Spring 2016

A typical Highland day in June. The sweet damp greens of summer unfurled; leaves and flowers and fronds uncurling. Brilliant yellow broom, bluebell blue; swallows and swifts and martens race each other through the drizzle.

Months have passed without a word. You've probably forgotten the cobwebbed pages of Soft Rock.  I know I have.  I think I left the last installment with a vague promise that bouldering would cease and ropes would be used. I've tried to keep my word, but on quite a few occasions in the last months I've had to resort to the easy default of the loner; bumping pads and brushes and cleaning paraphernalia to the big blocks, scrubbing new climbing into existence and resurrecting unloved old gems.

Ian pointed me to the Bus Boulder, an Inchbae erratic perched by the Blackwater river, 10 seconds from the road.  It's too far from Ullapool to be in his patch and only 20 minutes from home for me so he gifted the development duties (it's got nothing to do with acres of West coast quality he's still got to unearth). Leafy summer dank has now postponed activities until the Autumn cool returns, but before the midge ended play I'd squeezed out a couple of good lowball 6Cs. Hopefully there'll be more to come later this year.

As Spring wore on I managed a few trips to the likely sport crags Am Fasgadh and Zed Buttress, fluking my way up the crimpy 7b Little Minx at the latter and power shrieking my way up Super Warm Up (7b+) at the former and kidding myself into believing that I was getting fitter. A later date at Goat on a high humidity day took me back to earth with a bump when I barely got up Ian's new Sun Rays (7a) second go and then ungraciously failed on the 6c+ Bamboozle.  Arse.

Trying Little Minx at Zed last Spring (Photo: Ian Taylor)

Tradding? Once my raison d'etre, now a rare treat.  I've done so little these last years and with so little consistency that I think I've gone backwards.  I listened to a podcast with Stevie Haston the other day and he talked about the hardcore traddies of the 80s having 'head skills'.  That's definitely something missing from my repertoire.  For me, I don't think there's a way of short-cutting the path to confident trad climbing, you've just got to put in the hours. Faffing with ropes, weedling in wires, running it out. The odd day here and there just doesn't do it.  After bleeding my way up Town Without Pity (E2) at Ardmair I started to feel happy with my jamming abilities, but then last week I followed Murdo up the top pitch of Mid-flight Crisis (E4) on Stac Pollaidh and realised that I am still really shit at it. Failing on Seal Song at Reiff yesterday confirms my belief.  Maybe I need to try something that isn't a steep sandstone crack.

So, the odd bit of roped climbing lately but, depressingly for this time of year, my biggest tick has been a boulder problem.  A high gravity morning at Brin sent me and Murdo down the hill to Richie's long-forgotten cracker The Scientist 7B.  It's a proper good line, and when Rich first showed it to me years ago I was pretty inspired to try it.  I think I had one quick session and gave up without linking any moves. Roll forward 6 years and somehow I managed to do it in two sessions, with an interim visit in the rain to clean up the top-out.  Thoroughly recommended and big respect to those early pioneers back in the day...

  

Witness the (un)fitness

The days of cold bouldering conditions must surely be numbered. It's been a great season. My best ever without a doubt, with a pleasing list of completed projects and fairly quick ticks. The last time out in Torridon I finished off one of the last problems that I'd had on my season's optimistic ticklist by slapping my way up Wee Baws. Regular use of the board in the shed has definitely paid off. And with that I'm pretty content to put the boulders to bed and start thinking about ropes and harnesses and all that faffery.

Within half an hour of topping out Wee Baws my transition was in full swing and I was slumped on the rope, straining to fiddle out wires while trying to follow Ian up a punchy new route he'd just done on one of the short walls above the boulders. There's work to be done.

I followed up with a pilgrimage to the ever-dry Am Fasgadh the next weekend with Murdo. Despite it being the first time on the sharp-end for the best part of 6 months I just about hauled myself up the Warm Up and tickled the chains on Curving Crack so felt fairly happy with my endeavors.

In a bid to start injecting some endurance into my one-move wonder arms I took Frankie the dog down to Tom Riach for the year's first after-work sessions. After getting reacquainted with There, Back and the Butcher Finish on the SW face and with the trickery of the NW face I started working the Knil, the traverse of the NW face into SW going left to right and the obvious next thing to do after doing the original Link. I was surprised to fluke my way through it on my second visit, so now I need another local project to keep me busy.

Pete turning the arete on Tom Riach's Link.

I kicked off the 2016 trad year with a three day trip to the Peak District.  Here I am getting horrifically pumped on the The Tippler at Stanage. (Photo: Phil Applegate)

The last route of the short trip, the legendary Right Unconquerable. (Photo: Rob Greenwood) 

Capture

Last time around I tried to capture something of the bizarre, irrational and selfish game of projecting boulder problems in the cold of a Highland winter. I captured some of my battling on camera for posterity and have stuck it together in the wee edit below.

Changed Days at Kishorn from Gareth Marshall on Vimeo.

On the subject of footage of bouldering up here, Rich has unearthed some gold buried deep in his hard drive and stuck it together in his film The Archive below.  No names, no grades, no locations, but the sheer number of different problems and places speaks volumes about Rich's voracious appetite for the game. And yes, that is me that falls in the river.

The Archive from Richard Betts on Vimeo.

Inside the Bubble

It's hilarious when you look in from the outside.  What a preposterous way to spend a weekend.  The coldest weekend this winter too, with a clear forecast saying that the weather would be better in the east.  But I'm inside the bubble, and I don't care.

I've been seduced into another project on the sandstone of the West.  This time I'm in Applecross, or more accurately, Kishorn; trapped on the slope tumbling down from the chicanery of Bealach na Ba where a handful of boulders are strewn across the heathy hillside.  A blunt arete, Dave Macleod's 7B Changed Days, points towards the leaden sky above as I lie back on the pads and apply another layer of tape and superglue to my bloody fingers, then, shivering, hat, scarf, gloves, gilet and downie are pulled close.  I can hear the burn pouring from Coire nan Arr and a distant car on the Lochcarron road, perhaps on their way to a cosy cafe or a log fire and pub lunch. My flask will do for now. They're outside the bubble, I'm inside.

   

Slapping and scraping, a guttural oath pierces the air as I hit the pads again.

It's hard to explain what drives the motivation.  Right now I'm cold, I'm uncomfortable, my ripped fingers sting, my bloodless toes are crying out for release and I'm trapped on my dry island of pads in a sea of snowy heather.  I've driven for over an hour to be here and already I know that today isn't the day of success.  Yet, I can justify it all to myself so easily - this is where I want to be.  Inside the bubble.

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