The Perfect Day?

How do you know when it's the right time? Is there ever really a right time?  I guess if it ever was, it was now.
Deep breaths.  I try to pack some more chalk into the gouge in my fingertip, to hide it.  It's not there.  Helmet on. Eyes closed, I go through the sequence once more in my head.  When I open them I turn to take in the view, the deep green sea and the bay.  And then I feel it: rain. Surely not now.

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

Rewind a year and a half.  On a routine internet scouring session I stumbled across this photo on Neil Morrison's Flickr page:

The caption read: "a fine challenge for someone who likes blank slabs".  My ears pricked.

I emailed Neil to find out more and one rainy Friday a few weeks later I headed out to the beautiful coastal village of Diabaig nestling in it's sheltered bay, donned my boots and struck out.  Up on the hill above the peninsula's isthmus, beyond the honeypot Pillar and Main Wall, lie two amazingly contrasting and aptly named crags. Ugly Crag; steep, bulging, brutish.  Pretty Crag: slabby, smooth, short. Pretty Crag has a couple of VSs and an E1 on it, but an obvious gap in the middle where a hanging crack is guarded by a smooth wall of blank, pristine gneiss.

   

(Photo: Sarah Jones)

My love of slab climbing began with some of my first ever climbing experiences in the esoteric limestone quarries of Somerset.  Open, delicate movement, snaking the centre of gravity between minimal points of contact, and as a grade-chasing beginner I enjoyed the inverse relationship between protection and grade. I guess in the Peak District and elsewhere these kinds of short bold slabs are ten a penny, but up here in the Highlands, and more specifically the North West Highlands, they're few and far between.  Had I just struck upon the line I'd always dreamed of?

Initially I assumed it would be a top-rope rehearsal job, but then when I was there and looking at it I could see a thin crack that might muster a runner to protect the blank section before the safe top crack.  I changed my mind, and decided I should try to onsight it.  Time passed and 2013 came and went and the slab stayed in the back of my mind, but circumstances meant I never had a chance to return.  Finding a partner that would want to go out to this esoteric backwater was a bit of a struggle as there's not masses of other stuff that would keep them entertained.  Also, a selfish part of me didn't want to go there with someone who would clearly waltz up it after I failed, stealing 'my' route.  Childish, I know.  So, after weeks of favours, chores and bribery I managed to persuade my fiancée Sarah to come out and belay.

Now, Sarah has a complex relationship with climbing.  Actually, no, it's very simple.  She doesn't like it.  When we first started seeing each other, in the dark and distant past, she put on a good show of pretending that she did, and I dragged her up quite a few classic Scottish routes: Eagle Ridge, Agag's Groove, Ardverikie Wall, Cioch Nose and numerous horrid cold wintery things (which she enjoyed more than me).  But she doesn't need to pretend any more, she's got me. Hence having to resort to bribery and corruption to get a belay nowadays.

Psyched to be here!

Finally back at the crag at the end of May, it looked steeper and blanker than I remembered, but I'll just nip up the E1 to warm up then get down to business.  Or that's what I thought.  When I promptly fell off the top of the E1 I suddenly realised that I might be biting off more than I could chew. It would be easy if it was a couple of degrees more slabby, but it's actually too steep to just smear feet and rely on friction, it's proper face climbing.  So I realised three things: 1. I'm very bad at crack climbing, 2. the E1 is more like hard E2, but more importantly, 3. the potential new line would be significantly harder than anticipated.

An ethical dilemma arose: onsighting/groundup is good.  Top-roping is bad.  But then, as far as I was concerned, it would be a first ascent of a necky, tenuous route of the style and in the very place I really love. Regardless of how, doing it would be a special experience. Perhaps if it was elsewhere, where there are more and better climbers doing this sort of thing I would step aside and let someone else do it, but since it's in the remote North West that might mean it never actually gets done.  And perhaps if there was an obvious good gear placement round the crux I'd be happy to go for it and take the inevitable falls, but there's not and I think you'd be into ankle hurting territory. In the end I thought sod-it.  Headpoint project.  Wahoo!

That day I just abbed it as Sarah was getting bored, but I went back on my own with the shunt the next week and established just how thin the bottom 6 metres are.  The protection here is hard to see but OK: two No.3 Black Diamond Micro-Stoppers in a shallow crack, and although they've responded well to tugging from the ground I'm not sure if they'd take kindly to a fall from the last hard moves into the bottom of the hanging crack.

More time passed and I did some proper climbing: Neist, Elgol, Super Crag, Lochan Dubh, but the route still nagged away as an enticing challenge.  I had to get back.  But who with? Everyone was busy.  Sarah? That would take some serious bribery.  But then I remembered the lovely new restaurant Gille Brighde that's opened in Diabaig. Perhaps if I offered to pay for dinner she'd acquiesce to another belay?  Hooray! She agreed! Surely this would be the last possible time I'd get her out there, so this had to be it.

The top of Pretty Crag and the end of Ugly Crag in the shade.

On Friday I went back and played again on my own and was shocked by how hard it still felt.  But slowly I pieced it together, and although I didn't link it in one go I felt that I had the best sequence and knew the gear well enough.  Sunday had to be the day.

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

We huddle in the open as the rain shower passes over but there's blue sky beyond and a breeze and other than interrupting the bubble of self-belief I'm trying to inflate around myself, we're unscathed.
I'm nervous.  But excited and energised.  And nervous. On my first go I get off lightly, getting through most of the crux and getting the wire clipped in the bottom of the main crack before a foot scuffs and I'm off.  3 seconds earlier and it would have been very different. A silly mistake, all down to nerves.

Strip the gear and go again.  The first committing step through to the smear, the razor crimp, the four foot moves, the finger tip in the crack, the second razor crimp, fumble the wire, clip, balance, good finger-lock, smear, better finger-lock, wire, and then the glory of the crack and it's cams of joy and I'm on top.

And then, of course, it's over, and the impenetrable wall you've built and couldn't see past is gone.

On the walk back to the village and dinner we disturb an otter down by the shore, a compliment to the black-throated diver we watched in the loch on the drive down that morning.  Back at the car, I look back across the turquoise bay and see Pretty Crag glowing white in the evening sun.

Info:

Pretty Crag, Diabaig Peninsula
We, the Drowned 10m. E5 6b**  

Gaz Marshall, Sarah Jones. Headpointed 14th July 2014

The blank slab into the obvious central hanging crack.  Gain the port-hole feature and place small wires in the incipient thin crack just above, then step right and tiptoe upwards to reach the safety of the main crack.

Of course, the grade is a guess.  It felt technically harder than Firestone, but it's only 10m high and the top 3m are very safe and relatively much easier.  I think you could hurt yourself if you fluffed the last few hard moves and I think the style of climbing would make it a very hard onsight.  But I'd love to be proved wrong!

Oh, and the pretentious name is after the brilliant book by Carsten Jensen.

Imbalance

Back in the winter Murdo spent a wee bit of time staying with Sarah and I.  It was fun having him around, a constant source of psyche hunched over his evening teapot, as he scoured the internet for conditions and gossip and the occasional loud exclamation of  "dick" whenever he discovered someone had done a route he hadn't.  It was particularly amusing seeing Sarah realise that we had a disciplined, single-minded athlete in our midst, with his carefully considered diet and training and endless climbing banter.  Before then she thought I was a motivated climber, but with him around I pale into a lackadaisical shambles.  She, understandably, failed to comprehend how anyone could be so singularly driven.

Anyway, the winter came and went and Murdo moved on and as the summer has ticked by I've not seen that much of him.  With Sarah away on a three week work trip to Malawi we penciled in a weekend to get out.  Having kept an eye on his exploits on his Flickr page it's clear that he's in what Test Match Special's Henry Blofeld would call "absolute mid-season form", and as our weekend approached a nagging fear started to grow.  What was he wanting to do? And how the hell was I going to follow him up it?  I really didn't want to have to make him compromise on his objectives just because I'm a weekend punter.  So, I prepared to swallow my pride. And dusted off the jumars, just in case.

Luckily for me, a chilly northerly and the threat of passing showers meant that plans for scary mountain E7s were binned and instead we both got to climb great routes at our own, somewhat lopsided, standards.  I won't bore you with the gory details but to summarise: in two days we climbed 8 routes and clocked up 32 E points, of which I lead 5 routes and added 11.  So, Mr Jamieson added the remaining 21 E points in just 3 routes. Fortunately, I didn't have to second any of them, as we'd probably still be there.

Super Crag:
Murdo onsighting the run-out Heart of Beyond, his first E7 onsight.
(Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

Lochan Dubh Crag:
Me in a re-match with Call of the Wild.  I took a memorable ride off the top of this last year, but this time round the laps at the Tom Riach boulder seemed to pay off.
(Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

Lochan Dubh Crag:
You can just about make out Murdo abseil-inspecting Welcome to the Terrordome. After two abseils, during which he sussed the gear and some of the moves he did it on his first try.  E8 6c in the guide, but all Murdo said was that the route him and Iain Small did on Carnmore was harder.  All I can add is that it looked about E3 the way he climbed it...  

    

The Woods

It's the sound of a coin spinning on a table top, a high-pitched speeding and slowing bubbling. A wood warbler. One of the small migrant birds that arrive to breed in our broadleaf woods each summer, adding it's ululations to the choir. Moving through the gorge, dappled sunlight and fluorescent whispering leaves and water roaring below, they're all around us. Blending with the willow warbler's laugh and the chaffinch's chirrup. At this time of year the Atlantic woods of the West Highlands burst with life.

It's been years since I last walked through these woods, and each twist of the path brings a half familiar scene. Old acquaintance reunited. We stop, Blair and I, and he points out some geological nuance, a subtle vein of granite bleeding through the brown schist. An echo of long-dead unspeakable forces.

It's funny, this association.  If climbing didn't take me to these places, would I love it so much? 

Destination: Wave Buttress above Steall Meadows in Glen Nevis. Time is short so there's only time for one route each, no warm up. I'm mildly terrified but positively elated as today is the day to do Edgehog, the classic of the glen and high on my must-do list since forever. 

Racked up, tied in, chalked, I step on and the woodland choir falls silent...

My Climbing Spleen

Dear Diary,

As well as providing somewhere to vent my climbing spleen, one of the good things about writing a blog is that it gives an opportunity for reflection.  In climbing, and life in general, it's so easy to get carried along with the tide, going where the weather's good or where your mates are, and before you know it time has flown by and you've not actually achieved any of the goals you were originally aiming for.  Sitting down to write gives me a chance to take a step back and be a bit more objective about where I've been, and where I'm trying to go.

As I alluded to in a post last summer, I sometimes find this time of  year tricky.  I switch from being a winter boulderer with very specific aims (e.g. get stronger, go to Torridon, do Malc's Arete) to being a route climber, in which my aims are more general and opportunistic (e.g. go where the sun is shining and do the good routes there, do more E3s, redpoint more 7bs).  Basically, after the rigidity of the bouldering season I feel a bit like a headless chicken when the route season starts.

It's been over a month since my wee trip to Siurana with Murdo, and in that time we've been pretty lucky with the weather.  I've enjoyed fun times on the boulders, sport and trad crags and am just loving being out and riding the waves of glorious spring in the Highlands: willow warblers and fluorescent bud burst, hanging on and getting pumped, squeaking oyster catchers and redshank, laughing with friends.  It's not all doom and gloom.

After getting back from Spain I got myself down to the Tom Riach (aka Nick Carter) Boulder quite a few times to try to keep some fitness in the arms.  The South West face traverse is a sustained 20ish move sideways shuffle that makes for a good local there-and-back pump-fest.  It's been a while since I was last there, but I've been busy:

The first trad foray of the year was a morning at Jetty Crag at Gruinard with Murdo where I belayed him on a respectably smooth ascent of the thin and rarely repeated E5 Gogmagog before doing Gaffer's Wall, an early season gift at soft-touch E3.  We topped the day off at Goat Crag where I nearly did Mactalla (which I've still not repeated since first doing it on Royal Wedding Day in 2011, oops).  Next day out was shower-dodging at Moy with Tess, of which the highlight was almost falling off the top of the warm up Little Teaser and then almost being sick due to monumental hot aches.  The 7a Silver Fox was a pleasing addition to the ticklist too, as it's one of the few there that I'd still not done.

Next day it was nice sunny but super windy oot East so I joined the Betts/Bronwen team for a Cummingston boulder session.  A few of the old classics, a good new classic (KinkyBitch 6C), a few embarrassing failures.  The usual.  In the week I was working down in Galloway and crept out one sunny evening to find the Rankin Boulder and had a lovely hour or so on it's rough granite.  At first I got all excited by doing Retroclaim 7A+ really quickly, but then when I made it back to the land of the internet I watched Roddy Mackenzie and Fiend do it and I'd used a hold they'd missed. 7A+? 7A? 6C? Who cares.

Rich on a new thing (?) at Cummingston

Next weekend my old mate Luke, who I very first started climbing with 10 years ago was up visiting, so we did some bouldering at Ruthven (surprisingly close to doing White Russian aka Mike's Problem) and went out to explore some of the wee sport crags near Poolewe.  A sunny day was spent on the beginner friendly Clown Slabs and easier routes on Kuhjo crag, and I squeezed out a redpoint of the hidden gem Wicked and Wierd, a 3 star 7a+ lurking in the trees.  Despite climbing up here for a while, I'd never heard anyone mention this route and was surprised by quite how good it was, and how much of a punch it packed!

Luke on Don't Kick the Bolt 6a, Kuhjo Crag

Right up to date, I had a cold day at Ardmair with Nick in the wind and cloud and threatening drizzle and only came away with a brace of HVSs, bloody hands and a bruised ego.  To reverse the misery I got back on the horse at the friendly Road Crag in Gruinard Bay yesterday and did the remaining E2 Trojan and E3 Mongo that I'd not done there, before lying in the sun on the beach.

So, as an exercise in reflection and planning ahead, all I'd say is: more please!

The Rest Day

Siurana day 4: Wednesday.

At least, I thought we’d discussed taking it easy on Wednesday:  A trip down to Cornudella, the café, a perusal of shiny kit we don’t need in the climbing shop.

As with every other day, Murdo’s up with the lark, breakfasted and brewed before most folk in the campsite have even thought about thinking about waking up.  Bleary eyed, I stagger to the washroom and play the hot shower/cold shower lottery.  I lose.  I join cheery Murdo as he lights the stove for brew number two.  My back aches.  My fingers creak.  My shoulders ache.  I think I’m getting old.

Yesterday was a good day for me.  I’d onsighted Terra d’ Om, a 7a groove at Ca L’Onassis,  then did the 35m 7a+ Cop de Roc at Can Codolar second go, and rounded the day off by flashing the 7a wall Secallona at Siuranella Central as the sun started to dip towards Monsant.  But maybe now I’m starting to pay.

Breakfast: Time, Tide and Murdo wait for no man...

There’s no talk of rest as I chew my muesli, and before long bags are packed and we’re heading over to Ca L’Isabel by the village.  Well, I might as well try.  I’ll warm up on a nice little 6b.  Except, it’s desperate blind grey rock and it’s all I can do to claw my way up.  Then I failed on the  6a+ next to it.  Not good.  Murdo casually warms up on a 6c+ corner, then after some work on the boulder start does Boys Don’t Cry 7c smoothly.  Hmm.  He’s psyched.  There’s a change.  So it’s down to Piqui Pugui  ‘just for a look’ at Anabolica 8a.  He gets distracted by Souxie 7c+ first, but it’s a stamina beast’s nightmare: burly mono action precipitates  swearing and a retreat.  I try again up a long 6b+ traddy groove thing, just about making the chains but I know when to stop.  Now it’s a rest day.  Anabolica’s free so he gets on it.  More burly pockets.  More swearing.  Another retreat. Maybe now we can pack up and eat cake.

Just one more?  Down to Ca L’Onassis.  I only take my harness and gri-gri to the crag, as a show of solidarity with the cake.  Murdo hops on a good looking 7b but lobs off so he’s got to redpoint.  Second round is a charm.  The boy looks tired now though and is happy to call it a day there.

“Un café con leche y un croissant por favor.  Muchas gracias.”

Pink tips

Next morning he’s up even earlier, keen to catch the morning shade on Memorias de una Sepia, an 8a down at Siuranella Central.  He creaks on the warm up, then gets shut down on the crux.  That rest day is catching up.  Meanwhile, fresh armed (for now) I see off the cracking 7a+ Si vas niquel fas tard.  Who’s the winner now eh?

Last day, he does L’Escamarla 7c+ second go.  He is. Bastard.

About to take big air of Lo deje to blanco (Photo: Murdo Jamieson)

Closedown

Off for a week of sunny sport climbing in Catalunya tomorrow.  The bags are packed and Ropegun Jamieson locked and loaded to warm up on all my projects.  Mind you, he'll be weak and feeble after a winter spent shuffling between ledges, while I'll be strong like an ox after months of bouldering.  The routes are only a few moves long, right?  Perhaps not, but it should be a good pre-season arm-stretch for the inevitable long hot Spring and Summer that await. Ahem.

I've been seeing this trip as a book-end to the winter bouldering season proper.  It's been okay, and I seem to have managed a steady trickle of quality problems, but without success on Malc's Arete it can only be considered a failure.  To be fair, good conditions and weather have been hard to come by so I've not been having consistent sessions on it.  But, despite feeling stronger than last year I've not made any progress at all on the move.  C'est la vie.  I think that trying and training for Malc's brought some of the year's successes within reach, so that's cool.

Here's few video clips from trips out this year:

Highland Boulders: Winter 2013-14 from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

Soggy socks

Most of the time, it's hard to see the wood for the trees.

On a few occasions lately I've come away from a climbing session feeling pretty despondent.  Despite upping the training effort this year I don't really feel any different.  I've not broken into any new grades and, most frustratingly, my long-term projects are still long-term projects.  But then, every now and then something happens that makes the grind seem more worthwhile.  Today was one of those days.

There's a problem of Rich's over the back of Duntelchaig called The Dagger.  It's a bugger.  The approach is a pain in the arse, over a fence and then a stomp through swampy bog, heather and bracken.  The landing consists of a load of boulders jammed together over a stream.   It's OK with a couple of pads, but there's a pointy block right below the final stretched out mantel moves, and big holes just waiting for your brush, keys and phone.  The rock's good, solid steep gneiss, but as is the way with most of the stuff round Inverness, it's sharp and off the beaten track is pretty dirty.  Rich showed me The Dagger a few years ago, introducing it as something I might be able to flash.  Great, a soft touch.  Game on.  Except, of course, I failed on the flash attempt, and failed on every other attempt from then on.  I don't know how many times I've done that horrible trudge over there, and despite sorting most of the moves pretty quickly - crossing through a line of perfect edges on a mega leaning wall and then a big burly throw to the lip - I never once managed to top it out.  In the end I told myself I just wasn't tall enough to make the massive lurch over the top of the final slab and binned it, relieved never to have to go there again.

The first session of too many... (Photo: Richie Betts)

But today I went back.  It's not somewhere I'd normally think of going, but after bailing from Ruthven due to icy top-outs, and warming up nicely at Farr, it seemed like a good idea.  It must be at least a year since I last tried it, so if nothing else it would be a good measure of my current standing.  Getting there hasn't got any better, but after ringing out my socks and arranging the pads over the Jenga-pile landing I got involved and finally saw it off.  I think maybe I'm a bit stronger than previously so can put a bit more oomph into the final lurching slap.  Or perhaps it was a combination of conditions, rest, skin and confidence.  Whatever it was, I'm mainly happy that I don't ever have to do that walk in again.