Mixed Feelings in the Dark

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy Buck

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

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

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

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

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

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

Working at it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Warm Glow

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


And continue....


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


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


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

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

Same time next year? I expect so.

Couscous/Smash

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

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

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

Still There

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

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

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

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

Balancing

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

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

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

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

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

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