Boom

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.

Crumble

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.

Echo

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

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!

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.

More Winter Sessions

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.

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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.

1000 Words

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.

Working at it

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)

Flip-Sides

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

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.

The Headmaster's Lesson

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

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

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

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.

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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.

Seasonal Soft Rock

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

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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

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...