, however, is that Mr Betts got his Torridon project on Saturday: The Essence. Not many lines like that hanging around. The Bettsmaker is beggining to pay off. Nice one bruvva!

Richie on a previous session working what would soon become The Essence, Font7b+ish: a perfect highball line low on Seanna Mheallan, Torridon.

Balancing

2010-10-06T08:07:00.007+01:00

Despite last weekend's little mishap with the disappearing bothy I've tried to keep up with the OMM training. Having spent the summer doing survey work in the hills I think I've got an OK base of fitness, which I'm adding to with a few intense short runs in the week and longer hill runs on the weekend. This Saturday's run was a nice circuit in the Coulin Forest, south of Torridon.

Running is a lot like hillwalking I guess, as it's a great way to get out and explore places you don't know. Fortunately it doesn't take as long and doesn't require knee-length red socks. Over the years of inhaling the contents of climbing guidebooks some hill names become engrained in the memory, but I still don't really know where some of them are, and more importantly, how you get to them in the pre-dawn dark of a frosty winter. So, after this latest run I now know a wee bit about Fuar Tholl and Sgorr Ruadh and their beautiful cliffs. Will this be the year I get to see their wintry side?

The only problem I'm having with OMM training this year is that I'm equally psyched for climbing as I am for running, and trying to do as much as possible of both is a delicate balance. As much as I'm really looking forward to the imminent OMM suffer-fest, I'm also looking forward to that time when it's over and I can knuckle down into the autumn sport and bouldering season. Projects ahoy!

Sport project: Mactalla at Goat Crag. I had my first proper play this weekend and was muchos impressed. (Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

Boulder project 1: Malcolm Smith's Arete, Torridon. Beautiful line, beautiful place, hard. Perfect.

Boulder project 2: The Scientist, Brin Rock. Fairly local, very hard (for me), a long term goal. (Photo: Richie Betts)

Finding Stones and Losing Bothies

2010-09-27T18:14:00.013+01:00

Sunshine points the way to the Coire na Arr boulders, Applecross

At last! Sunshine!

Our meteorological masters have granted a reprieve from the incessant rain: time to pounce.

Richie was keen to head out to the mythical Applecross peninsula to explore some sandstone beauties he’d spied last winter. I’d seen this picture of them on his flickr page and was PSYCHED. So, at 9 o’clock on Saturday the team assembled in Inshes Tesco car park: Richie, Blair, Jenny, myself, a stack of pads, tarp, brushes, flasks and plenty of skin. Oh, yeah, forget the last bit – my tips were already shredded after a prolonged wrangle with micro-holds at Burnside in the week, and I’d shut the car door on them on Friday night. Fool. But anyway, off we trotted.

Ignoring the well-documented Kishorn Boulders, our destination was a fair poke up Coire nan Arr, lurking in the the shadow of the towering Sgurr na Choarachain. It’s at such magical places as these that real treasures lie for those willing to put in the effort of reaching them, and we were not disappointed: cresting the final boggy hummock half a dozen big free standing blocks of the cleanest Torridonian sandstone hove into view. As Richie gave us the tour-du-bloc the roar of the stags rumbled down from the hills above, setting the scene for a perfect day.

The official advert for Scottish bouldering: Richie on his own creation with Cioch Nose beyond.

Concentrating on Blair's central slab problem; the real line of the slab still awaits an ascent...

Richie's Flickr site has more, better pics.

Afterwards my weekend took a rather less successful turn. I'd planned a big run round Loch Arkaig on Sunday, so on Saturday night ran into Invermallie bothy in Glen Mallie, only to find that it wasn't there. I spent a moonlit hour searching high and low, near and far. I re-traced my steps, checked and re-checked the map and never found it. Being half ten at night I decided to run back to the car, sleep in it and do a slightly different run the next day. But alas, as reliable as my Kia Rio has been since I bought it last year, it's no good for sleeping in. As I tried to rub some life back into my cramped and folded legs I realised that I wasn't going to be in a good state to run anywhere in the morning, so bleary-eyed and somewhat peeved I decided enough was enough and started home at 4am.

A bit of googling the next day informed me that a new track has gone into Glen Mallie and isn't on the OS maps, so, the bothy was the best part of a kilometre from where I was, which, it seems, is a long way in the dark. Arse.

After a quick snow-evading run into Coire an t-Schneachda in the morning I went for a sunny afternoon's bouldering up at Burnside, where, two strange things happened. Firstly, I managed a project I'd tried but failed on before, but secondly, and even more excitingly, for the first time ever, I met some other climbers there! Madness!

The first ever queues at Burnside.

Tis the season

2010-09-22T22:20:00.005+01:00

Some punter doing the 2009 Pentland Skyline. Photo: Bill Fairmaner

I'm pretty sure I've written a blog entry at this time every year for the last three years saying the same thing; but really, where did the summer go?

It only seems like yesterday that it was June and I was dangling off a very big rope half way down a large Hebridean cliff, and now look at it: the leaves are turning and the first dusting of snow has been reported on UKC. Surely it's only a matter of time before someone claims a winter ascent of Pygmy Ridge. For me, this time of year means donning the lycra and heading out running in the hills. Yes folks, it's OMM season.

I've done the OMM, or KIMM as it was, every year since 2004, so despite it being down on Dartmoor this year (mountain marathon, seriously?) I'm signed up again. I've run it with the same chap, Duncan Steen, for the last 5 years, each year doing better than the last, so the aim is high and the training is in full affect. I try to do one big hill run every weekend for the two months leading up to the race at the end of October, which means I generally don't get too upset if the weather is too crap for climbing (which it seems to be), and I get to bag one or two otherwise unheard-of Munros. Runs I've got lined up in the next few weeks are a circumnavigation of Loch Arkaig, which I've wanted to do for ages for some reason, and the Pentland Skyline race down in Edinburgh. Psyche.

Mainly, though, its an excuse to wear short shorts and lycra.

The Cake Shop Block

2010-09-05T20:43:00.007+01:00

My my, it's been rather quiet here at Soft Rock Towers of late. Life seems to be getting in the way of most of my attempts to climb: people to see, places to be, work and weather. Same old for 99.9% of climbers I guess.

Last weekend I was visiting the folks down in Somerset and had a morning on the sport routes at Brean Down, the Costa del Bristol, and was suitably impressed by the sun-drenched continental style limestone. Resting between routes, with the August sun beating down and the grasshoppers chirruping nearby I could have easily mistaken the place for any Mediterranean sport destination. Warming up on Brean Dream and Coral Sea allowed for a quick redpoint of Pearl Harbour, a good F7a that contrasts a start on steep buckets with a thin balancy climax. Of course, all too soon it was time to pack up and head to Bristol for the Old Duke Jazz Festival. Nice....

But, anyhoo, time for the exciting news you're all clamouring for. As hinted at in the last Soft Rock I've been cleaning up a new bouldering spot near Aviemore, and it's about time I showed it to the world. So, here's the beta:

Last winter, while working on the RSPB's National Capercaillie Survey I stumbled across a rather large, rather green, crag in Inshriach Forest, only a few hundred metres from the road. Well, after realising that Aviemore was in dire need of more evening venues I eventually went back this summer to see what was what. After walking the length of the jungle/crag (a few hundred metres) I finally came across a wee cave at the far end and set to work with trowel and brush. They say that the great sculptors can look at a rough block of stone and see the shape of their creation already inside it. Well, it wasn't exactly like that, but I knew there was promise from the start, so over a few weeks I made it my wet-weather project. And now, a month or more later I think it's more or less ready for public consumption.

So, with all the normal disclaimers and caveats: this is a Strathspey bouldering venue, it isn't Font or Rocklands or even Dumbarton, this is a dank, north facing schist crag in the middle of a forest. However, if you happen to be hanging around the area for any length of time and are looking for somewhere to provide an hour or two of pleasure, you'll probably have a good time at The Cake Shop Block (so named because it's close to the truly amazing Potting Shed cake shop at Inshriach Nursery. Consequently I accept full responsibility for the sickening cake pun problem names.) As a bonus, for some unknown reason, it isn't midgy. Wahoo!

The Cake Shop Block. NH 868062 (ish), called Creag Ghlas-uaine on OS Explorer 403.

Directions: Head south from Aviemore on the B970, passing Inshriach Nursery and Inshriach House. A few hundred metres after Inshriach House there is a small layby, leading to a grassy forestry track (closed green gate) on the left. Park here and head up the track into the forest, circumventing a large fallen tree, after which the track turns left and becomes indistinct. Here strike off uphill until a long vegetated crag is seen ahead. The easiest thing to do now is follow the crag eastwards (left) until it peters out and an obviously cleaned cave is found. (That's not actually the quickest way from the car, but you'd definitely get lost if I wrote it down, trust me).

The crag is a rough schist (similar to nearby Farletter, but rougher) and consists of a long low roof at the base of a slab. The best independent problems all breach the roof one way or another and are all pretty straight forward. The obligatory lip traverses are probably the hardest and best problems, and as with all 'local' boulders the scope for eliminates is pretty big. The back wall under the roof does seem to seep so wait for a good period of dry weather, but this doesn't affect the best problems (lip traverses).

Steve hanging a fat sloper.

Problems so far are:

The Black Forest, V4/5. Right to left lip traverse without feet on the back wall, starting at the far right of the roof, finishing up from the central square jug.

Sloper action on The Black Forest. (Photo: Steve Crawford)

The Filling, V2. Based around two small slopers on the lip near the right end. Climb direct from as low as seepage allows.

Eplekake, V0. Left to right rising traverse. Start from the corner and pull through the roof from the central square jug.

In The Gateaux, V4/5. Left to right low lip traverse without feet on the back wall. Sit start in the corner and finish up from the central square jug.

The Cherry On Top, V4. Up the hill left of the main bouldering area is a short steep wall: climb edges from a sit start.

The Cherry On Top, (Photo: Steve Crawford)

Something Stirs in the Darkness...

2010-08-16T19:51:00.003+01:00

Just back in from the first proper session bouldering at a wee rock I unearthed in the Forest near Aviemore. It still needs a bit more work before it's anything other than a dank hole (in fact, it might always be that), but it's definately got potential, including this wee number which succombed on the next go:

I'll post more info and a topo when it's a bit more presentable...

Strathspey Climber Part 3: Boulders

2010-08-11T15:46:00.005+01:00

Fourtet and Walking on Aviemore's Waterfall Boulder.

Continuing with my theme of the delights of being a climber living in Aviemore I’m now going to show you round the bouldering we’ve got to hand.

For me, it’s probably more important to have some semi-decent bouldering nearby than it is to have good cragging. Sure, I prefer to climb routes, but when you and everyone else works for a living we all know it can be tricky to co-ordinate a steady supply of partners. Sometimes it’s just easier to head out for a lone boulder after work. So, now I’m sure you’re wandering why I’m so happy living in Aviemore, since it’s hardly known as a bouldering Mecca? Well, look again. OK, maybe adjust your views of what comprises a quality boulder, then look again.

Unlike the brilliant bouldering that Fort William climbers have so close in Glen Nevis there’s no single venue in Strathspey, but if you start to hunt around and are willing to put in a little brush- or spade-time there is plenty of potential out there. Over the last few years a few intrepid Aviemorons (for that we are), led by Mike Gale of G2 Outdoor, have been scouring the area for rock and compiling them in a local’s guide. And the truth is that there’s actually quite a lot out there, it just needs more keen folk to open their eyes and get out to clean things up and keep them that way.

I definitely think that that’s one of the big differences between Highland climbing and elsewhere – there just aren’t as many climbers. I’m pretty sure that there are places in Strathspey that are in exactly the same state as some well known venues elsewhere were when they were first developed, the difference is that in the Lakes or Wales or the Peak there’s a steady stream of boulderers keeping them clean and chalked, so they become reinforced as quality places to go. Up here, exploratory bouldering is in it’s infancy so we’re still waiting on that steady stream…

Anyway, enough moaning, lets go climbing:

I’ll start close to town, heading through the forest to Burnside Bouldering Wall. Dappled with sunlight beneath the birch trees on the edge of the Burnside plantation, this clean wee wall is the Aviemore local’s secret training crag. The endless there-and-back traverse is great for endurance training, with just good enough rests at each end, and now that Mark and Gregor have cleaned the top there are a few good (and rather tricky) up problems too. When you’re done here, and if you don’t mind a walk, a kilometre or so further up the hill is the Waterfall Boulder. It might not be perfect for an out-of-the-car post-work session, but the location and views across the strath make up for the walk. This odd block is perched over a small burn, providing a couple of lip traverses, a few easier ups and some eliminate hardness, just don’t fall in!

A rough video of the Burnside Traverse.

While you’re sitting there, supping from your flask with adrenaline-shaking hands, you can’t help but look across to the granite corries of the Cairngorms and wonder about the bouldering potential there. You’ll be sad to know that, bizarrely, given the amount of bare rock, there isn’t that much bouldering. Unless you fancy a long trek into the Loch Avon Basin with your pad (which is to be recommended, I hear) your best bet is to head to the Link Road Boulder above the ski road. I had dismissed this as a bit of a silly stone until recently - the problems are all granite slopey weirdness that seem to take me ages to fathom - but with my new ‘local = worthwhile’ hat on I’ve had a couple of really good sunny evenings up there recently. Although the problems are limited, it’s definitely worth a visit.

The other accessible Cairngorm spot is Cranberry Rocks, up in Coire na Ciste, but if I’m being honest, I didn’t think any of the problems were worth the almost universally dodgy landings last time I went up there. I should probably go back with that hat on and prove myself wrong.

Continuing off the beaten track, have you ever heard of the Laggan boulders, or Inshriach, or Creag a’ Mhuilinn, or Pityoulish? Well, they’re all out there, waiting to be re-discovered and re-climbed and eventually, maybe, to be written up and published and expanded on. I grant you, the strength of Strathspey isn’t necessarily that it has the very best climbing nearby, it’s that is has a big variety within easy striking distance, and with enough active climbers doing their bit it could and should be recognised for that.

OK, enough spray. Now it’s time to get back in the car and head North up the A9 to the genuinely classy bouldering near Inverness. I’m no authority on the Inverness scene, but have spent a bit of time bouldering up there and can reel off a list of venues and problems that are as good as anywhere I've bouldered in Scotland (in good conditions!). Ruthven, Cummingston, Brin and Scatwell, to name a few. Over the past few years the likes of Richie Betts and the strong youths of Mike Lee and Ben Litster have started to put the Inverness area on the map for Scottish bouldering, so there's a fair bit to go at.

Forever failing on Masonic Finger Shake on Cummingston sandstone.

In my final (thrilling) installment of 'Strathspey Climber' I'll talk about all the other stuff you need to know about as a climber in these parts: walls, weather, coffee, beer, gear, etc.

Strathspey Climber Part 2: Ropes

2010-08-05T15:57:00.007+01:00

Mr Winter goes all-rounder: Guy Robertson working Ubuntu at The Camel on a dreich summer's eve.

I may have mentioned this before, but the weather has been a bit pish recently. Consequently, I’ve been doing almost all my climbing close to home in Aviemore. Normally I would spend most of my time driving out to the West Coast, and although West is still best I’ve started to see my local crags in a new light. As such, I want to share my new found enthusiasm. So, first things first, lets stroll down to the Mountain Café for a coffee, then set off on an exploration of the local rock.

The Strathspey climber can split the local crags into a few categories. Obviously, we’ve got the Cairngorms - the big daddy show-offs like the Shelterstone and Hell’s Lum and the more accessible Northern Corries. Then down in the strath we’ve got the schist outcrops. After that come the not-as-local but still accessible crags up in Strath Nairn and round Inverness.

The Gorms
I won’t talk much about the Gorms; the acres of flawless granite are no secret and I’m by no means an expert. The fact that a whole large SMC guidebook is dedicated to them is proof that there’s a lifetime of climbing up there. But I will mention two things I’ve learnt:
1. Despite providing the backdrop to Aviemore life and just because they’re nearby doesn’t mean you climb there much. This year there’s been so much snow and so much rain that there have only been a handful of really good dry days this summer. I’ve only done 4 Cairngorm routes so far. However, last year was much better, so I guess it’s swings and roundabouts.
2. The Northern Corries are overlooked in summer. Despite being Scotland’s most popular winter crags, hardly anyone climbs there in the summer. This is possibly because there are very few well known routes, and the cleanest are all pretty easy, but a look in the guide shows that there are actually loads of things to go at, and the crags get sunshine late into the evening. And they’re only a 45 minute walk from the car, so perfect for post-work pleasure.

The Strath
In a perfect world we’d always be able to climb on pink Cairngorm granite, but cruel reality means we have to look elsewhere for our fun. This is where the schist crags come in. In their own right I guess most of these crags are minor venues with only local appeal, but I’m starting to realise that if you live near to them you might as well use and come to appreciate them.

So, lets start in the South at Creag Dubh, the jewel in the crown. Scotland’s premier roadside crag with over a hundred routes between Severe and E7, etc etc. It does have a reputation for scariness, but there are loads of routes and not all of them are death on a stick. The style is generally steep and positive (not my finest style) and I’ve been a bit soft and not done much there. Time to man up.

Starting up Cunnulinctus at Creag Dubh (Photo: Steve Crawford)

Moving North we next get to Kingussie Crag. I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about Kingussie either, having only been there once. From what I hear, it is worth visiting, especially for the lower grades and is South-facing and open so less of a midge-fest than other spots. In fact, as I write this I’m wandering why I haven’t been more! North again we get to Farrletter, the one people always want to bolt or just top-rope. It's a funny old place but I am quite fond of it. Yes, it’s pretty bold, yes, it’s pretty hard, but I would argue that if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen. I’ve done (or fallen off) 5 routes there, some of which were safe as houses, and I can personally vouch for the integrity of at least 3 of the old pegs. Saying all this, if someone did bolt it it would be a fun, if rapidly exhausted, local sport venue. Finally, Huntly’s Cave. Another ‘nationally’ known crag, steep, positive and safe. It can stay dry in light rain, but equally can get super-midgy, and it’s not huge so you do run out of routes do fairly fast. As an example I went there last night to try a route I'd not done. It was drizzly, warm and very midgy and I ended up bailing from an HVS. Not a fine hour...

Then we've got the other ones – Burnside, The Badan, etc.. If you thought Farrletter was esoteric then you aint seen nothin’. Scattered about the Strath are loads of wee faces and chunks waiting for you and your wire brush, but whether the attention they get will justify the effort is a different story.

Beyond
One of Aviemore's strengths is it's location. Lots of places are easy to get to, if you're happy to put the miles in. In terms of climbing that is still local (less than an hours drive away) we have The Camel for long, steep, perma-dry pebble pulling on crazy conglomerate, and only 5 minutes from the car. An amazing stamina training crag, which is growing in popularity, and deservedly so. In fact, it's been the saviour of this wet summer so far. Then there's Duntelchaig. From what I hear it’s quite popular but I’ve only been once to climb the classic E3 Dracula. Must do better. Then a personal favourite, Tynrich Slabs for two-teired gneiss slabby goodness near The Camel. It’s quite small so there aren’t many routes, but the ones I’ve done have all been great and the rock is superb. Definitely should be more popular than it is. Finally there's Moy, The Camel’s friendlier cousin, with a few more routes and more in the 6s. Superb, long conglomerate pitches and only 5 minutes from the road.

Steve Crawford getting his feet into Puffball on the lower tier at Tynrich.

Well, I think that sums up the trad and sport climbing close to hand, so next time I'll get involved with the world-famous Strathspey bouldering. Prepare to be inspired...

Strathspey Climber: Part 1

2010-08-02T21:51:00.004+01:00

Man alive, it’s been wet. I can’t remember a day when it hasn’t rained up here in Aviemore in the last month. So much for fleeing from the West Coast monsoons of Fort William to live in the dry Central Highlands. I got back from Pabbay in mid June, all psyched and keen for miles of mountain rock and sea-side cragging and have been shut down by rain at almost every attempt. I’ve always known that to be a climber in the Highlands you have to endure a substantial amount of crap weather, and if you can it makes the good times all the better, but honestly, it’s beginning to get a bit boring. I know Blair has bailed from the Highlands to North Wales for the rest of the summer.

I think it’s fair to say that North Wales is the Promised Land for most British climbers. It’s where everyone seems to live, or at least, it’s where everyone seems to spend a lot of time, and for good reason. Almost all the variety of styles of British climbing, including many of the very best, are accessible within a tiny area, so even if the weather’s crap there’s almost always something to do. Consequently there are loads of climbers around so it’s easy to find keen beans to get out with, and lets face it, that’s half the battle – finding folk to share the adventures. I think another reason it’s so popular is that despite being fairly tucked away and quiet, it’s not that far from big cities and modern amenities – you don’t have to be an all-out balls-out yokel to get on there.

So, I got thinking about the places in Britain where climbers seem to live and about living here in Aviemore and thought I’d write my musings down in a series of blogs. Maybe the Strathspey tourist board will hire me to promote the area for climbing bums.

Generally, when I tell non-climbers I live here they assume it’s a great place to live as a rock climber - with the Cairngorm mountains right here there must be no-end of rock to play on. But the truth is not so simple. As the highest continuous lump of ground in Britain The ‘Gorms are out of condition for most of the year – either they’re caked in snow or they’re hiding in a rain cloud, so we have to look elsewhere for rock. And while the high tops are capped with beautiful pink granite, down in the Strath we have to settle for schist, (I’m not being rude), and this schist seems pretty reluctant to bare itself.

Naked schist: Creag Dubh's Great Wall (Pic: Steve Crawford)

So, over the next wee while I’m going to spray a bit about my experiences of living here and the climbing we’ve got at our fingertips. Stay tuned...

Flip-Sides

2010-07-25T21:02:00.003+01:00

Isn't climbing brilliant? So many disciplines, so many challenges, so much to keep going back for. And in time, if you stick with it and try hard you might start to improve. But, of course, just when things are looking upwards and you start to get complacent you get a thorough kicking to remind you that the rock is still the boss.

Such was Saturday’s expedition to Covesea, an under-used sandstone crag on the Moray coast. Granted, I’ve not been able to do much trad climbing recently, and with it’s combination of seaside smeg, less than optimal rock and the odd sandbag grade I’m happy to take the beating like a man.

Richie on Banana Republic. 'One of the best routes here', which says a lot.

Then, on the flip-side I had a good evening at the Camel last night with Team Strong from Inverness. I made a quick redpoint of Inverarnie Schwarzeneggar, the F7a at the left of the crag, while Richie, Murdo and Andy ran laps on most of the other routes . Not a bad week for Andy, who made the first ascent of a new E7 at Glenmarksie Crag in Strathconon on Sunday (pic here) and did both Death is a Gift (F7c+) and Ubuntu (F8a) last night. He's done both these Camel routes loads before but this was the first time he'd done both in a session. Beast.

A Light in the Dark

2010-07-19T18:03:00.007+01:00

A glimmer of light has flickered in the darkness of this wet July.

The wetness has continued and the only dry climbing I’ve found has been either up at the Camel or on the new Inverness centre of gnarl, the Bettsmaker.

The Bettsmaker (Photo: Richie Betts)

After getting psyched for the pump-fest of Paralysis by Analysis at the Camel two weekends back I’ve been back up a few times. One quick trip after work with Dunc in a rainstorm, one with Richie under a curtain of drips. On both trips I was agonizingly close to the top, either fumbling the last clip or not catching the winner flake and flailing for nothing. Then on Saturday I went up with Jones for a quick try before hitting the bright lights of Inverness. Armed with all the lessons from my previous tries I eventually found myself at the anchor, so pumped I could barely hold the rope to clip the lower-off but grinning like a madman. Perseverance pays off once again.

Counting down to failure on an earlier try on Paralysis by Analysis at The Camel

Sunday was even drier so the trad rack was dusted off and I headed north to meet Richie and find Invrness’ crag of the moment: Scatwell River Slabs. This impressive schist slab hangs above a swirling silt-dark pool in the river Conon, south facing and compact. It’s an unusual place to climb, in a way more reminiscent of sea-cliff climbing than a Highland outcrop as the routes require abseil access and the water gently laps away below as you teeter upwards. The only problem is that dirt and leaves collect on the slab and build up into a layer of slimy filth, under which it has languished for years. Then, up steps Ray Wilby with a wire brush and a whole lot of keenness and hey presto, there are some clean lines and even a new route to go on. We climbed The Tilting Yard (why are slabby corners so awkward?), The Joust (possibly the best route here?) and Ray’s new addition The Lance, then headed over to finish off on the Scatwell Boulder.

The Tilting Yard, Scatwell River Slabs (Photo: Ian Taylor)

There we have it, some dry rock, some trad climbing and a ticked project, not too bad for a July weekend in the Highlands.

Are you local?

2010-07-08T22:05:00.006+01:00

Are you local?

The longest day has been and gone; the summer keeps ticking on. As is the norm in the Highlands the warm dry early summer months have finally given way to unsettled showery ming. You've got to concentrate to keep getting stuff done in these conditions otherwise before you know it the crags will be seeping and the lycra will be out for the impending running season.

A mix of meteorological conditions has meant that all my climbing has been local to Aviemore lately. The snow-melt and dry few months finally brought the Cairngorms into condition so I've had one or two pokes up there, mostly already chronicled here. But contrastingly the last few weeks have been quite a lot wetter, putting the mountains out of favour,and not making sense to head too far away. So I've had to make the most of what I have nearby. Time to bring on the projects.

On the route front I'm psyched for Paralysis by Analysis up at the Camel. 30 metres of sustained overhanging face climbing and weighing in at F7a+, this route truly inspires. I'm dangerously close to the tick, having lobbed from the final bolt twice now. I later discovered the local beta is to do the last hard moves before the clip but I'm not sure I'm brave enough for that so think I'll use an extender to clip from better holds. Stoked!

On the boulder front I've been up to Ruthven a few more times. Having done The Dude I was keen for Barry Manilow as the next mission but it's pretty eliminate and a bit beta intensive so I plumped for The Razor's Edge round the corner. In classic project style the first few sessions felt absolutely desperate and I felt like I was embarking on a long-haul adventure but somehow, and much sooner that expected, it all clicked and it was duly dispatched. Obviously I need a harder project, so what next?

To the hills...

2010-06-30T21:57:00.009+01:00

After the amazing week out on the islands it feels like I've not been up to much lately, Work seems to have kicked off and I've been working some horribly long days, driving all over the place doing upland bird and habitat surveys. It's nice work and my hill-fitness is benefiting but I'm not too keen on work getting in the way of real life.

So, when not sweating up hills in search of our feathered friends I've had a few sessions up on the mighty Ruthven Boulder. I managed to climb The Dude, the twin to The Big Lebowski and although both get given the same grade it's defniately easier than it's sibling. Last time up I had a fight with The Razor's Edge and lost a large amount of skin to no avail. Hopefully soon I'll be back for another wrestle and maybe the tick.

On the other end of the scale I had a big day on Saturday on the Shelterstone with Chad. We warmed up on The Pin, although 'warm up' might not be the right term in it's current dirty state. Then we linked the first 3 pitches Steeple into the first pitch of The Spire into the last few pf The Needle. The original plan had been to climb The Spire but a combination of being very dehydrated after foolishly leaving all our water at the top of the crag, approaching drizzle, and the general hardness of the fist Spire pitch sent us scuttling up the Crack for Thin Fingers and the Needle Crack instead. By the time we emerged onto the plateau in the evening light the dehydration was in full effect. Tesco's blackcurrant and apple squash never tasted so good.

Chad starting up The Pin.

Chad on the first pitch of The Spire on our Shelterstone link-up.

I've found over the years that with the people I regularly climb with I'm often the stronger member of pair, and although this has some benefits it also means that I rarely get to follow harder pitches and to find out what to expect from them. It was good to finally climb with Chad because he's been climbing since I was a wee nipper and is fairly handy (he'll love reading this). Following that hard pitch on The Spire was pretty eye opening, and if I wasn't already, I'm pysched for the day when I can lead E4 in the mountains.

FiveTen Rubber + Granite = Joy

2010-06-22T15:16:00.008+01:00

Pre-crux on Perestroika on the Glasnost Slab, Hell's Lum.

Finally! At long last enough snow has melted to allow the first Cairngorm route of the year. Jones and I took our kit for a walk last Sunday afternoon, in the hope that something might be do-able and came back succesful. Most of the crags are clear but there's still a fair bit of the horrible white stuff left at the bottoms of routes; Mess of Pottage still needs a bit of time before convenience evening cragging starts and most of Hell's Lum still needs a wee while.

It just goes to show how much snow we had this year because by this time last year I'd already had about 10 days up there. The amount of snow on Firestone on the lower slab is as high as it was when I first went over there in early May last year, and by this time it was clean and fall-off-able. Madness.

Anyhoo, the Glasnost Slab on Hells' Lum is in a weird-enough location to be snow-free below and seepage-free above so the balancy-friction account was opened with the esoteric Perestroika, direct up the beautiful red slab. After all the positive steepness of Pabbay and Mingulay it felt great to re-aquaint myself with the amazing marriage of Five-Ten rubber and Cairngorm granite, and the two didn't let me down. I'm back over there again tomorrow in search of classic ticks on the Shelterstone. Excited!

THAT view again.

Smile

2010-06-14T21:16:00.014+01:00

The beggining...

It’s coming back again and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It just keeps happening: a great big grin is creasing it’s way across my face. It’s the strangest thing, but ever since I left Aviemore last Friday and started the long journey westwards I’ve been breaking into impromptu fits of smiling and general merriment.

Exactly when the first one arrived I don’t recall. It might have been as the ferry set off from Oban, or perhaps it was as we put in to Castlebay on Barra under a perfect cloudless Hebridean sky. I’m sure by the time we met Donald the boatman the next morning I was already in the grip of the affliction and grinning relentlessly, and as we shuttled loads up to the campsite on Pabbay I knew I was done for. From then on, the whole week was a shambles of laughter and fun.

Rob and Helena 'balooning around' (his quote) on the juggy Sea An-enema in The Bay, Pabbay.

Topping out on Corncrakes for Breakfast on that first sunny evening as the seals sang across the waves and the lactic acid in my arms started to dissipate: that was a definite moment I recall it happening; climbing with Rob on the Banded Wall too. Then there was the day Alex, Rich and I were swallowed by the Grey Wall Recess twice and still came out laughing.

George having Corncrakes for Breakfast

The sensory overload of big sea-cliffs definitely seems to bring out the worst of this condition. The longer and more free-hanging the abseil; the more my mouth dries and hands tremble; the hotter the belay device at the bottom of the rope. The noisier and smellier the fulmars and razorbills and guillemots and shags; the closer the sea laps below and the bonxies swoop above; the bigger the yawning abyss below our feet and the steeper the ancient gneiss above: the bigger the smile at the end of it all.

Rich starting Sula on Dun Mingulay

The Puffin Burrow Hex

The harsh realities of island life: Espresso in bed and a terrible view.

Then on to Mingulay and it just got worse. A giant basking shark seen from the top of one of the most impressive cliffs in the country: Dun Mingulay. Outrageously big holds on an outrageously big cliff: Sula; a route I’d dreamed of for a long time. Even when ranks of nesting guillemots scuppered some of our plans, escaping up a VDiff above rough green seas and leaping white horses fed the fever.

Iain treading carefully on Road to Ixtlan, Mingulay

And it wasn’t just me, we all seemed to be suffering. The look on Blair’s face after conquering Ship of Fools, Rob extolling Fulmar Squaw's virtues, Sam wooping and hollering on the way down to The Boulevard and on the way back up Lost Souls. In the end, as we watched the locals descend into drunkenness in the traditional Saturday night knees-up in the Castlebay Bar we all seemed to be sharing the same condition: browned, sun-baked and wind-swept, greasy-haired and bloody knuckled, and grinning from ear to ear.

Until next time...

The Investment

2010-05-27T11:23:00.004+01:00

Iain Small on Pitch 1 of Cosmopoliton (E5 6a,6b). The top pitch has yet to be onsighted, and when I left Blair was making ready for the attempt, How did he do?

After all last weeks grumbling and groaning about not getting any better at climbing I had a pleasant reminder that all's not totally crap yesterday.

On the way East from a few days working in Ardnamurchan I popped into Glen Nevis to see if I could catch a quick route with Blair and Iain. They were embroiled in E5 missions and I didn't have much time to play with, so instead I slipped off to the Heather Hat for a quiet boulder.

Longer followers of Soft Rock might cast their minds back to the Autumn and Winter of 2007-2008, when I used to live in Fort William and I got a bit obsessed with a boulder problem on the Heather Hat called Midnight in a Perfect World. I spent hours up on that lump of Nevis schist, trying, failing, resting, trying again. And when I finally finished it off on that February afternoon I promptly got obsessed with it's nextdoor neighbour, a problem called Killer Instinct. This eventually succombed to my similarly stubborn efforts. At the time they were both really hard for me, and when I first took up the Midnight challenge it was definately to be a long term project.

I've been back to this boulder a few times in the intervening years, and despite a few tries have never been able to repeat either problem again: they seemed to belong to that winter season in Fort William when all my efforts were focused on that perfect stone. Of all the routes and boulder problems I've tried before and since in my seven years as a climber, the hundreds of thousands of holds and moves, these ones still have the deepest stamp on my memory.

So, back to last night and there I was again; swinging from the roof beneath the ancient peaks of the Mamores, silently watching my every move; expectant. And before long I was back there, back to that season, that success-hungry hunt.

Except, this time it was different. Were the holds bigger or the problems shorter? Had the heel-toe jam become more secure? Maybe my new shoes allowed more precision? But, no, of course not. All that's happened is my investment has started to pay off and I am, perhaps, getting a bit better.

The bouldering wall on Sanna beach, Ardnamurchan, perfect post-work fun.

No Cigar

2010-05-18T16:42:00.008+01:00

After rain intervened with our plans Blair took Richie and I to Dave's Cave near Arisaig. It's hard.

I'm in a bit of a quandry.

After the small gains I made to my sport climbing and bouldering over the winter I've got it into my head that I should be able to up my trad game too. The problem is that I had forgotten that trad climbing is a much more complex beast; the gains don't come in such a linear fashion. It's not just a case of being able to hold on longer or pull down harder, you've got to be prepared to do it in a situation where the consequences are bigger. Training the mind is taking longer than training the fingers.

Over the last few weeks a theme seems to have formed; after warming up on an easier route I've got on something a bit harder and invariably been shut down. I've taken two sizeable lobs from the top of Too Farr for the Bear, the E4 crack at Farrletter, and downclimbed or backed off a succession of other E3s around the Highlands. What's going on?

Fighting on Too Farr for the Bear, prior to the big ride.

In my defence, all the routes I've gloriously failed on have been pretty steep, and either super sustained, bold, or with fiddly gear, so perhaps I'm just trying the wrong routes? As we all know, I'm a slab pervert at heart, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised that all this steepness is doing me in. But what am I to do? Should I keep on trying routes in the hope that one day something will click and I'll start sailing up E3s, leaving behind a trail of blown onsights, or should I keep consolidating at E2 until I think I've improved enough? Oh, it's just so hard being me!

Racing the pump on the brilliant The Executioner, Seal Song area, Reiff. (Photo: Steve Crawford)

The Waterfall Boulder, Aviemore's new venue

2010-05-10T16:31:00.005+01:00

Fourtet and Walking on the Waterfall Boulder

It's a sad time for climbers in Aviemore. The powers of commerce have forced Extreme Dream, our local wall, to close it's doors. Obviously, this is a real shame for the many people that have invested time and money in the business and have turned the wall into a top quality training venue, but it's also a shame for us climbers who've become so used to having somewhere to hang out and train. Hopefully since it's May, there'll be plenty of dry rock for us to get on over the summer so we won't need to miss it, but as I'm typing it's snowing outside, so I wouldn't hold my breath.

However, when the sun does come out again, we'll all be in search of some real rock, so prepare to be amazed with the details of Aviemore's new boulder:

The Waterfall Boulder

The Dream is Over

OK, OK. So it's not a new Fontainbleau, in fact, it's not a new Ruthven, so don't get too excited, but it's a worthwhile addition to the local venues (and let's face it, we need them). It's not huge, and there are only a couple of good problems, but it's a bloody nice place to hang about on a sunny evening. I'd reccomend taking a brush to continue the ongoing cleaning, and a pad lessens the potential for landing in the stream.

The easiest description of where it is is about 750m straight up the hill from Burnside Crag, near the waterfall on the forest edge, but the best approach is through the forest from the Higher Burnside housing estate. The boulder is obviously seen squatting over the burn in a small valley, on the far side of a green deer fence. GR: NH877 129ish

Problems:

1. Fourtet and Walking Font 6c: A left to right traverse of the lip on the downhill face, starting from sitting and finishing up the arete. (See video below for the beta).
2. The Dream is Over Font 6a: A right to left traverse of the uphill facing lip.

There's scope for variations and eliminates on these problems, plus a couple of easier things to do too. So, have fun.

Fourtet and Walking (unedited)

Ashes to Ashes

2010-04-27T16:08:00.008+01:00

Well, Steve and I tried, but who are we to argue if mighty Mother Earth decides to put a stop to our plans? That's right, a week of sun-drenched sport climbing in El Chorro was called off due to the minor tectonic incident over in Iceland. Ho hum. The idea of the trip had been to get plenty of mileage early in the season for trad climbing fitness, but since this wasn't an option we decided to just be unfit and go trad climbing anyway.

So, with 5 days and a good forecast, where should be go? Of course, North Wales. So, we packed all manner of ropes, racks, shoes, pads and spare pants into the car and headed south.

Day 1: The Pass

Our heroes struck dumb by the amount of rock in Llanberris Pass

All proper North Wales climbing trips begin in Pete's Eats cafe in Llanberris, so after arriving at 2am and a few hours broken sleep in the car we breakfasted on grease and pint-mugs of tea while perusing our shiny new guidebooks. Then it was up Llanberris Pass to Dinas Mot and a combination of The Cracks and Lorraine (mainly Lorraine, but I got a bit lost on the first pitch). We both blamed sleep deprivation and polished rock for our low confidence start, but deep down I feared that maybe I've been getting too used to soft Scottish grades. Back at the car we hunted the guide for somewhere friendly and ego-massaging for the afternoon but didn't seem to find anywhere suitable so went to Craig Ddu instead. In much the same way as it's Scottish cousin (Creagh Dubh) this crag looks pretty gnarly, and no-doubt is in places, but provided us with a couple of really good, unlikely looking routes in Yellow Groove and Sea Panther. Confidence started to creep back...

Day 2: Gogarth

Almost 5 years ago I came for my first (and last?) trip to North Wales and came to Gogarth. The whole place was utterly terrifying - huge loose looking cliffs dissapearing into a stormy sea, abseils, commitment, hard climbing. Scary. I attempted to second Ali Banwell up The Strand on The Upper Teir and got well and truly schooled. I didn't have anything like the levels of fitness, technique and confidence needed to climb it, let alone lead it, and I've always held it in my head as a personal benchmark. If I can lead The Strand at least I'm not doing too badly.

Well, 5 years on I slayed the demons and climbed it. For the full tick Steve lead the second 'pitch' through the hanging gardens of Gogarth. Hooray.

I'll gloss over what happened next, but suffice to say that we abseiled in to Wen Zawn to climb A Dream of White Horses but I ruined it by climbing miles past the belay on pitch 1, leading to an easy escape back up the slab. Next time...

Day 3: Tremadog

Steve styling P1 of The Fang

One of the many reasons that there are so many good trad climbers in North Wales is that the abundance of crags they have lends them to getting committed. In Scotland we have lots of big, committing routes, but they are almost all remote and hard to get to, so I'm not particularly well practiced at being brave and commiting to things a few pitches off the deck. In Wales there are roadside multipitch crags all over the place, so you can be sitting at your desk at work one hour and then fully committed, jibbering above a dodgy belay 3 pitches off the deck the next. Tremadog is one of these crags.

Fortunately all our belays were sound and there was minimal jibbering, but we did climb three super classic routes in the form of Scratch, Scratch Arete and The Fang.

Day 4: LPT

Helena redpointing Kaffe Fasset at LPT

Rain inland meant coffee in V12 followed by a raid to the coast to sunny sport climbing at Lower Pen Trwyn on The Great Orme. There's a fair few routes to go at here, and there were a fair few folk trying them too. Not a million miles from onsighting a 7a with an odd name about pinkies and ticked the classic 6b(and a bit) Kaffe Fasset. If it's sport routes you're after though I would have to say give me a quiet day at Goat Crag or Am Fasgadh anytime...

Day 5: Froggatt

Grit friction on Great Slab

Punctuating the long drive back to Aviemore was a good idea, so we headed to Chris' in Matlock on Sunday night and spent Monday morning scorching up the classics. Joes Direct Start, Great Slab, Sunset Slab, Strpiombante, Tody's Wall and Three Pebble Slab all got the treatment. Tetttering up Great Slab reminded me how much I love this type of climbing and brings my thoughts racing back home to blank Cairngorm granite. When will the snow melt?

So, not El Chorro, but still a stonking wee trip.

Steve cought red handed on that bit of Tody's Wall at Froggatt.

A.L.E.

2010-04-15T10:40:00.003+01:00

They say the first step is admitting it, so here goes. I'm an addict. There, I said it. An addict. My body has become physically dependent. I need. I crave. I demand. And I get my fix. A heady cocktail of chemicals flows through my veins on a regular basis. A.L.E.

Adrenaline. Lactic acid. Endorphines.

Spring in the Highlands. The sun shines, the birds sing, the snow melts, and the rock-jocks get their fix. After a winter of sport climbing and bouldering, the trad season has finally arrived, and with it a whole heap of excitement and expectation. What to do? Where to go? Ambitions? Projects? We'll see. While it's still 'early season' (a classic climbers excuse for not trying hard), I want to get lots of mileage so I can start to flex my muscles and hone my head for bigger, scarier things in the summer (big sea cliffs on Pabbay and Mingulay in June, and hopefully some big granite slabs in the hills when the snow starts to melt).

With all this in mind I'm pleased with the way things have gone so far. Dave's Dilemma at Logie Head seems to have a reputation as a hard E1, so it was a good first extreme of the year, but it was truly trumped by Still Waters at Ardmair (E1 5c and then some). Then Tat's brilliant Someone Else's Dream at Loch Tollaidh was the seasons first E2, and hopefully the first of many. If you're looking for a soft E1 do Kermit Direct on Fraggle Rock at Loch Tollaidh, it's a gift. After-work cragging started this week with my first visit to Tynrich Slabs, near the Ruthven Boulder. It's a bit of a backwater and fairly limited, but the Hard Severe Scorpion and E2 Blewitt were more than worth the drive. And then last night it was the first Huntly's Cave raid of the season and I managed Lime-Ade, the E2 that starts up Lime Street before escaping up the arete, though I think 'escaping' might be a bit strong.

El Chorro next week. I know where I'll get my next A.L.E. fix...

The News

2010-04-07T13:38:00.007+01:00

Welcome to the news. These are the headlines in the world of Softrock.

Striking While the Iron is Hot: Early season trad kicks off in the Highlands. Creag Dubh, Logie Head and Ardmair succumb, a bit.

Creag Dubh's Great Wall
(Photo: Steve Crawford)

Steve on Cullenary Delight at Logie. (Photo: Steve Crawford)

Bird Bothering Continues: A new contract for yours truly sees me up at dawn once again in search of sex-hungry grouse.

Road To Domestos: Our intrepid correspondent gets a thorough going-over by this bizarrely named boulder problem at Scatwell.

Richie's small flapper. He's so strong he snaps rocks with his fingers, but they get their own back.

(Photo: Steve Crawford)

The Home Front: A new house in Aviemore for myself and Jones. How will she cope with my smelly climbing shoes?

(Photo: Steve Crawford)

Stac Pollaidh Conquered: A quick run up the castellated Coigach peak is the perfect tonic for bloodied post-Ardmair-climb limbs.

(Photo: Sarah Jones)

Ticking Over

2010-03-23T16:14:00.005Z

After teetering up the slab it's time to get my pump on on Flux Control (F6c) at Moy Rock

Photo: Duncan Swarbrick

Despite a fairly damp weekend and not venturing far from home I managed to keep the winter/spring rock momentum up.

Since moving to Aviemore in November '08 I've had sporadic attempts on The Big Lebowski, a super-classic boulder problem on the mighty Ruthven boulder. It's a pretty sustained outing and I've never had the juice in the tank to stick with it all the way. However, it seems that this winter of concentrating on the rock is starting to pay dividends as I eventually finished it off on Friday evening.

Saturday saw my first visit to the mystical birchwood of Brin Rock, but heavy showers and a sore shoulder conspired to ruin the morning. Only by slithering up a rather soggy Spank the Ramp was the trip salvaged. It seems like a pretty nice wee venue so expect to see a few more mentions on these hallowed pages.

And then it was Sunday. I joined Brian 'The Bri' Fishpool and Duncan Swarbrick on a rare trip away from Extreme Dream to the sport routes at Moy Rock. As I've only just discovered this place it was really good to get another session up there, to tick a couple more routes and to get a good pump on. I'm off to El Chorro in just less than a month and am keen to get lots done before and during the trip, in the hope that when the inevitable (?) Spring high pressure hits the Highlands I'll be fit and ready for trad warfare.

The Headmaster's Lesson

2010-03-15T11:06:00.008Z

Bouldering on The Ship in Torridon last weekend. Here's me dancing with my shadow while trying the first move of The Mission for the 400th time. Photo: Richie Betts

Murdo doing battle with Malcolm's Arete

Back in the mists of time my old headmaster, Mr Kirkup, would often end his rousing motivational assemblies with the mantra “remember, it’s cool to be keen”. You had to respect his hopeful attempts to get us to knuckle down and work hard, but the truth remained that being a geek wasn’t going to get the cool kids to like you. No matter how many times you solved for x in Maths or Sylvia Plath poems you dissected in English or one-drop end-point titrations you achieved in Chemistry, if you didn’t wear the right clothes or have the right hair style or listen to the right music the immovable tide of peer pressure would label you uncool. No questions asked.

Nowadays things are a bit different and Mr Kirkup has been proven right. It really is cool to be keen. In the world I inhabit, keenness means you’ll train more, run faster, pull harder. You’ll be willing to get out of bed at 2 in the morning to be first on the route or to bag a second route that day. You’ll want to raise your game and try to overcome harder, longer, bigger hurdles. You’ll be willing to gamble.

With the headmaster’s advice echoing round my head Richie and I drove from the sunshine of Inverness into the dark maelstrom of the West yesterday morning. The further we went, the darker the sky became and inevitably the windscreen wipers morphed from an intermittent twitch into a hypnotic blur. The drive west with a bad forecast is a true test of the keen and the faithful, and many times our dedication was tried. Passing through Garve, we prayed for a wormhole to open and allow access to a sun drenched coast, but no, the mist swirled and the rain poured. Turning left at Braemore Junction, surely we had shown enough tenacity to be granted some blue sky, but no, more rain. Then finally, on reaching Gruinard Bay the Guardians of the North West took pity and made the rain stop long enough to walk to the crag in the dry. And what did we find?

Only that our respective projects were almost the only dry lines at the crag; our dedication had paid off. In obeisance we set to work, me on Warm Up, Richie on Black Sox; traversing to warm cold fingers then dogging up to put the clips in. Then, the moment of truth, the moment when all the thinking and preparing and training gets put aside and you have to show yourself for what you really are. Do you really have what it takes to climb this? Are you just kidding yourself? Now we’ll all see.

Richie on Black Sox (F7c+) a few weeks prior to his recent success. Photo: Ian Taylor

A previous attempt on Warm Up (F7b). Photo: Ian Taylor

And yes, we both came home successful. Thanks Mr Kirkup.

Richie is a happy bunny.

Dispatches

2010-03-06T14:05:00.007Z

Thin balancy Birdman at Cummingston

It's 7.41 in the morning as I write this, and I've just got back into bed. Yes, you read that correctly. A criminally early start to go climbing in Torridon backfired with pouring rain and warm temps in the car park, so we turned tail and bailed out. What else is there to do than slip back under the covers? What will my re-shaped weekend bring?

Will it be like last week?

It's ironic that in the midst of the longest, coldest, iciest winter for years I'm more motivated for rock climbing than winter climbing, but I know when I'm onto a good thing. Night time temperatures dipped to -18.5 early last week, followed by two foot of fresh powder dumping on Aviemore. All it means is more avalanches for the poodles to set off and more days off from capercaillie surveying. Will it never cease?

Saturday morning dawned, I filled my flask, donned my thermals and down jacket and went off in search of sunny rock with Al and Richie. Cummingston, a.k.a. Cummy, a.k.a. Cummingdale, depending on which officionado you're talking to, was the venue, and with a brisk north-easterly from Norway whipping onshore, temps were perfect for sandstone sloper action. I've bouldered here on my own a few times but have always struggled to work out where the problems start and end, but with Richie 'the knowledge' Betts on hand the dispatching knew no bounds (almost).

Bringing out the cranking shirt on Little Bhudda

Approximately 24 hours after Saturday morning it was Sunday morning, and once more I was charging up the A9, this time for a day of congomerate pebble pulling. First up we trudged through the snow to the amazing sport routes at Moy Rock. This crag has so much to reccomend it: only 15 minutes drive from Inverness, south facing, long Euro-style pitches, and a good spread of grades. The more I climb up here the more I discover the brilliant diversity of the climbing and having only recently discovered Am Fasgadh and Moy I feel like I've had my eyes opened to the year-round rock route potential. I've got no excuses for being unfit anymore.

In the afternoon we explored the Firth-side Kessock Boulders, contrasting the morning's steady stamina routes with steep power problems. Who says you can't rock climb in Scotland in winter?

Kessock bridge boulders

The North West Tapestry

2010-02-24T10:46:00.015Z

Steve decends Cadh' an Amadain, The Fools Pass, starting the long way back to the car.

Beinn Dearg near Ullapool was the stage for Steve and I to act out our little adventure on Saturday. Walking in to a crag you've never been to before is always exciting, which is probably why the fairly long approach felt quick and easy (I'll take a bike next time). The relatively rarely formed Ice Hose contrasted a couple of icy pitches to start with a couple of mixed pitches for seconds. Easy snow then led to the top of West Buttress, where we both sat, partially blinded by the bright midday sun, drinking it all in. The view from the summit cairn was unlike any I've seen before. All the north spread out below, from the undulations of Assynt and the snowy Summer Isles in the west, to Ben Loyal and Ben Hope on the north coast and all the way east to the North Sea: from the Fannaichs to Fisherfield to the Flow Country, all clad in brilliant white.

Steve on the brilliant 30m icefall starting Ice Hose

Steve starts pitch 3, the start of the mixed ridge.

The view north west: down Gleann na Sguaib to Loch Broom and the Summer Isles.

Enjoying sunshine on the top with the Fainnaichs beyond

Another team start Ice Hose below the moon.

Sunday began with a false start; almost asleep at the wheel on the way to Applecross, snoozing in a layby, then after peering into Coire na Poite through binoculars deciding to cut our losses and go sport climbing. Exchanging steel tools for steely fingers we met Ian, Tess, Andy and Rich for sociable sunshine at Am Fasgadh and Goat Crag. We narrowly missed running out of petrol due to the lax West Coast filling station hours but Rich saved the day with an emergency jerry can. Lesson learned for future Sunday trips to the north west. Despite the ambient air temperature being only a few degrees above freezing, the sun trap of Am Fasgadh provided real unseasonal heat, even allowing tops-off-for-power redpoint attempts. I got to within a few moves of the chain on my first go on The Warm Up, which turned out to be my best shot. Positive progress and a genuine surprise, so something must be going right in my not-so-rigorous training regime. Watch this space....

Richie and Ian have pics on their Flickr websites, useful sources for north west rock motivation, as if I need it.

Hot Rock at Am Fasgadh:

Andy cruises The Warm Up for the umpteenth time, although he did tell me he projected it for two years before success.

Steve on the classic long corner of Teepee, up the hill at Goat Crag.

Infatuated

2010-02-15T09:10:00.008Z

Warming up for The Warm Up (F7b) at Am Fasgadh.

I've been bitten by the bug. Once again I'm in deep, to the end: a muerte, as the Spanish say. It's funny how patterns form in life. It sounds incredibly crass comparing love and life to climbing rocks, but when you spend equal amounts of time obsessing about both it starts to make sense. Miss Sarah Jones is back from the other side of the world and back in my life and I'm a very happy bunny indeed, also, I've found a climbing project and I'm super-dooper excited about the roller-coaster journey ahead. A flame has been re-kindled and I'm as psyched up as I've ever been.

So, those rocks. In an attempt to become a proper Highland climber I'm trying to infiltrate the ranks of the northerners, to learn their tricks and climb their routes. That trip to Rhue with Rich a few weeks back has made me want a bit of their remote and beautiful pie. The problem is that they're all much fitter, stronger and braver than me. So, how can I become like them?

After extensive research and undercover surveillance I think I've discovered the source of their power, the place that they come to train and pay homage to small holds and steep rock. It's called Am Fasgadh, or The Refuge as us Sassenachs might have it. A short, sharp, savage sweep of overhanging gneiss; south facing and dry in all but the worst rain. With grades from F7a+ to F7c+ this isn't a place for begginers. Static crimp-master and Am Fasgadh devotee Andy Wilby gave me the tour-de-crag last weekend and I came home inspired. Knowing that most of the locals have ticked almost the whole crag I suddenly realised why they're all so bloody good. I've got work to do. I got on the classic initiation route called The Warm Up, and though it's graded F7b this isn't an ironic name, it really is the easiest worthwhile route here. I didn't do it, but I could do all the moves almost first go and know that it's not too far off.

Now, a week later I find myself thinking about it; those moves and holds, where to clip from, where to try to shake out. I had a day off and went back in the week, bolt-to-bolting as the Atlantic fell on Wester Ross, and that's when I think it happened. I got that electric feeling in my belly. It's on. Since then I've been thinking about it before I fall asleep and as I trudge through the woods at work. Working through the moves as I go about my day. I have an obsession. Once again, I've fallen.

*********************

Winter Continues

Steev and I about to play on the Ben

Steev starting Compression Crack

Perfect steep blue ice on Compression Crack

After a sickeningly early start Murdo and I were the first on Creagh Meagaigh this Saturday, climbing Smith's Gully then nipping up Last Post. Here's Murdo high on the latter.

The end of a great day.

A New Approach

2010-01-20T15:23:00.005Z

Soloing at Rhue.

This would be a three-star classic in the Peak, but here it's just another lump of rock. I like that.

On the sub-optimal wintry weekends of yesteryear I'm pretty sure I would have been out and about, trying to find something to do in the hills: freezing, getting lost, getting wet, climbing part of a mediocre route, only to get home and rave about having a good traditional day. Deep down though, I knew that for such a vast expenditure of effort, not much had been achieved and after several weekends like this in a row I would generally lose my motivation for winter climbing and start waiting for spring. As I touched on in the previous thrilling installment of Soft Rock, I've decided to take a different approach this year. Winter climbing is no longer at the top of my agenda; having good, productive days out is now number one. So, if winter conditions are primo and the weather is looking good, I'm all for getting out, but if I think I'll get a bigger pay-off by concentrating my efforts elsewhere, that's what I'll do. It means I'll climb fewer winter routes than normal, but hopefully it'll mean that I'll be motivated to try harder when I do.

With this is mind, a quick blast at Cummingston on Saturday followed by a boulderers alpine start on Sunday (8.00am) got me up to Inverness to meet Richie Betts. From there we hit the road to Ullapool and the Torridonian sandstone of Rhue. Richie has got to be one of the most active Inverness climbers, famed for traipsing around Scottish bogs with mats, tarpauline and wellies, in the hungry search for likely boulders. By his own admission he's not into winter climbing, so instead of joining the queues in the corries, he's always out exploring the quiet rocky corners of the North West. Besides being super keen also he's quite handy, so a useful guy to know. By happy coincidence we met the local team of Ian Taylor and Tess Fryer at the crag and a productive day of failing, sending, gossiping and coffee-drinking ensued. Better than sitting in a blizzard any day....

Tess on The Forge (Font 6b+)

Richie's pics are here. Ian's are here.

The Return

2010-01-11T10:31:00.013Z

A return to the Aonach Eagach ridge

Sit down and make yourself comfortable, I want to tell you a tale.

In 1871, in the town of Whitburn near Sunderland, Lewis Carrol sat down, took up his pen and ink and wrote a poem. Combining old-english sounding nonsense words with ancient mythology he weaved a web of adventure most bizarre, and called it Jabberwocky.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

Fast-forward 83 years to May of 1954, and we find a group of pioneering climbers exploring the cliffs of Gearr Aonach, high above The Lost Valley in Glen Coe. Over three days they climb three new routes and, evidently inspired by Carrol's wordplay, call them The Wabe, Mome Rath Route and Outgrabe Route. Before long the cliff they are on becomes known as the Mome Rath Face, and as the years pass more adventurous souls play out their own journeys across it and continue with the poem theme, with routes like Jabberwock, Slithy, Brillig and Gyre. Initial exploration was limited to the summer, climbing the sunny mountain rhyolite, but then on the 16th of February in the cold winter of 1969 two teams opened the crag as a winter venue. On one rope, Hamish MacInnes, Ian Clough and J. Hardie, on the other Allen Fyffe and J. McArtney. Freeze thaw cycles had sent fat cascades of ice dribbling down the lines of The Wabe and Mome Rath Route and the teams climbed these respectively, creating two of the all-time classic ice lines in the Glen. From then on the Mome Rath Face has been a venue for all seasons, often with the winter routes following the older summer lines.

These days it's rare that the crag comes into the winter condition of days gone by. Its south-easterly aspect catches any sun going and its relatively low altitude (650m) conspire to melt any snow and ice before it become signigicant. However, in the midst of 'The Big Freeze' that we're currently enjoying, Blair and I decided to go and see how things were shaping up. Tools were sharpened and screws wre packed in expectation of plump cascades and icy tendrils. Leaving the car the night-dark of Glen Coe slowly gave way to the first shapes of dawn in The Lost Valley and as the sun made it's way into the morning sky we spied the crag for the first time. Alas and alack! The ice we were hoping for was no-where to be seen! Obviously it takes some incredible conditions for these routes to form - there wasn't even a hint of ice climbing potential.

Not to be put off, we kept on to the foot of the crag to see what we could find and there was definately some mixed climbing to be had. In the end we decided on the summer Severe called Slithy, taking a system of grooves, cracks and shallow chimneys on snowy rock and perfectly frozen turf. A first winter ascent, we assumed, and fitting that the next generation of the Fyffe family is pioneering winter routes on the same crag as his Dad. We followed the summer line throughout, climbing four pitches with a pokey crux first pitch followed by some fairly sustained turf bashing on the second. The last two pitches were easier but still good climbing on an obvious line and Blair reckoned on a grade of about VI 7, and with his experience, who am I to argue?

Blair starts pitch 1 of Slithy

Blair following pitch 2

After being denied ice on the Thursday we decided to hunt for it again on Friday, reaching the foot of Blue Ribband on the South flank of the Aonach Eagach just as the sun was rising behind Buachaille Etive Beag and the moon was sinking behind Bidean Nam Bian. Three superb pitches of steep ice and lots of soloing later we found our selves on the pinnacles section of the ridge in the bright early afternoon sun. The last time I was on the ridge I was involved in a rescue after a chap took a big fall from the pinnacles, so it was with some trepidation that I followed along begind Blair. Before long though, we were on the way back down to the car with my demons exorcised.

The moon sinking behind Bidean

Blair starting Blue Ribband

Recently I've been feeling less and less inspired by winter climbing: the thought of going to the same old crags in the same old crappy conditions; racing the hordes of muppets and maniacs that seem to come out at winter; grovelling in powder. Compared to rock climbing it seems so graceless and, dare-I-say-it, pointlessly miserable. However, the last few days of geat weather and this long cold spell have reminded me why I used to love it. Exploration, the bluest sky above the whitest snow, getting away from other climbers to new places and quiet back-waters, and the views, views that no words could do justice to. So, while this good weather stays, I'm back in the game.

Me starting pitch 2.

The Shire

2010-01-03T16:06:00.007Z

Luke's silhouette about to unleash on One-Eyed Traverse

A trip home to Somerset would never be complete without a few attempts to go bouldering on the lost and forgotten esoterica of Somerset. I normally try a few different crags before remembering that they're all pretty crap for one reason or another: Croscombe and Bourton Combe are dank, dark and green; at this time of year Cheddar is freezing and gloomy; the Toll Road Crags are limited, inaccessable at high tide and the one decent problem there is sopping wet unless there's a drought. After a few hopeful visits optimism gives way to frustration and I either give up and go home to mum's amazing cooking, use most of a tank of petrol and all my skin to go to Dartmoor or go to the wall in Bristol. However, this time round I think I've cracked it.

The answer: Brean Down.
"Where?" I hear you cry.

The sun-drenched Brean Down crags.

It's so obvious. Brean Down. A south facing beach-side crag, home to a selection of 1980s 'adventure' trad routes, a handful of quasi-classic sport routes and now Somerset's premier winter bouldering. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I have to say, even I'm fairly impressed with the wee cove I just found. From now on, whenever I'm visiting the folks, this is where I'll be headed for an afternoon of pulling down.

I tried this problem all day long and still didn't finish it. Next time...

Seasonal Soft Rock

2009-12-15T13:26:00.010Z

Dave on 2 x 30 (F8c) at El Pati

Back home in Aviemore, back to work, back to the cold. After a week in Siurana under blue skies and perfect climbing temperatures it’s a bit of a shock to be thrust into the frost and the dark.

Our wee trip was no-where near long enough, but it was definitely enough to get me psyched to get in on this Euro-sport climbing thing. A leisurely start, a brew, read a book, stroll to the crag, climb, belay, rest, chat, climb, stroll back, have a brew, make some dinner, sit about, chat, play some chess, sleep. Repeat.

Shoes: Check. Harness: Check. Rope: Check. Banana: Check. OK, ready to roll.

Siurana itself is a tiny hilltop village, surrounded on almost all sides by limestone cliffs looming out of a sprawling pine forest. It’s the perfect playground: a mixture of adrenaline-pumping psyche and awe-inspiring beauty. There’s just so much rock, with over 30 separate crags within walking distance of the village, and with grades spreading from F4 to F9a+. On first arrival and the first flick through the topo you can’t help but be bewildered. Luckily for me though, most of the folk I was with had been here before and cherry-picked the best crags and routes to try.

Siurana village

I won’t witter on too much about routes and grades, but for me the tip was a success. I somehow managed to flash a F7a (Ramena Nena at Espero Primavera) and managed the goal I’d set myself of redpointing a F7a+ (the brilliant Cromagnon Climbing at Can l’ Isobelle). Mind you, these pale into insignificance when surrounded by the other folk on the trip. Among the highlights were Euan flashing a F7c and redpointing an F8a+, Blair onsighting at least one F7b everyday, Dave ticking an F8b+ and Jenny taking her first airmiles. Other things that impressed me were Tweedley’s ability to climb everyday with tips held together by a cocktail of superglue, tape and dried blood, Donald’s ability to spout utter nonsense for a full 45 metre pitch, culminating with cries of “that’s the jigger” as he clips the lower-off, and Dave’s remarkably accurate impression of a pheasant trying to cross the A82.

Tweedley gets to grips with a F7c

________

So, I imagine that rounds off the Soft Rock adventures of 2009 (unless something exciting happens next weekend). It’s not all about numbers, but at the start of the year if someone had told me that I was going to onsight E3, headpoint E7, flash F7a, redpoint F7a+, onsight VI and come 9th in the OMM Elite Class, I’d be a very happy bunny, so I guess I should be. All these personal successes have come with their own ups and downs, stresses and strains, and all have formed and shaped the rich tapestry of the past twelve months. Here’s hoping all our explorations and adventures continue to grow in 2010.

Merry Xmas y’all.

The sun sets on another perfect day

Siurana Sunshine

2009-12-09T19:34:00.007Z

It´s wednesday night, the end of a rest day and the night before I get on my wee project in the cool morning sunshine.

So far it´s been a really good trip and this tiny blog post can do absolutely no justice to the quality of the climbing and the beauty of the place. Suffice it to say, I´ll be back.

Donald cuts loose on the start of the brilliant Cromagnon Climbing (7a+)

Somehow flashing Ramena Nena (7a)

Jenny bears down while Blair looks chic at Corral Nou

Tweedley needs a rest!

Go to Dave´s blog for more words and pics of bigger and harder things...

Winter in Aviemore

2009-12-02T12:29:00.012Z

A new day

Opening the account: Alex on Route Major

Evening entertainment: Steve thinking way outside the box

Back to work

Eerie ice on the first aid box in Scneachda

Joe's go

My happy place

On Bolts

2009-11-26T12:23:00.013Z

Like most British climbers, I’m a jack of all trades. As the seasons and weather dictate I enjoy my share of rock, snow and ice. Whether it’s a big icy runnel in the mountains or a five-move boulder problem in the glens, I’m a happy camper. However, there’s a problem. I’ve come to realise that there’s a glaring omission in my climbing C.V: sport climbing. You see, I’ve not really done much. I feel that in all the other climbing disciplines I’ve worked hard and progressed and am finally beginning to reach a level that I’m fairly proud of: not so with sport climbing.

To my mind, sport climbing and bouldering are the keys to being a good all round climber. There’s no doubt that being strong on bolts translates to being strong above wires, cams, hammered hexes and tied off screws, and although it might not directly teach you how to deal with the fear that trad and winter provide, knowing that you can hang around, find rests, and do hard moves again and again can only be a huge confidence boost.
So, in my sad quest to be a better climber, why haven’t I done much? I’ve had a think and come up with two reasons. Firstly, the classic excuse: I live in Britain, and there’s not much high quality sport climbing here. To focus in a bit more, I live in the Highlands, and there’s even less of it (although what we do have is generally very good).

Secondly, the real excuse: it’s hard! Let’s be honest, in trad and winter climbing you don’t actually need to be that good a climber to climb at a reasonable standard. In these disciplines there are so many other factors involved besides the physical act of climbing – finding and placing protection, route-finding, dealing with fear, a long approach, bad weather and conditions on the route. Managing all these factors make up such a big part of the day that the actual climbing doesn’t have to be that hard in order to feel pretty involving. In sport climbing there’s none of this, there’s a line of bolted rock between you and the top and all that exists is the physical movement. Being able to keep a cool head miles above your last runner is no help here: you need to be a good climber. And that’s the problem.

Preparing to headpoint Firestone: Evidently, it's not that hard, you just need to be brave (or daft). Photo: Dave MacLeod.

Chris after Number Three Gully Buttress on the Ben. It wasn't the climbing that did this to him, it was the fear, the blizzard and the long approach.

However, I’ve got a chance to try to change. I’m off to Siurana in North East Spain for a week in early December; an escape from the not-yet-winter, and a chance to try hard on the steep stuff, so let’s see what happens….

My first (and last) sport climbing holiday, in Sardinia in 2005. I'd only been climbing for a year so hopefully I'll be a bit better this time.

The Recipe

2009-11-16T09:21:00.004Z

November bouldering requirements: Flask, hat, wellies, dachsteins (for feet)

Ingredients:

2 x Five Ten Anazazi Verde rock shoes
1 x Full chalk bag
1 x bouldering pad
1 x old toothbrush
1 x bar towel
1 x down jacket
1 x wooly hat
2 x Dachstein gloves
2 x Wellington boots
1 x flask of coffee, large
selection of cereal bars, chocolate, fruit, nuts.
1 x big dose of motivation for ‘pulling down’

Plus a selection of either:
good skin or lots of finger-tape,
good technique or an excess of strength (preferably both)
good circulation or thermal clothing

An excess of skin may be handy

Recipe:
Wait for a cool, sunny day in November. Pack all the ingredients into your shiny new car and take them to the Ruthven boulder. Once there, deploy the 2 x Wellington boots for the treacherous approach. At the boulder use a suitable combination of the ingredients to warm up (1 x wooly hat recommended, and possibly exchange the 2 x Wellington boots for the 2 x Five Ten Anazazi Verde rock shoes). When fully warm and stretched unleash the 1 x big dose of motivation for ‘pulling down’ on a boulder problem of your choice (chef’s recommendation: The Big Lebowski). While working on your chosen problem it is important to have regular breaks. At these points 1 x down jacket, 2 x Dachstein gloves, 1 x flask of coffee, large, and the selection of cereal bars, chocolate, fruit, nuts may be used liberally. Once the top has been reached or the 1 x big dose of motivation for ‘pulling down’ has been depleted, pack up and go home, smiling all the way.

Putting in another shift on The Big Lebowski, Ruthven

The Ice was all around

2009-11-05T13:42:00.006Z

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men or beasts we ken –
The ice was all between,

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!

From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

The view to come. Photo: Viv Scott

With the changing of the clocks something stirs in the Highlands. There’s a discernable feeling of the new season approaching; a switching of the gears in readiness for the long dark months ahead. Headlights illumine the daily commute. A torch comes to hand when walking the dog. Jackets and hats and gloves start to make their way onto the hooks in the hallway. The coal bucket fills and empties, the embers glow in the stove.

Then the murmuring begins. Starting low but slowly, slowly gathering and lifting, building to a clamoring gaggle: the expectant buzz. Training and boulders, hilltops and hot-aches, tall tales from times past, big ideas about times to come. Plans.

Where will you be this winter?

Downtime

2009-10-28T08:39:00.001Z

It’s funny how things go. You anticipate and expect so much. You plan, you stress, you strain, you sweat and you train, and then, just like that, it’s over. Like a climbing project, you always inflate it in your head until it feels like a massive challenge, but when you actually do it, it doesn’t feel like such a big deal.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been worried about competing in the OMM this year, but it seems like a healthy dose of fear was needed to kick my arse into gear. Somehow, and I’m still not really sure how, Duncan and I came 9th overall in the Elite Class. Given that we were initially thinking that simply completing the race would be worthy of celebration we’re pretty pleased.

So, what was it like? Well, let’s put it this way, I won’t be volunteering as an ambassador for the Elan Valley tourist board. The place is one big bog, covered in a thin veneer of bog, surrounded by a load of bog with bog in the bits between the bogs. Shoe-sucking, knee-deep, peat-black bog. Okay, I’m probably overdoing it. In fact, it’s not all bog, because there are the hundreds of square miles of tussocky grass, waiting for an unsuspecting ankle to snap or groin to strain too. To my botanical mind the grass is called Molinea caerulea, or Purple Moor-Grass, but I’ve also heard it called Bastard Grass, Babies Heads and Policeman’s Helmets, due to the way it forms distinct and large tussocks and is bloody hard work to get through. The worst part is when the gap between the tussocks is bog. However, besides all this, the rolling nature of the hills and their relatively minor stature means that much of the ground is fairly quick to get around and there are no huge crippling ascents.

As seems to be becoming our hallmark, Duncan and I never really flew between the controls but managed to keep a steady pace and to keep on top of our navigation and route choices (mostly). We’ve done enough races together now to know the score: what kit to use (borrow other peoples expensive and very light gear), what to eat (smash, cheese, peperrami, and our top secret ‘Power Breakfast’) and what to carry (I get all the heavy stuff). I definitely had a couple of ‘sugar lows’ when I started to feel empty, but managed to fuel my way out of the slumps with Jelly Babies and energy gels, following on behind Duncan who seemed pretty indomitable the whole time. Bastard.

Now, at last, I can relax and revel in the one short time of the year when I don’t feel the urge to be out getting things done. It’s generally too cold, dark or wet for rock climbing, but it’s not cold enough for winter climbing and there’s no longer any need to be out running; the OMM has been and gone. Instead, let’s light the fire, put on the kettle and settle in with a good book…..

The End Is Nigh

2009-10-19T10:13:00.012+01:00

Autumn in Gruinard Bay

Time keeps slipping by and the big weekend of the OMM is now just a matter of days away. My training seems to have worked out pretty well, and I surprised myself by managing to come in in 17th place in the Pentland Skyline race, taking 2hrs56. Later in the week I managed to knock a minute off my Loch an Eilein round, making my time now 18.56 for the 5km trip (being dragged around by freakily fit Stevie Hammond did wonders here). Race partner Duncan came up from Edinburgh for the weekend and we managed one last run in the hills before a week of serious rest. Now it's time to make the final tweaks and arrangements - what to run in, what to carry, what to eat, how to stay hydrated, how much vaseline Duncan's going to put on his balls. All the big questions.

Partners in crime: Harry and Stevie Hammond living the dream

Iain Small on an onsight attempt on a recent E5 6c addition to Goat Crag

I've recently found that when one aspect of either my running or climbing is going well, the rest starts to suffer, and I've definately noticed my indoor climbing has gone all to cock now that my running seems to be going OK. Hoping that this wouldn't be the case on the real stuff I made use of a high pressure system hovering over Scotland, took a day off work and hit the road northwards to get some late-season rock routes done. Now, for those that know the North West Highlands you'll know that come sunshine or showers, this place is heart-stoppingly beautiful. What I hadn't expected was how much more spectauclar it is at this time of year: the kaliedoscope of autumn leaves, frosty white glens, golden hillsides, cloud inversions and clear blue skies, and with acres of rock to play on it could just be paradise. On day one Stevie and I joined Blair and Iain at Goat Crag in Gruinard Bay, where Stevie and I got a resounding spanking on the bolts while Blair and Iain showed us how to climb properly. On day two Duncan and I went to Stone Valley Crags south of Gairloch and had a great day on perfect gneiss trad. I managed to come away feeling pleased to not fall off Bold as Brass (despite my very best efforts), reassured that there's still some fight left in me.

I suspect that these will be the last rock routes of 2009 (unless winter stays at bay and we all do a big sun dance), and looking back over the summer, I feel fairly pleased with the way my climbing has gone. Here's hoping that I'll be able to look back at the race this weekend in the same way.

Blair cruising Freak Show (E5 6a) at Goat Crag with the Fisherfield Forest beyond.

I just felt like....

2009-10-09T10:25:00.005+01:00

I've been struggling to come up with an entertaining way to write about training for the OMM, but to no avail. So, I won't, I'll just give the facts. This is meant as a personal record, so I apologise for any boredom inflicted on the reader (if you exist).

Since Duncan and I decided to enter the elite class I've been fouling my little lycra leggings. We're gonna be rocking with the big boys so I thought that I should at least try to train properly. From my experience, success in mountain marathons is based on three things: route-choice/navigation, tactics (when to push, when to slow, what kit to use) and hill fitness. The first two of these come from race experience, practice and a logical approach. The latter comes from lots of hard work, and it's this that I'm concentrating on. Fortunately I've got an OK base-level of fitness to start from so I've simply been stepping up my running (frequency, distance and speed). Working a 9-5 week, I've attempted to split training into longer hill runs on weekends and shorter runs in evenings, balanced with regular bouldering and climbing sessions on nights off and one or two rest days. The plan is to keep increasing the workload until a few weeks before the race, when I'll start to taper it down and rest.

My longer runs have been:

Glen More - Loch Avon - Beinn Meadhion - Bynack Mor - Glen More: 27km, a bit over 4hrs
Glen More - Ryvoan Bothy - Strath Nethy - Coire Raibert - Cairn Lochan - Coire Cas - Glen More: 24km, 4hrs.
Sugar Bowl car park - Larigh Ghru - Derry Lodge - Coire Etchecan - Loch Avon - Coire Cas - Sugar Bowl: 37km, 4hrs45.
Loch an Eilein - Glen Einich - Sgoran Dubh Mor - Allt a Mharcaidh - Loch Gamhna - Loch an Eilein: 21km, 2hrs40.
Forest Lodge - Meall a Buachaille - Forest Lodge: 13km, 1hr30.

Shorter week-night runs have generally been around Aviemore, up Craigellachie, round Loch Morlich or Loch an Eilein, the Challamain Gap or Burnside circuits. I've also started adding faster runs to the mix, either doing intervals of hill sprints on Burnside (sprint uphill 30 secs, walk back downhill for 45 secs, repeat to the top of the hill) or fast rounds of Loch an Eilein (5 km, P.B: 19mins51). So far, so good.

The next step is doing the Pentland Skyline Race just outside Edinburgh this weekend, then I'll try to speed up round Loch an Eilein in the week, then a small run on the weekend, followed by a week of pasta, resting and quaking in my boots.

Optimism

2009-09-23T09:07:00.011+01:00

Mid-September gloom on the West coast

Four pitches up and the inevitable happens. We’ve been watching the surrounding glens and hills smudge in and out of view through the greying rain all day but somehow our own little mountain paradise has remained under a spotlight of sun; romping up the rough schist of Creag Ghlas’ Salamander, holding out for a sliver of luck to keep the soaking away until after the climb.

Only two pitches left, we huddle into the belay, shivering and shuffling like ledge-bound guillemots in an Atlantic storm: the onslaught arrives. Water drips off my helmet and down my nose as another squall races down the glen at us, a slavering pack of hunting dogs come to ruin our fun. “As soon the rain stops this wind’ll dry the rock” I tell Steve, feigning confidence. “Aye, we’ll sit it out a while and see what happens” he replies.

Two minutes later, considerably colder and wetter and with no likely respite, we’ve made up our minds and start our descent. Belay devices wring a steady trickle of water from the ropes as we begin the abseils; stiff frozen fingers fumble with prussik loops and screw-gates. Touching down on rope stretch we pack our sodden gear and slide down the hill, to the bikes, to the car, home and to the warm fire. All the while the waves of showers keep breaking.

Tails between our legs, we spend the evening drying gear around the wood-burner and arguing the toss over tomorrow’s plans. The smart money points eastwards to a day in the Cairngorms, but emboldened by blind optimism we decide to drive into the storm again and see if we can punch through to a sunny West coast. Time will tell.

Leaving a near cloudless dawn in Aviemore, we drive north and west into the gathering dark. Passing through Achnasheen the windscreen wipers twitch and by Kinlochewe are in full flow; it looks like our gamble has failed. Beinn Eighe and Liathach have lost their heads to the swirling clouds and conversation falters to a dejected silence. Then, rounding a spur, out over the sea to Diabaig and Skye beyond we spy a blur of blue and gold on the horizon. Sun! Keep driving!

And we drive on.

A little blue speck beneath The Pillar at Diabaig. I'd wanted to climb this route for years and had said that if I could do this, The Bug and The Needle this summer, anything else would be a bonus. Onsighting E3 and headpointing E5 and E7 feel like pretty big bonuses.

Post-Pillar pleasure

Steve in similar post-Pillar shock and awe

Steve on the first pitch of Foil on the Main Wall at Diabaig

Light and Dark

2009-09-14T13:29:00.011+01:00

Liathach and Ben Eighe from Sgurr a' Mhuilin, Strathconnon

In the same way that Aristotle said that "one swallow does not a Spring make", I'm sure that one high pressure system does not an Indian Summer make. Indian or not, however, this weekend's weather was good enough for me to throw off the oppressive shackles of race training and to go climbing in the sunshine. Yippee. Little did I know it but I was in for two very contrasting days.

Saturday dawned sunny and still as Alex and I hit the road north to Gairloch in search of a day's sport climbing on shiny bolts. Our destination was Grass Crag - a short wall of perfect vertical gneiss, sporting routes from F5 to F7a in a beautiful, friendly spot. In total we ticked 11 routes, included a 6c onsight (my P.B.) and a 7a redpoint, laughed, drank beer and revelled in the jeopardy-free experience that bolted rock affords. By the end of the day were so tired we both fell off a 6a+ before retiring to the wonderful Bridge Cottage Cafe in Poolewe.

Alex ready for another route at Grass Crag

Climb responsibly: wear a helmet.

When I woke up on Sunday and peeked through the curtains it was obvious that a different kind of day was in store. Low cloud shrouded the hills of Strathspey and a fine drizzle fell, saturating everything. I'd agreed to join Kev Shields to act as moral support/belay bunny on his quest to headpoint his first E7. Kev's inspiring story of climbing with only one hand has been written about by many so I won't dwell on the story, but suffice it to say that having moved to Fort William in the summer and climbing his first E5 and E6 in consecutive weeks, his lifeime goal of E7 isn't far away. He'd hoped to get on Firestone at Hell's Lum, but the weather had other ideas, so instead we headed up to Creag Ghlas in Strathconnon fo a look at another of Julian Lines' psycho-slabs, The Unknown Soldier. Paul Diffly from Hotaches Productions was with us too, filming Kev for an upcoming DVD.

Kev working The Unknown Soldier

It turned out that a combination of friction-sapping sunshine, a two-hand specific move on the crux and the trifling matter of a potential groundfall from 15 metres eventually put paid to Kev's attempts and we all walked back to the car in one peice. But, for a short time it was evident that Kev was building up to the lead, entering the dark headspace that dangerous climbing demands, and each slip or mistake on the top-rope seemed to be magnified into the bone snapping reality that it could spell. In the end, Kev realised that now wasn't the time to push the boat out, and sensibly came down unscathed.

Contemplation

I've got very little experience of this type of climbing, but I've done enough to know the feeling of inevitability, both horrible and thrilling, that Kev was going through. As soon as you get on the route and start to make progress you suddenly feel like you've entered into a pact, and you know that at some point, no-matter how distant, you have to climb it. The fact that it's a pact with yourself doesn't seem to matter, in fact, it seems to make it even more unbreakable, and the Damoclean sword just hangs over you until you end it, one way or another....

A Conservation Conversation

2009-09-10T08:39:00.007+01:00

Is this Sifaka worth protecting?

A conversation I had yesterday got me thinking about the nature of my work. Someone told me they thought that capercaillie (very rare birds that I’m involved in trying to conserve) were a mixed blessing. It took me a while to work out what they meant. Surely, the presence of one of Britain’s rarest and most charismatic birds anywhere is a good thing. We should be protecting them, shouldn’t we? Like me, the people I was talking to are outdoorsy types – runners and climbers - but to them the presence of capercaillie means restricted access to land, paranoid land-owners and, potentially, millions of pounds thrown away just trying to save a bird. It got me thinking about motives, and ultimately, about my personal view of the importance of nature conservation, and it struck me how it’s really a very personal issue.

As a professional tree-hugger I try to question the work I’m involved in and the motives behind it. I’ve thought long and hard about the hows, whys and wherefores and am still unsure of lots of the answers. Here are a few thoughts to mull over:

Why should humans bother protecting other species or habitats at all?

To what extent should humans intervene with nature in order to bring about our own goals, and by what ‘right’ do we intervene?

Is it acceptable to protect a species or habitat at the cost of human development?

If one rare and protected species survives by eating another rare, protected species, what are you supposed to do?

Are some species more worthy of protection than others?

In trying to answer these seemingly basic questions you very rapidly go from biology and ecology to much bigger issues of morality and philosophy, and people from different cultural backgrounds or points of view will give wildly differing answers. So, how do we decide who’s right, and how do we decide how to go about saving this planet that we’re single-handedly ruining?

Stormy times ahead

Slipping Away

2009-09-01T08:39:00.006+01:00

A Rowan Riot:

According to folklore, loads of berries in the autumn herald a harsh winter to come. Here's hoping.

It seems that August has come and gone just as fast as July did. The shortening of the days, the gaggles of uniformed kids waiting for the school bus, the stark red rowan berries, the first sign of condensing breath in the morning air; they all mean one thing: Autumn approaches. A time for showers and gales and piles of dead leaves; for coming in out of the wet and the cold and lighting the fire and drinking giant mugs of tea in your biggest, warmest wooly jumper; for feeling content with a summer well spent and the rising tide of excitement and expectation as winter’s first snows creep ever nearer.

For me, autumn means that the running season begins, as I try to ready myself for the Original Mountain Marathon in late October. Having done reasonably well in the A-class event in previous years, my regular running partner Duncan and I have decided to try the Elite class this year, which could prove a mistake. It seems to me that Elite running really is the preserve of proper hill-runners and orienteers, while I consider myself a lucky amateur who does a bit of running when climbing’s off the menu. Maybe if I take my training seriously this year we’ll at least finish the race.

On that note, where’s my lycra?

Shower dodgin' and bolt clippin': Strong Ewen cruising Inverarnie Schwarzeneggar (F7a) at The Camel

Guy Stephen (l) starting Inverarnie Schwarzeneggar and me on the amazing Stone of Destiny (F6c+).

(Photo: Blair Fyffe)

The Deep South

2009-08-15T18:51:00.008+01:00

Me wrestling with the joke protection on the popular Back Off at Fairy Cave Quarry

Normally, trips home to the West Country are all about seeing my folks, enjoying the local Butcombe Bitter in traditional hostelries, eating deep fried pork fat and catching up with neglected friendships. While a certain amount of this has been partaken of, this time round I've actually got some climbing done too. Perfection, non?

Bouldering on the mighty (i.e. humbling) Saddle Tor on Dartmoor acted as an effective exfoliant for any excess skin I happened to possess, and despite only fully completing one problem in a whole morning, I drove home from The Moor feeling like a better (more bloodied) person.

Now, these days I climb quite a lot, and while I'm no-where near as good as I should be for someone that obsesses so much about this absurd sport, it's quite nice that I'm occasionally reassured that I'm not as bad as I used to be. A few weeks back I was bouldering on the Heather Hat in Glen Nevis, and was able to make relatively light work of some of the problems I used to sweat over. Progress. Fortunately, the same thing happened t'other day at one of Somerset's more esoteric bouldering locations (and that's saying something about esoterica). When I first started climbing I used to look at the roof of the cave at Weston Super-Mare's Toll Road Crags and think how great it would be if I could climb through it. Well, after no small amount of sweat on Thursday afternoon I found myself pulling on the finishing holds with a large grin on my face. Maybe all this obsession is paying off after all....

Here's the proof:

The next day I took a trip down climbing memory lane with Luke, the fella I learnt to climb with. Happy to explore more wondrous esoterica, we went to Fairy Cave Quarry tucked away high in the Mendip Hills, and climbed some of the obscure slabby gems hidden among the fast-emerging buddleia, before retiring to the pub and drinking more of Butcombe's finest. It's been a hard few days.

Back to Hell

2009-08-07T09:13:00.006+01:00

It didn't take long.

I'd told myself that after doing Firestone I'd give the slabs a rest for a bit and climb some steeper rock. Bad weather and bruised feet kept me away from the hills for July, silencing the call of Cairngorm granite.

Time passed, my feet got better and the amount of sun started to eclipse the amount of rain. Then I heard from Jules, the undisputed king of Cairngorm slabs. "Yeah man, nice one on the Lower Slab. You should get yourself on some of those other routes on Hell's Lum, you'll love 'em".

A quick squizz in the guidebook reveals a few more of Jules' lines scattered around the slabby pillars and buttress' beneath Hell's Lum crag proper, so I head out for a recce.

Just being back in the cauldron of the Loch Avon Basin feels good. Strolling down Coire Domhain: the epic scene of rock, water and air. It's nice to be back. Standing beneath Firestone I trace the line and wonder what the hell possessed me to climb it. I gird my loins and solo Mars further left on the Lower Slab.

Back under the main crag I spy a route of Jules' called Devils Advocate. Perfect friction padding, and it even musters some protection. I'll return soon with a belayer.

To: Mark C

Yo, there's a route on hells lum i'm pretty psyched to try to onsight, would you be able to belay me one night this week? I'll owe you lots of drinks or belays or summat. Gaz

As ever, Mark's psyched so we meet up after work and crush the walk-in. Cool and dry, it's perfect for frictional endeavors. I'm feeling relaxed and ready, though I'm not sure why: this could end in another big ride.

Committing to the crux, nothing to do but climb.

On the crux, high enough to hurt, still a way before the gear arrives, it's time to convert brain function from hope to trust. Hands sweep the grey pink rock, hunting greedily for a weakness, a fingertip ripple for balance. Flashes of yellow crustose lichen dapple the way ahead, runway lanterns. Don't think, don't hope: know. There comes a point where I realise there's nothing for it, no other way, empty the mind and climb.

Later, higher, happier, I shake Mark's hand and we start to walk home, one route closer to knowing.

Mark finishing the crux; flashing the route on my gear.

A Matter of Style

2009-08-01T10:27:00.003+01:00

From the outside, the sport of rock climbing looks pretty straight forward: you find a bit of rock and make your way to the top. What could be simpler? Well, what the casual observer doesn’t know is that it’s far from simple. Once you get sucked into this small, incestuous world you begin to realise that climbing is actually a hotbed of infighting, one-upmanship and ego, and for one reason: style.

Climbing is all about style (and, alas, I don’t mean trendy branded jeans or luminous lycra). By style I mean the way in which a climb is executed. Climbers, being self-obsessed pedants (me included) are keen to try to be the best they can be, and this means climbing in good style. Any old loser can get to the top of something in poor style, but it takes a good climber to climb the hardest routes in good style.

Getting to the top without falling off, placing all the protection on the way up, without prior knowledge, is the Brad Pitt of climbing style. Anything else comes lower down the scale, including working out the protection, watching someone else climb the route, pre-rehearsing the moves or falling off and trying again. Some would argue if the route is at a level of difficulty that makes the Brad Pitt style impossible then you shouldn’t bother with it, that by climbing in a poorer style you’re just reducing the route down to your level – beating it into submission. For me, though, trying the occasional route that’s miles above my current level is a great way to improve my Brad Pitt style climbing, and so long as it’s a route that I won’t one-day want to climb in better style, and that I’m not damaging the route for future climbers, everyone’s a winner.

"Hey! Look! It's Brad Pitt. Oh, wait. It's not."

Over the last few weeks I’ve done all four of the above-mentioned cardinal sins on the same route; I’ve worked out protection, watched someone else climb it, pre-rehearsed the moves and fallen off and tried again. In the end though, after a few failed attempts I managed to lead The Art of Course Climbing (E5 6a/b) at Farletter Crag on Wednesday night, and it was bloody great fun. It’s a short, very gently overhanging schist crag, and being steep and fingery is not a style of climbing I’d profess to excel at, so it was all good training for something….

Mid-flow on The Art of Course Climbing

High Five!

I Know What You Did Last Month

2009-07-27T09:19:00.009+01:00

Where the hell did July go? At this rate I’m gonna to be up to my nose in mid-winter snow in the blink of an eye.

In the meantime, here’s a few snapshots of the people, places and things that July threw my way…

Murdo Jamieson on Death is a Gift (F8a?) at The Camel. I’d never been to this crag before and was very, very impressed by it's long pebble -pulling stamina pitches.

Blair Fyffe working the moves on a Glen Nevis deep water solo project before the send.

Mark Council making a headpoint ascent of The Art of Course Climbing (E5 6a) at Farletter. I finally took the plunge and visited Aviemore’s premier outdoor climbing gym last week. After linking The Art… on toprope I went for the lead and promptly lobbed off onto the twenty year old tied-off peg. It held. To be continued…

Another pleasing tick for the summer: me starting Ground Zero on Wave Buttress in Glen Nevis.

Blair contemplating and executing the onsight of The Singing Ringing Tree on Spreadeagle Buttress, Glen Nevis.

How have I lived in Scotland for seven years and never had a macaroni pie? As I soon found out, they’re a taste sensation, best enjoyed with a chilled can of Tenants after a good day’s climbing.

The Scene...

2009-07-13T15:57:00.008+01:00

Blair Fyffe deep water soloing in Glen Nevis

I had a brief flashback to the halcyon days of Fort William living this weekend. Tempted west with the promise of sun-kissed schist and beer, it was great to be back in the old fold.

Down the years I’ve heard many legends of the infamous Fort William doss-houses – hovels where skint climbers would cram themselves and their wet and smelly kit for the few hours of the week that they weren’t on the hill or out on the piss. Weird and wonderful stories about bronchial infections from damp buildings, starting fights with Mallaig fishermen, trying to bed local lasses and hiding behind the sofa when their mothers come round to beat them up, and, not infrequently, climbing hard.

Those days have sadly/gladly passed, and it’s now an era of relative health and respectability in the Fort, but the climbing hard continues. The mantle of ‘Crucible of Psyche’ remains at my old residence, 55 Banff Crescent, and despite Tony ‘the savior of Scottish winter climbing’ Stone having now moved out, Blair and newest recruit Kev Shields are keeping the cranking level high, not to mention Dave Macleod stationed in his new training facility just out of town and numerous other strong folk kicking about the hills.

Most of these climbers are very modest and won’t blow their trumpets, and I know climbing hard isn't the be all and end all, but I think it’s worth noting that there’s a fair amount of gnarl going down in the Highlands at the moment. Kev has soloed his first E5 and E6 and is now on the trail of his first E7 (pretty good for someone missing a hand!), Blair made the second ascent (?) of Trojan’s Pillar (E6) on Ben Nevis with Iain Small the day after doing The Clearances (E4) in Glen Coe with Guy Robertson, and among other things, Dave has climbed Profit of Purism (E6), Firestone (E7), and Chiaroscuro (E7), not to mention three new E8s and an E9. Johan headpointed Jahu (E6), and Tony onsight soloed The Steeple (E2) after climbing The Spire (E4) on The Shelterstone with Blair (an easy day because he was ‘weak’ after a month in Alaska). Amongst these routes I’m sure there are loads that I don’t know about, and I find it really heartening to know that even in the quieter areas of the UK climbing scene there’s still a lot going on. Big up Fort Bill!

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So, this weekend I managed to drag myself up the brilliant Fang on Cavalry Crack Buttress in Glen Nevis, before we all decided it was far too hot for any more serious climbing and retired to the leafy shade of the River Nevis. Here Blair showed us the local's secret crags, hanging above a beautiful deep sun-dappled pool. The climbing was superb but no-one fell in, so we had to go for a swim afterwards. Life's a bitch.

Here's a short video of Blair cleaning and climbing this fine arete:

Temperance

2009-07-07T09:30:00.013+01:00

The smackdown from fluffing my first lead on Firestone left me with a good limp and a fair amount of bruising on my feet. Even after a week of rest, ibuprofen, ice, arnica and deep heat they're quite sore (but definately improving, although a couple of bouldering sessions didn't help). Somewhat hopefully I made it to the Lakes and started the Saunders Lakeland Mountain Marathon on Saturday, but we decided to retire halfway through day 1. No event is worth causing further damage and an even longer lay-off. Sorry Chris!

Dave sent me a load of pics from last weekend's soiree at the Lower Slab. I hate to harp on about the route, but with a buggered foot I've not been up to much lately...

Here's a selection chronicling my ups and downs:

Attempt number 1: just before gravity got involved. (All photos: Dave Macleod)

Splat

The spoils of war - you lucky bastard!

Contemplating the inevitable

Attempt number 2: Back in the saddle

The security of the crescent flake

Thank fook for that

Firestone

2009-06-28T12:08:00.010+01:00

It’s a perfect summer Sunday morning. As I sit tapping at the keys I can see Harry the dog lazing in the sunny garden and hear the cries of swallows and swifts, filling the air with their optimistic cheer. The last of the early morning mist is rising to reveal the Cairngorm corries beneath a deep blue blanket, promising another scorching day. The gentlest hint of wind stirs the leaf-burdened birch. Fortified with strong coffee and ibuprofen I start to reflect on yesterday.

Banks of cloud lowered the temperature in Strathspey, making a cool day up on Firestone a fine prospect. This time I was joined by Dave Macleod, keen for a look after seeing it while working his mega-route To Hell and Back on Hell’s Lum in 2007. I felt pretty calm and optimistic after my first session on a top-rope on Thursday, and felt sure that it would feel easier in the cooler conditions. I decided to go to the crag with an open mind, if I felt good on a top-rope I’d go for the lead, but only if. Dave was keen for the onsight – a very hard task on such a delicate and tenuous route. I’ve known Dave a wee bit from living over in Fort William, bumping into him in Glen Nevis and running endless laps of the Ice Factor bouldering wall, but this was the first time I’d been climbing with him, so I was looking forward to learning a few tricks from the master. I suspected that I was going to be shown up pretty rapidly as he calmly waltzed up the route.

Dave getting psyched beneath the pink streak of blankness

The continuously dry weather ensured that the line was still seepage-free, so on arrival Dave chalked up, cleaned his shoes and stepped on. After some upping and downing he stepped back off for a think. I was quite impressed that even he was finding it tricky and hard to commit to. Maybe E7 slabs are quite hard after all? I put the rope on it and linked it first time. Gulp. The conditions were definitely better than Thursday, but those moves are still very committing where it rears up at the top. After more playing, chalking smears to highlight where to go in the maze of nothingness, I came down and Dave got on the rope. He had decided that headpointing was more sensible than onsighting – the slide from the top didn’t look tempting…..On the rope Dave made quick work of it, refining the top sequence a few times before coming down.

My turn again. I was faced with THE decision. I knew that I could do the route. I knew the moves and where to go. I knew that if I didn’t get on the lead today I’d only have to come back another day, and all the time between now and then it would be eating away at me, challenging me, questioning me. For some reason the name of The Smiths song How Soon is Now? came into my head. Was now too soon? This was only the second session on the route; I’d expected that this decision was weeks or months away. That slide, thirty feet from the last moves to the ground, okay, it’s not going to kill you, but it’s definitely broken ankle territory, and what if you clip a heel and spin, landing badly? I tried to take all the nagging doubts and push them away, focusing on the positive – I know I can climb it, I know I can climb it. I’ll do it.

Inside the bubble I stepped on, vaguely aware of Dave above taking photos, gently snaking up the rock, right foot rock-over, left foot rock over. Standing on the mid-way ‘holds’ I suddenly became aware of the bubble bursting and realizing what was happening, where I was and what I was doing. Trying to re-focus I noticed how much I was shaking, adrenaline surging. Taking it all in I started the crux sequence, a tenuous series of smears rising leftwards to the crescent flake. Three moves to go, rock over left and match the horizontal fault, shaking, two moves, feet on bad smears now the rock steepens, trust trust trust. Then I feel a foot going, I try try to stay in balance but deep down know the battle is lost. I managed to shout out “Fuck, I’m going” four times before gravity took over and I was gone. Sliding thirty feet, picking up speed, hurtling at the ground. Bang. Shit. The first thing I did was laugh, I was okay. Was I? Picking myself up I could hear Dave calling down, seeing if I was hurt. Wow, I genuinely was okay. Besides bruising my heels and the odd scratch I was fine. Lucky bastard! We both giggled as the dark air diffused. Oh well, next time, I thought.

After a few minutes of recuperation it was Dave’s turn to lead so I hobbled to the top and got on the rope to take photos. He knew he could do it, but seeing me take the ride from the top definitely put tension in the air. Naturally, he got the route first try, but not without some shaking at the top, reflecting that this was still no walk in the park. Nice one Dave, E7 headpoint and the first repeat of Firestone (?), which is pretty impressive since he onsighted Prophet of Purism, a famously hard and steep E6 in Glen Coe the day before. There’s no stopping him!

Mid-flow in the headpoint bubble

Dave on the last few hard moves before the crescent flake - the point I took the slide from

Relief: it's in the bag

Me again. I opted for another go on the top-rope to refine those top moves, and to see how my bruised feet would get on. With a slightly different foot sequence making the stretch to the crescent flake more in-balance I came down. Faced with the decision again, the thoughts began to swirl in my head once more. I really didn’t want to take that slide again, but I really wanted this route, and knew that whatever happened, I’d be doing it soon. If not now then maybe tomorrow or the next day or the next. I was here now, standing below it, with the moves fresh in my mind. Ding ding, round 2.

And this time it worked. Firestone, E7 6b, headpoint. Possibly the 3rd ascent. Slight hobble, big grin. Committing to those crux smears was still utterly terrifying, but this time I had enough mental strength in the tank to trust them and make the awkward stretch to the crescent flake, gently rocking over onto the easy slab above. Happy days.

So, big thanks to Dave for coming across and offering up the psyche, and to Jules for doing the first ascent 14 years ago. You’re a nutter!