Home for Christmas

For the first time ever, we spent the festive season at home rather than traipsing the length of the UK to visit parents and friends.  It's been bliss.  I don't think I'd realised just how much I needed a break; 2015 really has been a busy year.  We had family here for Christmas and then friends for New Year, but amongst all the eating and socialising I've managed to get a good few days out bouldering, a couple of runs (first in ages, ouch) and even a session scrubbing new problems.

So far, I'm really happy with the way my bouldering has gone this winter.  It feels pretty rare that I'm satisfied with my climbing, but this year I'm content with my little haul.  After doing my long-term nemesis of Malc's Arete in November I've been free to explore elsewhere and have slowly been ticking through some of the other Wester Ross classics that had been shoved to the back of the queue.  Below are some of the highlights from the last couple of months.  Hunt them out!

The Crack 7A+, Reiff in the Woods
The day after doing Malc's I managed to pull this out of the bag having failed on it on three sessions last season.  An innocuous looking thing but surprisingly burly.

Ian's Problem 7A, Ardmair Crag
A long throw to a hidden hold. Lawrence's Crack is by far and away the better problem here, but this is still pretty good.  I couldn't do it when I tried it in the summer, so it was nice to see it off. Helpfully, this whole wall is almost perma-dry.

The Prow 7A, Balgy Boulder
Year's ago I tried this and got absolutely no-where.  This time it was the salvation of a freezing wet day in Torridon when almost everything else had a veneer of verglass.

McBonzai 7A?, Torridon
Having failed on both my objectives for the day I wondered over for a look and managed to trick my way up it pretty quickly.  I found a kneebar that I can only assume Dan Varian and subsequent repeaters hadn't, because it aint 7B this way!  7A is my guess, but regardless it's a great little problem.

Sparrow Legs Wall 6C+/7A Reiff in the Woods
This always gets overlooked by it's (admittedly better) neighbour Haven, but this also epitomises the style of technical Torridonian sandstone walls - crimpy, balancy and high enough to have a hint of spice.  I tried it last year and couldn't get off the ground but the New Year easterly gales had it in cracking nick this time.

Clach-mheallan 7A, Reiff in the Woods
When I saw Ian trying this a few weeks ago I wrote it off as the start looked absolutely desperate - a teeny crimp, a sloper and a heel impossibly close to the groin.  However, inquisitiveness got the better of me and I had a few goes, and with Ian's handy beta and a very welcome spot it came together nicely.

Romancing the Stone 7A, Reiff
I'd never bouldered at Reiff before but Ian gave me a tip off that this was a handy venue in an easterly gale so I fled there on the last day of the festive holidays.  Another techy sandstone wall, a good height and lovely to be down by the sea.

I captured a few of these ascents along with one or two others for posterity:

Wester Ross Boulders: Winter 2015/16 from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

Here's hoping 2016 continues in a similar vein.  Happy New Year!

The Road

Today, something very strange happened.  It's something that I've been working towards for years; an ambition that has taken me on a long and winding road, and finally, somehow, today I brought it to reality.  I still can't quite take it in. 

I first set eyes on Malcolm Smith's Arete on the Ship Boulder in Torridon on a muggy Sunday in July 2008.  Blair, Jenny and I had been midged off a day of trad climbing on Seanna Mheallan and were kicking our heels in the glen, not wanting to call a premature end to the weekend and have to drive back home to start the working week.  We ended up strolling round the Celtic Jumble, the chaos of boulders where Liathach falls into Loch Torridon, and straight away were drawn to the most aesthetic feature there: a curving arete forming the righthand prow of a rippled pink block, soaring above a perfect flat landing.  It screamed out to be climbed.

Of course, those of you that have read this blog before will probably know that the seed that was sown on that day germinated into a giant's beanstalk that I've been trying to reach the top of for years. I'd love to be able to quantify the energy that I've expended on it - not just attempts on the actual problem, but every time I trained with it in mind, every time I talked about it, every time I tried to envisage success, even the times I dreamed about it.  I strongly recall a time while a priest was saying prayers at a friend's wedding (they will remain nameless) when I escaped into my own spiritual reverie and tried to work out a new sequence for the crux.  It didn't work.

In those first few years it was clearly an objective that was way beyond me, but for some reason I decided to keep trying.  The first breakthrough came when I learnt how to use the sidepull crimp (Rich's advice to face Applecross is right), but then I couldn't reach the slopey shelf.  Then we worked out a way to use a heel to lock you in rather than jump, and with two small intermediates I could just about bump to the shelf.  Then came the long barren years of reaching the shelf and getting no further.  THE MOVE: a throw to the sloping lip at the very apex at the top of the arete, feet popping off, pirouetting backwards.  I recall reading a blog from Mina Leslie-Wujastyk in which she described failing on a move almost becoming part of the sequence.  That definitely happened for me. For about three years Malc' Arete meant jumping, slapping, spinning and hitting the pads. 

The inevitable pirouette. (Photo: Rory Brown)

I've always tried to keep going with good humour, but along the way there have been a few black days when I've seriously doubted myself and toys have been thrown around.  Why was it so hard?Why was I so weak?  What did I have to do to get up this bloody bit of rock?  Why had I sacrificed so much time and energy on something that was so clearly beyond me? Who was I kidding? For a while I genuinely thought I'd never do it, that there was something about that move and the geometry of my body that meant it was fundamentally impossible.

However, something kept dragging me back.  There are a load of reasons why it's such an enchanting line - the history of the legendary first ascentionist, the prime location in pole position in one of the most beautiful bouldering venues in the country, the holds, the landing, the height, but most of all for me, I think it's the visual appeal of the line.  It's just a beautiful regular curve that stands out in a landscape of jagged edges.  Added to this, the positivity and seemingly blind faith of the small band of Torridon devotees who kept telling me that one day it would happen.  I couldn't let them down. 

Positivity from Anne and Nige

I guess it would be fair to say that I've been pretty motivated for it this season and I've been trying to be serious with sessions on my board.  I'm probably slightly stronger than before and now able to use a slightly higher foot that had been no help in the past, which meant I could push further with less likelihood of the foot cutting.  Straight away it felt better and I got a flutter of hope that a new door was unlocking. I set a problem on my board to replicate the move and went from not being able to do it to doing it almost every time - each go learning a bit more about how I was positioning the rest of my body around the holds I was using.  

After I wrote my last blog, I had a session in good conditions and had my best go yet - the last of the day as I held the lip for a millisecond, the foot cut and I spun off, missing my pads and landing ankle-deep in the bog.

Well, today it was the end of the road. This happened:

6 years in the making: Malc's from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

A huge, huge thanks for all that have helped me along the way, but in particular to Rich for the shared psyche (and the video), to Anne and Nige for the note they put on my windscreen when I was going through a dark patch, to Dan for his beta while I tried to onsight the top-out, and to Sarah for listening to my babbling about a little rock in a glen on the west coast for the last six years.

 

Biding Time

No matter which choices I make, when it comes to climbing they often seem to be the wrong ones.

Being a lonely misanthrope I decided that my wedding in mid-September would mark the transition into the bouldering season.  In past years October has brought periods of great cold and dry conditions. Last year I was away in Australia getting pumped on sweaty trad routes and missed all the happy social scenes in Torridon, so this year I decided I'd start preparations early so I could be steely fingered as soon as the weather changed. Of course, what actually happened was we had the warmest October for years and all the sensible people have been climbing routes while I've been greasing off my projects.  Still, its been fun getting back into the swing of things.

I barely tried my arch-nemesis Malc's Arete last year so I'm engaging it once more with renewed vigour.  This must be at least the 6th season of trying, which smacks of desperation, but the old minx keeps teasing me. The one time I've been there in OK conditions this year I had some pretty good goes with a slightly different sequence than in the past, leading me on to hope that there might be a way to do THE MOVE keeping a foot on, rather than an all out jump.  Watch this space (again).

In the interim, I'm still amazed at the number of problems in Torridon that Rich and co. have done in recent years that I've still not done.  One of the benefits of being a punter is that you have to project everything, which eeks out the joy.  On the last couple of visits two great problems in the 6B-6C range have really stood out and deserve more acclaim.

A few years ago I remember sniffing around a boulder to the west of Torridon village when I was doing some survey work in the glen. I never got round to climbing on it but Rich did the obvious arete a year or so after and gave it one of my favourite names around: Sticky Damph. Conditions were suitably warm and damp when I did it.

Even more years ago I remember pointing out a cool looking highball wall in a bay hidden behind some lovely old birch trees on the level up from the main jumble.  As per usual, Rich did the obvious problem quickly and called it Bay Crack. I didn't doit and then forgot all about it.  Last year Rich did a harder sit start into the original and gave it another quality name: 50 Days of Grey.  Reminded by this, I went back and did the easier original last week.  The highball rounded top-out felt a bit committing on my tod, but at least our new addition was there to spot me.

The day we found Bay Crack (photo: Murdoch Jamieson)

On that note, I finished the last blog entry with a cliff hanger about road-testing a dog.  We took the plunge and are now busy teaching her the dark arts of spotting, as displayed here:

Photo: Anne Falconer

Moray's Finest

Just back in from finishing off a short and fiery love affair on the Moray coast.  On Sunday Mrs M and I headed down to see what all the fuss was about at Primrose Bay, a supposed Cummingston 2.0 with a prettier sandy beach and clutch of recently developed boulder problems. Something for everyone.  We weren't dissapointed.

The hidden sandy beach is flanked by orange sculpted cliffs.  They have the appearance of the Grampians in Australia, but sadly lack the structural integrity.  However, hidden through a cave in a second pebbly bay I found the crag classic: Amateur Acrobatics.  I think Hamish Fraser and others have been developing problems here for the last year or so, and from what I saw this problem stands out as THE line.  That's one of my complaints about this coast: it doesn't really have that many lines, just lines of holds, and more often than not you jump off at an arbitrary jug.  Not this one though.

Here's Hamish on it:

Amateur Acrobatics, Primrose Bay, Moray from Hamish Fraser on Vimeo.

And here's Bettsy:

Primrose Bay from Richard Betts on Vimeo.

I was on a flying visit on Sunday so didn't expect too much, but got dead excited when I linked into the crux after a few tries.  That was it for that session though.  The crux seemed to be using a high heel to flick round the lip into a big slopey pinch thing, but I couldn't hold the swing. Again and again and again.

I was so impressed and excited (and the weather, tides and fickle coastal conditions were too good to miss) so I came back with the lamp the next night after work. After failing to hold the swing for the umpteenth time I started asking questions of my sequence and rapidly realised that the burly heel could be replaced by a cheating kneebar, which made the reach to the slopey pinch thing static. Hamish, I apologise wholeheartedly for ruining your creation with wack beta.  Blame Alex Barrows. Still, by the time I'd worked this out  I was so goosed that I still fell off with my fingers tickling the top-out.

After two days of rest I was back again tonight.  I had the lamp, but really I was racing the sunset as I had a dog in tow that we're road-testing and might be re-homing.  I didn't want it to get dark and then lose her on an unknown beach.  Fortunately, things came together nicely and I topped out as the blue Caithness coast disappeared beneath an orange burning sunset.

All told, I probably drove the best part of 300 miles doing three round trips to Primrose Bay in the last 5 days.  And for one problem.  But was it worth it?  Without a doubt.

And I didn't lose the dog.

Whinging Part 3

Sarah's hen weekend meant I had a full two-day pass with no wedding admin.  I'd lined up Robin Thomas for Saturday and since we'd not climbed together before I thought it would be a bit selfish to ask him to slog up to Brin to belay me on my project.  So, the west coast and Diabaig gneiss it was, or at least until the wind died and the midges forced an early retreat. Murdo was lined up for Sunday and I didn't feel quite so bad about making him go to Brin. Even then, I was still praying for an iffy forecast that would rule-out the trad climbing F.O.M.O.  In the end it worked out well because Murdo is working The Force at Zed Buttress, just down the hill. We agreed that I'd have the morning redpoint shift while Murdo gently warmed up and then we'd head down for his turn in the shade.

It would be a lie to say conditions were optimal that day: hot august sun beating onto a south-facing crag, but a strong easterly took the edge off and made it worthwhile.  Building on gains from the previous sessions I made another babystep forward: discovering a knee twist that makes the penultimate move in the crux sequence more manageable, and on my best go I pinged off going for the last hard move before the rest.  Enough progress to keep the dream alive.

More importantly, Murdo made his best links yet on The Force.  I hear the send-train a' comin down the line.

Diary scanning after that showed an alarming lack of time for potential Brin trips before the wedding bells ring out but luckily for me Mhairi was happy to squeeze in an evening session on Thursday.  It won't be long before there's not enough daylight left for after-work sessions and I could feel the pressure mounting.  I decided to be canny after a full redpointing session on Sunday.  Monday: rest. Tuesday: session in the shed trying a sustained 10-move problem trying to replicate the length of the crux sequence. Wednesday: 40 minute run but no climbing.

Thursday came along and I was concerned about the lack of time I'd have at the crag to get the clips in, warm up and still have time for a couple of redpoint goes.  Seeking inspiration from Murdo I remembered him talking recently having really good sessions in the afternoon after light fingerboarding in the morning. Something about recruitment?  I still don't understand physiology.  I guessed it could either work well or ruin me, so in desperation I raced to the wall in my 45 minute lunchbreak and dangled from the campus board for a bit before racing into town to pick up the waistcoats a friend has made us for the wedding and then back to the office for a few hours.

Driving to the crag I implored Mhairi to ignore the drizzle tickling the windscreen: "it'll be bone dry in this wind".  I tried to sound confident.  Luckily I was right. Putting the clips in and resting bolt-to-bolt  I could tell the rock felt much better than Sunday and things were looking pretty good, although if anything there was a danger of it being too cold. Also, in the back of my mind I was very aware that I'd not actually done the full link from the rest after the crux to the top. Between the 5th and 6th bolts there's a stiff pull that I could imagine coming unstuck on if I didn't get much back from the rest.  Still, nothing ventured...

It all came together on the second redpoint that evening.  After clipping the second bolt I downclimbed into the niche and sat looking out over Strathnairn and the relentless motion of the Farr Windfarm turbines sailing round on the wind. I closed my eyes and ran through the 11 move crux in my head.  Even though I was climbing in my mind, by the time I hit the flake jug at the 4th bolt I was pumping with adrenaline and had to take another minute to get my heart rate back down.  As is always the way, when the time came to move it all flowed and before I could think I was bowling over into the jug and milking the rest for as long as possible. When you rest, you rest.  When you climb, you climb. Eventually, when I got some blood back into my fingers, I flicked the switch between the two states and swarmed through the top section as I'd hoped, yelping into the wind as I clipped the chain. Another journey over.

Phew. Now I can get married.

Whinging Part 2

I know you're dieing to ask: How am I getting on with my wee project of redpointing Whinging Consultants before my wedding on September 12th? Well, it's still a project.  That's the short answer.  The long answer is that it's starting to come together.

I've now had three sessions on the route.  The first was with Tess, on one of our seemingly regular 'it's wet in the West, Brin is the last resort' days.  I'd not been on the route before and was very glad of use of her clip-stick to dog the draws in, otherwise I reckon I'd still be projecting the third clip.  That day I had a couple of tries on top-rope, sussing where it all goes, quite how powerful the crux is, and how easy it'll be to pump-out on the top wall if you can't get much back from the rest.

The second session was an evening after work with Mhairi, and it's fair to say that work that day wasn't hugely productive as I started piecing together the route in my head. I'd not done an evening at Brin before, and what with the Vietnam-style bracken slog it's hardly roadside convenience, but Mhairi had an appointment with One and Only, so was keen.  My aim that session was to work a sequence for the crux and integrate clipping into it.  I guess in that respect it was a success.  It's tedious reading other people's waffle about sequences and holds, but in summary the crux section of this route boils down to working round a roof and having to use a righthand gaston, matching it and turning it into a layback to pull up into a distant undercut.  The difficulty comes from the complete lack of footholds that you really want on the left which would allow you to lean out rightwards from the layback, so instead you're all bunched up using feet straight beneath you. I told you it was tedious. Above the crux there's a half decent rest (only half decent, mind you), followed by easier but brilliant climbing. More importantly, Mhairi redpointed One and Only.

Andy Wilby showing how its's done, and seeminky using a totally different sequence to me.

 (Photo: Dave Douglas)

On my third and most recent session I was joined for another post-work jungle-bash up the hill by Andy Moles, a man that I'd last seen throwing shapes in a sweaty tent at Tiree Music Festival. The aim this time was to start redpointing and making links, which I guess could be described as successful too.  There was an initial false start when I found the hardest move impossible despite doing it in previous sessions - having matched the gaston and worked the feet up to turn it into a layback (hooray for dismal climbing chat!) I just couldn't stand up into the undercut. However, Moles was on hand to talk about flagging feet and counter-balancing and I think I've now got the crucial knowledge.  On my third go (first to get the clips in, second to warm up) I linked from the floor into matching the gaston flake, which seemed a million miles away when I think back to my first session nine days earlier.  Just two more moves and then it's a rest. More importantly, Andy onsighted One and Only.

Whinging consultant Dave Douglas entering the crux (photo: Ian Taylor)

Time was tight this weekend (wedding admin, aka 'Wadmin') but I was all set up for a Saturday morning session but rain spoiled play. I'm lined up with Dr Clarkson, one of the route's namesakes, for tomorrow night but there's rain in the forecast again.  I'll keep you posted...

Whinging

I've heard it said that the temperature in Inverness on midsummer's day this year was the same as on midwinter's day last year. I've struggled to find the data that backs this up, but given the general cold and wet summer we've been 'enjoying' I can well believe it.

Trying to turn a negative into a positive, I've pretty much given up on thinking of going trad climbing this year - a measly 13 routes climbed so far - and I've mainly been spending my minimal climbing time picking the low hanging fruit by filling in the gaps at local sport crags.  At Brin this meant the 7a+ brace of Despicable Me and Vagicil Overdose.  The memory of the lonely runout slab at the top of the latter in a howling gale will last long in the memory.  At Moy Ian T's new Kite Mark (6c) is a worthy Flat Wall addition, and a week or so later I voyaged into the dusty realm of the less-travelled Forbidden Forest at 7a/+. All good fun, but over rather fast.

So what now? Time is getting tight before our wedding in September, and after that I expect my mind will start wondering to Torridon and boulders, so I'm fairly limited in my options. So, I've decided to use this pressure as an opportunity to focus on a project. I feel like I've been coasting along over the summer, going through the motions but not really having an aim, so now it's time to change gears. After scouring the local crags I've settled on a gnarly little 7b+ called Whinging Consultants at Brin - brilliantly named after the oft-voiced opinions of Dr Pete Clarkson and Mr Dave Douglas, two NHS employees and active local climbers. I've had two sessions on it so far and it's slowly moving along the spectrum that starts at impossible and hopefully ends in clipping the chains. Time will tell. It's got a really sustained and powerful crux round the 3rd and 4th bolts, followed by a half-decent rest and then easier but pumpy climbing to the top.  If I can make it to the 4th bolt I'm hopeful I'd be able to keep it together for the top, but getting through that crux is bloody desperate.

Watch this space.

Ps. If anyone in the Inverness area is keen for Brin evening sessions let me know, I'll repay belays with witty banter, lectures on capercaillie conservation and rehearsals of wedding speeches.  What's not to like?